Chapter 1: 456
Chapter Text
“And humans are...”
The words were left unfinished. Gi-hun couldn't find a single word to describe humanity. There was so much to say, and so little time as he leaned back from the platform, feet no longer touching the concrete. Time slowed down, or at least, his perception of it did. He didn't jump. He knew he couldn't. Something about seeing the ground you're about to hit was even more haunting than the fact he was falling.
Instead, his eyes faced the ceiling. The bright lights illuminated the three platforms. The pink circle's edge was slowly fading from his sight, and with it, the baby he'd done this for. But she was safe. Jun-hee's daughter was safe. He couldn't save anyone but her. He couldn't save Jung-bae. He couldn't save anyone who participated in the rebellion. He couldn't save a single human who'd signed the consent forms regarding the participation.
But Jun-hee's daughter was alive.
She had a chance at life. She wouldn't have it ripped away by a greedy monster who was willing to kill her just for the money. Humans are... Greedy. Their glutton for money never ceased. They were willing to drive a weapon into their friends' and allies' throats just for a handful more pieces of paper to be added to the taunting piggy bank held above their heads. It was never even guaranteed it'd be theirs. They could very well die before grabbing even a single bill from it.
Humans were selfish. His mind went to player 333, Myung-gi. He'd been willing to throw an innocent baby off the platform. Was it even about the money? It didn't feel like it. It was his own daughter. Her winnings would be his, too. Selfishness. Wanting to stand alone upon the podium. Without anyone beside him. He's left somewhere on the ground, the same floor Gi-hun would hit very soon.
Humans were weak. He remembered, though not very clearly, player 125, Min-su. Gi-hun didn't remember much of him. He was always somewhere out there, hiding in the shadows, protecting his own skin. And then weakness took him. "Junkie" was something he wasn't just a few days before. He gave into a weakness, into his fears, into what would cause his demise. And now he lay there under the first platform, a metal rod in his hand.
Humans were innocent. Player 222 - Jun-hee's face flashed through his mind. What could lead her here? To such a place, mere days before she had a baby? She needed money. Everyone did. That's the only thing the greedy and the desperate shared in this hellhole. But this place... It wasn't meant for someone like her. She deserved to live a happy life. Many of those who lost their lives here did. Desperation led an innocent soul here. But she never made it back out. She's somewhere else now, wherever the workers bring the dead.
The platform felt far further away.
Humans were violent. Player 124, and from what Gi-hun recalled, named Nam-gyu. The chime of eliminated players during hide and seek, the hiders, followed by no seekers being announced as having passed. Was the bloodshed necessary? Just to kill off a few more people? He was there during the first fight there in the bathrooms. He was probably there during lights out. Blood on his face and hands. All for what? Just to follow a thrown necklace to his doom. At least now that he's dead, he can't cause anymore harm, not to others, not to himself.
Humans were selfless. Player 149. Geum-ja didn't come here because of her issues, her problems. It was all for her son. She risked her life over and over again to save her only child, to make sure the loansharks wouldn't end up hurting him when they got out. But in the end, her hands were the ones stained red with her son's blood. She killed, protecting a child that wasn't even her own. She's somewhere far away, throat tight, eyes closed, hair flowing free.
Humans were naive. Player 007, Young-sik, who is nobody without his mother. Always by her side, until he wasn't. So adamant on getting out at first, but easily swayed by the majority. Abandoning his own team out of fear. His mother said he always ended up the only one hurt in fights. Always the one with his own blood on his shirt. And that's how he ended up here. Out there somewhere, high above, wherever death leads the unlucky souls from here, he won't get hurt again.
Humans were spiritual. Player 044, Seon-nyeo, shaman of the sea, whatever she'd labeled herself as. Cursing everyone out whenever things didn't go her way. She said his fate was sealed, way back at the start of the games. Maybe she had a point, or maybe it was a lucky guess. Most glanced at her and said she was just a liar. Some followed her blindly. But in the end, everyone who she cursed had ended up dying. Luck or not, she was one of the dead, corpse dragged away by the guards.
The air was rippling.
Humans were brave. Player 120, named Hyun-ju. In the lead of the rebellion, disabling cameras, she risked her life for a cause. Gi-hun didn't know what happened to her. She didn't come back from hide-and-seek. But the announcement of eliminated players he knew were seekers told him enough. She fought until the last second to protect those she cared about. Wherever she is now, Gi-hun hoped she died feeling like herself, at the very least.
Humans are liars. Player 388. Dae-ho. "It was your fault" still sounded in his ears. His own words, or the younger player's, they blended together into a single voice. In the end, it was both their faults. Dae-ho shouldn't have lied and gone ahead to join the rebellion. He had never held a gun. He might've been in the army, even if not actively. But that foolish lie got so many killed. In the end, the rebellion would've failed anyway. That's how the game was designed. Gi-hun shouldn't have tried to lead it. But it was too late now. Dae-ho is somewhere where he doesn't have to lie anymore now.
Humans are positive. Jung-bae, player 390. Despite the death around him, he still found time to reminiscence of way back then. Of the time they went on strike, the times he played baseball. He kept a smile through the eliminations and game. And Gi-hun unknowingly picked him out for the slaughter. They were all killed. It's just that it was Jung-bae in front of him, and not someone else. Someone he knew from before the game. He desperately hoped Jung-bae wouldn't fall forgotten out there. That they, the people close to him, think of him sometimes, and smile.
Humans are loud. Player 230. Even though Gi-hun didn't know his real name, as it was lost among the rippling of thoughts that took up his brain, the near obnoxious man was hard to forget. Thanos, as ridiculous as the alias was, was what he would be remembered for by his fans. Loud, in both words and appearance - hard to miss that purple hair in a crowd. He died in that fight, the first fight in the bathroom. He probably went out like he lived. Standing out in a crowd, yelling, thinking he's taller than the rest. Maybe he'll keep being like that even in death.
The air looked wrong. The ceiling looked wrong. Twisted, distorted, in all the worst ways. Something told him he hadn't hit the ground yet. At least it left more time to think.
Humans are timid. Player 095, but he couldn't quite remember her name. He'd only heard it mentioned with a quiet voice. Quiet, kind, accepting. She stood near Hyun-ju most of the time she lived through this hellhole. Actually, it was the first person Gi-hun saw that talked to her. A first friend made in a place that meant death. She must've died during the third game, even though he didn't know exactly which round. He didn't hear much from her or about her. At least she isn't alone anymore.
The numbers were blurring together. Red light green light, so many deaths despite his best attempt to stop them. All because someone panicked at the very start. The glares he got from the O's when they found out the second game wasn't dalgona. The cheering of the room when the first team passed the six-legged pentathlon. The comfort of seeing his teammates reunite after a close call in mingle. It was blended together into a whirlpool of memories, flashes of what has happened, things that anchored themselves in his mind.
Sang-woo, laying under him, a knife in the side of his neck. Hands bloodied with both his own and Gi-hun's. Despite the circumstances, despite how Sang-woo has been through the games, he ended up killing himself to let Gi-hun survive. Maybe if he had just killed him instead, won all that money for himself and his mother, maybe it'd be for the best. Even if Sang-woo did what he had done, continued looking for the games, he would've seen through all the lies and he would've saved them, unlike Gi-hun. He was the smart one. Had their roles been reversed, who knows what today would've been? Humans were intelligent.
Sae-byeok, telling him that the thing that's decided the fates of more than one person. That he's not that kind of person. That he wouldn't kill someone for his own benefit. And it was the truth. He spared Sang-woo. He spared all those players in the second game. Sae-byeok, bleeding out, him banging on the door for the guards to get her the help she deserved. And when the lights turned on, it was too late. He couldn't save both of them. The games weren't built to let him do that. Humans were stoic.
Ali. The reason this all even happened. Had it not been for him, Gi-hun wouldn't have even made it past the first game. He stuck with the team - an anchor for them in tug-of-war. Strong, strong enough to hold up Gi-hun away from his death. Loyal, kind, but maybe too believing. He saw the good in people. He and Gi-hun's shared that view. A hand, holding him above the sand, then, a silly memory of trying to pantomime the word circle, then, Sang-woo's irritation at being called "sir" over and over. But he never made it out of the game of marbles. The player count was cut in half. Humans were loyal.
Il-nam. Someone who Gi-hun pitied so strongly for ever landing in this hellhole. Someone who he grieved over. Someone who he stuck by, not because he felt bad, but because he saw the poor old man and his first thought was to help. A tumour in his head. That was the only true thing Il-nam had said, out of everything. He did help the people during red light green light, showing them that there is a way forwards. He did explain the strategy that helped the team survive tug-of-war. But he was a liar. Gi-hun would've said evil, even. But despite everything, what was there to be angry at? He gave the people a way out. People who would die without that money anyway. He let the rich on the poor like they were horses. Humans were deceiving.
The room was completely distorted. Had he already fallen to his death? Were these the results of a severed spinal chord? Distortion, darkness, and colour, crawling above his eyes. The pink platform was no longer something he could make out. Was there time for one last thought?
Young-il, if that was even his real name. Another 001. Only a fool would fall for the same trick twice in a row. And Gi-hun did. He was a fool. Why would he trust him? He let himself get too close to the enemy. He was distraught upon his death. Only to find out Young-il was the person he wanted to kill this whole time. The person who he was after. But by the time his face was revealed, it had already been too late. The games would never stop. It was in human nature to take the gamble of life and death for a second chance. The only thing he didn't understand is why Young-il gave him a different way out.
He didn't know what to make of Young-il. He would say evil, but he gave Gi-hun a chance to save both himself the baby. He would say cold, but the smiles he gave as 001 didn't feel fabricated. He would say cruel, but he apologised for Jung-bae, and it sounded genuine. He would say a monster, but he wasn't one. He was a human. A human like everyone here, from the people watching the games for their enjoyment, to the guards carrying out the jobs, to the greedy, to the desperate, to the host. They were all humans.
And humans were...
A crack is the last thing that could be heard. Thoughts came to a halt. Eyes left struck open, glazed with tears, blood seeping into his hair. The swaying colours and shapes got more distorted. He was no longer in the game room. The pillars were long gone, the corpses of the eliminated were somewhere out of sight, the baby was safe somewhere far away from this mess. The colours got more vibrant. A buzz, a hum. Unlike any sound a fluorescent light or a human, or anything between the two could make.
Death. Finality. The end the VIPs must've been craving. Maybe they wanted him to be the sole winner. Maybe they wanted him to be a heartless monster and kill that poor girl for money. But money didn't mean anything. Not anymore. Hasn't for a long time.
The hum slowly changed. The colours shifting over his eyes, no longer being seen but still present, from blues and greens like the tracksuits the players wore, to inky black like the night skies somewhere above the ceiling, to red like the blood this place spilled. Red turned into vermilion, to orange, to golden, like the rising sun. Gold slowly gave away to a pale yellow, and then, white.
The hum was no longer what it was before. It sounded so oddly familiar. The white faded back to black. No, not black. This wasn't the night black the sky was, nor the black you'd see after closing your eyes. It was clear. So clear, it was nothing at all. It wasn't the absence of light. It was the lack of everything. It wasn't an empty room painted black. It was a tiny speck of dust so far apart from everything else that it felt alone in its own universe.
The hum could finally be placed. It was no longer a hum, but instead a melody, a melody that could be named. Trumpet Concerto by Joseph Haydn, a song that was played when the players were to wake up. Without the games, it was just an innocent, and quite honestly, a fascinating piece. But with the games in your head, it became a reminder that you could die today. That it was a suprise that you lived this long. Something you'd end up hearing in your nightmares.
Gi-hun sat up from the bunk. Then he realised that... This wasn't supposed to happen. He was... Dead. Then why is he back? The room painted in a cold off-white, four hundred and fifty six beds stacked upon one another against the walls, hints to the next games concealed behind. The wake-up melody still playing throughout the room, slowly waking up even the heaviest sleepers. He didn't look at them.
He stared down at his own tracksuit.
Player 456.
Chapter 2: In-ho, not Young-il
Notes:
Hey at least I didn't write this one at midnight it was during the day.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The soft buzzing of lights became clearer, the murmurs of the others players filled the room, and the wake-up call song slowly became quieter and quieter until it was gone. The atmosphere a mixture of confusion, excitement, annoyance and determination. Gi-hun sat on that bunk bed, holding onto the number sewn onto the jacket. 456. He was... Here again. For a moment his mind went to something he'd read at some point in the past.
'The human brain replays the best 7 minutes of your life after death.' But why would he be here? The last thing he heard was a crack. He doubted he could remember anything while dead, as in, dead dead... He slowly lifted up one hand. It had no blood on it. But the faint scar from the finale of the first games - having been stabbed through it with a knife - that remained. The second games. He was given a second chance. A second chance to save them all. He got up quickly, scanning the crowd.
The first familiar number he landed upon was 222 - but it wasn't Jun-hee. It was a middle aged, lanky man, who was pushing his way past the crowd, trying to get into the centre of the room. He tried to recall if he could remember a 222 during the first games, but no image came to mind. He slowly got onto the staircase leading down from the beds, staring at the players. Maybe... Maybe it was even earlier. Maybe he could save...
The thought made his chest hurt. He'd always thought life was unfair. But maybe it wasn't so bad afterall. He looked for someone from the first games.
He spotted a player with the number 067. But it wasn't Sae-byeok. It was a man, speaking loudly to a player who was standing beside him. The complete opposite of how Sae-byeok behaved. She stuck to herself. This man was speaking to a fellow player with eagerness, almost like they were old comrades. It almost reminded him of Jung-bae.
Speaking of, the person with the number 390 was in the crowd as well. A woman, who, frankly, looked a bit scary. Just from her expression, it was obvious she didn't come here to make buddies, but to win. These people were dangerous. They would do anything to win. They'd kill without even a second of hesitation, showing no mercy to a fellow human being. Gi-hun slowly made his way down the staircase. The players were like a school of fish, shoulder to shoulder, pushing past one another, confused about where they were.
But... He didn't recognise a single person here. Nobody from the second games he'd played. Nobody from the first game. Maybe this was just a weird dying dream, making things up as the last bits of blood slipped from his brain. But it felt too real. Dreams didn't give each person a face and a number. People were speaking, asking where they were, asking for their things, angry at their clothes being changed and belongings taken. People were determined to play, just wanting money in their hands, as they all pooled to the centre of the room.
If not 2020, then maybe, by some miracle, he was allowed to find the games not three, but two or one year after his first win. He could stop the bloodshed. Defeat, grief and hopelessness slowly gave away to a new wave of determination and hope. He was about to reach the last step of the staircase. Maybe he'd do what he did in the second games. Warn and save people. He could change the outcome. But then he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Excuse me, do you know where they put our things? I need to get my phone. My wife is sick, i-”
Gi-hun froze. That voice, so hauntingly familiar, he felt his blood run cold. The face of a friend and foe. The face of someone who he trusted only to be betrayed. The face that he couldn't read. The only person he couldn't truly describe with just one word. Anger bubbled up within him, against his will. His fists clenched, eyes suddenly struck wide open, jaw clenched. He whipped around, fist raised. Young-il.
“You... You bastard!”
The other man shielded himself with his arm, stepping back. Gi-hun didn't throw the punch, at least now yet. He still had questions. Oh, so many questions. He barely found anything out that meeting before the final game. He didn't understand why that man followed him like a shadow, haunting his thoughts and nightmares. The aggressive display got the attention of a few players standing nearby, but their confused and worried whispers didn't concern Gi-hun.
“Young-il, why do you follow me? Why do you haunt me even in death? why-”
Gi-hun grabbed the man by the jacket, other fist still raised. Why did he keep giving him chances? Was he some kind of deity, bringing him back from the dead only to put him through one more round of games? Or... Maybe this was his personal hell. All his friends and allies gone, only leaving the worst place on earth and the person who kept following him through every single thing he's gone through in the past three years.
“My name isn't Young-il!”
Young-il, or... Not Young-il, kicked Gi-hun in the knee. He stumbled back with a grunt, almost falling off the stairs, but grabbing onto a support beam to prevent that unpleasant possibility. Gi-hun was about to persist and fight, but then he looked at Young-il a bit better. His jacket wasn't 001 like he remembered it, but instead 132. His face was healthier- no, healthier was an understatement. Younger, healthier, with fainter, less obvious eye bags and... Happier. Well, as happy as someone can be being threatened. He didn't look as cold as he remembered him.
“You have the wrong man. Whatever that Young-il did to you, it wasn't me. My name is In-ho. Hwang In-ho.”
Gi-hun could have sworn it was him. In-ho looked like Young-il, sounded like him, even acted like him. They looked the same, except the aforementioned slight difference of player number and health. Gi-hun slowly let go of the metal beam, glancing back at the other players that were watching the exchange previously. There was a small crowd forming, about 10 people, staring expectantly, like they wanted to watch a fight.
Gi-hun remained silent, looking back at In-ho. And then it clicked. In-ho. Jun-ho. Suddenly it all made sense. Young-il never existed. His name was In-ho, not Young-il. It was all a front. A smart front. In-ho knew everything that happened in those 3 years between the games he participated in, so he must've known about him meeting Jun-ho, too. Young-il wasn't real. It was In-ho. He almost died not even knowing his real name. Or maybe he did die. He wasn't sure yet.
“...Is your brother Jun-ho?”
Gi-hun felt a little dumb for asking, seeing as he already knew the answer. But he needed to make sure, not because of doubt, but because of fear. He was scared that somehow, this wasn't a personal hell. That he was truly, really back. Not in his first games, or his second. He was back far before that. And while he didn't know the year, it's been at least a couple of years before his first games. He saw how In-ho's expression became more... Skeptical, almost worried.
“how do you know my brother?”
“...we met sometime before I came here.”
Gi-hun wasn't lying, not completely. It was just that the meeting was in the future. Of course, this was under the assumption that the universe decided he could get a second shot, and that this wasn't hell and he wasn't being tormented. Although, being in the games themselves was torment... Nevertheless, this meant he could stop it. He could save people, people that have been dead for a long time by the time his plan was set in motion. If he ended the games here... He could save everyone.
Youn- ...In-ho was staring at him distrustfully, but Gi-hun was already facing the crowd that was gathered in the center of the room. He quickly ran down the last remaining steps of the staircase and pushed past the people. If he manages to get everyone to vote to get out, he could devise a plan. But, then again, he didn't have the money he had in the future... Shit, okay, that complicated it a bit. He could do it on his own. He had experience of those three years. He just had to get them to vote to leave right now, after the first game, and save as many people as possible during red light green light.
“Wait, hold on. 456-”
Gi-hun looked back to see In-ho staring at him. It reminded him of the second games with how he stared. But this time, it wasn't a predator eyeing a prey animal from the shadows. It was a prey animal staring at a predator, desperately hiding from them. The other followed him through the crowd. How the tables have turned, now In-ho was the one wanting answers. But Gi-hun didn't look back. He made his way to where the guards would come into the room from any moment now. A few moments later, they did.
Chatter rose up. People being mad at being locked up here without any explanation. It was the same as it was in the first two games Gi-hun had experienced. People throwing hissy fits over things that wouldn't matter by the time the first game was over, either because you'd be dead or have worse things to worry about. Accusations were thrown; kidnapping, scamming, all the usual. People wanted to go home. But you couldn't go back before you played the first game. And many wouldn't get home even if they voted to leave.
“456, do you know where they put our belongings?”
Gi-hun closed his eyes and sighed. In-ho's hand was on his shoulder, trying to get his attention. He wanted to just pretend the other wasn't there, like he wasn't thrown back to the game with someone like him. But it was hard when In-ho, so far, had followed his every step. What should he say? "Oh, your things? You probably aren't getting them back because you'll probably die" was that too blunt? Maybe. The projector showed the clips of people playing ddakji and getting slapped over and over. He slowly turned around to face In-ho, understanding that he can't avoid him.
“They're stored away for the time being. You'll get them back if you win.”
“And if you lose? Get eliminated..?”
Gi-hun's eyes narrowed slightly. All those people that died, their families didn't even get anything to remember them by. But he kept his response vague.
“It won't matter when you're eliminated.”
“My wife is sick. The doctor is keeping me updated through the phone. Can't I get it back for that?”
Gi-hun didn't respond to that. That means... His wife is still alive. But she was in the game he played as 001 too, no? No, no she wasn't. He must've just been reusing this story. She was alive right now, but she wouldn't be for long. People made lines to the tables, signing away their lives to this slaughterhouse. They were the only two not yet lined up. Just standing there, blocking the way for people.
“No. They don't give anything back. I'm sorry.”
And it was a genuine sorry. Sorry for what's happening and what will happen. Gi-hun moved to the row of people waiting their turn to sign the consent forms, standing behind a player with the number 100. Unpleasant memories filled his mind. He was one of those assholes that wanted to kill Jun-hee's baby. But the player 100 standing in front of him seemed like a nervous fellow. By the time he was signing the consent form, Gi-hun could see him shaking. He'll be lucky to survive red light green light.
It was his turn. He took the pen offered by the circle worker, staring down at the form. What surprised him was that it was different to the first time. He read through it quickly. Then he read through it again. This wasn't right. People had the right to vote to leave. Even in the first game he had played, they could leave under the circumstance of not getting any money themselves, instead it went to the relatives of players who have died. There was nothing about voting. The only thing to sign was the fact the player would play until the end or until eliminated.
That's...
No...
With a shaky hand, he signed the consent form. It's not like there was much else to do beside that. He'd probably be shot otherwise. He set the pen down, stepping away, letting the next person behind him do the same. To no suprise, it was In-ho. Why couldn't he just go to wherever on his own way? Because he was scared. Scared of what would happen to his wife. So he went behind someone who looked like he knew what he was doing. It was smart. Although, personally, Gi-hun wouldn't follow someone who threatened him as soon as they locked eyes. When In-ho signed the form, Gi-hun quickly went over to ask something.
“What year is it?”
“huh?”
“It's a simple question, just respond.”
“... 2015..?”
Gi-hun didn't respond. That's five years before he ever came to the games. Nine before he... Died? Whatever happened just then, it was nine years later. His mother was still alive. Sang-woo was still alive. He himself is probably somewhere at home, out drinking, maybe betting. Everyone who participated in those two games he's been to is still alive. All those he's lost and grieved for are still alive. He can fix this. He now knew what he was going to do. He had to stop the games before In-ho ever became the front man. Hell, he'd be saving him, too.
“Stick with me. These are not just games.”
He sounded like a lunatic. God, he probably acted like one too, trying to help someone who he was about to punch a few minutes ago. His knee still kind of hurt, but it was easily ignorable - after all those things that have happened to him, before, during and between the games, it was enough to make the pain of a knee he was kicked in barely noticeable. In-ho followed without complain. At least he wasn't pointing out how insane Gi-hun sounded.
“Players, the first game will begin shortly.”
The crowd of people had begun to move, trying to be the first ones to get to the colourful room of staircases and false doors. He glanced behind himself briefly, looking to see if In-ho was still behind him. He was. The wait at the the photo terminals was quite long. It took people a few seconds, and considering there was six or seven terminals for 456 people, it was gonna take a while. Gi-hun leaned against the wall, observing, watching all the people pass through. Most of them smiled like they were supposed to.
So far, he'd seen that nervous 100, fidgeting during his photo, lanky 222 who had to slouch slightly to fit into the frame, 390, who didn't smile during her photo, instead looked like she could kill with a stare alone, and a few new additions he'd caught. A woman with the number 333, letting someone go first, which was the very opposite of the selfishness he'd connected to the number 333. There was also the 067 he'd seen before, patting a fellow player who was visibly a stranger and uncomfortable with the other's very friendly demeanor.
He stood beside In-ho, waiting his turn. The crowd was slowly thinning as more and more people got their photos taken. His thoughts wandered. The front man wasn't Young-il- In-ho. Start saying In-ho. The front man wasn't him. The best guess that came to mind was Il-nam. Five years younger is five years younger, after all, and without that tumour in his head, he was probably just fine running the games. Gi-hun spotted a 124 passing through. Not violent, not like the player he was used to with that number. Or, at least, not violent looking, but you know, appearances could fool. Hell, the guy apologised for bumping into someone.
It came his turn, and, apparently, also In-ho's. As he stood at the terminal, the room almost empty, only a few latecomers left taking their photos or departing. He stood, facing into the camera. The first photo he'd taken here, he was full of joy. Innocent, excited to play games, hoping to pay off debts, reconcile with his daughter, help his mother... He had longer, unkempt hair, and that silly smile.
The second photo he'd taken, he stared into the camera with cold determination. It wasn't hope - it was just the goal in his mind. To put a stop to the bloodshed. He was ruined by the years of searching and grasping at any clue or lead to the games. Hiring people to hunt down a messenger. His eyes were cold, a frown adorning his face instead of a smile. Hair short, face thinner than it should be.
Now he stared up into the lens. His hair was still short, face even thinner than before. He didn't smile, but he didn't frown this time. His face was neutral, a little tired looking, maybe. He guessed his eyebags were even worse. But his eyes had a light in them. Just the slightest glimmer of hope. To change the future. To save those he'd already crossed off the list of people he was trying to rescue. There was a chance.
The camera shutter sounded. Gi-hun stepped through the gate. At the gate right beside him, almost at the same time, In-ho stepped through. Gi-hun's initial anger was gone now. This wasn't the front man, this wasn't the man Young-il was a cover up for, this wasn't the man he hated. This was an innocent person, another poor human being forged to be a monster by the games.
“The first game is red light green light. Just stand behind me whenever it's red light. I've done this before.”
In-ho shot him a curious look but Gi-hun ignored it. Explaining that he's been here not once, but twice before, and that both those times were years later than this - and that he died at the very end, only to come back into the past... Yeah, he wasn't gonna explain that. So what if he lied? "Young-il" also lied to him. He was just returning the favour... Or maybe In-ho was the one returning the favour from now? This whole... Situation was confusing.
“Just stay with me.”
Notes:
Next chapter the games are actually gonna start okay I swear I promise on my mother things are actually gonna happen and it's not just filler, character descriptions and a whole lot of inner thoughts.
Chapter Text
Gi-hun began stepping up the colourful staircase, closely followed by In-ho. The two were at the very end of the group, followed by only five to ten other players who got left behind. Gi-hun glanced at them for a few seconds, but none of their numbers seemed familiar. It's not like it mattered right now. He continued the ascent, looking around himself. It hasn't changed one bit. The walls and various shapes forming alternative paths looked the same as they always have.
Yellow lined with pink, accentuated by blue, with the players' dark teal suits standing out, and the guards' pink uniforms blending in. The cameras loomed in the corners, providing a constant watch over the players and personnel alike. Some of the players up ahead seemed mesmerised by the appearance of the hall. Gi-hun could understand it. It was like a structure on the playground, changed by a child's imagination to something far more grand and stunning.
His eyes locked onto the chandelier for a moment. The chandelier he last noticed because his friends' corpses were hung from it. And now that the image was back in the forefront of his mind, he realised that he was pretty sure "Young-il"'s body wasn't there. Had he just stared for a moment longer he might've seen through the trick. Or, maybe, it was a different body dressed in his jumpsuit to trick him. Whatever it was, it wasn't something he could change right now. Right now, he had to think of how to go about saving the current players.
He didn't know the nature of the players here. This time, there was no chance of getting out by voting to leave. The only possibility of more than one person surviving would be a rebellion. But he didn't know how the people here handled violence, stress, and whether they could fight back. Maybe they were all weak willed, like the O voters, the only thing their eyes fixated on was money, and they could care less about those dying around them. But if there were more players like those who joined his rebellion, maybe he would have a good chance. Afterall, there was no voting to pit them against eachother, so even those who would've voted O if there were votes may join in.
“...so you've been here before.”
Gi-hun turned back to In-ho upon the other man's quiet observation. For a moment, he wondered what In-ho thought about that. Afterall, the fact that eliminated players die wasn't something they knew yet. In-ho probably thought Gi-hun had gotten eliminated and car back for another chance. For a moment, he almost thought about explaining it to In-ho - that people don't just get eliminated - they get shot. When you're out, you're out. And nobody will ever find out where you died. You'll just be a missing person until even those closest to you give up waiting. They'll think you abandoned them.
“Yes. I said that already.”
“Did you get far?”
“...yes.”
Gi-hun started walking again. He didn't want to make this anymore confusing than it already was. He could explain it more once In-ho realises that these are killing games. The last time he tried warning people before the first death, they laughed and sneered at him. He was sure someone asked if he was high, too. That didn't work out. People still died. And when not even he knew about the nature of eliminations, people also died. He had to pick something in-between. Give players clues on how to behave before they started, but not reveal the dying part.
“Red light green light, you said. Stopping on red, going on green?”
Gi-hun hummed in response, trying to confirm without having to turn around again. This path was so familiar - he knew which turn led to which room. Red light green light took place in the same section of the building as the final round of squid. Dalgona's room was changed completely for the second games he'd played, the wall pushed back and the structure of it remade for the Six-legged pentathlon. Tug of war, marbles, mingle and hide and seek had their own unique rooms. He originally assumed that glass bridge and jump rope took place in the same room, just rebuilt, but it looked different. The viewing window that glass bridge had was in the final round of his second games. Well, now that he thought about it, maybe it was tug of war and jump rope sharing a room-
“Hey!”
He'd bumped into the player in front of him, who immediately got agitated. Gi-hun stepped back, mumbling an apology and facing the floor. When the distance between him and the player he'd knocked into was big enough, he resumed walking. The first time he played red light green light, nobody was warned of what happened. A lot of people had died, far more than the second time. But he also didn't wanna give away that there was something off about him first game. He'd just try to tell people to make lines and pray that they listen.
“In-ho, we have to make lines. Tallest in the front, shortest in the back. That way, a person at the back can still faintly move and not get eliminated. Understood?”
When he didn't get a response, Gi-hun turned around. Only then did In-ho nod.
The players were entering the play area. The only room with an open sky, framed with high walls painted to look like a field with tall grass and sunny skies. He could hear the fair sound of birds high above. Maybe seagulls, but he was no expert. Gi-hun felt the sun hit his face. It was surreal to see the sun again after five whole days of being trapped in a concrete prison with only bright humming lights to keep the rooms illuminated. Players began pointing out that doll that stood backwards to them, facing the dry, and probably fake tree.
“It detects your movements. Don't let it see you.”
Gi-hun explained quietly, and In-ho nodded again, eyeing the doll with a certain curiousity. If he was curious about the inner workings, he'd be disappointed, because it's just sensors and a mechanism that turns the upper half of the doll 180°. A few players overheard Gi-hun's advice, mumbling amongst themselves about "how does he know that?" "He might be lying" and so on and so forth. He got to the front of the crowd, standing behind the white line.
“Players; The game we will be playing today is red light green light.”
The voice on the intercom went on to explain the rules. Move on green light, stop on red light, or you'll be eliminated. Of course, nobody yet knew that elimination meant death. He heard someone scoff and say "that's easy!" Poor guy would eat his words very soon... Gi-hun hesitated for a few moments. Should he tell them? He wanted to save them, yes, but... What would warning them do if there was no vote out? It'd be safer to start playing hero a little later. Unfortunately, words spilled out of his mouth against his will.
“Everyone! If you get behind someone, it won't see you move! That's how you s- continue to the next round.”
A good chunk of the players were staring at Gi-hun now. He almost said survive, which... would've given everything away and made him sound like a lunatic. People didn't seem to think he was crazy right now, though, it just looked like they thought he was smart and found a good tactic before the game started. In-ho was right beside him, shoulder to shoulder, which made Gi-hun feel somewhat uncomfortable, yet a little bit at ease. It was an odd feeling.
The game began.
“Green light”
The crowd moved too fast, there were simply too many people. They were bumping into one another, stepping on one another's feet, grumbling protests at being accidentally elbowed. Another bunch of people stayed at the back though, not yet taking notice of the time limit. Gi-hun moved with the crowd, taking steady steps. He felt In-ho shadowing him, which gave him more confidence. Some players were running, which was a stupid thing to do, of course. When you're running, you can't stop efficiently. If you can't stop efficiently, you're dead.
“Red light”
Someone stumbled at the last second. That poor fool. For a few moments, the person was trying to regain their footing, but the damage has been done. Gi-hun didn't get a chance to read their number, as a bullet went through their head. The body fell over, the unnatural sand stained crimson. Unlike his first games, the players didn't seem to doubt the death. At least thirty panicked and began running back. Gi-hun grit his teeth. Shit. And there it went again.
Blood spilled on the sand, players yelled in terror. Gi-hun tried to see what the people near him were doing. There were two lines formed beside his own, seemingly saving at least a couple people who would've been eliminated because of shakiness alone. Everything quieted down a few moments later, everyone as frozen as a statue. He could hear In-ho shudder behind him. Maybe he should've told him about the death, after all...
"Green light”
It was now or never. He had a role to fulfill here. He walked a few steps forwards, ignoring how everyone was froze still. He turned around, staring at the crowd of people. Three lined wasn't enough. The time was ticking, and it was ticking fast. If it continued like this, too many players would run out of time. And that wasn't the plan. Gi-hun's eyes locked with In-ho's. He could see fear in his eyes, his hands shaking faintly, staring straight back at him. In-ho was afraid.
“Listen, everyone! Get in lines like I told you to! We don't have forever, and you're gonna end up just like them if you don't cross the finish line in time.”
“Red light”
“Don't speak unless necessary, it could detect your mouth moving. And-”
Gi-hun didn't get a chance to continue explaining how to survive, because someone, again, panicked and started running back. How dumb do you have to be to turn around after witnessing people die the first time while standing your ground. Gi-hun shut his eyes, listening as more and more gunshots were fired. He couldn't bear to count them, to count how many lives were lost this time. He opened his eyes after a few more moments, again, face to face with In-ho. He looked like he'd start panicking soon, too.
Finally though, the gunshots were over.
“Green light”
Gi-hun moved back to where In-ho was standing. If he was planning to stand there, he'd have to cancel those plans, because Gi-hun wasn't letting him pretend to be a wall. He grabbed In-ho by the wrist, tugging at him gently, before turning back around. He could hear the shuffling of feet, people actually moving, including In-ho. Things were finally begining to look up... And he hoped it'd stay that way. Sure, he was counting on it that a few players would get eliminated, but no more mass panic waves.
“Red light”
He didn't let go of In-ho's hand.
“Green light”
The crowd began moving again, split into five or six lines that shielded those behind themselves from the sensor. It was working. Gi-hun moved forwards. They were about halfway through on time, but far past half the area they had to cross. It was looking good. He kept an eye on the doll, knowing he could catch the beginning of its movements before the phrase red light even started. And he did.
“Don't move.”
The words were far too quiet for anyone but himself and In-ho to hear.
“Red light”
Four eliminations.
“Green light”
They began to move once more. Gi-hun counted the seconds between red and green, now eyes on the ground, not the doll. The times he slipped was because of a dead body and the weight of a dying one, respectively. This time, he couldn't count on anyone to save him. Seven steps and there were a few more to be made. Or so he would've thought, but it seems like the time between red and green wasn't consistent. Instead, he was left with a foot halfway off the ground. He was going to fall. And nobody would save him.
“Red light”
He felt a hand gripping his jacket, and another gripping his other hand. That's when he realised that... Yes, someone would save him. It was not as risky of a situation as the first or second time he'd messed up during red light green light, but he would've probably stumbled trying to stand on one leg eventually. But no, In-ho grabbed him. He saved him.
Two shots.
“Green light”
In-ho let go of Gi-hun's jacket, leaving him stumbling for a moment before regaining his balance.
“Thank you... I-”
“You saved me too. I was going to run there. When you grabbed my arm, I... I just rethought everything and stood still.”
That little exchange took up their green light.
“Red light”
No shots.
“Green light”
“... Thank you.” Gi-hun repeated, walking forwards, readjusting his grip on In-ho's hand as he walked forwards. Their row was a little behind the others, but that was okay. They still had plenty for time and the finish line wasn't too far. Gi-hun no longer stared at the ground. There was nothing to trip over, nobody weighing him down. His eyes had to be on the doll. It was odd, how the fact In-ho was behind him went from unsettling to comforting within a few minutes. He supposed that even though he hated who In-ho had become, he didn't hate... Him.
“Red light”
One gunshot.
“Green light”
The first player had crossed the finish line. Someone from the other row, cheering loudly. More followed, from all the rows around him, and then eventually, he stepped over the finish line as well, tugging In-ho with him. It wasn't even a little close this time, no "one second left" bullshit. He had well over thirty seconds. People were making it. He spotted that player 100, who he was sure was going to die, still shaking like a neurotic hamster, but alive and well behind the finish line.
“Red light”
A few more shots were fired. He saw someone drop right before the finish line. Unfortunate soul, to die so close to safety. Maybe not dead yet, but he knew that once someone's shot, it's too late. Even if only in the leg, it's already far too late. They've been picked out for death, and this place doesn't let you change your fate once it's set. Once you are eliminated, no chances remain. Gi-hun almost considered going back and helping some of the people in the back, but then he realised his hand was still being held.
“Green light”
Player 222, the tall one, for some reason at the end of his row, got past the finish line. He seemed shaken, much like everyone else. 067 helped someone move past the line, someone who was too terrified to move on their own. 390, 333 and 124 were all amongst those who got through. A few players were already sitting on the sand, far behind the doll, trying to regain their energy and recover from the shock. The countdown hit zero, around the same time red light would've been called. Five or six, maybe seven players didn't make it in time.
The voice on the intercom has announced that the first game has concluded. The play area begun to be covered by a sliding ceiling, closing in on the sandy room, ripping the sun away from the people. That was the last time some of them would see it. The last ray of sunshine they'd ever feel on their skin. Gi-hun had finally gotten his hand back, shaking them both as if that helped with the sweat on them. It didn't.
Guards, those with triangle masks, had begun herding the players back to where they'd started. Nobody dared move out of line, nobody dared to rebel against them. They walked as one crowd, stepping around the fallen players as workers, those with circle masks, entered the room to do their job. Like worker ants in a nest, carrying away the dead into the graveyard. It really was like an ant nest, now that Gi-hun thought about it a little more.
Worker ants that carried things around. Carried the dead away, prepared things. Their lives were simple, carrying out predetermined tasks on a loop until death. Then there were bigger ants. Those that could fight for their colony, pinch their jaws around bugs twice their size to kill them. To eliminate them. There was a queen, the centre of it all. It may not he a perfect metaphor, but it was the best one he could apply whilst getting back into the room with staircases. In-ho didn't stray a step away from him during that time. He followed like a lost dog.
“... The control room is over there.”
Gi-hun didn't mind that he said it out loud, at least not at first. It's not like any guards were nearby, and most of the players were too stunned from what they just went through to listen in, plus already a little further ahead than the two of them. He pointed, vaguely, to where he remembered the path being. Quite high up in the complex, to say the least. He didn't remember exactly which single door the control room was, seeing as he didn't get there, but it was the direction.
“...what?”
“...nothing.”
Maybe he could play it off as just a thought, rather than an observation. Maybe he could pretend like he said something completely random instead of something he wanted to say. And for a few moments, he genuinely thought he got away with it. That In-ho wouldn't push and question him any further. But luck was not on his side, seeing as In-ho grabbed Gi-hun by the arm and tugged him to face him.
“What are you talking about? You said you were here before. But those who are eliminated die. They're dead. And yet you know what's happening here. You've played this game before.”
Gi-hun didn't respond. He didn't want to explain all of it. Not right now, not later, not ever. If he tried to, In-ho would call him a lunatic. Was he supposed to say "oh yeah, I time travelled here from the year 2024, don't worry about it. I've won before." Or something? He can't say that. He can't say anything, or he'll dig himself a bigger hole.
“... It's complicated.”
That's what he settled on.
“Complicated? Is that what you're settling on? You've... You knew what the game was. You've been here before. You won. You... You have the money?”
“I don't.”
Not like it wasn't the truth. The money wouldn't belong to him. It wouldn't for another five years.
“...did they not give you the money? Did you spend it? What-”
Their conversation was cut short, much to Gi-hun's relief, by a guard not so subtly giving them the hint to continue moving. They were the last two people left, far behind everyone else. Gi-hun gestured for In-ho to start moving and stop questioning, which, after a few more moments of staring at him with equal part confusion and annoyance, he did. The walk downwards continued in silence, not accompanied by the chatter of other players like on the way up. Not just because they were left behind, but also because everyone up ahead was silent.
“...you'll explain when we get back down, right?”
Gi-hun knew he wouldn't end up giving In-ho the answer he wanted.
“I'll try.”
Notes:
Ok for clarification gi-hun was gonna fall because he was standing on one leg. Like he wouldn't have kept his balance and started swaying. We all know how that works right?? When In-ho grabbed him he steadied him enough as to save him. Fun! Yeah I had to repeat history. Gi-hun is gonna keep messing up in red light green light and almost getting himself killed until the end of time 💔
Also "yay they held hands" I say as I ignore the bloodshed happening around them and the fact that Gi-hun looks insane to In-ho.
Chapter Text
Gi-hun entered the dormitory room, seeing all the other players already settling down. Most of them seemed to be recovering, at least a little, while others were left staring blankly and breathing heavily, as if the gunshots were about to repeat again and again. In-ho walked past him this time, that being the first time he strayed further than a few feet away. Gi-hun walked to the centre of the room. A handful of players looked over at him as he walked past. He mostly ignored it.
He could hear them. Whispering, questioning, theorising. About the games, about the legality, but also, about him. He was sure he heard the number 456 spoken more than once. It felt like all eyes were on him, even though he was sure it wasn't even half. He was pretty sure he knew what would next go down. Players would beg to go home. But this time, the guards wouldn't give them a choice. They'd be cruelly reminded of what they signed. And the rest of the day would be for resting, regaining your ground after witnessing horrors.
Gi-hun sat down at one of the staircases, observing what the other players would do next. Soon, a square masked guard, a manger, would come into the room, show the money, taunt them with paper bills that they all desperately needed. And it'd work. People always tended to get swayed by the thought of money. It was in their nature. Even the most selfless person who didn't need too much money would hesitate for just a moment upon seeing the piggy bank.
When the guards and manager entered, a few people started begging. Yelling how this can't be legal. That the police would take action. But who actually believed in that? It was a false hope that the people in this place made up, praying that something changes, but deep down, they knew help wouldn't come. The number of remaining players was somewhere around 300. He supposed it could've been worse... Much worse. Gi-hun was almost sure this was more players surviving than his first games after red light green light.
And then came the show. The main lights went out, leaving only a golden hue illuminating the room. The piggy bank went down from the ceiling, filling with stacks of money. Piles and piles of paper that could pay for anything you wished. The only issue was that it didn't belong to anyone. It was stained with the blood of those who died an untimely death here. If you were a good person and won, every payment, every glance at the bills, it'd just fill you with disgust. But greed doesn't coexist with good morals. Those who are hungry will eat until they are satisfied. It's hard to satisfy something like greed for money, though.
Gi-hun felt a wave of unease hit him out of nowhere, and he turned to look around himself. Player 132 was staring at him from the other side of the room. In-ho wanted answers, but so did Gi-hun. Unfortunately, you can't ask things about someone who doesn't truly exist yet. The front man as he knew him hasn't been created for now. He couldn't ask questions. In-ho didn't have answers. He caved eventually, and as the guards left the players alone, for what he'd guess would be two or three hours, he signaled for In-ho to come over.
In the meantime, he glanced at the crowd. Those people who he'd glanced at before were doing what they seemed to usually do. It was odd, how he could so easily sum up most people with just one trait. Of course, it may be biased, maybe inaccurate, maybe even looking past so many things. But there was still one more person he couldn't sum up in any way.
“In-ho.”
Gi-hun kept his greeting simple and formal. Maybe it was too much acknowledgement, seeing as they had separated mere minutes ago, but he shrugged it off. With the amount of things he wanted to ask In-ho, why he was helping him, why he joined the games... He had so many questions and none were ever answered. Maybe it's a bit of a mean thing to do, but he needed to repay the favour. Or, maybe, he was the reason why he didn't get anything out of In-ho back in the future...
“You get three questions. Use them wisely.”
Gi-hun, for the first time in what felt like a while, smiled faintly.
“Your name. Real name.”
Gi-hun felt a little surprised at that question. That wasn't even something he would've kept away from In-ho anyways, but if he was willing to waste a question on it, then sure, why not. Gi-hun leaned back on the staircase, glancing at In-ho. Now he could see curiousity...? Maybe the faintest hint of it? There was also confusion. Or something like it. It was hard to name all these emotions, none of which were his own. People express themselves variously.
“Gi-hun. Seong Gi-hun.” He responded, almost outstretching his hand for a handshake before changing his mind.
“You said you've been here before. You won, or otherwise got out alive. What did you do to the money and where is it now?” In-ho stared at him expectantly.
Gi-hun sighed. This was gonna... Take. While. But maybe he'd get In-ho to stop questioning him like a suspect on a police case if he just came clean. Sure, the truth was ridiculous, but maybe he'd finally stop prying, because he would just guess Gi-hun is crazy. So maybe that was the safest bet after all. For a few moments, he tried to pretend to think, even though he had his response formulated already.
“...well, I did win. In 2020. Yeah, yeah, "but it's 2015" look, I said it was confusing, didn't I?” Gi-hun went quiet, raising an eyebrow. Upon seeing that In-ho, in fact, didn't seem agitated by his response, he had no choice but to continue. “I won the games then, and the money, well, I basically didn't spend most of it. Oh, and the money doesn't exist right now. But you probably figured that out.”
“...so, you're saying you are from the future.”
“...yes.” Gi-hun admitted, now looking away. This interaction was turning out stupid. This made no sense, how the hell would he even get back here at all? He broke his neck and just woke up nine years ago. Right now, his old self is somewhere out there in the world, probably spending his money on horses. Betting on horses... He wasn't the only person currently betting, though. But those assholes bet on humans, human lives. But humans are not horses. They are not to be bet on.
“Why did you come to the games, then?”
Third and final question. Gi-hun thought about it himself for a moment. That was a very good question, he had to give him that, because there wasn't a clear answer. The first time? To get money for his mother's rapidly declining health and for custody, maybe at least partial, for his daughter. But neither of those were ever achieved. He never saved his mother. He never saw his daughter. The second was to stop the games. Another failure. But he didn't have a response for this round. He woke up here. He didn't come here of his own accord, he never got a card and he never called.
“...I don't know. I woke up here.”
“You can't just wake up here. We all played with that man on subways, got our cards and gave our calls.” In-ho was staring right at him. Now he looked suspicious, like Gi-hun might be undercover in those games, maybe that he was a guard pretending to be a player to mess with them. Gi-hun stared at his hands for a moment. His last memory is thinking of all those who've lost their lives in this slaughterhouse as he fell to his death, leaving little player 222 to win. And then he woke up here, unscathed and alive.
“The last thing I remember was in November, in the year 2024. I died. I died in these games.”
In-ho blinked once. Gi-hun stared back at him, just wondering what was going on inside his head. That he won in 2020 but died in here in 2024, meaning he must've been through this twice. That he's experienced this hell two whole times and survived it once. That he came back. Gi-hun could already feel the additional questions that In-ho would start bombarding him with. Although, deep down, he just hoped In-ho would accept it.
“How did you die? What game?”
...okay, just one more question that Gi-hun would answer.
“Final game. Fell to my death.” Gi-hun left it vague on purpose. He didn't need to reveal the fact a baby competed in the games, or that he willingly fell off the platform to ensure the poor child survives. None of it was important. None of it was important, not now, not in the future, not anymore. He wanted to change other's fates, save those who would enter the games years later. But in the end, he was content with how it ended for him. He would gladly die over and over as long as everyone else got a happier fate.
“...you called me Young-il. Do we know eachother? In the future you talked about.”
“That's a fourth question.” Gi-hun pointed out and crossed his arms. But when In-ho shrugged and stood up, he found himself reaching out slightly and opening his mouth to respond anyways. He didn't know why. He didn't want to be alone here, as that would likely force him to socialise with the others. The moment he'd know their names, it'd likely be too late. He would want to save them, save them all. But keeping his goal in saving just In-ho, not from death, but from his fate of overseeing this bloodshed, that'd be easier.
“Wait.”
In-ho paused, slowly turning back around. Gi-hun cringed at his own extended arm, which almost grabbed In-ho by the wrist in an attempt to make him stop leaving. What the hell was he doing? He wanted to save In-ho from what he'd become, but that didn't mean befriend him. He quickly pulled his hand back before it drew too much attention and got noticed by In-ho, instead gesturing for him to sit back down.
“...okay, okay, yes, we do know eachother. You introduced yourself as Young-il. That's why I called you that when I first saw you.” Gi-hun explained, looking away and pretending to be interested by what the other players were doing. Most of them were alone, on bunk beds. The loudest exception was 067, as the man was trying to keep a positive mood around himself. Most just seemed annoyed by it, but one fellow player, with a number Gi-hun didn't manage to read as he was moving around too much, seemed a bit at ease.
“You were going to punch me the second you saw my face.”
“...yeah.” Gi-hun admitted, not daring to look at In-ho again. He wasn't gonna get into the entire front man thing, the rebellion, the death faking, the three years of searching, him killing Jung-bae, him, for some reason helping Gi-hun win the games and keep two of them alive, changing the games, the things they talked about... There was a lot he didn't want to explain. A lot he wanted to forget about. Something, deep down, was telling him to just forget everything that has happened, save In-ho, and help those who'd end up here otherwise.
“Did I do something to warrant that anger?” In-ho's tone changed. He sounded... Regretful, in a way. Regretful of something that didn't even happen yet. Gi-hun felt a bit saddened by the tone of voice. He shouldn't feel sorry for something that hasn't happened and something he did under such different circumstances. And yes, he did toy with Gi-hun, gained his trust just to break it, but he was genuinely sorry about Jung-bae and helped Gi-hun in the end. He was a confusing person. His personality traits clashed, didn't flow together like with others he knew.
“It's in the future. You don't have to feel sorry now.”
“I want to prevent it from happening. I don't want you to hate me. You saved me back there, as confusing as your actions are.”
“...you saved me too, though.”
Both of them went silent. Strangely enough, the moment felt peaceful. The chatter of people around them provided background noise, fading into a dull hum. Gi-hun clasped his hands together, looking away for a moment, back at the other survivors, back at those he knew he couldn't save. He felt In-ho's gaze on him, a feeling he grew accustomed to when he was pretending to be Young-il, and was now growing rather comfortable with. It reminded him that he was there, that for now, he was alive and had a chance to help the people who would come here in the future.
“Now, can I ask some questions about you?” Gi-hun suggested slowly, looking back at In-ho. He wasn't sure how comfortable the other would be sharing personal information, but maybe it could help Gi-hun understand everything just a little better. Understand why he behaved the way he did in the future, why he was the front man, why he joined the games undercover, why he offered that knife to him and gave him a chance to cheat the system and win. It was confusing.
“Sure.”
The two were sitting on the staircase, which vaguely reminded Gi-hun of the second games. He and his team spent a lot of time sitting on them. Right now, most of the players were on their own, which was a stark contrast to how the alliances formed in 2024, though, it was likely because of the lack of voting. People would start working together by the time tug of war came around. If it came around. Gi-hun was just hoping it was the same games he's already played. If it's something new again, there was a big chance he couldn't help In-ho through.
“...go on, ask.”
But Gi-hun's mind went blank. He didn't know what to ask him. The things he's truly curious about haven't happened yet, they didn't have answers, and the question itself would sound like a what-if. And he already knew almost everything that could be answered. If the story In-ho gave Young-il was the same as the true reason he came here all these years ago, then he basically knew everything he needed to know.
“Um... Why did you come here? What do you need to get the money for?”
That was the best question he could make up on the spot.
“...my wife is sick.”
Gi-hun nodded faintly. So the story was true. He didn't dare dig deeper, though. When Young-il's story was revealed, it had something to do with liver disease. He was no expert when it came to diseases or anything medical, so he didn't really know the proper term. All he knew is that it was something that could be saved with a transplant. But In-ho couldn't give his own, and the waiting list was too long. In the future, she was already dead. The issue is that Gi-hun didn't know when she died. It could be tomorrow, it could be in a few years.
“I'm sorry.”
“... you're from the future. Is she okay in the future?”
Gi-hun didn't respond. He didn't know. He really didn't know. All signs pointed to no. But he didn't want to crush his hopes immediately - it was too early for that. Maybe he could give a vague response, something that's true but also not an outright no. Gi-hun looked back at the players. He heard someone complain about being hungry, which just reminded him of how little food they'd get in the next six days they'd be trapped here. It was usually one or two meals a day, something in the morning and later, sometime around lunch or in the afternoon. There was no way to tell time here. It was vague guesses.
“I-”
Gi-hun was, thankfully, interrupted by the entrance of guards into the room. Whoever complained about hunger a moment ago was about to be very happy. Two tables were set, with a box of food and something to drink for every single player. Gi-hun slowly stood up, leaving In-ho on the stairs, confused, worried and probably a little annoyed by the lack of an answer. But that'd have to wait. The players slowly made their way there, forming lines in wait for food. It always started civilised. Then, in the first games, it later turned into a bloodbath, because they were only fed an egg through the whole day.
“Come on, they're giving out food.”
“Will I get an answer?”
Gi-hun frowned, suddenly glad he was facing away from In-ho. He gave a small hum, praying it sounded like it could be both a yes and a no. He heard how In-ho followed right behind him, which was not nearly as uncomfortable as the first time. He got in line, at the very end, only followed by In-ho. He saw a player pass by, carrying the metal box filled with whatever food they'd feed them and... Oh. Gi-hun sighed upon the sight of a milk carton. He supposed if thirst got too bad he could just drink from the sink, but he certainly wasn't thrilled.
“Not your taste?” In-ho questioned.
“Lactose intolerant.” Gi-hun corrected, staring back ahead.
“Me too.”
Huh. So that whole "oh, I can't drink milk" excuse for giving Jun-hee his share back in the second games wasn't an excuse after all. Kind of funny how that's the one thing they shared between one another. They couldn't drink milk. Now Gi-hun had nobody to slide the milk over to to avoid it. How the hell would he get rid of it this time? He heard In-ho chuckle faintly, though the sound still carried a sign of unease from the lack of answer about his wife.
“... weren't you two fighting earlier?”
Gi-hun lifted up his head, facing a player who stood in the row a little ahead of him. He read her number; 172. Why does this random woman care? He vaguely recalled seeing her when he threatened In-ho, in the small crowd who were mumbling amongst one another about the conflict. He didn't really know how to explain. No, scratch that, he didn't know how to respond at all. He opened his mouth, planning to respond with something like "oh, we made up" but In-ho spoke earlier.
“He had the wrong guy. It was a funny exchange, looking back.”
Gi-hun quietly sighed in relief.
Player 172 seemed to take that for an answer that was good enough, because after a moment more she turned around and waited her turn for food. Gi-hun slowly looked back at In-ho, trying to say thanks without speaking any words. It worked, or so he assumed, because In-ho nodded, which he read as a "don't sweat it." Their turn came soon, and Gi-hun took a metal box and the carton. He'd just leave it somewhere for someone else to take without having to talk to them.
He sat down on another staircase, not wanting to potentially agitate someone who would've claimed a bed as their own, even though they didn't directly belong to anyone. Usually, people just slept on whatever bed was the nearest to where they were standing prior to lights out, and it was almost never the same bed they'd wake up on at the start. Gi-hun silently scanned the nearby beds for a good spot to settle onto - something not too high up in the case of moving too much in his sleep and falling off, but not something on the ground, people could get there during the... Special game.
He opened the metal box, seeing the relatively good looking food. It was rice and some meat and veggies. It was a somewhat small portion, but that wasn't his main concern. It didn't make sense as to why they put milk as the drink on the side. Maybe they just enjoyed watching lactose intolerant people suffer. He set the carton aside, instead picking up the chopsticks offered with the food and began to eat. In-ho sat down beside him a few seconds later, setting his milk to the side as well. They ate in silence, although In-ho glanced at him very often, and, well, Gi-hun only noticed because he did the same.
The piggy bank was looming overhead, no longer the focus of most people, no longer bathing the room in a golden light. But it was there. Every once in a while, a player would glance upwards and lock their eyes on it. He spent a few minutes after mostly finishing his food staring at the various players. 067 eating with a few of his comrades, one of which Gi-hun could finally put a number on. 089. He also saw 390, sitting isolated as far away from everyone else as the room would allow, her eyes glaring at the nearest player. 100 frantically scarfing down his food and gobbling up milk which he spilled over himself in the process, much to his dismay. He also spotted 222, grabbing a carton of milk from another unsuspecting player when the other wasn't looking, then walking away like he didn't just steal something that wasn't his.
“...about my wife...”
Gi-hun braced for impact at first, but then decided to just say the safest thing he could think up on the spot.
“I don't know. You didn't talk about her then, you just said she was sick.”
“...so she was sick again?”
Gi-hun saw the opportunity and took it. If that was something In-ho believed, then so be it. It was a merciful truth, far easier to take than potential death. He looked ahead, at the players, most of whom were already settling down on beds, eating their food, drinking their milk, or just sitting there. Some were beginning to talk. Others were silent. Gi-hun eventually nodded, to which In-ho smiled faintly, seemingly relieved by the fact his wife was alive and only sick again in 2024. Gi-hun felt guilty upon lying. This was a lie. He was almost certain she was dead. But whatever kept In-ho from snapping...
Gi-hun then spotted 172 again. He had to get rid of this milk, so he took his chance. He stood up, grabbing his carton and walking over to the woman. In-ho followed him for whatever reason.
“Miss, would you like this milk? I can't drink it and-”
“Oh, sorry, I can't either.”
Gi-hun turned around as fast as he could, wanting to forget this interaction immediately. So far he talked to two people and both of them couldn't drink milk. This game was one big joke, wasn't it. He shamefully carried the milk back to where he was sitting before, In-ho laughing quietly behind him. He sat down further down on the staircase, staring into his lap, trying desperately to forget what he just did. He told himself not to interact with anyone. He just wanted to do one charitable act. But the universe said no, let's make everyone who he talks to lactose intolerant.
“Unlucky...” In-ho commented with a smile, putting a hand on Gi-hun's shoulder in a vaguely comforting gesture. As bad as the memories of 2024 that flooded up upon the small touch were, comfort was stronger than them. In-ho wasn't thinking about his sick wife, and was laughing at his mistake. During the first games Gi-hun would've laughed too, maybe made friends with 172. But that wasn't something he couldn't risk doing this time. Getting attached in this place was bad. Everyone around you would die. Even looking at someone would end with you getting hurt. But the sound of chuckling pulled him out of his thoughts.
Despite himself, he smiled at In-ho's laughter.
Notes:
It got a little fluffy (and humourous?) towards the end which I blame on having a good day myself. Also I was reading through the wiki and realising both these fools have lactose intolerance. Matching food restrictions <3
Also first character i made up for plot!!! 172!!! I hope her number isn't anyone important in the actual series I just slapped three digits together. I don't think it is??? I would've probably remembered. Don't worry, she's only there for occasional extra dialogue because having only 2 people talk with the occasional stuff on the intercom and guards is kinda boring. Maybe she'll drop her backstory but she won't be named or anything. She'll just be there. Occasionally.
Also 089 is new!! He's there to keep 067 company :3 they and the players with numbers of major S1/S2 characters are there to drive the plot forwards. You might've realised that the ones with familiar numbers have opposite qualities (or, those qualities I listed in the first chapter) than their canon counterparts :0 that's mostly to make Gi-hun's monologues more fun. Maybe they'll appear later on but don't get too attached. It's squid game, afterall. My personal favourite is 100 because 100 in S2 is such an asshole meanwhile I described this guy as a neurotic hamster (that's the peak of my literature writing by the way)
Chapter Text
Gi-hun had been aware of how oddly time passed in this place. You'd wake up, eat something, play a game, eat again and you'd go back to sleep. There was no clock, no way to figure out what time it was. The sun, hidden away by thick concrete walls, couldn't help. For all they knew, it could be only noon and they'd go back to sleep, waking up before the sun even rose. And nobody would realise. Your watch would've been taken alongside everything else you had on you when you came here.
The games messed with a human's mind, tearing it apart and messily putting it back together, leaving it broken and unsalvageable, but for one person out of hundreds, alive. You'd never be the same if you made it out of here alive, forever seeing blood on your hands, forever hearing the screams of those who were eliminated. Getting attached to anyone here was something you couldn't risk. It was either you or them getting killed in the end. It always ended that way.
There couldn't be two winners. Not in his first games, not in these. His second games were an exception, but in the end, there was still only one winner. The game being changed in his favour didn't end up changing fate. He was always doomed, from the very moment Sang-woo had driven a knife into his own throat, fate was set. He was the winner, and his goal was then to end the games, but the mere idea had meant he'd die. He didn't accomplish it in the end. One person was born and 456 died. The odds couldn't be changed. It was the way the game was designed.
It's been some time since they've been given food. Of course, with no way to tell time, he couldn't place his long it's been. Could've been thirty minutes, could've been two hours. His body was beginning to hurt slightly from sitting still, so he stood up and walked a few steps up and down on the staircase. In-ho was sitting still, watching him in silence. The other players were still talking amongst themselves, which at least meant that it wasn't eerily silent. Gi-hun sat back down a few seconds later, sighing.
”Our numbers almost match.” In-ho said, looking at Gi-hun's tracksuit before lifting up his gaze to his eyes. Gi-hun didn't look at his number, he's grown accustomed to it by now, but glanced at In-ho's. 132. He didn't understand why In-ho had pointed it out, but he supposed he had a point. Almost. Almost match. If only In-ho's number had been 123, because... Then Gi-hun's number is 456. Gi-hun snorted with slight amusement, but also felt weirdly disappointed. Almost match. Not match. Almost the same, but different. Gi-hun's number was clean, going up. In-ho's went up and down. Erratic, not as perfect looking.
“I guess they do.”
“Players. Lights out will be in thirty minutes”
The phrase itself made Gi-hun freeze. Lights out. Lights out... His fingers twitched and he felt goosebumps forming. At first a time of peace and rest, then it'll quickly twist into a time plunged in darkness and illuminated with flashing lights that resemble a storm, silence broken through with screams of players fighting just to add a few more stacks of money to the piggy bank. There was no safety when the darkness came. There would be no rest, in just a few more games, it'd turn into a nightmare.
“...it feels too early for that.” In-ho mumbled, eyeing the countdown suspiciously. Gi-hun didn't stop staring at it. Every second made him a little more panicked. He knew the players wouldn't be brave enough to attack yet, he knew they didn't yet understand the fact they could kill for money, but that didn't make him any less afraid. Red light green light didn't make him afraid, not one bit. And yet, lights out scared him. Maybe because it was unpredictable. It didn't have rules, everyone was against everyone, nobody could be trusted.
Everything else became background noise. All he heard was the ticking of the countdown. 29:23, 29:22. His throat felt tight, he didn't blink. He just stared. He didn't have allies because it was wrong to get attached. But not having allies meant he could take turns watching. Just him and In-ho wasn't enough. He didn't want to ask anyone for help. He didn't want them to care or for himself to care about them. Just knowing their numbers and being able to recognise them in the crowd, to tell the difference between a 1 and a 7 was bad enough. His breath was fast.
A hand squeezed his shoulder, snapping him out of his panic.
“Gi-hun, you alright?”
He slowly nodded, even if it wasn't the truth. His throat felt dry. He was thirsty and felt weirdly cold and yet hot at the same time. The ticking was still at the forefront of his mind, each tick echoing in his mind like a gunshot. He stood up abruptly, hands shaking. He needed to drink something, fast. He ignored the milk carton still sitting on the stairs tauntingly, making his way over to where the bathrooms were. He heard as In-ho stood up, probably about to follow him again, but he turned around before In-ho began walking.
“Stay here, don't follow.”
When In-ho didn't say a word, Gi-hun turned back around and continued walking. Most of the players were settling down near beds already. They didn't know what could occur. What they could be a part of very soon. 28:44, 28:43, the ticking made him shiver uneasily. The bathrooms weren't blocked before lights out, allowing free passage in and out whenever. It seemed empty enough, only a few other players doing their business. He went over to the sink, turning it on and cupping his hands under the running water.
The water may not be clean, but it was still drinkable. He sipped out of his cupped hand, breathing still faster than it should be. Even though the ticking wasn't audible from here, it was still in his head. Counting down to a disaster in the making, counting down to the show of how disgusting humans could get. To how hands would become crimson with gore and paper bills would fall down into the piggy bank under a golden light.
He stopped the water, just standing over the sink for a few moments. Droplets leaked down, reminiscent of the lights out countdown in their ticking. Tick, tick, here comes the wave of blood and greed. He met his own face in the mirror. His eyebags looked even worse than when he first entered the second games. There were a few drops of dried blood on his face which he hadn't even registered until now. Must've been from red light green light. Gi-hun finally stepped away from the sink, heading back into the dormitory.
The ticking assaulted his ears once more, making him tense up immediately. He tried to ignore it, but it was harder to do than one would assume. It's hard to ignore something that's been following you all this time, ticking away. The other games were scary, yes, more dangerous, but the true horror was human nature. It wasn't a doll watching your movement, a game of skill you had a fair chance at, it wasn't taking a chance when faced with two platforms, one of which would lead to your demise. It was praying that another person wouldn't see you and go for the kill.
He made his way back over to where In-ho was on the stairs. Gi-hun looked over the countdown again. 22:55, 22:54, tick, tick, tick. The ground felt like it moved underneath him, leaving him a little nauseous, as much as he tried to ignore it. Tick, tick, tick. He felt himself slipping back into panic, as the cold water on his hands only eased him for a few seconds. He tried to convince himself that it was gonna be okay, that nobody would attack yet. But humans were unpredictable, making spontaneous decisions that changes the future and erased the present.
He didn't say anything as he sat back down on the stairs, facing the floor. Despite everything, he couldn't force the ticking out of his head. 22:02, 22:01, tick. His nails sunk into his palms. It was something about the nature of lights out. The way being on guard reminded him of the time his company went on strike. The way they took turns keeping watch and rebelling. Someone died there. He vaguely heard In-ho's voice, but didn't register what he had said. A hand landed on his shoulder.
Gi-hun finally lifted up his head, facing In-ho. Their eyes locked for a moment. At first, the words In-ho was saying didn't register, overshadowed by the ticking. A time limit was present in almost all of the games, a countdown to death. Gi-hun narrowly avoided it most of the time, barely a second early at the finish line before he too, would end up getting shot. He tried to focus again, trying to read In-ho's lips. His own name, that's what In-ho was saying.
“Gi-hun, what- does lights out mean something bad?”
He didn't respond, but his mind cleared slightly. He looked back up to In-ho's eyes before looking away at the thinning crowd. Most have already found their beds, some have already began settling down. The ticking repeated and repeated, threatening to drive him insane. But as Gi-hun closed his eyes, trying to listen to anything but it, he managed to ease the fear just a little. He took a deep breath, finally looking back at In-ho.
“... Not in on itself. It's just that players may be dangerous at night.”
“You're saying they could try to... Kill us?”
Gi-hun nodded slightly. He scanned the crowd, for someone like player 101, someone who'd take the first chance to attack at night. But nobody who immediately hit him as a violent person seemed to be present. Of course, appearances fooled. At first, nobody seems like anything, they are united by their need, or want, for money. But then people's colours start showing. Lying to secure victory, masking their intentions so they can stab you in the back, begging to be spared only to then strike back just when you consider mercy.
...of course, it's not always with bad intentions. Sometimes it's just survival.
Even the most peaceful players had driven a knife into the body of a hider during hind and seek. It was about survival, about perseverance. It was either them or someone else, and most people would save themselves rather than spare a stranger. And that was human nature, putting yourself before everyone else. That applied in hide and seek, tug of war, marbles, squid and mingle. But then there was lights out. Nobody is putting a gun to your head and telling you to kill to secure yourself safety.
The blood on your hands is voluntary.
“The next game could be dalgona.” Gi-hun finally found something else to talk about. Something that could help. The only problem was the fact he was unsure of the legitimacy of his own statement. After all, the second game was not dalgona in 2024, it was a series of minigames played in teams, chained together, forcing alliances that would later be broken.
“Could be?” In-ho echoed, skeptically and curiously.
“It was the game the first time I was here. You know, shapes in a cookie you'd have to cut out... But the second time, it was a team game. Jegu, spinning top, so on, one for each of the five players.” Gi-hun explained, for once, the ticking was silent enough in his head to not make him freeze up. He dared glance over to the counter. 19:22, 19:21. In-ho's gaze followed his.
“So... What's your advice for it, then?”
“We stick together.” Gi-hun said.
It could be something new, too. Or, in this case, something old and out of fashion. But he said what he said. He'd stick with In-ho. Right now, his goal was to change fate, change In-ho's fate. To steer him away from the position of the front man, to make sure he doesn't drown in the blood this place would spill over the years. Gi-hun thought about the possibility of the games long in the future being played. Though unlikely, nothing is impossible. He pondered hide and seek for just a moment too long. If they were to be put on opposing teams...
Gi-hun would do anything to change his fate.
“So, for dalgona?”
“... I'll tell you when we get there.” Gi-hun said, avoiding In-ho's gaze.
“...why?”
Gi-hun sighed. He himself wasn't exactly sure why he avoided saying it in the first place. Maybe he was afraid of that nightmare somehow coming true. The absolutely horrifying insult to the shape of a triangle he'd seen. Seriously? You call that monstrosity a triangle? With it's tens of corners and angles? It's called a triangle for a reason. Or maybe he was afraid of picking the easy way out. Whatever it was, he'd... Yeah, he'd just say it tomorrow.
“I'll tell you what to do when we get there.” Gi-hun avoided quietly.
“How do I know you're not going to leave me with something impossible to do?” In-ho snapped back.
“I- I already saved you once. Why would I do that? I want to save you...”
Both of them remained silent. Staring at one another. The ticking suddenly seemed louder and louder as In-ho's eyes showed the faintest hint of anger. Even if that anger faded away as fast as it came, the ticking was already like gunfire. Gi-hun closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down, to no avail. He was already seeing faces in his head. Bloodstained, disfigured. Friends and foes alike, their blood on his hands. Had he succeeded in the rebellion, had he seen though In-ho's lies...
“I'm sorry. You're just acting weird, that's why I was worried.”
“Pick triangle.” Gi-hun said finally, opening his eyes and staring right at In-ho.
“...for dalgona?” In-ho's oblivious question made him equal part irritated as... Amused, was it? It felt like amusement. Maybe a little different... He couldn't place it.
“Yes, for dalgona. Triangle, you hear me? No matter what anyone else says or does. Triangle.” Gi-hun's hands were shaking again. He needed some water again. He turned around and walked off without anything else. The ticking was still loud but he could silence it. He knew he could. The sound of running water chased it out of his head, made his hands far less tense, slowed his heartbeat down to a normal frequency.
He returned quicker this time, having splashed some water on his face and drank some of that sink water, the countdown showed- ah, forget it. The more he looked at the counter the more uneased it made him, so he opted not to. This time, he didn't sit down at the staircase, but climbed up to a decently positioned bed. A few players had taken up their previous spot, but there was a bed still open just across from him.
“You sure you didn't drink any milk?” In-ho said under his breath, before beginning to laugh. Oh, he thought he was so funny, didn't he? But despite what Gi-hun had just said to himself in his head, he found himself smiling. What a stupid joke, made at his expense, and yet, he found it just a little funny. The ticking was silenced.
“...no, I didn't. I just went over to drink some water.” Gi-hun explain, waving his hand dismissively. In-ho sat down at the bed across, still laughing quietly. Okay, even if he did laugh, it was not that funny... Maybe a little, but not this much. The other few players in the nearby beds were mostly quiet, besides two that were loudly debating about something that sounded trivial on the outside.
“And I'm saying it's the blue piece that's easier to use to flip over the red one! When that guy on the subway gave the choice I picked blue and i won three times in a row!”
“Well, I only lost once with red. it's better.”
“No it's not.”
“Yes it is!”
067 and 089, as Gi-hun finally read over their numbers, sitting on two beds besides eachother, debating about Ddakji and which piece was easier to use to flip over the other. Gi-hun himself was pretty sure the colour didn't make a difference, but what did was the side which you threw upwards. Then again, he'd lost more times than he could count, so maybe he shouldn't even be thinking of advice. He then noticed that both of them still had milk cartons. Just as he was about to question it, 089 saw him and greeted.
“Oh, you're the guy 132 mentioned! Thanks for the milk, man!”
Gi-hun hesitated in answering, eventually just responding with a small nod to acknowledge the other's comment. He then turned to face In-ho, who, while he looked proud to have gotten rid of the milk, he also seemed a little smug about how it got shoved in Gi-hun's face by the player who received the carton. He rolled his eyes a little, but eventually mouthed a "thanks" to In-ho, not wanting to disrupt the conversation of the two nearby players.
The topic shifted from the game to drink flavours. Another player joined into the discussion with an angry remark about how wrong they both were. Although, with how angry the player was at first, they mellowed out fast and in under a minute they went from dismissing their claims to agreeing with them. 067 had a friendly demeanor, easing the mood around himself, allowing others to sit right beside him and talk with him.
The exact opposite of Sae-byeok.
Sae-byeok would rather die than willingly engage in conversation with strangers that didn't directly benefit her in some way. She stood on her own throughout as many rounds as she could, and even if she was accepted into their team, she barely stuck around. But she had to be independent and harsh on the outside. It's how she survived out there. Until she didn't.
“Players, lights out in ten minutes.”
Most players had begun settling down in their beds and going quiet. Well, except 067, 089 and their new friend, as the only thing that changed was the topic and the loudness of their chatter. They were more-so whispering to one another, but not quietly enough to conceal the current topic of their mumbling. It was about the earlier game. And Gi-hun didn't really like hearing his number being spoken out loud by strangers.
“I wouldn't be here without that 456 guy, I'm gonna be honest. I was shaking like a leaf back there but thankfully I was behind someone.”
“Yeah, I think a lot of us would've died had it not been for his advice.”
“He's smart.”
Gi-hun hated to disappoint. All he said was someone else's words coming from his mouth. It was Sang-woo who figured out the sensors in the doll's eyes, and the one who realised you could hide behind others to make minute movement possible in case of emergency. It was just old knowledge recycled and spat out for new people. He didn't want those people to look up to him, to believe that he's above them. In the end, he's just like everyone else here. A human made of flesh with mistakes dotting his past.
The last ten minutes prior to lights out passed calmly. And then the ticking stopped.
The lights turned off, but the chatter from the bed near him didn't leave. They were trying to be quiet, that much was obvious, but they weren't. They were still talking way too loudly and half the dormitory could hear them. A few minutes in, someone hissed at them to shut up and go to sleep. Which they did, for not even a minute before someone brought up a question that needed an answer immediately. With no way to tell time, it was hard to tell how long it took them to pack up the debate and all finally lay down, but it had to have been at least ten or twenty minutes.
Gi-hun didn't close his eyes. There was still an instinctual fear of even shutting his eyes, knowing there are strangers all around. The memory of all the lights outs before, the flickering lights and the screams of those who's throats would soon bubble with their own blood. It made him unable to rest. He was tired, so incredibly tired, but he couldn't rest. He was sure everyone around him was asleep. Then he heard the slightest creak of the metal beams that made up the beds and flinched.
He sat up immediately, fists clenched, searching the darkness for an attacker. Of course, there was nothing he could see in the lightless room, do he relied on his ears. A faint squeak of shoes against the ground to his left. He turned that way. A footstep, then two, coming closer. He lifted up his fist, ready to throw a punch at the person he was so sure was about to strike first.
“Gi-hun, are you asleep yet?”
Oh. His fist lowered as he heard In-ho's voice. Suddenly feeling at ease, he let out a faint sigh as if to show that the answer was no, and got out of the bed. As dark as it was, he remembered the layout of the room. With his foot blindly searching for the steps on the staircase, he eventually sat down with In-ho somewhere near him.
“Can't sleep.” Gi-hun explained.
“Scared?” In-ho asked.
Gi-hun nodded faintly on impulse, suddenly glad that it was pitch black. He gave a scoff, which was already a little too late to seem like a convincing no. He shifted, a grimace making it's way onto his face. He was scared, as dumb as it sounded. Even if nobody was hostile, infact, most people seemed friendly, he didn't trust a single person here. Well, maybe he trusted In-ho, just a little bit? But not too much. Trusting too much never worked. Trusting player 001 would never work out. But this wasn't 001. This was 132. He... He could trust him.
“If it makes you feel better... I don't feel safe here either.”
And that was something human. You don't trust complete strangers. You never do. Even as a kid, you'd have a weird feeling sleeping over outside of home for the first time. There'd always be distrust towards unfamiliar humans and places, because that's how humans stay safe. Humans are cautious... It wasn't completely pitch black now that Gi-hun focused his eyes. Although fainter than what he was used to, the light of the piggy bank still outlined some parts of the room in gold.
“That's human.” Gi-hun responded
“Humans tend to act human, no?” In-ho said.
Gi-hun chuckled quietly, keeping it down for the sake of other players.
“You should try to sleep.” In-ho added after a moment, their eyes meeting in the low light. Gi-hun stared back, contemplating the suggestion. He was tired, but equally as sure he couldn't fall asleep. He continued staring for a few seconds too long, only looking away when In-ho's face began to show a sense of confusion at the prolonged eye contact.
“...you should sleep too.” Gi-hun whispered.
“I'm used to night shifts.” In-ho protested quietly.
“Sleep.” Gi-hun insisted.
But neither of the went yet. They both sat at the staircase in complete silence, the only sound being their own quiet breaths and the distant snoring of a player who seemed to be a noisy sleeper. Gi-hun heard some sort of ticking again, not a countdown, not something unnatural. For a few seconds, he listened to his heart beat. He was alive. He was actually alive right now. His hand went to his own chest, pressing down on the left.
He only went to sleep after In-ho had almost passed out on the stairs, having had to nudge him back awake and tell him to sleep in a bed and not on an uneven metal staircase. After In-ho had left, Gi-hun did too. He climbed back into the bed, not closing his eyes. His own heartbeat was beginning to put him more at ease. A reminder that he had a chance to save those he had seen die. A reminder that it wasn't all lost. That his old friends could still be saved. His heart was still beating.
He closed his eyes.
Notes:
Back to the games themselves next chapter :3 I'm having a lot of fun writing these :D however I don't feel like reading through them after I finish them... So, yeah, there's probably a million spelling mistakes and nonsensical sentences.
Also I swear to whatever's above if I wrote tickling instead of ticking and some point i will go insane.
Chapter 6: Four shapes
Chapter Text
The familiar classical music began playing as the lights had turned on, blinding every player who opened their eyes. Gi-hun felt well rested despite how he assumed his first night here would go, and slowly got up. He immediately began looking around for his friends before he remembered where he was. By the time he'd realised, In-ho was already standing beside his bed, waiting for him to get down, which Gi-hun figured out by the stare the other was giving him.
“Morning.” In-ho greeted as Gi-hun climbed down from the bed and onto the staircase. A few players were already in the center of the room, some looking eager to play, some looking like they wholly regretted coming here in the first place. Gi-hun muttered a quiet "morning" back, glancing down at his hands. Greeted by the scar from his first games and no blood. A reminder of the chance he was given and the chance he was going to take.
His plan was simple. Make sure In-ho didn't become the front man. Meeting him before he got ruined by the games opened Gi-hun's eyes to the fact that he wasn't just a monster who took the time to toy with him and taunt him. He had a life before all this. And if he was alive, if he was here and he had a chance to change at least one person's fate, then so be it. He was willing to die doing it. The game had only one winner, and he'd make sure it wasn't himself.
But if there was a possibility of somehow, someway, both getting himself and In-ho out of here alive... Then he had another plan. If the prize money was split, he'd use it to help the people he'd met during the games. Stop Sang-woo from joining the games and make sure he gets to reunite with his mother. Give Sae-byeok the money she needs to take care of her brother and help her mother. And Ali. And Jun-hee. And Jung-bae. And... Everyone else he's met and watched die in those two games. Maybe not every single person, but even half the prize money could help almost everyone.
“Gi-hun, come on, they called for food.”
Internally, Gi-hun prayed for it not to include milk again.
It wasn't. By the time he and In-ho stood in line, he watched the players who'd gotten their share carrying a water bottle and something small for breakfast with them. He'd take it, as long as it wasn't milk, he'd take anything. This time he wasn't at the end of the line, more-so near the middle, which meant he could clearly hear 067 starting yet another debate with his friends. Were they friends? Maybe not friends, per-se, but it's as close to friendship as people in here can get.
He got his food, taking the bottled water and the small... He didn't really know how to describe it. A poor excuse for a rice cake? Was it even rice...? Was it even edible? He wasn't sure. Frankly, just the appearance of the food made him not want to eat it. Not that he was picky, it was the fact he didn't feel like eating in general. He'd barely eaten in his second games, which showed, and it was rather uncomfortable forcing himself to eat anything anymore. When he sat down at the staircase, he set the cake aside and instead took a sip of the water. Tasted... Like water.
In-ho had sat down beside him, already having unpacked the small cake and began eating it before even sitting down. Maybe it didn't look so bad, afterall, now that In-ho was eating. But Gi-hun didn't even look at the food as he took another sip of water instead. Both of them were silent for at least a minute, just sitting at the stairs and watching everyone else.
“They don't really give us much food.” In-ho commented after having finished eating his share.
“...they tend to do that. Then people start fighting for the limited resources.” Gi-hun said, staring at the packaged food in his hand. It didn't look good, it just looked like something you'd eat because it was the cheapest thing in the store and you were both hungry and broke. The exact kind of food people here would eat out there, a stark contrast to the grand feast players would be offered before the finale. It was like a reward for holding on so long, finally proper food that could satiate you.
“That's what you were scared of during lights out?” In-ho asked.
“I wasn't...scared.” Gi-hun said, hand cupping the plastic container of the food he wasn't going to eat in the first place.
Yet again, he caught a snippet of the conversation 067, 089, and, ah, he finally caught a glimpse of the last one's number, 328 - the trio was debating about the next game - one of them suggested that it could be a repeat of red light green light, just with a shorter time limit and more obstacles to make things harder. That would... Not only be a nightmare, but it would never satisfy those pigs up there. The second suggestion was closer to the actual thing. Another childhood game. The one that brought it up was 067, suggesting squid. Close, but it was too early for something so intense to come.
He looked back at In-ho, who he caught staring at the food Gi-hun had yet to open. Even if In-ho quickly looked away and pretended not to have been looking at it, Gi-hun was already aware of the fact he was. The mention of the portions being too small, the look that said 'I'm hungry but I don't want to be insensitive and ask for your food' - he couldn't just ignore it. And he wasn't hungry anyway. He offered his food to people before. He offered the water to people, used it to cool down the old man's fever. It wasn't his. It was borrowed.
“You can have it.” Gi-hun said, offering up the cake.
“No, there's no need. It's yours.” In-ho's polite refusal was forced. He glanced over the the food and Gi-hun saw the look in his eyes. He was trying to pretend like he didn't want the food, but Gi-hun pressed on. He held out the food almost in front of In-ho's face, not budging. Even if he didn't say it, he was making sure it was apparent. He didn't want the food. In-ho should have it. He deserved it more. He had a noble cause for being here. Gi-hun was pulled in here by an undescribable force with no rhyme or reason.
“Take it.” Gi-hun said when his staring didn't work.
“No, it's okay, I'm not that hungry.” In-ho shook his head.
“If neither of you want it, can I get it?” 328 chimed in, having left their buddies when the opportunity for extra food arose.
Suddenly In-ho took the food without complaint, almost too fast, as if he was afraid 328 would reach for it first. Human greed strikes again. In-ho had opened the package and began eating without delay, nodding in thanks to Gi-hun. 328 sighed in mock defeat, mumbling something under their breath before walking away. Gi-hun stayed silent as he watched In-ho eat. He wasn't feeling hungry, but now felt a bit better since the food wasn't going to waste. He watched in silence, gaze not breaking away from the other man for even a split second.
“Is it at least good?” Gi-hun asked.
“... it's... Food.” In-ho's hesitance said it all.
So it tasted awful, Gi-hun concluded internally. Not that he was surprised. The food here was never too good; it was made in mass, for hundreds of people, only enough to keep the players from hunching over as hunger gnawed on their innards. Enough to keep them from starving, but not too much as to not make them comfortable. The food was familiar, in a way, food for the poor, food from your childhood, but something was always off about it. The meat was just a bit too hard to bite, the corn just a little too undercooked, the rice just a little bit too dry.
A single boiled egg. He remembered it. That was the reason the first big fight ensued. In the first games, only a glass bottle filled with water and a single egg was given to them, enraging a certain group of people. They got doubles, leaving others to starve. Someone got mad. Someone else fought back. It resulted in a body in the centre of the room and money falling into the piggy bank. And then, bloodshed ensued, hands clawing into skin and glass bottles driven into limbs and necks, all just for a few more stacks of money. In the end, it's not like anyone benefited from it. Those who fell to violence were all gone by the time the final dinner was served.
“Pick triangle, right?” In-ho spoke up, putting the plastic aside as he looked up at Gi-hun.
“Mhm. If there's a choice involving shapes, go triangle.”
“What about triangles?” Gi-hun flinched faintly as player 328 was standing right behind them again, eyeing the two curiously. 067 and 089 were right behind them, all curious about the topic of the discussion between them. Gi-hun knew why they were so curious - they already saw how he'd helped the majority during the first game, and now were hoping for more advice. Gi-hun wasn't sure if he should tell them. They'd all be dead in three or less days, shot or broken from falls. It didn't matter what they'd be told. It just be prolonging their misery.
...but Gi-hun didn't want to see them die. He knew it was inevitable, and that the longer they lived, the more he cared. The more he knew about them, the worse it got. Knowing their names would be too bad. He glanced at In-ho for a split second, wondering what to do. Telling them would be the kind thing to do. Telling them that they shouldn't pick the umbrella in case the second game was dalgona would allow them to live just a day longer. They could theorize about life and death and everything in-between for another 24 hours.
“...ah, well...” Gi-hun started. The surrounding few metres got a little too quiet for his liking. A few additional players had their heads turned to him.
“...It seems like we're playing kid's games, no?” Gi-hun heard the quiet "Thats what I'm saying!" From 089, which he tried to ignore.
“... Dalgona could be a game they might make us play. And the simplest shape is...” Gi-hun trailed off, letting whoever wanted to finish the sentence. 067 gasped, saying triangle a little too loudly, which got the attention of a few more players. He sighed, closing his eyes and trying to not think about the players he'd just helped. The players that would end up dead no matter what he'd do. He could only save one person, and that person was already decided to be In-ho. He couldn't even think about helping the others. It was pointless.
Chatter erupted, the loudest being the trio. 328 sounded the most skeptical, questioning that it might be a trick, that it could very well be a lie to get them to kick the bucket. 067 on the other hand, wholly believed him. So unlike Sae-byeok... 089 seemed like the thinker of the little group, glancing at Gi-hun suspiciously before mouthing something to his buddies. He tried to pretend like that wasn't just happening, turning back to where In-ho was sitting. The other was staring at him. Not in the way the front man in a disguise would. It was innocent, simple curiousity and intrigue.
“Thank you, 456.” Gi-hun flinched again. Could people please stop walking up to him from behind and speaking without warning? This was getting annoying and the scares weren't funny. If he were a little older, he might even be worried about having a heart attack from this. Although, if he was to have one, he would've probably already had it, given the horrors he'd gone through in the past week. Past week to him, of course. He turned to face the player who spoke up and appeared.
172. Another one to the list he'd end up grieving for once this was all over.
“...no problem.” Gi-hun said through gritted teeth.
“Attention all players, the second game will begin shortly.”
The voice, oh so robotic, never changing and never shifting. He would've assumed it was pre-recorded, but strangely enough, he's spotted differences in the way it speaks. The way the speed and pronunciation of the numbers during eliminations shifts the slightest bit. It sounded like a real person in real time, but something was so disturbingly odd about it. Though, he supposed, there was always something off about everything here. From the atmosphere of the place, to the structure, to the people, to the reveal of the nature of these games.
Everyone started rushing towards the middle of the room and the entrance. Gi-hun slowly stood up, glancing behind himself at In-ho who was the slightest bit zoned out. When he gestured for him to get up, the other man stood up, far quicker than Gi-hun, and made his way over to the entrance of the room. He caught the slightest sound of a chant, repeated by a, by now, familiar trio of players, saying "team triangle" over and over. Of course, chances are it might not be dalgona, but if it is... Good for them.
Then, Gi-hun saw player 100. The one who was impossibly lucky to have survived red light green light. Shaky, young, no older than thirty, his breathing audible. Whatever he picked, he was doomed. His hands were shaky even when there wasn't a gun pointed at him. Gi-hun felt... Sorry for him. He knew a 100 back in the second games. One of the greedy ones, not only resembling a greedy pig in demeanor, but, no offense, also in appearance. This was nothing like him. This man looked like he'd bolt out of here if he was given the chance to, no matter the repercussions.
Words popped up in his head. ‘Did you have fun playing the hero?’ so clear and loud in his brain.
“...hey, calm down.” Gi-hun said, and when he didn't get a response, he gently tapped 100's shoulder, not wanting to freak him out anymore than he already was. The other turned around, looking nervous but immediately tried to hide it. To look brave, like he wasn't shaking like crazy just a moment ago.
“I am calm. I am perfectly calm. Why are you talking to me?” it wasn't suspicion. It was fear. Unease. Gi-hun understood it. No matter how the player tried to hide it, it was apparent. Fear. Fear for his life. He was one of those that didn't feel at ease between the games. Afraid even when the guns weren't loaded, flinching without gunshots. He wasn't gonna make it. None of them were. But player 100 wasn't supposed to make it anywhere in the first place. His fate was written down at the very start, shot in the first game due to moving. Now his fate has changed.
“Pick the triangle.” Gi-hun said with a hushed voice.
“What triangle?” The player asked, genuine confusion mixing with the prior fear.
“If there's a triangle, pick it.” Gi-hun insisted before anyone else heard the exchange. Then he turned back to In-ho, who was talking to someone else in the crowd. 172 from earlier, the two seemed to be engaged in their discussion. He heard In-ho say “I wouldn't be here without him. We might've been off to a rocky start but I think it'll all be okay.” This was about him. But In-ho didn't say it to his face. He talked to a stranger who happened to talk to them once. One conversation and In-ho was talking to someone else.
Gi-hun felt a small sting of something in his chest. He couldn't exactly place it, name it, sort it into a column of what it was. The closest word he had for it was... Jealousy? No, that didn't sound right... He just wished those words were said to his face, not to someone else. He wanted In-ho to smile and say it, to look at him with a thanks in his eyes... Was that weird? It felt weird. Gi-hun shook his head, forcing the thought away. He was just trying to protect In-ho from getting too attached to someone who'll die here.
But he might die here too, and he had no problem letting In-ho grow close to him. He wanted it.
“Gi-hun! In case it's not dalgona... She's good at some of those games you mentioned. I can take spinning top and-” In-ho's smile as he approached caught Gi-hun off guard. But then he heard it. Oh, no. Oh absolutely not. There was no chance, no chance in hell, no chance in heaven, no chance in anything and anywhere that he'd let In-ho take spinning top if it was the six-legged pentathlon. He knew how it almost ended the first time. He wasn't gonna risk it again.
“You are not taking spinning top.”
“I... I am pretty good at it.” In-ho said, now a little less sure of himself.
Gi-hun gave him a look that said 'trust me, if it comes down to it, you're not taking spinning top. Under no circumstances am I letting that happen.' In-ho's eyes narrowed, a silent stare that Gi-hun interpreted as 'the second we're alone, you're explaining to me why that's the case' and 172, well, 172 stared between the two of them before rolling her eyes and walking past them. In-ho blinked, surprised at her departure, while Gi-hun felt more at peace.
“See you there, whatever it's gonna be.”
A few moments of staring at one another later, Gi-hun peeled his eyes away from In-ho and began walking along with the rest of the players. The crowd entered the colourful room with staircases once more. Memories flooded back in. The rebellion. Shots fired across the room, hitting the painted concrete and leaving deep holes, proving just how bad the quality of the building was. It looked composed on the outside, but deep down, it was weak.
He wondered how else it could've gone. Things that could've been changed. Had he not let In-ho snake his way close to him maybe it would've worked. If he didn't know the plan, he couldn't stop it. But maybe it would've failed no matter what. What's a handful of hungry, desperate humans with stolen guns against hundreds of masked, robotic workers? Even with human beings under the suits, they behaved like they were programmed for only one task, not speaking, not moving out of line. The consequences of doing anything out of turn would be fatal.
Players moved upwards on the staircases, taking turns that made no sense, only because it's what the guards instructed them to do. Moving like bugs trapped in a maze. In the end there was only exit for one bug. Gi-hun glanced behind himself, over at In-ho, who's eyes were on the staircase underneath. Gi-hun didn't look away immediately, almost missing the next step but managed to regain his balance just on time. Just keep your eyes where they're supposed to be. In-ho isn't gonna disappear if you don't look at him for ten seconds.
They slowly entered the room. Gi-hun exhaled in relief, met with the familiar room. The relief was short lived, of course, given that it was the games. But it wasn't anything new. Most players began looking around, at the sky blue walls with clouds painted on, a laughable attempt at making it seem less dead. That strange sand under their shoes, shifting like it was in an hourglass. Nonsensical shifting, moving like waves. As the players began spreading out throughout the room, most looked towards the four shapes. A triangle, painted in a red much like the blood of those that would fail. A circle, coloured a dark green, almost reminiscent of the player's tracksuits. A star, shining in yellow, a hope in the darkness.
And an umbrella, a rain-like blue. Too inviting, too kind looking for what it was. So complicated compared to the other shapes. The others were geometrical, with movements that felt familiar, even space between each line. The umbrellas wasn't symmetrical, no matter what you would do. It combined lines and curves, the absolute nightmare that the handle was, and of course, there was the stress of seeing it and knowing that your chances of survival went from a decent 60% to a 5%. But something about the umbrella was familiar.
“I'll choose the umbrella. I always forgot mine at home as a kid.”
It wasn't the exact words he'd said back then, but it was the meaning that counted. An innocent man, making an innocent choice. A team of four, one shape for each, the easy ones taken by the rest, Gi-hun had went for something familiar, something that resonated with him. Something about the shape, the usage of the thing it represented, the dark blue looking just like the ocean... Something drew him to the shape back then. And that feeling didn't leave. He knew what the umbrella meant. And yet...
“Players, please pick one of the four shapes before you and stand in a line in front of it.”
Gi-hun stood still at the entrance, ignoring as most players walked past him. They began picking. 067, 089 and 328 rushed towards the triangle immediately, still chanting their little silly chant. It seemed to persuade an indecisive player or two into joining in. 172 followed them as well. He tried to ignore the unease as more and more players picked other shapes that weren't triangles. He tried not to look at the people picking umbrella. In-ho had began walking towards the triangle before turning back around, meeting eyes with Gi-hun.
Gi-hun stepped forwards. The easy way out was right over there, with In-ho, with those who knew what was coming. It was lucky that the game was indeed dalgona. But most people didn't know that. Most people didn't go straight to the triangle. Most people took their time deciding, went random or let someone push them to whichever one. He saw player 100, staring towards the triangle, before hesitating. Instead, he went to the circle. He didn't trust Gi-hun. Why didn't he trust him? A circle was still harder than the triangle. Why-
He made the mistake of looking over to the row of people at the umbrella. He spotted 222. Not Jun-hee. Nothing like Jun-hee. But the number itself made him feel sad for the person wearing it and staring towards the umbrella. He saw a new number, one he hadn't noticed before. 199, standing at the umbrella, unaware of what wad behind it. Ali was the entire reason he had been here this long. This wasn't Ali, but they shared a number, and that was enough to remind Gi-hun of him.
124 at the star, 390 at the star, 333 at the star. The star was not nearly as hard as the umbrella, but it was still far more complicated than the triangle. He wanted to shout. He wanted to sell at them to think about it for just a moment. 388, another number he was sure he hadn't seen before, standing at the circle. And at the umbrella; 218. Memories flashed in his mind. No, this wasn't happening, stop thinking about it. That's not him. He's somewhere else right now, happy and not trapped here. He shut his eyes. He wanted to save them all. He had let himself get attached again. This wasn't his plan at all.
He felt his heart racing. Panic. Not for his own life. But for all the people here. Something pushed into him. He ignored it. He knew it was a gun. He knew he was the last one not having picked a shape. He knew he was standing there, frozen like a fool. He made a small step, the sound of the shifting sand too loud. He felt like all eyes were on him. And this time, they might've been. A triangle guard's shotgun to his back, not with reason, but as a nudge, not even it couldn't make him move.
His eyes opened, meeting In-ho's. The man gestured, vaguely, for him to come over. To take the easy way out. The triangle, shining like an exit sign. It was hard to fail on the triangle. It was far easier than everything else here. The circle was one big curve. The star had too many lines. The umbrella... Most of the people would die trying to cut out the umbrella. It was pure luck that had allowed him to survive the first time. But the people there didn't have that luck. They didn't know they could lick the cookie to melt it. They didn't know that they had a chance to survive if they didn't rush and used tricks.
“Player 456, please pick a shape, or you will be eliminated.”
A square mask had spoken to him. Directly to him. Not to the players as a whole, not to a group that was causing issues. To him. To the last player who joined the games. Now everyone was staring at him. His eyes met In-ho's for a second time. The other's expression dropped. Did he know already? Did he realise that the hesitance had it's reasons? He looked away, not wanting to bear the sudden change in the other's face. The way just a bit of fear flickered in his eyes. He couldn't. He walked forwards. Memories flooded back. His eyes locked onto the number 218.
“Did you have fun playing the hero, played 456?”
Such a distinct memory. It was never about fun. It was always about the people. The second games were all about saving them all, telling them about red light green light in advance, resulting in a much higher survival rate than his first games. He tried to warn them about dalgona, but the game was never played. They were changed because of him. To make his head hurt and to make the maze he was already trapped in even more confusing. His next steps were as if not his own. It was someone else in his body, walking a familiar path. Someone who died a long time ago. Physically, that person was still breathing. But he was no more. He died alongside his best friend that rainy day.
When he played the finale, when it was him against Sang-woo, when it was a game of squid, it had rained. A heavy rain, making the unnatural sand become mud-like, staining shoes and clothes alike. Blood mixed with water, sinking into the sand like the knife had sunk into Sang-woo's neck, held in his own hands. Raindrops sinking into the suits they were forced to fight in, sticking to a dead face of a friend. Not someone from the games. Someone he'd known before. Someone important to him. Rain fell heavily. Rain washed away who he was that day. A part of him died that day beside Sang-woo.
Umbrellas were designed to keep the rain from touching you.
Gi-hun stood at the end of the row for the umbrella.
“Players, today's game will be... Dalgona.”
Notes:
I. I don't know what possessed me. I did plan for Gi-hun to pick the umbrella again since the start but I didn't know how he'd come to the conclusion of risking his life again even if he knew.
And then something told me to slap Sang-woo in there and I went with it and almost made myself cry at midnight. Wonderful! This chapter's conclusion made me sick to my stomach and what I have planned for the next one will make me even sicker. I hate them all so much.
I'm just like Gi-hun. I'm getting attached to my stupid background characters who I know will die. I might go draw them. My babies they don't deserve this 💔 also lmk if you want more or less inclusion of these background characters cause originally they were there only to stretch out the chapters and remind Gi-hun of those he's watched die. But I want to give them lore. Aughh...
Chapter Text
Players begin to mumble amongst themselves. Confusion arises, followed closely by fear and regret. People start to look around, regretting the choices they made, wishing they picked differently. They understand now, almost all of them know what the game is now, and those that aren't aware will realise as soon as the circular metal box they'll be given will be opened, revealing the shape they picked and with it, the stress. There was only one group of people not intimidated. The few that picked triangle because they overheard Gi-hun's advice, because they caught on and managed to cheat fate.
“Gi-hun!”
The yell tore through the room, making Gi-hun himself flinch. In-ho sounded desperate, scared, even. Gi-hun knew it wasn't because of him, it wasn't enough time for him to start caring. In-ho was only afraid because someone who defended him was in danger. It wasn't because his friend would likely die. They weren't friends. True friendship doesn't exist in this place, it never will. It's exchanges, trades to ensure one or both of you will survive one more day. People stabbed one another in the back. Eyes turned to In-ho first, then some to Gi-hun. He didn't care about Gi-hun as a person. He cared about the protection and insight he offered.
A few whispers arose in the room, mostly amongst the players with simpler shapes who had nothing much to worry about. Workers began giving out the small metal containers, instructing the players to spread out through the room, to settle amongst the sized up playground equipment. Gi-hun got his own box, holding it in his hands with strange gentleness. Such a fragile thing that it was, melted down sugar that would crack upon the slightest mistake. A fun game to play as kids when you craved a second but didn't have the money for it. Not so fun when it was your life on the line and the shapes weren't nearly as simple.
He saw as In-ho was trying to walk towards him, but one of the guards stepped in front of him. This didn't happen at any point that he remembered. Maybe because nobody tried pushing their way towards others the first time around. Maybe it's because the guards knew something was up, which was probably the worst possibility, because that meant everyone in the building knew what was up. He just hoped they wouldn't shoot him. Not because he wanted to live, not because he was afraid of death, but because that would mean he died in vain. If he died here, right now, with a broken cookie and a hole through his head or chest, he would be sure to show the players the way out first.
“Players must remain at a distance from one another to avoid disruptions.” The guard blocking In-ho's way turned him away.
Gi-hun shut his eyes closed, not daring to meet In-ho's own.
The voice on the intercom went on to explain the rules for those unaware. There were probably people like that here, people who didn't come from South Korea, at least one or two. Whether they would be from the north or from some other country out there, they might not have known the rules. It was the least the games could do. Everyone was supposed to have equal chances. It didn't mean giving the ones with disadvantages an edge, it meant leaving them to die first so only the best of the equal would survive. Didn't seem really equal now, did it?
He opened his container just as the countdown began. The familiar sight of the sugar cookie with that treacherous umbrella within it greeted him. Such an innocent shape, such a helpful shape, but it's not like it meant anything now. It was lines to be followed with a thin needle, over and over, until it either pulled loose or cracked. As the ticking of the countdown filled his ears, he began. Following the straight line on one side of the handle, repeating the careful movement of back and forth. He'd get to licking in a movement. He didn't want to seem suspicious. The room was eerily silent, only the sound of needle scraping against hardened sugar and the occasional crack of someone with a simpler shape separating the pieces.
The first gunshot sounded not even a minute into the game. A player dropped dead in the centre of the room. Multiple people flinched, but nobody seemed to break their cookie immediately. The soldier standing over the now dead, or dying player stepped away, getting back into position. They surveyed the players, ready to put a finger the trigger the second they heard a crack that was suspiciously loud and a saw a player that was too panicked. One of them walked over directly to Gi-hun. He didn't even budge. Not even slightly. The soldier went on their way a moment later, just as the voice on the intercom read out the first death.
“Player 439, eliminated.”
He could've sworn he saw that person in the triangle row.
But he couldn't worry about that, not right now. Time ticked down, but his hands were steady. Focus was the only thing he could let take over him right now. He had to wait. He had to wait to start licking that cookie. They'd suspect something. He knew for sure they'd suspect something. If they didn't realise something was off about him already by the time he warned people about red light green light, they would know when he'd start save hundreds of people during this game. He'd just have to hold on. He carefully worked on the umbrella, trying not to do anything stupid. He started with the easy parts, he could get the rest of it done then.
People began passing. 067, 172, 089 were the first ones who's numbers he immediately recognised that passed. Of course they did, they knew what the game would be and knew what shape to pick from the start. A minute or so later, 328 passed. More eliminations followed. Numbers he hadn't yet recognised that he would never think of again as their bodies dropped into the sand. He was almost certain most of them were those with umbrellas and stars. For a moment, he stopped working on the umbrella and looked around the crowd. Player 100, probably struggling with his circle. Players continued getting through, more and more leaving the room. Some more got eliminated. His eyes then met In-ho's.
Almost everyone with a triangle was either done or mostly done. In-ho stared back at him, not facing the shape. What was he doing? Gi-hun mouthed "what are you doing? Go, finish this!" but got no response. For a moment, the stress and fear of everyone else was in the background, leaving only them two, staring at one another. In-ho lifted up his cookie. Not cracked, almost finished, not breaking eye contact. What was he doing!? He should just go and pass like everyone else, save himself- Something in his eyes scared Gi-hun. Genuinely made him afraid.
He wasn't leaving.
“...In-ho...” he muttered, barely loud enough for himself to hear. He had to go. In-ho was supposed to go. Why wasn't he just finishing this? Why was he stalling, why was he waiting? Why was he waiting for Gi-hun? For all he knew, Gi-hun willingly went to pick the umbrella, willingly die, knowing his fate. And there he was, In-ho, sitting across from him, staring back into his eyes. Gi-hun wanted to be right with his thought of In-ho not caring, only wanting to keep Gi-hun around for hints and tips that would allow him to survive. That sounded like the In-ho, the front man he knew. The man who's stab him in the back. And yet here he was, with a stubborn and defeated look in his eyes.
Something told him that if he didn't make it, In-ho would give up. Something told him In-ho thought he didn't have a chance here without him. His eyes dropped back to the umbrella, the umbrella he'd barely began working on, and slowly picked it up. This was for him. For In-ho. It didn't matter if he survived, only In-ho's survival mattered, but now he decided that he wouldn't proceed and save himself without Gi-hun. He wasn't even giving himself a chance. Why was he so stupid? This was... This wasn't right. Gi-hun's hand was shaking. He wasn't living for himself. He had to keep moving for In-ho.
He brought the cookie to his mouth, beginning to lick it. Saliva seeped into the sugar, the thinned out lines of where the umbrella was slowly melting first. He looked up at the nearest player, who was staring at him for a few moments, so confused before suddenly looking closer. It was 222, the tall one who he'd seen steal from someone else yesterday. Not 222 as in Jun-hee, but it was still a person who didn't deserve to die here. The player lifted up the cookie against the light, face brightening in understanding. It was sugar. Sugar melts. The thinner, the faster it melts. Several nearby players who happened to be watching repeated the exact thing 222 did. The trick spread like a fire through a dry field.
Gi-hun licked the cookie over and over. It wasn't the same as it was the first time, it wasn't frantic, it wasn't for his own survival. His life was never on the line, it had already been written down as over a long time ago. It was the day he signed the first consent form that he agreed to death. It didn't matter whether it was the same day the first games began or the morning he woke up for the final one. Death was always the finality. But In-ho... He could still be saved. Not from the death that would eventually take him. But from his fate. He wouldn't end up here. He wouldn't end up masked, watching people die, serving the sadistic bastards plated in gold their dish of suffering.
The sugary taste in his mouth did nothing to ease a single thing he felt. His eyes were pulled towards In-ho, even if he resisted the urge to look. He didn't hear him passing the game yet. He wouldn't actually willingly die here, right? He had his wife, and their unborn child, to live for. Stalling and risking his life for Gi-hun, someone who, sure, saved his life, but also met just yesterday. It made no sense. It wasn't friendship, or care, everything here was supposed to be an exchange of resources, to be allies to heighten the chance of survival, but it wasn't truly about care. It never should be. Caring here only brings pain.
Everyone who hadn't yet passed was now licking the cookie like their life depended on it. Memories of the first games flooded back. It was the only smart thing he'd ever figured out in his whole life, at least in his opinion. Someone else should've been the one to notice it. It was such a Sang-woo thing to point out, explain the logistics of it and save his friends. But he never did. He picked the easy way out and was suspiciously adamant on picking the triangle. It was... Almost a little too clear. But it didn't matter anymore. Sang-woo wasn't here right now. His investments were currently most likely skyrocketing. He was okay in 2015.
“Player 222, pass”
Occasional gunshots were still fired. People who licked a little too hard and melted a part of the shape or people who tried to continue using the needle. Whatever it was, it just proved that it wasn't a guaranteed way out. Time was ticking down, and the crowd was thinning. People passed. He began hearing familiar numbers. 218, 390 and 388 - shortly followed by 333 and 199. His own shape was slowly coming loose, and there was still a lot of time left. It was coming along suspiciously well. He looked up again, almost periodically, facing In-ho. Did he have a death wish or something?
“Player 100, pass.”
...For picking a circle, it took him a long time. Though, he supposed that it was the fault of his general demeanor. With shaky hands and a weak will, even the simpler shape would take insane precision and focus to cut out safely. Gi-hun wanted to wait and stall until everyone, every single person here, had finished or was eliminated. But he couldn't. Clearly, In-ho wasn't going without him. And even if it was just a trick and he'd save himself last moment, Gi-hun didn't wanna tempt fate. He pulled on the umbrella, watching the shape slowly pop out of the cookie. He lifted it, facing the guard that was stood in front of him.
“Player 456, pass”
Not even a second later, In-ho passed as well. Gi-hun stood up, glancing towards the exit of the room. First, he went to look over at the first fallen player, though. 439 was laying in the sand, lifeless. In their hand, a container with a triangle cookie, completely shattered... How do you even mess up that badly..? He looked away, stepping away from the body, and heading to the exit. Someone grabbed his wrist, making him flinch. He knew it was In-ho, yes, but it still surprised him. It didn't make him afraid, just... Something like suprise. It was hard to place. It was a strange feeling, a mix of unease and comfort, suprise and reassurance.
“Gi-hun, why did you...” In-ho sounded angry. No, not just angry. Disappointed, too. There was also worry in his tone. He still tried to tell himself that it was just worry for his lead out of the game, but deep down he knew better. He knew that there was genuine worry about him, him as a person. He didn't want In-ho to care about what happens to him. He didn't want him to think they're friends, like they could make it out of here alive together. That's not how this place works. He was only going to stay alive as long as it took for the two of them to get to the finale, and then, Gi-hun would do exactly what Sang-woo did. Use the weapon on himself, not on In-ho.
Though, maybe comparing Sang-woo to this was wrong, seeing as Sang-woo would've killed him instead if he could. Gi-hun had seen it in his eyes.
“The people who picked umbrella would've died.” Gi-hun said, taking a hold of In-ho's hand absently, trying to give him at least some comfort. It was strange, seeing as this person was where his biggest enemy, the person who he considered a monster... This is where he came from. A man who just wanted to save his wife's life. A player who left the play area pushed past them, which made Gi-hun realise they were blocking the exit. He let go of In-ho's hand, beginning to walk down the stairs.
“But they would've died anyways somewhere down the line-”
“I don't want to watch them die.”
“You can't save everyone, Gi-hun.”
Gi-hun stopped walking, standing there on the steps of the colourful staircase. The truth hit like a brick to the face, making something within him hurt. He felt like he had to save them. The moment the second games began, he no longer thought of his own survival, his own life, his own future. The only thing that he saw was self sacrifice in order to save others. That's what his life had been for those six days he's lived. That's what his life would be for the next five or so days here. Reaching out, trying to pull others to safety, only to realise that there's no saving them. There can only be one winner.
“I know. I wish I could.” Gi-hun said quietly, staring at his hands.
“...Gi-hun, if I don't get out of here...” In-ho started slowly, his footsteps sounding louder in Gi-hun's ears than they were in reality.
“Don't start with that. I'll make sure you make it out of there.” He would give his life to ensure that.
“You have a life to live, too.” In-ho's hand landed on his shoulder.
“I am already dead.”
The words hung in the air like smoke in a room without an open window. It was the truth, no matter what happened and what didn't. Gi-hun died back there. Either a part of him, deep down, changed and destroyed by the games, or his body, somewhere out there in the future, in this very building. In-ho's hand left his shoulder slowly as In-ho leaned in slightly to get a better look at his face. The staircases didn't exactly have enough space for them to stand or walk side by side, so In-ho remained a few steps above him.
“...I can't help but wonder whether you're actually from the future or if you're a prophet with a death wish.” In-ho said. Gi-hun thought about it for a moment. Time travel was unrealistic, something that didn't have a reason or a logical explanation for existing. Physically unreasonable and unreachable, and yet, there he stood, memories and body from nine years later. To the outside, he might've looked like a prophet to the rest of the players, a man who predicted the game. It reminded him of player 044 from the second games.
“I don't want to question how I am here. I've been given a second chance, so why think too much about it?” Gi-hun said quietly, eyes flicking to the scar on his hand. The pain was almost still there, a knife driven though it in self defense and for the reason of self preservation. Sang-woo's bloodied face staring back at him, teeth bared in agony and fear. Like two wild animals fighting, knowing it's one or the other. And when Gi-hun had given the two of them a chance to get out, to both survive, an extended hand. And for a moment it had looked like he'd take it. But he didn't.
“Why are you wasting your second chance on strangers?” In-ho questioned, sounding equal part confused and... Was it sadness..? No, it couldn't be... Gi-hun looked away as another few players walked past them, seemingly the last ones to leave the play area, as the next people departing were the guards. A soldier signaled at the two to get going and stop occupying space at the staircase, which Gi-hun took to heart. He looked at In-ho for a moment, trying to figure out what the issue was.
“This isn't my second chance. I'm not here to save myself. You're the one who's fate I want to change.” Gi-hun's hand flexed faintly as he resisted the sudden urge to put it on the other's shoulder. He was there because of him. This wasn't a game he was supposed to win, a challenge he was supposed to beat, not his story to be told. This was all In-ho's. He was there just to protect him, make sure he made it through. And for some reason, he was fine with that. He was okay with dying, as long as In-ho wouldn't end up the front man.
“Why me?”
“... Because I know what you end up like in the future. Nobody deserves that.” Gi-hun didn't look at him. It began to hurt.
“...you said I end up coming back to get my wife money for her treatment. is that such a bad ending?” In-ho's voice was calm, but then his expression began to change. From simple confusion to sudden realisation and the slightest hint of unease. “The cash price is very large. Even nine years wouldn't be enough for a single human to spend it and need more. I... I wouldn't come back.” Gi-hun felt uncomfortable suddenly. It was slowly falling into place. He looked away, but it wasn't enough.
“...You lied. I wasn't there for the money. Why was I there?”
Gi-hun's steps became quicker, more panicked. He didn't want to be having this conversation. In-ho sounded calm. Too calm for what was happening, for the discussion's topic. Maybe he always sounded calm, no matter how angry or afraid he was. That was dangerous. People were dangerous. A hand grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to stop. As much as he wanted to avoid explaining everything, it seemed like he had little to no choice. He slowly turned around, taking a deep breath.
The words that came out of his mouth weren't the ones he intended to say.
“You were the one that lied first. You stabbed me in the back, you're the reason they all died!”
He regretted saying what he did. It wasn't the person who caused this he was talking to. This wasn't the ruthless front man he knew and hated so deeply. He had to stop pretending like they're the same person just because they share a name and a face. They couldn't be further apart from one another, one a man who just wants to save his ill wife and one a cold, calculated, manipulating monster. His hands balled into fists, emotions suddenly too much to handle. Gi-hun took a deep breath, preparing to apologise, but In-ho beat him to it.
“...I'm sorry for whatever i did in the future.” In-ho said after a few more moments.
“...It's not you. You shouldn't be sorry.” Gi-hun said, letting his hands fall open again.
After a few more moments of uneasy silence, the two began moving. The last thing Gi-hun wanted to do was endanger them any further by wasting time on the stairs and agitating the guards, so he walked downwards as quickly as possible. In-ho was right behind him, not saying a word. The silence changed from uneasy to somewhat comfortable, at least to Gi-hun. He knew he had to change In-ho's fate. That's why he was here. That's why he was given a second chance. Not for himself, but for him.
As they arrived back in the dormitory, Gi-hun looked around. The crowd has thinned significantly despite his best efforts of preventing it, most players staying by themselves besides the groups that have previously began forming. One thing changed, though. There was someone beginning to stir up issues, by the looks of it, angry at 089 and the other two in the little group. Gi-hun approached cautiously as In-ho shadowed his movements. A few players around acknowledged their arrival, but most didn't even lift their heads.
“Why the hell were you so sure about the triangle, huh? Are you and and your buddies cheating your way through?” Gi-hun read the player's number. 411.
“Hey, step away from me. I just followed what 067 overheard from 456.” 089 said, trying to make distance between the two of them, to not much avail, as 411 seemed determined on stirring up problems. He was considerably taller than both 089 and 067, and if Gi-hun was to guess, he wouldn't hesitate to assume he might've been in a gang or something. Before anything else could be said, 411 grabbed 089 by the jacket, ready to punch him. 067 sprung up, closely followed by 328, who glared at the player threatening their friend.
“456? The idiot that picked the umbrella? He's probably dead, you asshole! Now tell me how the hell-” before 411 could finish his threat, 067 spotted Gi-hun lurking behind the conflict.
“Gi-hun! You made it!” 067 said with a grin. For a moment, Gi-hun was about to question why the hell he knew his name, but then remembered the fact that In-ho yelled it out for the whole room to hear. Everyone currently alive knew his name, which... Wasn't exactly something he wanted. 411 let go of 089, who immediately backed off and hid behind 328. The threatening player whipped around to face Gi-hun, fuming. Gi-hun stepped back. Though they weren't too far apart in height, he was far from a decent condition. It's wise to back off.
“And how'd you know what was coming!? You could've told us all and not just your buddies. I watched a guy get his brains blown out in front of me because of you, you bastard!” The player threw a punch unexpectedly, leaving Gi-hun stumbling back to avoid getting hit. He fell onto the ground, suddenly remembering lights out. This is how it started. A conflict between a few people that would lead to the first blood being spilled outside the game that's played. Before the kick or whatever attack could be thrown even came, someone stepped in.
“Back off.” In-ho took a stand in front of Gi-hun, essentially shielding him from possible harm. His first instinct was to tell In-ho to leave, to get out of the way, that there was no point in getting hurt over him. But then he realised that it was player 411 against five whole people. 411 seemed to realise too, as he glanced between In-ho, Gi-hun and the trio of 067, 089 and 328. He was completely overpowered, and if he tried to fight one, the rest would probably strike. Surprising how it took In-ho to make him realise that, though. Player 411 stepped back, before turning around and pretending like it didn't happen.
Gi-hun sat on the ground for a few more moments, not hearing anything beside his own heartbeat. Tonight he already knew sleep wouldn't be something he'd spend much time doing. Players like these were the most dangerous during lights out. He only regained his composure and heard the words being spoken to him. He heard an "is he okay?" and a "that guy's an asshole" but his eyes ended up fixating on the hand being extended to him. A hand to help him up. It gave him a scary sense of déjà vu, just that the last time, he was the one giving a helping hand. And now it was him on the ground, and In-ho above him, hand outstretched.
“Gi-hun, are you alright?” In-ho asked, worry in his tone.
He took the hand offered to him, grasping it tightly.
Notes:
This is far from my best writing but alas i was caught up with some stuff and kept getting distracted. I swear it'll get better soon i just suck at keeping the tone of the fic consistent. Yea that's all. Bye bye.
Chapter 8: Alliances and stories
Notes:
Sorry for the slight delay on this chapter! Making up for it with it being (barely) longer than usual!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Gi-hun stood up, still holding onto In-ho hand. For a moment, he just stared, thoughts oddly blank for several seconds. Everything seemed to blur for just a moment, all besides the man in front of him. But it only lasted for a few moments as everything else faded back into his perception, the trio of now familiar players approaching cautiously, looking worried about him. Probably because he was their lead out of here. A few other players observing from a distance, some confused, some whispering between eachother about the conflict that had just happened.
“411 had a point with what he said, though. Why didn't you just tell everyone to pick triangle?” 089 spoke up after a moment, getting a small glare from 067 and 328, the latter of which elbowed them faintly, trying to say "be glad you were one of the ones who knew" - Gi-hun watched cautiously. They didn't seem like they'd pick fights, but it was better to be careful than to be ambushed in lights out. In-ho's hand had let go of his own as the man went to stand beside him.
“They'd get suspicious.” Gi-hun said, looking off to the side.
“The people in the pink suits?” 089 questioned, eyebrow raised.
“They too. But there's someone above them, the person who runs this whole operation.” Gi-hun said, turning to face the corner of the room. A small, barely noticeable camera loomed in the corner, and he gave it a glare. He knew they were watching. The people who bet on players, the front man... They watched for their own amusement, laughing at the sight of people begging for their lives to be spared. The least human-like humans he knows were the VIPs. As Jun-ho described them, they acted like animals, and wore gold plated masks resembling ones too.
“... whoever the bastard running this thing is must be a sadist.” 089 scoffed, crossing his arms and following Gi-hun's gaze towards the camera.
“You knew about the second game. And don't say that it was a lucky guess, because it wasn't.” 328 spoke up, walking up to 089 and standing beside him. “How?”
Gi-hun wasn't sure what to say. Something about telling them the truth, the full truth, it seemed risky. Not having enemies was the main thing he had to do here right now, because if he failed at that, lights out would be a disaster. Making the few people who trust him think he's delusional would be a horrible move to make, and yet Gi-hun didn't find a good excuse to make, a good story to fabricate. They might assume he's one of the guards undercover, even. And he didn't want that.
“He's been here before.” In-ho said out of nowhere, and all heads turned to him. The small group of people all stared at him, none satisfied with the answer, wanting more information; how he himself knew that, where he found out. How the two knew eachother, where this came from. Gi-hun resisted the impulse to snap at In-ho and ask him why he was inserting himself into his lie, making the false story even more confusing and tangled. But maybe In-ho was helping him in the end. He wouldn't have figured any good lie that fast.
“Yeah. We met a few days before this all started and I told him about it over some soju.” Gi-hun nodded, hoping he doesn't look awkward.
The agreement between himself and the fabricated persona of Young-il popped up in his head. "Let's get some soju after this is all over" or something along those lines. Before he knew that it was all a lie, before the realisation of Young-il being only a mask for the front man, an easier and more entertaining way to puppet the strings the players were tied onto. To toy with humanity, trust and feelings. The audacity to smile and ask Gi-hun for a drink out there, as if they were ever friends. It was manipulation. And yet a small part of it felt almost genuine, deep down behind the mask and lies.
“Then why'd you come back if there was so much money that you won? Surely you aren't here for money this time?” This turn it was 067 that asked. The least confrontational out of the three, more confused than anything else. He took a quick glance at the camera in the corner of the room just as the other three have, but didn't linger. And he did have a point. Gi-hun wasn't here for money. He had a story to tell, one that has already had its final chapter written down and the ending was definitive.
“I want to stop the games. I was here, four years ago, played all of them, and won. My life didn't magically get better, not with the money, not with the fact I survived. Nothing changed. And these games are played year by year.” Gi-hun said. He was repeating his own thoughts from the second games. There was no change to his words, no alternation between his motives. The same man telling his tale, different people listening to the same exact thing as the time before. 2020 and 2024 or the hypothetical 2011 and 2015, it stayed the same. Four years apart, searching for the games, trying to put a stop to them.
But was there any way to do that?
Everyone remained silent. Even In-ho hadn't said a word, just listening, waiting for Gi-hun to continue. He walked over, taking his seat at the stairs. Everyone around him would die in the next four days. Everyone but In-ho. He will make sure of it. There was no point in considering even trying to save the rest. They are all doomed from the start, from the second they gave the phone call, from the moment they locked eyes with the man who carried around a briefcase and offered money for playing a simple game.
“...That's....noble, I think. I came here because of my debts. You know, got too into gambling, I think we've all been there.” 067 said quietly, looking away from everyone else. It hit close to home, if Gi-hun's was honest. Gambling. Betting on racehorses, seeing them only as numbers and the bills they could give. Just like how the VIPs saw the humans here - numbers, not living beings that breathe, feel and hurt. Laughing at the weak, angry when someone they bet on dies. Not because that person had a life to live, but because their money wouldn't multiply.
“My business failed.” 089 chimed in, arms crossed as he faced the camera in the corner of the room. Yet another thing Gi-hun had, unfortunately, related to. A failed business was the reason he owed about half the money he did in 2020. Fried chicken, of course, in on its own, was a great concept. It could make good money. Unfortunately, trying to run a small business on your own wasn't something Gi-hun excelled at. Paired with, admittedly, awful cooking, it was no wonder it failed.
“I got fired from my job after the company went bankrupt. And there wasn't anything that was nearby that paid enough for what I was spending. Things piled up.” 328 said, a faint sigh escaping them. And there it was again. A thing from the past that Gi-hun knew. Though it wasn't necessarily bankruptcy, the company had to let a large amount of their employees go. Spending issues, another issue, though, Gi-hun's own was the aforementioned gambling, not... Impulsive spending, as he'd guess from the way 328 talked about it.
Then eyes turned to In-ho, all three players staring at him, expecting him to spill his past and serve it on a plate. Gi-hun slowly looked at him as well. He was standing there, looking into the floor, before he saw the gazes on him. He was the fourth part of the puzzle that made up the first games for Gi-hun. An ill family member. His mother's declining health is what drove him back to the games after his first escape. He would've stood against the loan sharks on his own. He'd probably fall towards gambling and try to crawl his way out of having his organs harvested on his own.
“...me? I... I have debts. Various things, and no way to get the money fast enough.” In-ho finally responded, looking at Gi-hun, not away, not at anyone else. Straight at him. And yet, the words he said were dishonest, untrue to what he said before. He put on a mask, shielding the truth, a shell to prevent him from getting harmed. A way to avoid being guilted into doing something because they pulled his wife into the conflict. A mask, just like the one the frontman wore. Shielding emotions, intentions and plans.
“Ah, see, everyone here is the same!” 067 said, nodding sympathetically. 328 took it for an answer, sighing slightly as the past of everyone was slowly revealed. Reasons, the faults and things that pushed them all the way here. Out of the three, it was 089 that hesitated in believing In-ho's words. He looked like he found the hesitance and lack of explanation strange, despite having not elaborated on his own answer prior. In-ho avoided 089's stare.
For a few moments, the five players remained staring at one another.
“You know... I wonder what the people who made this place are trying to achieve. Where'd they get all that money? From the government? Do they know about this? Do they know their people are getting killed?” 328 began pacing, thinking hard. Gi-hun thought about it for a moment himself. The money? From the VIPs, he'd assume. What they're trying to achieve? A way to amuse the rich, the same people who provide the money necessary to run the games. It's disguised as a money game, but in reality, it's trapping people in cages and forcing them to become animals. Rabid, aggressive, heartless.
“They're trying to amuse the rich.” Gi-hun said quietly, sitting down at the staircase. It had become such a familiar spot to settle down on, the cold metal didn't even feel uncomfortable anymore. In-ho had sat down beside him, facing him directly. These people deserved to know the truth, at least a sliver of it. As risky as it was telling them, he felt like he had to give them at least something to hold onto. Something to blame their eventual death on that wasn't their fellow players.
“The rich?” 067 echoed quietly.
“There's people watching us...” 089 whispered, looking back at the camera in sudden understanding. “And the money... Is that just how they keep us at bay?” 089 pointed at the piggy bank held high above their heads. Gi-hun felt his jaw clench the slightest bit upon seeing it. Once you saw it, there was no going back. Greed would consume you alive, and not even your corpse could be freed from the sight of it. You'd be reduced to nothing but the bills others would reach for. When you die here, you aren't remembered as a person. You're money, at most a number to those who saw you more than once.
“The last person standing is the winner.” 328 concluded.
“That's right. Four hundred and fifty five people will die here.” Gi-hun said quietly, closing his eyes with an exhale, head tilting back. And now they knew. If they hadn't realised it before, now it was certain; only one person would get out of here alive and with all that money. In the earlier years, there were chances. You could vote to get out, either with no money or a small portion. But no matter what you did, you stayed there until the end. The voting of the second games wasn't to give them a chance. It was a false hope given to them to make the players turn against one another eventually.
“...all of us but one will die.” In-ho said, which made Gi-hun open his eyes again. If all went according to plan, if all the games remained the same, if everything went smoothly... Then it was already chosen who the one to get out would be. Tug of war would be simple. Gi-hun knew the type of people he needed, he knew the strategy that he needed to use, he knew a save he could use just in case things went south. Marbles... It was doable. He'd find someone for In-ho to pair up with. Glass bridge, he'd go for the second to last number and try to clear the tiles in front of him.
Squid was the simplest of them all. He would have a weapon and could give himself up for In-ho's survival. And if there were people still left, he'd team up with In-ho and made sure they didn't succeed in winning. In-ho could go back to his hopefully still alive wife and never end up how Gi-hun had met him. He was a good person in this past, not cold and masked like he was as the front man. He waited for Gi-hun in dalgona. He grabbed him during red light green light. And even if both of these were only to repay him for earlier saves, it still meant something.
The person he knew would leave him there, saving himself instead.
The person sitting beside him wouldn't.
He ignored the sudden whispering of the other three, their worries of survival and quick glances against one another. Unsure of whether they could trust eachother down the line, knowing that if it was just one on one, all friendship would go down the drain and leave only blood on the tile. Gi-hun stared ahead, watching the surviving players. Some were shaken, some were recovering, some were trying to keep their heads up. He just wished it was that simple, to keep looking ahead with hope for change. It's hard to do that when you know what will come.
Two familiar games in a row, chances are the following ones would also be something he's already played.
“Hey. You.”
Gi-hun's had to look up to face the player that had walked up the the small group. 222, the tall one. The one... The one he helped during dalgona. The first one to get the trick, among the first to save themselves from the umbrella. In-ho tensed up slightly, but Gi-hun signaled with his hand for him to calm down. This wasn't an approaching conflict or threatening. This was, Gi-hun guessed, a thanks. 089 and 328 didn't say a word, but 067 greeted quietly and with a smile.
“456, right? How'd you know that with the dalgona?” 222 asked, leaning on the metal beam and eyeing him curiously.
“...I was good at that game as a child. The trick always got me seconds.” Gi-hun responded, feeling a smile creep onto his face. It was a bland lie, because he sucked at dalgona as a kid. He remembered that whenever he got one and tried to win the second cookie for free by cutting out the shape, it commonly ended with failure. Some days it got so bad that he'd whine to Sang-woo, who was far better at it than he was, even if he didn't like to share. Sweet memories of happy childhood days gave him a light in this cold room.
“Oh, wait, that was him?” A nearby player questioned 222, to which they got a nod.
“... Thank you. I would've died back there. I don't see how anyone could make it with an umbrella without what you came up.” 222 said, giving a small bow to him, before turning away and leaving. The man seemed like a loner, fending for himself, even if that included pushing others over for his own good. But, in the end, Gi-hun supposed that's how people here almost always ended up. Alone, ready to attack anyone who got too close, because who attacked first, had the upper hand.
“...what trick?” 067 muttered, confusion filling his face, which made Gi-hun remember the fact that the trio had already left by the time his plan was set in motion. Just when he opened his mouth to respond, In-ho spoke for him.
“Gi-hun showed the players how to lick the cookie to melt away the border between it and the shape. It saved a lot of the umbrella players.” In-ho explained, nodding at Gi-hun with a faint smile. The expression, the look, it felt far more personal and true than anything Gi-hun experienced in the past few years. It was kind and it was reassuring, it was the face of a friend. A true friend. Maybe if they had met, way before this had all happened, they could've been great friends. But it was too late for that. It was always too late for it.
“Woah...that's smart! Is that why you picked an umbrella? To show off?” 067 grinned. Gi-hun finally got the resemblance he'd seen this whole time. Not in number, not in appearance, not in voice and not in story. But in the ways he acted, he was just like Jung-bae. Jokes, positive atmosphere, kindness to those around him and open arms to whoever needed a place to be. He didn't know this man, not even his name, but something told him he could trust him. If he was somehow pretending, he was an even better actor than In-ho with Young-il's persona.
And it was impossible to top that.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” 328 was talking to someone else, a player hiding behind the beds and watching from afar. Gi-hun turned around to face the distant observer, ready to defend himself, but he quickly realised that it was no stranger who might want to harm them. Just by the quick apology to 328 and the player stepping back with such a shunned voice he realised that it was the nervous wreck who he recognised as player 100. He wouldn't hurt them from what Gi-hun had seen, and even if he tried, it was five against one.
“Hey, it's okay. I know him.” Gi-hun had said, standing up and walking over. So much for promising not to get close to anyone here... 328 stepped back when Gi-hun had arrived, just watching whatever was gonna happen from a distance that would allow them to step in immediately. Gi-hun didn't really like how they were suddenly all protecting him and eachother... They'd all just end up getting hurt, and later, dead. Not to mention he still felt In-ho's stare on the back of his head. Not menacing like he was used to, but rather worried.
“You... You told me to pick triangle.” 100 said quietly, staring at Gi-hun before looking away again. He flicked his hands as if trying to shake water of them, despite not having any on it. A habit to ease emotions, perhaps? Not that it particularly mattered. The player sighed and spoke again. “I panicked and picked a circle. I almost broke it but then- then everyone started licking their cookies and I tried that. And... And I survived. You started that, right? You saved so many people there, including me.” 100 stared at Gi-hun for a moment.
“...yes.” Gi-hun said, although he didn't understand what the player was getting at.
“I want to join your team. You saved people in the first and second games, and you'll help us in the next one, right? And... And I don't really like how some of the players over there are acting. Please?” 100 looked... Genuinely afraid. Nobody's that afraid before the first lights out kill happens, but he supposed it just depended on the person. When Gi-hun nodded, the player seemed relieved and mumbled thank you several times, following Gi-hun to the rest of the small group. Six. Six people. The people remaining were already counted, and so was the current money, it's just that Gi-hun didn't acknowledge it.
200 people remained. That would mean... Most likely 20 teams, 10 people each. Which would leave them with 100 people for marbles, which would leave 50 for the glass bridge. Of course, there was also lights out, which could completely change the counts and results. But it wasn't a guarantee. Maybe the players would end up okay, not fighting, not aggressive, maybe they'd play nice and everyone could survive. By the time he sat back down, 067 was already talking to 100, more welcoming than anyone should be in this place.
“...Gi-hun?” When In-ho said his name, Gi-hun turned to face him.
“What?” Gi-hun asked.
“... Spinning top. Was that what I played when I was here in... 2024, was it?” In-ho asked, glancing off to the side, making sure none of the other four were listening. Thankfully 067 was too busy talking 100's ear off with something that was likely completely unrelated to anything that was being talked about prior, 328 was talking with another player a little further away, and 089 wasn't here anymore. Gi-hun nodded slowly, looking around for 089 until he gave up. He was probably just somewhere around here.
“Yes. You and I were in a team. The other three played their games smoothly and we had time to spare. But then came spinning top.” Gi-hun responded, looking away.
“...was I that awful at it?” In-ho said with a faint cringe on his face. Gi-hun realised he smiled at that a few seconds later, letting out a faint snicker. Nobody turned to them at the sound Gi-hun had let out, but unfortunately, the full on laughter In-ho let out in response had 067 interrupting his loud ramble and 100 turning to them curiously. Gi-hun tried to wave them off, trying to show that it wasn't anything important, but 067 seemed persistent. He got up and walked over to them.
“Whatcha talking about?” player 067 questioned, grinning.
“Childhood games.” In-ho and Gi-hun responded simultaneously, making Gi-hun just a twinge surprised. Was he reading his mind or something? No, no he wasn't, but they said the exact same thing. That was the strangest thing that has happened in a while. Not counting literal time travel of course, if you could even call it that... 067 nodded along, sighing loudly as he shoved himself between the two.
“Ah, I could've sworn I heard spinning top. And you know what? I sucked at it. But you know what I was really good at? The guy who gave us the card, the guy we played Ddakji with? I beat him a bunch of times. And I used blue, you know? And 089 still said red's the better one to pick! Hey, wait, which one did you guys pick? I need that debate settled-” ...Gi-hun didn't understand how anyone could be this passionate about Ddakji outside of the pentathlon. But he supposed it was better than 067 having a passion about knives or something...
“Well...” Gi-hun tried to think back to the piece he picked back then. Back four years ago- or, well, five years in the future. He couldn't remember such a tiny detail after all that time, no matter how much he tried. And even though it was just a little discussion between the two players, even the smallest arguments would stir up big conflicts if given the time. Even a single ember could set a forest on fire. And even if 067 meant no harm, in this place, even the most innocent thing could lead to the worst things.
“The colour doesn't matter. It's the way that it's folded that gives one of it's sides the advantage.” In-ho interrupted.
“...yeah.” Gi-hun said. He didn't know that, but tried to make his response sound like he did.
“Oh.” 067 muttered. Clearly, he also didn't know that.
Right after, 089 returned and immediately got bombarded with "hey, turns out the colour of the Ddakji pieces doesn't matter!" by 067, which at least meant he left him and In-ho alone for the time being. The two stated discussing again, this time with player 100 looking at them with very obvious concern. He fidgeted as he watched the two borderline argue about Ddakji, before giving Gi-hun and In-ho a small nod of acknowledgement, something that almost looked like "yeah, this is my life now..?"
“...you were absolutely horrendous at spinning top.” Gi-hun said after he was sure nobody was listening in anymore. That made In-ho chuckle faintly, before he sighed and looked away. It was true though. Everything was done first try. Jun-hee's Ddakji game only took a single attempt, Jung-bae got his biseokchigi, throwing stone, first try, Dae-ho played gonggi flawlessly, stunning his whole team. And then it fell apart with In-ho's poor attempts at spinning top. For claiming to be good at it now, he wasn't good at it then.
“I was probably under a lot of stress...” In-ho said, glancing back at Gi-hun, looking for confirmation or denial of the statement. Gi-hun doubted it. They were left to go last for a reason. If they failed, they'd probably all be shot but their leader would be spared and taken back to the control room where he could sip his whiskey in peace. Gi-hun nodded. Sure, let's say he was stressed. Anyone would be, so why not this hypothetical version of In-ho who participated in the 2024 games without being the front man.
“You mentioned jegi, too. What were the games?” In-ho added, suddenly looking curious.
“Well, there was Ddakji. We had someone really good at it on our team. She did it first try, didn't even falter once...” Gi-hun started. On the outside, he was just staring straight ahead, but he was quietly looking for 222. The same number that Jun-hee wore, sewn onto a differently sized jacket. It was strange how they had so much clothing tailored so perfectly. Sure, there was a time where they were knocked out and probably measured, but there wasn't time to make suits for them.
“For throwing stone, there was... An old friend of mine who happened to return to the games. He used to be a pitcher for a baseball team, and was great at it. No wonder he got it first try.” Gi-hun's voice faltered, eyes settling on a player sitting alone on top of one of the bunks. Not Jung-bae, but still with the same number. The exact opposite of his personality, but that didn't change the reality of the numbers shared between a stranger and a friend. He stared for a moment too long, though.
“390?” In-ho asked quietly, looking in the same direction as him.
“...that... that was his number.” Gi-hun admitted. That face flashed in his mind. That face, scared, moments before getting shot. That face, a friend from years ago, one he thought was safe from this bloodshed. But nobody was ever truly safe. Not old people, who deserved to rest, not worry for others. Not innocent children, born at the wrong time and place. The poor baby didn't even sign the consent form... She should've never played. She wasn't allowed to. Had Gi-hun realised this... Had he just-
“... I'm sorry for whatever happened to him.” In-ho said.
You happened. A twisted future version of you shot him. You said you were sorry. You said you were sorry about Jung-bae. You killed him but let me go. You talk about fairness and then allow me to survive while killing everyone else. How is that fair? Isn't that going against the entire purpose of these games? It's all supposed to be about equality and fairness and rules and games, and then you cheat me out of death. You offer me a knife to kill the other contestants. Why? Why did you ever give me this choice? It's not like you cared. It was all a twisted game you were playing with me and my emotions. Gi-hun wanted to say it so bad. But that would ruin his plan. If he was to change In-ho's fate, he couldn't let him know about what he's trying to save him from.
“It's okay.” But deep down, Gi-hun knew it wasn't.
“...the third game was gonggi, and we had this guy on our team... He had older sisters, or so he said, and somehow pulled it off flawlessly. We were all staring in awe.” Gi-hun tried to continue, but it was hard to speak. Not that he was about to cry or something, it was just... Something close to it without the tears. A sort of tightness in his chest, a pain in his throat, choking on guilt. Dae-ho. What did Dae-ho even do? All he did was try to survive. People lie to survive. People have done worse to survive. And yet the only one who Gi-hun killed out of anger was him.
“... You aren't looking around the crowd for his number.” In-ho observed.
Gi-hun remained silent.
“Why? Did he do something to make you not care about the number he wore? Did he survive, and that's why you're not worried about him, even though he isn't here?” In-ho's questions were... Strangely smart. Did he not care as much about the number associated with Dae-ho because of the betrayal? Did he want to hear the announcement of player 388 eliminated again? He didn't. He really didn't. It scared him, his own hands, locked around another humans throat, nails clawing at him to stop. But he didn't. It wasn't self preservation. It was anger.
“...it doesn't matter. I can't tell you here.” Gi-hun said, glancing at 067 and 089, who have both mellowed out, but were still debating something. He couldn't explain things with the possibility of being heard. He'd omit the murder part, but explain why Dae-ho's betrayal was... Well, that bad.
“The bathroom?” In-ho suggested.
“No, people go there all the time.” Gi-hun said, looking away.
“Lights out?” In-ho said, quieter.
“...yeah, that works. It'll be soon, I think. After they give us food, that is.” Gi-hun looked around. They haven't been fed yet. They probably would be fed soon though. Hopefully no small portions. Hopefully something that didn't taste like plastic and look like it too. He could go for another meal in a metal box. If they gave them milk again, he wouldn't be hesitant to say he'd start punching the ground, though. Sipping from the sink, wasn't fun, especially since the water... Well, it might've tasted like water, but it's water from a bathroom sink. So it wasn't the best kind of water.
“Oh, hey 456! Thanks for the triangle tip, by the way.” Gi-hun turned back to face whoever just arrived. It was 172, sitting down a little distance away from them. This went unnoticed by the other four people in their little "alliance", probably because 067 and 089 were so consumed in their discussion while 100 and 328 were both talking to other people too far to have noticed anyone else come here. And besides, it's not like 172 was threatening. 100 was at least somewhat tall, but 172 could probably hide in the crowd.
“... you're welcome.” Gi-hun said after a moment.
“Why'd you pick umbrella, though? You know, the most complicated shape?” 172 questioned, her eyes flicking from Gi-hun to In-ho. “And why did you stay there for so long, even if your shape was almost finished?”
Gi-hun didn't want to explain it. He was kind of tired of explaining, if he was gonna be honest. At first, he looked towards In-ho for help. For him to drop another good lie that would convince 172 without needing to say anything else. But this was not something In-ho had any deal with. This was Gi-hun's own lie to make. He wasn't a good liar, not as a kid, not now. He tried to give it thought without seeming like he's making things up, but instead, just settled on saying the first thing that came to mind.
“I felt like impressing people.” Gi-hun said, immediately cringed and looked away.
“He's joking.” In-ho said with a chuckle, patting his shoulder.
“I'm joking.” Gi-hun muttered quietly, the cringe turning into a small smile when In-ho covered for him.
“...yeah, okay. I think they're gonna give out food, and I'm not gonna be one of the stragglers getting the worst pick. See you two, and your little team.” 172 waved them off, seemingly satisfied with the joke Gi-hun had ended up answering such a serious question with. By the time she was gone, a few of the workers were in fact preparing the tables and rations as discreetly as possible. That didn't work, seeing as a good chunk of the players were already looming close to the tables, clearly hungry.
“You sure you weren't secretly trying to impress anyone here? Any ladies?” In-ho had asked quietly, the smirk evident in his tone. Gi-hun didn't turn around until he processed the words a little more.
“Ladies?” Gi-hun looked back, confused.
“...what?” In-ho blinked, equally as puzzled.
“Nevermind. They're gonna start giving out food. And if it's anything like the first two times, they'll start shrinking the portions. There might not be enough for everyone.” Gi-hun stood up, leaving an outstretched hand for In-ho. Why? He wasn't sure. It was an automatic thing. Something told him to do that, something within him urged him to offer help to even those who didn't need it. In-ho didn't take his hand standing up, which left him the slightest bit disappointed. The issue was, he didn't know why.
“Let's go.”
Notes:
Okay so I'll start this off with the fact the reason for the delay is the OTHER east asian killing game netflix show. Alice in Borderland is great by the way, go watch it, I'm almost done with the second season. Binged like 80% of it in a day! Wowza!
I had a surprising amount of fun writing this chapter! I keep forgetting to add the "my wife is dying, reminder of my motives for this whole fic!" Scene that I've been wanting to include since like. Chapter 4 though??? Hello???? Next chapter, i promise!!
In-ho fell first in 2020-24 but it's the past so who cares maybe Gi-hun fell first in the end. Did the chicken or did the egg come first ahh question.
I mean. Gi-hun DID fall first didn't he? Haha. Please laugh. Please laugh I'm desperate.
Chapter 9: Reflecting
Notes:
A bit of a twist on the usual with this chapter :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Desperation.
Desperation is what led everyone here. Debt, failure, fear. Self preservation that drove you to edge of the world just for money. To save yourself and to save those close to you, to rip them from the hands of death and hold them close to yourself. Risking your life for a second chance as you would've otherwise died out there. That's how these games played out. Like a magical button offering you to start again, a one out of four hundred and fifty five chance that when you press it, you become rich and survive. The rest? You're dead.
People here differed vastly. In their personalities, in their age, in their story and in their fate. But one thing connected every single person here, from the most kind and naive to those who would stab you the moment you turned your back. They all needed the money. They were all lost in life and being given a second chance. There was a clear pattern to be seen, a simple sequence repeating phrases; in debt, need money for sick family member, in debt, in debt. It repeated in an endless loop, for every single person here. All but one.
A player that differed from the rest. At first glance, just like the rest of them. Lost in the maze they call life, stumbling around in the dark and looking for a change in the endless halls. Tired looking, with eyebags, unwashed hair, strangely observant of everything that happens and always having that odd knowing look in his eyes. He knows what's going on, and knows what will happen next. Haunted by both the future and the past, left holding the two both close, knowing they're a way out. Not a prophet, not a lunatic, not a person who belongs in a psych ward. Simply someone who knew too much.
In-ho had never expected to follow someone who had threatened him the second they locked eyes around, but he supposed that's where life had led him. Gi-hun was a way out. Gi-hun was a hand reaching out for him, allowing him to step into the safety outside of which he would've surely died. Being a policeman for well over a decade didn't give him any upper hand here, no sort of boost above the others. They were all equal here, at an equal risk of death and with an equal chance to win. Nobody here had anything to allow them to beat the others. They were all just as lost as everyone else.
Except Gi-hun.
Some moments, In-ho doubted him despite the things he's shown. He had predicted each game exactly, without a single mishap. He knew what would happen, he knew how to win, he knew each trick there was to be made. Hiding behind people in red light green light, picking the simplest shape in dalgona. He must've been here before, but the words he said about the future didn't make any sense to him. People don't just come from the future. People don't die somewhere out there and return to nearly a decade ago. He acted crazy. But there was a rhythm and rhyme to that insanity.
His constant reassurance, repeating it like a broken gramophone disc. "You'll win." "I'll make sure you'll survive.", revealing what to do in the games to win before they even started. He didn't say it to the entire room, but only to In-ho. It didn't make sense. It's like he was afraid of being caught by whoever is up there, orchestrating these games. And while yes, he had a reason to worry, or so In-ho's would guess, but... Maybe the orchestrator would find it fun to see someone struggle to save everybody. Only a cruel bastard could stand behind these games.
There was still so much about the man In-ho didn't understand. What was he like out there, before it all began? What was he doing right now, the true him, not this chunk that the universe threw back into the games? He didn't know if he'd ever know. Something told him that he'd never learn the truth. The true face of the man who was so dedicated to helping him despite having never properly met. Whatever the future was, whatever they had met like and talked like, it was something Gi-hun seemed to feel strongly about.
In-ho was always great at reading people. He was a police detective, it was a part of his job, and it was something he had become praised for. He caught little details most people missed which often became the biggest leads to the things he'd end up solving. He took a few glances at people and nothing they'd do after would surprise him too much. People were easy to read, people were defined in a few words. Even people who pretended to be complicated were easy puzzles to solve if you listened and looked for the right things.
But Gi-hun wasn't. He was so determined to survive one second, and the next, he turned away from the simple way out and risked his life trying to achieve the impossible, and managed to do it. His emotions and outwards goals changed in the matter of seconds without any obvious reasons. Unpredictable and erratic, those were words that In-ho could use to describe his behaviour. But it didn't fit, no single word fit to explain who this man was and how he behaved.
Ignoring everyone but him, and then suddenly allowing himself and In-ho to be included in an alliance. Grabbing In-ho and saving his life and then acting like it wasn't anything important when he was repayed the favour. He changed in the matter of moments, as if split down the middle between who he truly was and who he was trying to be. Someone cold and determined, but that wasn't who he was. That's all In-ho had read of him. There was still far too much to be found, so many strange phenomenons within a human mind that he couldn't yet figure out.
Player 456, going from threatening him to protecting him in less than a day.
He still didn't know anything about him. He knew some details surrounding his story in the games, but barely anything about him. What he did, how he lived, who he knew, who he truly was deep down. Something told In-ho he'd never get his answers. Not if Gi-hun's plan was to die so he can get out. He shouldn't care this much about a stranger's personality, but... He supposed they weren't strangers. They knew eachother's names. And Gi-hun knew more than he himself did. The future, where he ends up standing, what happens.
The line for food was forming. They were lucky to be at the very start of it. Lucky observation from 172 that the food was about to be given. She was alright, In-ho supposed. He only talked to her because of the off-chance that the second game would be those "five games" Gi-hun spoke about. Now he knew what all the games were, too. First he only mentioned jegi and spinning top, then pointed out that throwing stone, ddakji and gonggi were also among the five.
He still couldn't get over the conflict of spinning top. He hadn't played it for many years, that much was true, but he was almost certain he wouldn't fail miserably. And besides, Gi-hun never said how the last game was played. In-ho would guess that he was the one to play jegi after In-ho played spinning top. The question remained. Why was he there in the first place? Gi-hun came to stop the games in... 2024, was it? Yeah. But why was In-ho there. His wife being sick again was unlikely. But... She wasn't dead. Maybe she really was sick again. But then the money... No... Maybe he came here with Gi-hun.
Maybe he was an ally in stopping the games. Maybe he died trying to stop them, maybe he was like the player who played gonggi, who Gi-hun was not searching for in the crowd, the one who betrayed him. In-ho didn't want that to happen in the future. Gi-hun looks like a great person. If he was given the chance, he'd help him stop these games too. They're second chances yes, but he was sure at least two or three of the hundreds of people would've crawled out of debt instead of being killed here. The odds would've been slightly better. Better chances for everyone. But... The games seemed like a necessary evil.
People died here. It was most definitely an illegal operation, and as Gi-hun said, ran by and for the rich. But it gave a second chance to those with no way out. In-ho was given a second chance to save his wife. The doctors said she has about two weeks without a transplant. That was the day before he came to the games. That's enough. That's enough so that if he survives here, he can get her a transplant somewhere and save her. Save her and their child. It was hope that In-ho was grateful for.
The person in a pink jumpsuit and black mask handed him his share. An egg, which he couldn't quite tell whether boiled or not, and a glass bottle filled with water. It was very little, but Gi-hun mentioned smaller portions, and the fights that could break out due to them. He was glad they were even feeding them in the first place. They were being given food, drinks, beds and time to rest. For such an awful place, not counting the games, it wasn't all that bad to live here. Sure, the food may be underwhelming, the beds may not be the most comfortable, and the water has a strange taste, but it's better than some people may have waiting for them out there.
“Thank you.” In-ho bowed his head to the masked person. No matter who was behind it, it must still a human like them, and all humans deserved at least a thank you.
He heard Gi-hun sigh somewhere behind him as he stepped off to the side. Their meal for the day looked quite sad if he was being honest. A single egg. It'd be kind of mean if it just happened to be raw, which In-ho would test out soon. He cracked the shell with his thumb, somewhat relieved to find that it was at least boiled. While not much, it was at least something edible. That poor excuse for a rice cake they were given before the second game was far from something that could be called food. It tasted like something you'd be given just because it would go bad soon.
Speaking of that rice cake, Gi-hun was very adamant on giving it to him. And In-ho honestly wanted it really badly, despite the off-putting taste. It was food, after all. He didn't know what came over him when he had taken it, solely because someone else wanted it. He was greedy, deep down. He wanted it all for himself and didn't wanna share. He peeled the shell off of the egg, looking back at Gi-hun. Yet again with a strange expression he couldn't quite place. So haunted and yet so determined. So unsettled and yet so at peace. It was full of contradictions and stories that were left untold.
An idea sparked in In-ho's mind.
“Gi-hun, do you want the egg? You gave me the rice cake earlier, so I figured it'd be fair..”
He was hungry, but there was something far stronger than it deep down. And that thing was curiousity. People are driven by self preservation. People are greedy. People will take for themselves if given the chance, not leaving anything for anyone else. It was both a test and a genuine offer, a way to see what Gi-hun would do and how he'd react, and a possibility of simply helping out his... Ally? Friend? He couldn't quite name their views of one another yet. Gi-hun didn't think the same of him as he thought of him.
“No, no need. I'm not hungry.” Gi-hun said, waving his hand dismissively.
And yet another contradiction. He had not yet eaten anything today and he refused something offered to him. There wasn't a look in his eyes that secretly said that he wanted it. It wasn't a polite refusal. He was definitely hungry, but simply didn't feel the need in his head to eat. Like a sick animal who doesn't eat because it knows it'll die soon no matter what it does. But Gi-hun wasn't sick, nor an animal. The only thing that there was similar between Gi-hun and a dying animal was the guarantee of death. He knew he was already dead.
“Actually, you should have mine. You need it more than me.” Gi-hun said, offering the egg up in one hand. Uncracked, the shell was pristine, without a scratch. In-ho's egg lay half peeled in his hand, exposed.
“No. You are just as much of a human as the rest of us, Gi-hun. Eat.” In-ho shook his head. This is how suicidal people act. Only someone who's completely lost it and wants to die sacrifices themselves for others like this. For strangers, no less. He said he picked umbrella to give those with the same shape a chance. Nobody is this selfless. No healthy and normal human is this selfless. It was the behaviour of someone who had already made up their mind, who was willing to spend their last days giving bits of themselves away to make the few remaining days mean something. But he said just that. That he died.
Although reluctantly, Gi-hun retracted his hand, looking down at his share of the meal.
“The last time they gave us this little food, a fight broke out. Tonight is not gonna be as calm as yesterday.” Gi-hun said after a moment, looking away from the food he was given and walking over to where they and the others were previously sitting. The others... They were a strange bunch. He was almost sure that he only let 089, 067 and 328 this close because one of their numbers was someone who he cared about the first time or second time he played. The glances he let slip, looking at them with the slightest bit of guilt... It said more than any words could've.
“What do you suggest we do, then?” In-ho asked. His own suggestion would be to attack first, if he was going to he honest. He followed Gi-hun as he walked over to where the others were...not currently sitting, since they were getting their own food. As Gi-hun tended to, he took his seat on the stairs, where he could see a large portion of the room and remain low enough at the same time. In-ho sat down close to him, letting him have his personal space but remaining close in the care of something unexpected or bad happening. Sticking to him was the best choice he'd made so far.
“Barricades and hiding work well for smaller groups. We'll sleep on the floor and move the mattresses down. And two people will keep watch a time.” Gi-hun instructed, glancing around the surrounding beds. It wasn't a bad idea on paper. Changing the otherwise familiar layout would throw off the potential attackers as they would have to rely on touch and hearing to navigate the dark. Even with the faint light it wasn't enough to truly see where you are and what's ahead of you. There was just one thing In-ho didn't understand.
“Two people? Why?” It was more logical than one, yes, but there were various reasons why it could be the case. He wanted to hear why Gi-hun came up with it. The first idea that came to his mind is that they could watch eachother's back. Attackers wouldn't come yelling, they'd sneak towards them. Keeping watch in such a dark environment was more like keeping an ear on the place, if he was to guess. Two pairs of eyes are better than one. It might also be because their potential team already had six members to begin with. Or seven, if he counted 172, with how she kept showing up near them, it was only a matter of time until 067 would offer for her to join in.
“If one starts falling asleep, the other can wake them up.” Gi-hun said, eyes facing the dispersing crowd again. People got their food. People looked mad.
“I thought it was because you wanted to feel less lonely on the watch.” In-ho said quietly, meaning it as more of a joke than anything. Maybe it was unlike what people would perceive him as, a policeman, a detective, who liked cracking jokes and laughing at them. He snorted quietly, both because of the little jab and because of the thought. And yet another strange thing to note about Gi-hun came up. He laughed at his joke. Not anything else he or the other people did. He hadn't smiled in the whole time besides one or two jokes In-ho had told.
“Ah, well, that too.” Gi-hun said quietly.
Such a strange person. So silent and yet so talkative. So determined and yet so resigned. So smart and yet so foolish at times. So caring to one stranger and yet so ignorant towards the next. Full of contradictions and secrets. Unreadable, constantly changing. A person that shouldn't be trusted, a person too unpredictable to feel safe around. And yet, In-ho found himself not scared, not uneasy, not distrustful, but so very intrigued. Gi-hun was awful at lying but great at keeping secrets. It was a person In-ho couldn't solve. And that just made him more determined to try.
“You said there were five games. The only one you didn't mention yet was jegi. How'd that one go for you?” In-ho asked.
It wasn't gonna help with surviving here. It wasn't gonna give him an upper hand. He was just genuinely curious. Curious to how Gi-hun had ended up here. If what he said about dying and waking up here was true, which it probably was, then In-ho's only wish right now was to know how it got to that point. How he ended up, as he said, falling from a great height to his demise. He said he made it far. Was the final game something high up in the sky? He couldn't think of a single game he played as a kid or that Jun-ho had always begged him to play with him that was played somewhere high up.
“Jegi... Huh. Right. It went alright.” Gi-hun said. It was insincere.
“Liar.” In-ho's tone wasn't accusatory, it was factual.
“Okay, okay, yes. We barely made it. I had to kick the jegi five times consecutively to make it through. And on the fifth one it fell too far. We didn't have time for a retry. And then you came in, helped me kick it so we won.” Gi-hun explained quietly, voice lowered, as if anyone was listening in. Even 067 and his fellows who had returned by now were too busy complaining about the small portions than to listen in. But... Helped kick it? Now that made no sense. What exactly did he mean by that?
“Helped kick it?” In-ho wondered out loud.
“...did I not mention the teammates were chained together at the legs?” Gi-hun said quietly.
“You didn't.” In-ho concluded. Suddenly it made sense. It didn't seem like a team game prior to the reveal, because who cares what other people got and had to do. But now that the fact they were all chained together and forced to work as a team was revealed, the fact In-ho's failure at spinning top was such a big deal to Gi-hun sounded less like a petty thing to hold onto and more like a major thing they barely escaped. Who would even come up with a game like that? Something so tricky and cunning could only be made up by a complete asshole who wanted to watch people struggle.
“Well, I guess now you know.” Gi-hun sighed, finally cracking his egg and peeling the shell off. He began eating it, but as In-ho somewhat expected, it wasn't ravenous bites that a hungry person would posses. It was a normal human eating, not someone who has barely eaten in two days. He was strange, far stranger than anyone In-ho had ever dealt with. In-ho began eating his own share as well, occasionally glancing at him. Such a confusing human being...
“Ugh, why would they give us so little food! I'd kill for an extra egg, honestly...” 089 groaned from the end of the staircase where he and his friends were sitting.
“Have to agree with you on that one.” 328 muttered.
Kill for an extra egg, huh? It was almost comically close to what Gi-hun said people would do. He had people read well, maybe even better than In-ho ever had. Or maybe it's the experience of two rounds of games that had taught him to predict how people act and behave. His mind went back to how Gi-hun mentioned they knew one another, almost a decade later. He was back there. Why would he go back? If he got out here alive with the money, there was no reason for him to return. He truly must've joined Gi-hun in trying to stop the games...
“Hey, are all four of you here?” Gi-hun stood up, looking around for 100 and 067, who were, indeed, here. In-ho watched from afar.
“Listen. The other players could attempt to attack us during lights out. We should keep watch over eachother to make sure nobody gets caught off guards. We'll work in pairs. Me and In-ho can go first, we'll switch after.” Gi-hun said, standing near the top of the staircase. Luckily not many players besides their little team were around, not counting 172, since she was basically an unofficial part of it anyways... Gi-hun picking the first shift for the two of them? Must be for the conversation that had been interrupted prior. Maybe In-ho could finally hear what else had happened between his team and himself.
“I can go with 089! Well take the second shift if that's alright.” 067 offered immediately.
He was a little odd, but far less than Gi-hun. Too happy for what was happening around them, it was shady, but somehow In-ho didn't find himself doubting the man's intentions at all. Maybe he was just the kind of person to stay smiling no matter what happens because that's how he coped with things. Maybe he was naive enough to believe that he'd make it out alive. Whatever it was, he certainly wasn't letting that smile leave his face for now.
089 didn't look too thrilled, but nodded in agreement eventually.
“Then me and 100 will go last. Wake us up whenever, yeah?” 328 said, nodding towards 100, who nodded as well.
“Then it's settled. We have to stick together for the next game anyways, whatever it is.” Gi-hun said, looking away from the group towards the count of players. It was an even number. That must mean something. 200 meant something, didn't it? It had to. He didn't look at the counter before. 200 was dividable by most notably 2, 5, 10 and 20. Maybe the next game would be in pairs. He wasn't gonna push Gi-hun to say it before he wanted to, though. Waiting was the best way to go about it. No point in rushing him.
The chatter of primarily 067 and 089 resumed. If he was honest, In-ho was a little curious about what they were so passionately borderline arguing about. He caught the word "car" which already told him it had nothing to do with the games, which made him lose interest immediately. But then he caught Gi-hun's expression. He was sitting closer to them. He heard them clearer. There was the slightest bit of guilt, or something related to the past in whatever way,
“Yeah, I miss that place. One of my buddies used to work there before they let him and most of the other employees go. And don't like you don't know that place! The car part manufacturing company, the one with the big strike a few years ago? Seriously, you don't know about that? It was in the news!” 067 was talking 089's ear off about whatever. But that wasn't important. What was important was the sudden flash of the past in Gi-hun's eyes. Another question for lights out that In-ho now wanted to ask.
He knew it very well himself, afterall, he was among the several policemen who were sent there to get the barricaded workers out of their hiding. He might've not been at the front, what he really did was hang out in the back and waiting for something to actually change. It was just another simple operation, but then someone shot a bullet. In-ho didn't know much besides that, all he knew was that someone died there. Gi-hun's expression was... Strange. Something he couldn't name but understood clearly.
They were both there, just too far apart to have met.
Notes:
The upload schedule (although still inconsistent) will most likely become bi-daily! I wrote this at 2 am and I am NOT going to EVER do that again.
I finished my other killing game east asian show binge watching. Alice in Borderland was... Okay I guess...? To be honest I think they dragged some of it out too much and some characters REALLY didn't need to survive (or maybe I'm just so used to the deaths in squid game that I'm unused to fake out deaths) but it was fine. No but like seriously what do you mean some of these people survived being pelted with bullets or being stabbed like 30 times???? And burnt half to death??? A ripped off leg??? what are they feeding them???
Back to the topic. I wanted to give In-ho his time to shine. He deserves it. He can get a little bit of monologue. As a treat. Plus some things that I make up for dramatic details because hey, why not.
Edit; changed a small line as In-ho's doesn't know Dae-ho's number yet!
Chapter 10: Lights out
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The strike. Why were they talking about the strike? Gi-hun remembered it way too clearly, like it had been yesterday, not well over a decade ago to him. And yet there it was again; promises of keeping an eye on eachother's backs and preventing harm. Eyes kept open in the dark, ears pricked and listening for anything and anyone who approached and tried to break the barricades apart. Faint flickers of crimson and orange as the singular shot echoed in the dark.
“I heard someone died there.” 089 admitted eventually.
“Wait, actually? I didn't know about that.” 067 said quietly, surprised and a bit unsettled by the fact from what he sounded and looked like. Gi-hun stared at the crowd instead of his current allies. He tried to block out the words coming from the people around him, the words that brought him to the past in the worst possible way. The sting of fear somewhere in his head, echoing, rippling, from the past and the future alike. Holding his breath to not be heard, eyes closed, trying to play dead.
The riot that made everything even worse. Guns shot at soldiers and managers who's lives didn't matter in the first place. Pawns sent out into the slaughter, only to be killed and killed. Why? Because the front man wanted to give him false hopes about rescuing all the living players? Because it was supposed to fail from the start? Because the moment he and player 001 locked eyes for the first time, his plans were predetermined to fail? The hopes of change only killed more X voters. And then the votes stopped mattering. Greed won over self preservation.
Led so close to where he aimed to be, so close to victory, to being the saviour he wanted to be. But his goal, the puppet he'd put a target on was never there to begin with. The machine had never given him a chance to begin with, it was an illusion since the start. A screen showing the chance of success to be 1/100, despite it having been a zero all this time. Games, changed and developed just to throw him off. Things distorted into what they never were to begin with, a game about a path high up in the sky, changing from a guessing game into a challenge of concentration and strength.
He had played two games here. Two of the same games he had played for the first time. Five years without a change, between which In-ho must've become the front man and took over the games. And then there was a gap of three years, and an overhaul of five out of six games. It was intentional. It wasn't coincidental. The front man did this with a goal in mind, to sway him, to turn this into a game about him and nobody else. Stepping into the games under the cover of a false name and a true story just to enhance the experience.
What was the true reasoning for it?
For a moment longer, Gi-hun remained alone with his thoughts, letting any outside sound just go past him like a faint breeze. This fake, fabricated peace didn't last long though, as commotion stirred up in the centre of the room. Two people, both agitated. Everyone gives them their space to talk it out, but that's the first mistake that's made. Not stopping the argument, allowing it to grow from a tiny little flame to a burning, scorching wave of red and orange. The players raised their voices, yelling.
“You took that goddamn egg right under my nose! I saw it!” One of them yelled at the other, fists clenched. The other protested something, not loudly enough for Gi-hun to make out. Then the first swing, the first attack had been made. The other player stepped away in time, avoiding the punch narrowly. A player who was watching the fight gasped. A few others muttered something. Slowly, it went from a few people watching to close to all two hundred watching, most talking amongst themselves and sounding worried about the conflict.
“I didn't get my share either! Someone else took mine!” the other player protested, arms crossed.
A little further down the stairs, 067 mumbled something to 089. 100 was hiding behind 328, watching cautiously. In-ho sat beside Gi-hun, watching intently. Something told Gi-hun that he'd try to interfere and only end up making it worse. He couldn't let that happen. Between the few moments he wasn't watching, the two players were glaring at one another, with a small circle of eager observers forming around them. Someone yelled out for them to fight. A few people looked annoyed, but strangely enough, many agreed with it out loud.
The player who attacked first, Gi-hun caught the number, 102, threw a punch at the other's face. The crowd murmured words, a handful glancing between one another, the rest watching intently and nervously. Someone started chanting "fight", which spurred on a few other people to join in. The player who was punched retaliated, knocking into 102, causing them both to fall to the floor. The crowd around them made more space. In-ho stood up, fists clenched. He'd already seen him sort out a fight. He knew he was capable enough. And yet, Gi-hun grabbed his arm.
“... It will happen no matter what we do.” Gi-hun said quietly, trying not to be overheard by the others.
“So we just let them beat eachother half to death?” In-ho asked, looking at Gi-hun with a strange expression. It would be wrong to call it pity, as it showed more than just that. It was sympathy too, a faint sort of pain, as if feeling for the two who would end up wounded, if not worse soon enough. Gi-hun didn't say or do anything. His grip of In-ho's sleeve loosened the slightest bit, losing the strange comfort of that cheap material around his fingers. He never thought he would say it was comforting.
“... it will either happen today, tomorrow, or the day after. Stopping it now won't change a thing in the end.” Gi-hun said. It was always destined to go like this, for a fight to start sometime between the games, for blood to eventually be shed. It was unavoidable, and pushing it away would only make it worse. Best for the first fight to happen whilst they're still relatively well rested and not too ruined by the games and the things they're forced to do to win. In-ho's hand uncurled, his expression turning into a mixture of defeat and something that was hard to put into words. Guilt, despite nothing having yet happened. Sadness for strangers who haven't yet passed.
“Liar!” 102 kicked at the other player, trying to push them off. The other, who's number Gi-hun had just read, 420, didn't budge, punching them again. The tussle continued, a strange push and shove, with 102 eventually pushing the other player off and instead of fleeing went in for another punch. They'd either stop on their own or someone would die. Both of them now had bloody noses and they'd likely be bruised if they were still alive in the morning. Yet again with both on the floor and fighting with everything they had, someone had finally stepped in.
“Can you two knock it the hell off? This is what they want us to do! To fight over food!” To Gi-hun's suprise, 411 interrupted their fight, standing between them. The first fight he'd gone through in the games was started by 101, and here he was, someone who reminded Gi-hun of the man, stopping one. He also figured out the food thing. That was strange, but not something impossible to eventually get on your own. 102 glared at 411 for a moment before huffing and standing up, wiping the blood off their face with a sleeve. Their leg seemed messed up, probably from a kick. Not so bad as to prevent walking, but definitely slowing them down.
420 stood up as well, glaring at both of them before they went their separate way. Gi-hun silently exhaled, immensely relieved by such a small thing. Only ended with nosebleeds and a few angry players, which was so much better than the numerous other possibilities that could've all happened with just as much chance. 411 stood in the centre of the room, everyone keeping a decent distance from him. He had no allies, no way to pose a major threat during lights out. For a moment, Gi-hun considered letting the watch shifts start tomorrow instead of today, but he didn't. Not keeping watch felt unnatural. It felt like exposing his neck to an angry stranger with a knife.
“huh... And he's acting like a saint when he was threatening me a few minutes ago.” 089 scoffed.
“He was threatening 456 mainly, though...” 067 pointed out, glancing back at Gi-hun without even trying to make it discreet. In-ho sat eerily still, watching 411 with a suspicious glare, just as distrustful as the others. Gi-hun looked over to everyone else who he planned to take to tug of war, if that was the game they'd play tomorrow. For a moment, he hesitated on his picks. They all seemed average at best, besides maybe 089 who seemed like he could handle himself and In-ho. 328 and 100 both looked average, and 067 was no better. But with the strategy set in place, they win no matter what. He'd make sure of it.
“I think 456 was right with the idea of keeping watch.” 100 said quietly, still partially hiding behind 328. Of course, it was hard to hide well behind them though, seeing as the two are close in height. It's not like it mattered anyway, it was just a show of fear that would prove fatal somewhere down the line. 100 would definitely have to be near the back for tug of war. Gi-hun had already internally picked the front spot for himself. The main thing for those in the front was to not slip, to not freeze up, to stand their ground and to not be afraid of death. Gi-hun seemed perfectly fit for it. There was no fearing death when it's already written down.
“I agree.” 328 said, still looking over at the crowd, mainly at the two injured players. Gi-hun could still spot 102 in the crowd because of the limp they walked with and the way some players looked at them when they passed by. It was surreal to think that every second person in this room would be gone by this time tomorrow. And even if the game didn't end up being tug of war, so many would still die. The least he could hope for was for it to he something familiar. It might even be more than just every second person, since... Who knows what lights out will end up bringing. Nothing could be certain. Not even the fate of his alliance tonight.
The voice on the intercom announced light outs in half an hour. Gi-hun didn't panic this time, at least not visibly. Instead of running off and failing to ease his nerves, he stood up from the staircase, making his entire team stare at him instead of at the crowd or at the counter. They had to get the work before lights out actually started. Thirty minutes are more than enough to rearrange the bunks and build a barricade. They didn't seem to carry out the dead player's beds until after the third and fourth games would end. Empty beds with nobody to lay in them, removed just as their occupants were. How many had laid down here once and never again? How many left home, expecting an innocent game and never got to say goodbye?
“We need to make the barricade now. 067, 089 and 328, you move the beds themselves. 100, you can cover and gaps with spare mattresses. I'll make sure it's sturdy.” Gi-hun instructed, looking over the other five people sitting around and searching for agreement in their eyes. 067 nodded immediately, standing up, and 100 followed quickly behind, with 328 getting to their feet a moment later. The only player sitting down was 089, expression deep in thought. Before Gi-hun could even get a chance to ask, he spoke first.
“What about 132? What's he gonna be doing?” 089 questioned, a bit ticked off when the aforementioned player wasn't given a task. For a split second, Gi-hun wondered who 089 was talking about, until his mind cleared up. In-ho, of course, yes, that's who 089 was refering to. Why it didn't immediately click? That was a mystery. Maybe because to him, In-ho wasn't a number. They were all humans here, but their identities were only numbers in his head. Digits that defined who they were, digits that he'd grieve over. Knowing their names would mean much more guilt than a sequence of three numbers.
“Oh...well, since he has the first watch, he should save his energy.” Gi-hun explained, not even thinking about what he was saying too much. 067 and 328 were already struggling to move the tall metal structures. A shame that trying to disconnect them meant the entire thing would crumble apart and kill someone by crushing them. Gi-hun walked over to them, pushing the metal supports with all the strength he had left. The structure creaked and the metal scratched against the linoleum floor, creating a sharp, painful sound. Some heads turned, but ultimately, nobody seemed to question it enough to walk over and ask.
089 mumbled something quietly, turning away and walking off. It made Gi-hun the slightest bit...afraid? It wasn't fear, not in the most common sense of the word, more like something comparable to a bad gut feeling. Something was wrong. Something would be wrong. 067 made 089 seem so trustworthy, but getting annoyed over such a tiny thing left him doubtful. Could he trust this person anymore? Could he put his life into the hands of someone who got irritated when he just so happened to not give a core person in the plan work? Because he wanted In-ho to rest a little? And what he tried didn't work anyway, because In-ho was by his side, pulling at the metal structure right beside him seconds later.
He was stubborn. So strangely stubborn. He didn't give in easily. And yet, he went along with every little thing Gi-hun had said in the second games. Maybe it was because of the time that has passed, maybe it was a game to him, maybe it was to throw him off. But whatever it was, it was another thing he couldn't sum up with a word, a defining trait. In-ho was a strange person. And Gi-hun didn't want to admit it, but what he first thought was him being two-faced and manipulative, might just be complexity and depth.
As a child, you're taught there's good and bad. Heroes and villains. Monsters and the innocent. As you grow up a little, you realise that the villain might've not been born that way, that it was the path he walked that made him be the villain everyone knows. As you read books and see true stories happen in front of your eyes, you realise what you thought was a black and white world is more like an array of grays. There's never pure white or pure black. Everything is gray, it just depends on how light or dark that gray is. No person is inherently good or bad. Even the most evil of acts may have some good or at least neutral intention. Even the kindest people can begin to kill when pushed too far.
And yet, In-ho wasn't evil, he wasn't good, he wasn't morally gray, he was something even more complicated. Like mixing two paints on a palette but not going through with it fully, a swirl of two different colours that seeped into one another, spiraling over and over until you get lost in it. Not good, not bad, not neutral, not one disguised as the other. A mixture, not gray, more like stained, something that could be washed off or seep further in. The nature of humans couldn't be defined in a word. It couldn't be defined in a sentence. It couldn't be defined in an essay. No matter how many words could be said, no matter how much time you had, you'd come up blank.
By the time 089 returned, they had finished moving the main structure to create a barrier. It could still be entered, but by the time the lights were out, it'd be too hard to slip by without being noticed by the pair that'd be keeping watch. 100 was still setting up the mattresses, 067 was already laying down, 328 was standing around, visibly unsure of where to go right now. In-ho's and Gi-hun were already at the spot they'd watch offer the rest from now, overlooking a large portion of the arena. It was heavily reminiscent of the barricades Gi-hun and his team had constructed during the second games in preparation for the fights and rebellion. But there was something wrong with it. It would never be perfect.
Gi-hun noticed a few players trying to replicate what they were doing just now, trying to drag the structure and make some kind of barrier between themselves and the rest of the room. It was clear they had no clue what they were doing, though, seeing as they got virtually nowhere in the few minutes he'd been watching. He tried to see what the familiar numbers were up to now. He couldn't see all of them, of course, as some were likely in the bathrooms, hidden behind beds or between other players. Who he did spot was 390, alone on one of the uppermost bunks, staring over the room.
222 was also there, albeit on the lower beds, alone much like 390. He also caught a glimpse of 218 across the room, who was talking to another player. In-ho glanced at him too, then back to Gi-hun. The man wanted to ask so many questions, that he already knew, and he had prepared many answers. But he wasn't sure if it'd ever be enough. There were things he didn't wanna share, things he wanted to take to the grave. But who knows, maybe since the grave he'd already began falling into was so close, he could let at least some of these things live on. Secrets, the memories of people lost in his past and in the future, could survive with In-ho.
Everyone began settling into their beds as the last few minutes before lights out ticked down. Gi-hun, strangely enough, felt himself slipping into a more calm and oddly relaxed version of himself. Not on edge. Content where he was, watching the players around him slowly retreat into their beds. It wasn't like that yesterday. It was never like that in the games or after his experience with them. For a moment, he turned his gaze towards In-ho, just staring at him for a couple of seconds. He didn't understand anything anymore. The person he came to the games to kill, then befriended accidentally, then got betrayed by, then met for the second time, and now... They were friends.
The peacefulness, the ease of his current state was something he hadn't felt for years. But deep down, he knew that In-ho had something to do with it.
The lights turned off. There was just the slightest twinge of something negative, but as more seconds slipped by without anything happening, the calm returned. All that remained was the faint golden light, one he got used to fast. For a few moments, he could hear who he presumed was 067 trying to talk to someone else, but quickly got dismissed. Quick whispers exchanged between the two players, resulting in nothing particular. Whatever 067 wanted to talk about would have to wait until their turn of watching came around. Minutes passed until he stopped hearing the occasional stirring of his allies. Now it was safe to talk. Calmness faded away, stained by the crimson red guilt was painted in.
“... People are hypocrites.” Gi-hun said quietly, staring straight ahead. He could hear as In-ho sat up straight, but didn't turn to look by. In-ho wanted to know earlier, about the player who played gonggi. Dae-ho. It felt wrong to open up about this. It's only been a little over four days in his eyes since his death. Since the light faded from his eyes, since he stopped scratching at Gi-hun, since his hands went limp and his bloody mouth went from a snarl to a last ditch effort to breathe. So many people far worse than Dae-ho had joined the games. So many willing to do so much worse. And yet there was only one person who's blood stained his hands.
“... Is this about the gonggi player?” In-ho asked. Gi-hun assumed the faint sound of shifting meant he tilted his head, but he didn't have the will to check. Strange, to think someone like that would be remembered as the guy who had played gonggi in Gi-hun's team. That's all he'd be remembered for in the end to those that are above, if they even remembered the man at all. Maybe he'd just end up forgotten like the hundreds of others who didn't stand out enough to them. He'd be another fodder amongst many, to the VIPs just a stain of blood on the floor to look at once and walk past.
“Yes.” Gi-hun said, staring somewhere into the dark. His fists clenched, almost feeling the fabric of a dark green tracksuit under them again despite not holding his jacket. Feeling the blood and skin behind his nails, feeling the tremors of a dying body under him. Seeing the eyes, once filled with admiration and hope as they faced him, now stained with betrayal, hurt and hopelessness as the light slowly faded and cloudiness took over. Wheezing of a constricted windpipe, the attempt to suck in just one more breath. A shoe laying somewhere behind him, a failed attempt of self defense. Not killed with a knife like they were told to. Killed with bare hands.
Rage. Rage was what led all this. Rage that blinded him so much that he saw the traitor's face on other players, chasing blindly after them. But with Dae-ho's life, the anger and resentment slipped away as well. All that remained were the man's final words. His corpse lay there in the open door into the trap room. It doesn't mean anything anymore. The words announcing that he passed the game meant nothing. It's your fault. He knew, deep down, that it was never Dae-ho's fault. He never should've started the rebellion, and Dae-ho's should've never joined it. It was an even split of blame between him and Gi-hun. But it didn't matter by the end of the game. Gi-hun's hand lifted to his neck. A shallow cut, a tiny incision, a scab formed over it. Just where it would've killed him.
“388. His name was Kang Dae-ho. He said he was a marine when we first met him.” Gi-hun muttered. The cheerful introduction, the way he fit into the team like a missing puzzle piece. Perfect - someone who was strong, capable, intelligent and positive. It was too good to be true. And it was, in the end, all a lie. He said he could use a gun. Only to frantically beg on the staircase later, saying he'd never actually been deployed. A social personnel. Not a marine. A liar, a fraud, the puzzle piece had stitched and cut off bits of itself to fit better. Eventually, the stitches fell apart. And with them, the inner gore of secrets spilled.
“He had the tattoo, it seemed genuine, and he joined our team because of that. We would've probably not found him and let him in otherwise.” Gi-hun closed his eyes, shoulders tensed. His hands shook faintly. Emotions too strong. Anger once again, but this time, it was far less prevalent than the guilt. Humans weren't monsters. But Gi-hun felt like one, deep down. Dae-ho's death was unnecessary. Maybe if he died instead the last game would've played out differently. Maybe he'd help Jun-hee and the baby. Maybe he could've done better than Gi-hun's pathetic attempt at doing so.
“...so he lied.” In-ho responded quietly.
“...yes.” Gi-hun replied, turning his head to look at In-ho. Their eyes met for just a moment, Gi-hun trying to read his emotion, but the low light and In-ho's general ability to be impossible to figure out prevented him from doing so. He didn't look away though. He found it comforting that despite everything, he wasn't alone here. He'd die to save someone. And this time, he'd hopefully remain dead. There was no point in the world letting him some back over and over. He hoped it'd end. He truly hoped it would end soon.
“...I organised a rebellion against the people in charge.” Gi-hun admitted even though he didn't want to say it. He knew that this wasn't the front man, that this was In-ho, that this was a friend, but it felt wrong telling him about the event anyways. In-ho remained silent, which he appreciated. For a few moments, he wondered if he was dreaming. It he was still falling, if he'd managed to make this all up before he hit the ground. But the faint memory of the crack proved otherwise. His hand went up to his heart, feeling the steady yet quickened best. It felt so strange, to feel the muscle move despite it all.
“It was going well. And then we ran out of ammo that we had on us. Someone had to go back to where we stored it. Dae-ho went and never came back. They shot everyone there but me.” Gi-hun finished, staring at his shaking hand, the other still firmly pressed to his chest. In-ho shifted closer to him, trying to offer comfort without words, hand hovering over Gi-hun's shoulder. He could feel it. But then In-ho pulled it away. Something like disappointment stung in his chest for a small moment, before he managed to move past it.
“Why wasn't I there?” In-ho asked.
Gi-hun didn't respond. He hadn't picked a lie to make yet. But he'd have to pick one fast. It was either making up a lie of how Young-il had made it to the end or saying he died there. Either would mean Gi-hun had to be careful with what he says from now on, every single word could result in a gap between the bits of story, or a contradiction. He couldn't let the real thing slip. That's now how it worked. He had to pick a lie. And the split second decision was made.
“You were.” Gi-hun said quietly.
“I...was?” In-ho sounded shocked.
“...I'm sorry.” Gi-hun said as he turned away again, trying to lose himself in the darkness of the room. He didn't want to talk about it anymore. He grieved for Young-il just as he had grieved for Jung-bae and every other player who'd died during the rebellion. He regretted ever letting him join the rebellion, ever leading it in the first place. Screaming into the walkie talkie, almost crying out as the person he was the second closest to in the games was shot and brutally killed. But he never was. The man's mask was back on before tears could be shed over his false self. In a way, Young-il did die. But the man behind his eyes and in his brain never did.
Both of them remained silent.
“... You were mad at me. I died there and the first thing you did after seeing me again was raise your fist.” In-ho whispered. His eyes faced his own lap. He sounded shocked, maybe hurt. Gi-hun froze. He felt like something broke. Something important broke. In-ho's trust was the only thing Gi-hun could compare the break to. Suddenly his heart was racing fast and panic arose. Not for survival, not for anyone's well being, but for him and In-ho's friendship. Could they even call it that? They knew eachother's in this world for only two days. He didn't want to lose this. He didn't want to lose the reason he took the second chance when he was given it.
“In-ho. It was complicated. But I swear that I don't hate you. Things happened, horrible things, but I don't hate you. I don't think I could even if I wanted to. All I want right now is for you to get out of here happy and alive.” Gi-hun said, hand tensing up, urging to grab In-ho's arm or shoulder, to prevent him from trying to leave, to not let go. He heard blood rushing in his ears. He thought that was only possible when exhausted from a run or stressed half to death, but right now he heard it clearer than he imagined.
“...why?” A single word spoken in the dim light.
“... You're the only person I can save here. Your future isn't good. Your future isn't something I want you to go through. I was given a second chance for you.” Gi-hun said. His heart was still racing, and it probably would be for a while. He felt his eyes sting. A faint sense of shock and distress hit him when he realised he was actually tearing up, trying to blink the tears away without it becoming obvious, but it became harder as his breath hitched. He wanted to rip out his hair. He wanted to grab it and yell at himself to not start crying.
“Gi-hun...” He barely heard the words.
“Gi-hun.” This time, it was clearer. In-ho's words reached him clearly, making him shut his eyes closed and hold his breath, trying to sound like he wasn't... Well, freaking out like this. He hadn't remembered ever getting messed up like this, not since he was a kid. He felt a equal part embarrassed as he felt comforted by his name being said alone. It felt like so long since someone had said his name like this. Without thinking of the games, without it being serious business. It was just a single word, but it meant far more to Gi-hun than he wanted to admit.
“...yeah?” He muttered, taking in a deep breath. His eyes still felt wet, his heart still raced. Things still hurt, physical and mental. He was the only one to make it out. The only person left alive out of an entire armed group. He could've been killed easily, he was alone, out of ammo, he had given up. But they didn't kill him. A guard had knocked him out and the next thing he knew he was back in the dormitory. They didn't let him die. He pulled a guards shotgun to his forehead. It was never fired. The had a knife beginning to slice his throats and then it was shot into.
“...why do you want to die so badly?” In-ho asked, his hand landing on Gi-hun's shoulder. He involuntarily leaned into the touch, not knowing what he's seeking or what he's feeling anymore. He wanted to let himself cry. But that's not how it worked here. It'd be strange, to cry his eyes out so openly. The last time he truly shed tears, the last time sobs wracked his throat and grief clouded his mind was probably when he saw his mother's body in the apartment. All that was for her. The loan sharks he could probably avoid somehow and deal with through stubbornness alone. He'd do anything to get custody of his daughter. But the driving point for returning to this place was for his mother.
“I wanna play hero for a little longer.” The words would surely feel strange to In-ho. He didn't recognise them, he wouldn't ever figure it out if everything went according to plan. The words he said while having a gun pointed to Jung-bae's head. The words that Gi-hun hated, but now they felt like nothing. The hand on his shoulder grounded him, made him breathe a little easier. But his heart remained fast. Beating, alive, as real as can be. Playing the hero only killed people. But just one more time, one more time he'd let himself play the hero, one more time he'd give things up for others. One last chance to make a difference that would be positive.
“... We barely know eachother, and you want to give up your life for me. I don't know what the future is. You don't want to tell me. Maybe that's for the best, though.” In-ho eventually said, hand leaving Gi-hun's shoulder, which made his breath hitch again. He didn't understand why he just fell apart. Maybe it's the strange innocence of the situation, just two people sitting beside one another and staring out into the empty darkness, not caring about the future or the past. Maybe it was the way he could see a completely new side to the man who haunted his life since the games had began for him. True comfort, not a way to toy with him. There was no falsity in his actions. This was genuine.
Before Gi-hun knew what he was doing, he leaned in, halfway putting his arms around In-ho. Then he stopped. He just tried hugging a man who knew him for two days. He just tried doing that. He immediately shifted backwards, giving In-ho his personal space back. He didn't say anything. He hoped they could just move past what just happened. His face felt warmer and his heart raced all the same as before. Then he heard. A small snark, or rather a chuckle, something in-between the two sounds. Quiet, hopefully not loud enough to disturb anyone who was sleeping here.
In-ho hugged him. It wasn't a hug shared between close friends, more-so the half-hug, complete with the signature awkward pat on the back. The sort you'd give a family member you barley knew when you were pressured to give them one. But it also felt like more than it. It wasn't something In-ho immediately pulled away from when he deemed it possible. He held it for a few moments before letting go. Both remained silent. Gi-hun stared, feeling a strange swirl of emotion within himself. It was almost surreal. Such comfort within such a dark moment, a hug. The first one during an emotional moment in years. He didn't look back at In-ho, awkwardly nodding a silent thanks. His tears stopped, but his heart's racing didn't.
Time slipped by. No way to tell it exactly, but it must've been a while. There was the occasional sound of fabric out in the dark, a player shifting in their sleep, faint snoring from somewhere out there, sometimes less faint. One time someone got out of bed, but it didn't seem like an attack, seeing as whoever got up was back resting within less than a few minutes. Someone loudly sipped water, someone hissed at the person drinking to shut up and go back to bed. But otherwise things were calm. Well, Gi-hun wasn't. Or, more exactly, his heart didn't calm down. He blamed it on the potential danger.
“hey. Can I ask something?” In-ho spoke up quietly. Gi-hun didn't look at him, at least not now. He gave a quiet hum as a yes, nodding. If he didn't hear or see that, then he didn't know what to do, since the last thing he wanted to do was speak up again. He didn't want to talk. What if he said something stupid? Not acting like he hasn't said enough already, but who knows, with his luck it'll only get worse. His hand was on his chest again, just feeling his heart beating underneath skin, flesh and bone.
“...I... The doctor said she has about two weeks left. How long are we gonna be here for?” In-ho asked.
Oh. Well... That wasn't something Gi-hun expected to be asked. He looked at In-ho, and despite his expression being shielded by the darkness, he could still see hurt in it. Only a mask could conceal it, one Gi-hun wouldn't ever let him put on. If it came down to it, if there was no other way out, he'd exchange places with him. If it allowed In-ho to get out alive, Gi-hun would take that mask himself. But... That wouldn't happen. It won't get to that. He was sure of it. It was just one among many possibilities and paths he'd be willing to take.
“Six games over six days.” Gi-hun said.
“...the odds are on my side, then.” In-ho whispered. Gi-hun could hear him smiling faintly.
A smile slowly appeared on his own face, no matter what else happened, it was now there. Not a faint smile like the one he put on during the second games, but not entirely the wide grin he'd give back in the first games. It was a middle ground. Hope mixed with absurdity. Being happy for In-ho. He no longer existed as a person, right now, he was a hand without a body which was supposed to help In-ho go forwards. That's what he wanted to be. He didn't want In-ho to feel sad once he dies. And yet he allowed himself to grow close to the other man. It was selfish. But maybe, just for these six days, being selfish was okay.
The two sat beside eachother, watching over the room in silence. Gi-hun was on high alert, and even though In-ho tried to pretend to have been just as aware of what's happening, he was visibly close to falling asleep. Someone broke into a coughing fit down the line, waking up several players who whispered angrily at the coughing player. Someone tried to go back to the bathroom, to not much avail, not allowed through the door no matter what they said. When In-ho's head dropped for the third time as he was halfway asleep, Gi-hun concluded it was time for them to switch with 067 and 089
“In-ho. Wake up. We're switching.” Gi-hun gently shook him awake.
“...right...” In-ho muttered.
He let In-ho make his way to bed while he moved to wake up the next shift's watch. 067 was sleeping soundly, one arm hanging off the bed, not even a little defensive in his sleep. If someone were to attack in this dark, he would've been dead the second they spotted him. Luckily, they had an agreement, and it was working out. He didn't hesitate to shake the man, although keeping it from being aggressive, it was far from the gentleness the nudged In-ho awake with earlier. 067 flinched awake, looking around confused, hands raised defensively before he seemed to figure out what's happening.
“Oh, already?” 067 asked, voice a little too loud for how quiet everything was.
“...yes. go ahead, I'll get 089.” Gi-hun said, turning away and looking around for the mentioned player.
When he made his way over to the bed he'd seen 089 settle down in previously, but it was empty. That weirded him out a little, but, who knows, maybe the player had overheard him waking up his watch buddy and gotten up automatically. But something felt off. He spotted the player's shoes by the bed, which made his eyes snap up immediately. There was no body. There was no noose, either. When he gave it more than a second of thought he realised that it was a stupid assumption. Why the hell was that the first thing he thought of? Besides, he'd probably hear. Hanging isn't a quiet way to go...
“Looking to wake me up for the watch shift, am I right?”
Gi-hun whipped around to see the player stand right behind him. Shoeless, wide awake. Before he could ask, the player sat down at the empty bed, pulling his shoes back on, not looking at him. Maybe he just shouldn't ask, not everything needed an answer, and especially not things like this. Who cares what 089 was doing. All that matters is that he's alive and ready to take over the watch. As soon as the man had pulled his shoes back on, he stood up, facing Gi-hun, expression strangely flat.
“I don't understand why you're helping us. I know you're here to stop the games, but it feels like that's a lie.” 089 said simply, turning away.
“...can you get to your watch?” Gi-hun muttered quietly, feeling a sense of unease hit him. That was... True. Far too accurate to the reality he was trying to hide. Maybe 089 was listening all along. The shoes squeaked against the floor. Bare feet didn't. Maybe he was right under them. The whole time. Maybe he heard everything. Gi-hun didn't want to think about it, and he stepped back, keeping an eye on the player.
“I am, I am.” 089 said, turning back to Gi-hun for a moment. This was the same man who was neck deep in a debate about ddakji yesterday, making Gi-hun feel genuinely unsure. Him eavesdropping was one possibility, but him going somewhere else and talking to other players was equally as much of a possible occurrence. Distrust. That's what Gi-hun felt all of a sudden. He was unsure of whether to trust this man again. He behaved strangely. At first he thought he was like 067, which on the outside, he was, but deep within, there was something else.
“...then go. I'm sure 067 doesn't wanna be alone there without his ramble buddy...” Gi-hun said, fist clenched under the cover of the shadows.
“... You're giving 132 an upper hand at everything. You met at a bar, right? That's what he said.” 089 continued, ignoring what Gi-hun just said. He was right again. Far too right for Gi-hun's taste. This felt wrong. This felt like a trap. This felt like something bad. He glanced around, almost expecting another player or two to jump out and attack him, but nobody did. Whatever 089 was or wasn't planning, it was something Gi-hun was gonna watch out for from now on. After tug of war, or whatever the third game should be finishes, he'll make sure to distance himself from this man.
“...yeah. what about it?” Gi-hun asked, the faintest bit of defensiveness sneaking into his tone despite all the attempts he's made at keeping it neutral.
“Oh, nothing. Have a good sleep, Gi-hun.” 089 said, walking off to where the watch would be kept. Footsteps squeaked against the floor. The player had said his name. He'd have to get used to them knowing it because of In-ho, as little as he liked it. He'd feel a bit better had they all been numbers. There was the better part of him, the part who's still acting like a carefree fool, somewhere out there. That part deserved the name Gi-hun. Here, he was just player 456.
He laid down in his own selected bed, staring upwards blankly. Tonight there probably weren't gonna be any attacks. If there would be any, they would've already happened. Despite unease, exhaustion takes over, pulling him into sleep. His heart finally slows down into a more normal rhythm, his breath steady. His eyes slowly close, head slowly falling to the pillow. The bed was never comfortable here. But it would have to be enough. It always was. Time passes by. It is a comfortable sleep.
Minutes, maybe hours, the room is silent save for the occasional sound from the fellow players trying to stay asleep.
It would likely be the time for switching watch soon. 067 was halfway asleep the second the conversation with 089 came to a close. Now it was only one person keeping watch over the other five, eyes scanning over the darkness. No squeaking of shoes, no shifting of fabric as people tried to sneak closer in for the kill. The silence allowed for a calm sleep. 089 held a bottle in hand, now empty, as all the water has been drank. In the worst circumstance, it would become a decent weapon to use. Broken or not, it had it's use. It must've been a deliberate choice of the orchestrator to give them glass bottles.
Somewhere on the other side of the room, a silent, barefooted attacker stands over a sleeping player with a glass bottle in hand.
A second passes.
Gi-hun's eyes snap open as a scream and the sound of breaking glass tear through the darkness.
Notes:
And for today's delay excuse; I had 4 hours of sleep, had a dentist appointment, spent 3 hours sitting on the floor and trying to play gonggi with dice (went horribly btw can't get past 3 pieces at once and I struggle with the first stage constantly) AND also failed making dalgona miserably. My mother must be overjoyed as my hyperfixation took over my life for the next month if not more and her kitchen for an hour. I didn't time my challenge but I managed to make and cut out a heart shaped one (didn't have any other shape lol) but I burnt it so bad it was bitter and disgusting but I was too hungry to pass it up. Also managed to burn my tongue on a heated needle. I have self preservation skills I promise.
Anyways angst today because that's what four hours of sleep a monster and back pain of sitting on the floor for hours straight does to a living thing. But there's also comfort because who doesn't love some comfort on the side of emotional turmoil. Okay and also finally some faintly romantic stuff but Gi-hun has a job to do so he can't worry so that right now.
It's one sided for now. It won't be forever. And no, no cheating is involved. I don't stoop that low. Neither of them would ever. Nuh uh. People die before we can make it happen and by people I mean In-ho's wife.
Also... Yeah, no, I wasn't gonna name the chapter lights out without adding the fight. I also needed someone to be shady from Gi-hun's closest people and the one that seemed the most uhh.. fitting? Yeah, 089. I impulsively made him do a bit of a funny over there. Hey it's gonna make sense I swear.
Chapter 11: Slaughter
Chapter Text
A flash of light, like lightning striking somewhere in the distance and lighting up the sky, but in reality, it was just the strange flicker of light that would accompany the unavoidable fight. Gi-hun got up immediately, relieved that for now, it was an isolated conflict. He'd have to wake everyone else up and figure out how they could hide somehow. A distant sound of a bloody gargle was all he could hear as he caught a glimpse of In-ho, sitting up, shielding his face from the bright light.
089 was down from the platform he was keeping watch it, 067 following a little behind. Another flash of light, and with it, another piece of glass shattering and turning from a resource to a weapon. Someone yelled. No, many people did. Others were only now waking up. Gi-hun stumbled to where 100 and 328 were still resting, yelling out for them to wake up and hide. He could barely hear his own words. All he heard was the rush of blood in his ears and the blurry noise that everything else had turned into.
Their team got to where they were supposed to wait out lights out. A few spare mattresses placed under the main structure that would allow them to hide out of sight, hidden from the sight of any potential attackers. 100 went first, scrambling into the somewhat narrow space between the bottom of the metal bunk and the mattress placed under it. Gi-hun stared behind himself, to where everyone else was either trying to hide or beginning to fight. Somewhere out of sight, the person who started this was hidden, a body still warm in it's bed left with blood staining the clothes and blanket.
In-ho hurried after them, picking up a bottle left behind, for self-defence, Gi-hun would assume. They would be relatively safe here, behind a barricade and all, but there was still a way for an attacker to get in here. The entrance was narrow, between the wall and a mattress they used as a barrier, likely something a player who's eyes were hurting from the flashes of light wouldn't see unless they knew what they were looking for. The next player to get under the bunk was 089, but that's the last person who managed to get in there on time. Someone managed to get into the secluded space through the entrance.
Gi-hun had really thought it had been secure. It should be near impossible to spot without knowing that it's there in the first place with the light flashes. The played was holding an already bloody half of a glass, the number on their jacket stained with so much crimson that Gi-hun couldn't read it. In-ho gripped his bottle tight, ready to defend. The rest of them were unarmed, 089 having taken his bottle into the hiding spot, leaving them virtually defenceless save for In-ho and his weapon. But one against four seemed like good odds. But it wasn't. Another player appeared, also armed.
“Hey, slow down, we can talk this out. There's no point in killing one another!” 067 said, sounding panicked as he backed away. Gi-hun didn't say anything. He agreed with the man's words, but even then he knew it wasn't something that would stop the two attackers. Nothing could soothe greed and fear, not when it got this bad. When a player had picked up a glass bottle without the intent of drinking, it would already be too late.
“Talk this out? You're one of those fuckers who took extra food for themselves! Just look at yourself, there's no denying it, you look like someone who'd steal seconds!” The attacker at the front yelled at 067, which made the other man equally as offended and intimidated.
Gi-hun stepped back, but the first of the attackers struck first, grabbing 067 and intending to go straight for his neck with the broken glass bottle. The man kicked at the attacker, and 328 yelled as they stepped forwards to protect him. Gi-hun just stared. Stared in a strange combination of shock and deja vu. Staring as people got slaughtered by one another, glass bottles, and the thing at fault being boiled eggs. The sound of breaking glass echoed just beside him, and as the light flashed on, he watched as In-ho struck the glass bottle over the attackers head.
He finally rushed towards, trying to push the two attackers away. He didn't yell. His mouth wasn't even open. There was no anger, there was no fear for his survival, there was no panic. There was just the steps he had to take to defend the people he had created ties with now. The attacking player fell backwards onto the floor from the impact, glass bottle falling out of their hand and shattering even further. The second attacker ran at him, glass raised, but Gi-hun didn't move. For just a split second, there was a strange thought in his head.
Something strange told him to just stay put. To stay standing there, feel as the jagged glass edges of the bottle first rake his skin, carving deep red lines into it, making him cry out in pain. For a second, he considered just staying still, waiting as the weapon was then driven straight into his neck, killing him much like all the others who would never see the third game. Time seemed slower, almost, dragging the pondered moment. Then something, no, someone grabbed him, pulling him off to the side as the attacker had ended up striking 328 instead of him.
The player yelled out in pain as the edge of the glass sliced their cheek, but didn't falter. 328 drove a punch to the attacker's face, making the other hiss in pain but not let go of the bottle as both fell to the ground. Before anyone could interfere, the bottle was driven into 328's thigh, and only then did someone manage to push the armed player off. It was In-ho. Gi-hun wanted to yell at him to get back, that he'll handle it instead, but his mouth was left open with no sound.
“Bastard! The more people die here the better our odds are just let me-” The stranger's yell didn't make him or In-ho react. Gi-hun did something even he himself didn't expect at all. He grabbed In-ho before he attacked the player, trying to stop him. People didn't deserve to die. Gi-hun knew nothing about the person, no story, no past, no motivation, but death wasn't something anyone here deserved. And something about watching In-ho attack the other player made him feel sick deep down.
Seeing the window of opportunity, the attacker punched the nearest person, who happened to be Gi-hun. The other one was currently trying to murder 067, but to the luck of Gi-hun's ally, he was good at avoiding hits. Gi-hun cursed out loudly as the punch connected with his face, making him fall back and hit his back against the metal beam. It was too late to even think about making it loose and using it as a weapon, though. Another punch landed, this time missing his face but hitting his jaw. He felt blood drip down his nose. He tried to retaliate but it appears that the apathy of the final days in the second games came back to bite him. He felt weak.
Everything else faded into the background. The fight both directly next to him and out in the room, the flashing lights made specifically to throw people off and allow others to hide, someone yelling, but he wasn't sure for what or why. Now the bottle was raised, aimed at his throat. His hands dropped to his side. The quiet desperation in the attacker's eyes, not just anger and a blind thirst for blood. This human didn't feel like there was another choice. And in a way, it was the truth. It was a voluntary kill, but sometimes, it was either attacking first or risking death.
The lethal injury he'd began to expect never came. Instead, his ears were filled with the sound of gurgling blood. Beside the attacker, 089 stood, bottle lodged into the side of the players neck. The second the jagged glass weapon was pulled aside, blood sprayed out of the wound. The attacker, now a victim himself, rasped something out before his mouth began to fill with red, hand loosening around the bottle that was supposed to strike Gi-hun's own throat. He fell over, turning from a silent body that accepted it's demise into a gurgling, sputtering, wheezing mess, blood dripping out of his mouth like it itself was a wound.
When the attacker fell to the ground, body still twitching, at least for their group, it seemed to be over. The other player who was going after 067 was knocked unconscious on the ground, if not worse. It was too harsh of a situation for Gi-hun to properly assess what exactly happened. His breathing felt fast. Way too fast, with an equally as quickened heartbeat. Blood dropped down his face from what he assumed was his nose. The pain felt numb. He didn't think he had high pain tolerance. Maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was something else.
He slowly looked around. Out there, the battle was still being fought. But here, behind the barricades, everything was silent, save for heavy breathing. 089, standing there, a bloodied glass in his hand and blood all over his jacket. 328 on the ground, clutching the injured leg. 067, visibly still catching his breath, staring at the dying body on the floor. Still twitching, still with faint sounds escaping the mouth besides blood. In-ho, with his eyes widened, staring straight at Gi-hun. Player 100 must've remained under the bunk through the fight. He didn't blame him for it, if he could, he would've much rather hid than fought.
089 walked over to the twitching player on the ground the stab was enough to nearly strip them of their life just there. But it didn't bleed fast enough. 089, still holding the bottle, raised the sharp edge and ran it into the neck of the player once again. This time, it was enough to kill. The twitching stopped. The gurgling blood stopped. The last ditch effort of survival stopped. And just like that, a player was laying eliminated on the ground of their own barricade, blood staining the floor. Soon, the number, previously hidden by the blood seeped into the sewn on fabric would be revealed and announced as eliminated.
In-ho looked up at Gi-hun. It must've been adrenaline afterall, since a few moments later, the places he'd been punched began stinging. Gi-hun stared at the body for a moment. Strange, how he'd seen people die before his eyes so many times in the most awful of ways, and yet, he never got quite used to it. Something about the blankess of the eyes that were moving moments ago, something about the warmth slowly seeping away, it was wrong. In-ho didn't walk towards him. Didn't reach out a hand. He was just as stunned as everyone else.
“Bastard! I bet it was you who stole those eggs, both mine and 102's!” a yell, somewhere behind the barricade.
“It was definitely him! 420 you're right!” another accusation.
“Stop this! None of us have to die here! We'll find a way out if you just-” The player who the unlikely duo seemed to be attacking yelled back. Gi-hun didn't look at where their voices were coming for, just staring at In-ho instead. Their eyes were locked, In-ho searching his expression for something that Gi-hun couldn't figure out. The sound of shattering glass followed, a person hissing in pain, someone triumphantly yelling something out. Gi-hun prayed that they'd end this madness as soon as possible, that the guards would walk in wielding their guns and commanding them to play nice from now on.
They always came to interrupt the bloodshed within a couple of minutes. As fun as it was for the VIPs to watch them kill eachother, it also left fewer people to play the planned games, which would likely cause them to be disappointed in the lack of gruesome deaths there. Gi-hun finally tore his gaze away from In-ho, walking over to the injured 328 who was on the floor, grasping their injured thigh. If only one of them was a doctor, but it didn't seem like it. And even if there was someone with medical practice in the games, it would be impossible to get them to help right now with the fight going on.
He crouched infront of the player, assessing the situation. There must've still been bits of glass left in the flesh, but it wasn't too deep. It would most likely cause issues with walking but it wouldn't be anything lethal or a cause for a disadvantage. Well, it'd become a problem in glass bridge, but it was unlikely the entire team, including 328 would make it all the way there. Right now, the priority was etting something to stop the bleeding. The shards of glass would have to wait until the guards got here. He looked back at the group, almost looking for anyone who would have something to use.
“Anyone have any fabric to spare? 328 needs to have that leg bandaged as fast as possible.” Gi-hun said, looking around expectantly. Everyone seemed too shaken up to even think about helping the fallen player right now, just staring blankly. At least until In-ho stepped forwards, pulling the dark green jacket off, leaving him only in the white shirt with his number on it. He handed it over to Gi-hun. It'd have to work for the time being. He took it with a nod, looking at the injured player for confirmation that he can start wrapping the leg. It was hard to see what he was doing due to the lights flashing but it was enough.
It was only him tying the jacket around the players leg, trying to at least lessen the bleed, as stopping it seemed impossible at this rate. When he looked back, everyone was still staring at him. The outside of the barricade, things seemed to ease now, only the occasional hiss of pain from those injured, who began hiding away and the yells of those still fighting for their lives. 089 still held that bottle, streaked with crimson and dripping with warm blood, staring at the knocked out attacker. Gi-hun followed his gaze, to the other player who managed to get into their walled off shelter.
“Are you alright?” In-ho stepped forwards towards where Gi-hun and 328 were.
328 nodded, lifting up their sleeve to wipe at the blood dripping from the deep cut on their cheek, hissing as the cheap fabric caught on the open wound. Gi-hun stepped back slowly, steps wavering slightly. A droplet of his own blood falling from his nose and welling up inside him mouth. Just two punches and a slight knock into metal and he was bleeding. It was barely anything compared to what others had, and would have to experience, and yet here he was, bleeding like everyone else is right now, or will be soon enough. Still no sight of 100, who was audibly hyperventilating under the bunk. Someone like him wasn't meant to survive here.
“...what are you doing?” 067 asked, directing the question at 089, who was standing over the knocked out player.
No response came. Gi-hun turned around to look at them, and do did In-ho, staring at the player with the bottle in hand. For a moment, everything in their little circle seemed silent, only the pained breaths of 328 interrupting the soundless air. 089 stared down at the unconscious player, slowly angling the broken bottle in his hand. Nobody moved for several seconds. Everyone just watched, either shocked or afraid for a second. Gi-hun didn't understand what the player was doing, something told him he wouldn't do it. That was a human just like the rest of them.
“what are you-” 067 repeated, now urgently, taking a step forwards, but it was too late. 089 dropped to his knees, driving the bottle into the players throat, causing their eyes to snap awake with a yell. Blood spat out, gruesome twitches of muscle that knew it was about to die. Bits of red landed on 089's face as the dying player reached out to grab him, a last ditch attempt to cause harm back, but the player stood up before it could be done. A few more seconds passed with the player twitching and blood gushing out the wound before they went still.
“What did you just do!?” 067 yelled out, running the short distance to the now presumably dead player, pushing past 089. Gi-hun stared with wide eyes. That wasn't... That player was only unconscious and wouldn't wake up until long after the guards would arrive. That player wasn't dying. This wasn't a mercy kill. This wasn't a kill in self defense. This was something that 089 chose to do. He stood over the body, expression unreadable.
“I saved our lives.” 089 said, eyes not leaving the body below him.
“Are you insane? He was only stunned, how the hell would he even harm any of us!?” 067 yelled out, eyes wide. The true face of 089 was revealed, but not yet describable with words. Killing because he thought it was for the best, Gi-hun stared at the corpse and realised the person wasn't wearing their shoes. Exactly like... Like 089. He stepped back again, fist balled up. Something was wrong. This wasn't the same person who he saw argue and joke about ddakji. This wasn't the same person he entrusted with keeping the watch at night.
“The second he'd wake up, he'd go for the kill. I know what people are like! You are all naive, thinking that people are just gonna leave you alone. No, that's not how it works here. I've seen enough of the people here. It's kill or be killed.” 089 protested, glaring at 067 and then at the corner where Gi-hun, In-ho and 328 were. What he said wasn't true. They could've spared him and he would most likely be thankful enough to not try anything...but... But maybe, just maybe, the words he said had some truth to them.
“...you...you're insane...” 067 mumbled, going silent as the lights ceased to flash and the guards entered.
Two gunshots echoed through the room, not shot at anyone, but as warnings. Two soldiers entered their hideout, shotguns pointed at them. 089 dropped the bottle immediately, hands going above his head as soon as he caught sight of them. 067 dropped onto his knees, hands held above, shaking. He really thought they'd shoot them, didn't he? That's not how they went about it, though. They'd just point it at you, forcing you to submit and behave long enough for them to sort out the situation. Something deep in his skin, a stupid impulse told him to lunge for the gun. Like he had during the rebellion. But he didn't dare move a muscle.
In-ho raised his arms as well, cowering slightly, showing fear. 328, although weakly, lifted up their hands in surrender too. Gi-hun stood there, unarmed but also without his hands down. He stared right at the soldiers. For a moment, he almost considered retaliating. He knew how it'd end, but for some reason, it was so tempting. To go against the people leading this place, to go against the rules, to fight. But it wasn't the time yet. He had to make sure In-ho never made the mistake of choosing the path of being the front man. The other guard was meanwhile, dragging a shaking player 100 out from underneath the bed.
“Player 456, cooperate with personnel's orders or you will be eliminated. Hands above your head.”
He felt his lips quirk the slightest bit, in something that resembled both a smirk and a grimace, as he did as he was told. They were then herded into the middle of the room alongside all the other players. Most looked terrified, as if they did something wrong, expecting to be shot like animals that are up for slaughter. While 089 looked nervous, he didn't look nearly as afraid as most of the others. He looked unsure of his survival but not terrified. On the other hand, there was 067, who was trembling, eyes focused on the floor. He wasn't gonna even look at 100, who was shaking like crazy, hiccuping with tears. Nearly everyone expected to be shot.
In-ho was right beside him, hands behind his head, breathing heavier than usual. His jacket was still left tied around 328's leg, and the aforementioned player was kneeling on the floor right beside him. Gi-hun and In-ho's eyes met for a moment, and he knew he saw a flash of fear in the other man's gaze. He didn't know what to say, so he just offered a small, weak smile. Saying out loud that they were safe and not going to get shot with guards right behind them was stupid. In-ho stared at him for a moment longer before his gaze turned to the floor once more.
“For tonight, no more violence will be allowed between the players. Any attackers will be eliminated.” The manager spoke, masked head tilted to the side slightly as they faced the group of players on the ground. There were still many of them, and not too many ended up dying. Gi-hun thought it over. As long as it was a number divisible by 10 it'd be pretty simple. If he were to guess, about 20 people ended up being eliminated. Though, his answer would be answered for him. As the workers took the bed bunks to their original spaces and dragged the bodies into boxes, almost uncomfortably reminiscent of gift boxes, the announcer began listening numbers.
In the first... Ten, he counted, there was nobody familiar to him. Nobody who's number made him pause or wonder for a moment. Eleventh player listed was played 411, the one who had broken up the fight between 420 and 102. He caught a faint glimpse of the body, horribly bloodied, essentially first beat to near death and only then given the mercy of a strike into the throat. A few more familiar numbers followed, 149 and 124 he recognised immediately. That was fifteen now. Someone was still begging to not be killed. There was no shushing them. They'd eventually stop on their own.
The recounting of fallen players concluded with player 333. A total of 19 players were eliminated during lights out. He supposed that wasn't too bad, out of 200, only about a tenth died... This was all preventable, but in the end, it wasn't the question of if they die, but when. Gift boxes were carried into the centre of the room where they'd soon be taken away. All those players that ended up getting killed because of food. 181 players remained. In-ho stared up at where the board's numbers changed, showing the total prize money. Gi-hun's gaze followed. 181... The number wasn't familiar at all, far from it, but something about it was recognisable.
“Our staff will be finished with cleanup momentarily. Thank you for your patience.”
It took the workers several more minutes in which the players had to sit there, guns still pointed their way, hands above their heads. Most stopped shaking by now, besides maybe 100. Some looked confused now, confused as to why they weren't shot on the spot. Others were just silent, waiting for whatever was going to happen after. He was fairly certain they'd be allowed to go to sleep again, but nobody would actually sleep. It'd either be guilt or fear keeping you awake, but either way, there was no more sleep waiting for you. Strange is that the manager said the peace would last "for tonight" and not until the games concluded.
“Lights out in five minutes. No more violence will be allowed at this time.” The manager spoke, voice faintly distorted through the square mask. Under it, maybe, it was another young man just like the hostage taken during the rebellion. He wondered how they'd ended up getting all the way here. How people, who were just like the players had ended up falling into the same hellhole as they have. They weren't safe here. That was proven with the hanging guards sometime after the third game. The exact same place where the corpses of those who have rebelled were hung years later. A dead chandelier, a grotesque play on something regal.
As the guns were put away and most guards left, leaving only two additional ones to keep an eye on the players, everyone slowly got to their feet. Most slipped away into a bed as soon as they caught their footing, avoiding everyone but themselves. Gi-hun slowly stood up alongside the others, looking at his teammates. It wasn't looking too good, that's to say the least. 100 barely realised the guards had left, still sitting on the floor, staring straight into the linoleum. 328 couldn't get up on their own easily. In-ho, 067 and 089 seemed okay, but... Nothing was okay right now. Not with what 089 did.
“Come on, we have to go.” 067 crouched in front of 100, tugging at him to get up, which made the younger player flinch and look up. 089 stared down at 328, who shakily got up to their feet, almost stumbling back to the ground as their leg shook. In-ho grabbed their shoulder, trying to support them. They weren't the only one's left here. 102 and 420 were both injured, both from their previous fight and what they did during lights out. Another player sat curled up on the floor, clutching her arm. Stragglers, injured and unlikely to survive. Gi-hun walked over to support 328 with In-ho.
“It's alright, I'll make it there on my own.” 328 protested quietly. Their shaking leg proved otherwise. They probably won't be able to do much during tug of war. But Gi-hun didn't let that stop his plan of adding the player to his team. They managed tug of war with an old man and three women, so one injured player wouldn't slow them down. Maybe 328 could even help them in the back of the line for it, holding steadier without a leg that could stumble. Or maybe he was just praying for a miracle.
“You're injured, take it easy.” Gi-hun said, pulling the player's arm around his shoulder. 067 led 100 there, trying to ease the younger player's nerves. Vaguely, it reminded him of Jung-bae and Dae-ho's dynamic, a mentor and their mentee, maybe... He glanced behind himself for a moment, spotting how 089 stared at the floor, standing there idly. He killed two people. Two people died because of him. One was in self defense, sure, one saved him and the others, but the other was passed out. The other one wouldn't have hurt them anyway. It was pointless blood spilled, no rhyme or reason.
The five players finally made it to the bunks that their barrier was previously constructed out of. Now set straight, as it had been when the games have begun, Gi-hun set down 328 on the lowest bunk. While there was still light, he intended to look at the injury. It shouldn't be too deep, but they had to remove the glass. In-ho sat down on the staircase beside him as he helped clean out the wound. It was strange, tending to someone like this. Someone who likely wouldn't survive much longer. Even if they got lucky in marbles, he doubted they could make it past the bridge. But that didn't change the fact they deserved to be taken care of.
“You should be fine. It doesn't look too deep.” Gi-hun finished cleaning out the wound. It was sloppy, yes, he was no doctor, but it was better than nothing. In-ho's jacket was tied around the player's leg again, making sure if it bleeds again, it stops fast. If only they had bandaids here... But alas, they had to work with what they had, even if that thing was the jacket of one of their allies. The room was quite cold, it always has been, and he wondered how In-ho would fare through the night. It wasn't too cold, he supposed, especially with a blanket, but still...
“I can barely walk. If the next game isn't something that just lets us sit on the floor I'm dead...” 328 said, looking at their leg in something between desperation and disgust. Gi-hun was sure they could manage though. Tug of war was something that nobody had to die in, at least not those he picked on his team. He knew strategies. He knew tricks. He knew enough to beat the opposing team even if they were twice as strong. He could keep 328 and the others safe, at least for one more game.
“If only it were gonggi or something, huh? Are you any good at that?” 067 came up to them, sitting down close to where Gi-hun and In-ho were. Gi-hun's attention left them as 328 explained that they knew how to play gonggi and were actually great at it, and how if that was the next game, they'd make it through no problem. 089 was standing relatively far away, staring at their team from behind another metal support. He met Gi-hun's gaze, turning away and walking off. The team fell apart faster than he expected it to. Now down to five players instead of the six they were only minutes ago.
“Excuse me, could I please stay here for the night?” Gi-hun turned his head to whoever came up to them. It was player 172, standing there, bloody jacket around her waist. The others raised their heads. 067 looked a bit afraid of someone new appearing, 328 didn't seem to care much at all, 100 was too busy staring into a wall, and In-ho nodded in greeting to her. Gi-hun wondered for a moment. It didn't matter who she was, she was a sixth member to their group and that was just about enough for him. The more people they knew they could trust the better.
“Sure.” Gi-hun sighed before anyone could turn her away. The countdown ended a few moments later, plunging the room into complete darkness. 172, 328 and 067 exchanged greetings, talking quietly. 100 was gone now, probably trying to fall asleep somewhere. Gi-hun knew he couldn't sleep, not anymore. Not after seeing again just what humans are truly capable of. Not an ounce of mercy in the eyes of 089's eyes. No regret after it had happened either. It was a blank stare that suggested detachment, but he felt like it was something else after all. The room felt cold.
Eventually, 172 settled into a bed nearby and 067 kept watch over 328, not wanting to leave his teammate's side.
“It gets cold here.” Gi-hun said quietly, knowing that In-ho was listening. It was probably very late now, perhaps sometime near three or four in the morning. People felt exhausted, but too stressed to sleep. A scary balance that made them even more irritated later on. You couldn't sleep, couldn't stay awake, and couldn't focus on the next game. Oh Il-nam, who he was certain was currently in charge of the games, created far more cruel tricks than those he was used to from the front man he knew.
“... you're saying that in a jacket, I'm in only a shirt-” In-ho mumbled.
“You should take it.” Gi-hun interrupted, unzipping the jacket, pulling it off and holding it out for In-ho to take.
“...selfless is one thing. Whatever you are doing is another.” In-ho said, not taking the jacket. Gi-hun wondered what he was getting at. So what if he was offering him help again and again? Was it not obvious what he was trying to do? He was trying to ensure his survival and victory. He said it so many times and yet In-ho refused to just take it and use the opportunity he had. It's like he didn't want this. It's like he wanted to play fair, and not get led through the maze by someone who knew it like the back of their hand.
“I know I'll die. The best I can do is help you out before it happens.” Gi-hun said, pushing the jacket into In-ho's hands before he could protest. He stared at the number displaying the players left. Something about 181 seemed so familiar and yet so strange. He had heard that number before, not connected to the games, but it was something important for sure. He just couldn't quite remember what it was. Teams of ten would obviously not work... Maybe teams of... 11, maybe 9? He couldn't divide it from the top of his head, but he was sure at least one number would work.
“You're suicidal.” In-ho said.
“No, no I'm not, I'm just trying to help.” Gi-hun replied quietly.
A few minutes passed in silence. There was a noticeable lack of sounds that were there on their previous watch. No people snoring peacefully, nobody rolling around in their sleep. Everyone was on edge, and the few that were asleep were silent. Gi-hun didn't feel tired, his eyes weren't drooping, he wasn't yawning. In a way, he felt like a ghost, like someone who was already dead. Maybe not physically, not now, not yet, but in a way, he already was. He wrote himself down for death. The second he'd turned away from the plane, his fate was set in stone. Abandoning a happy life with his daughter for this.
“I'll be going.” In-ho announced quietly.
“Goodnight.” Gi-hun whispered, looking at In-ho as he got up and left into the darkness.
He took the jacket. A faint smirk played on Gi-hun's face. He won in the end. No matter how proud or sorry In-ho was, the cool air won over the thought behind it. For a few moments, he let himself close his eyes since he wasn't going to sleep anyways. Memories, most random, from anywhere between a few weeks to many years ago. Running around in the rain with his childhood friends. Winning a game of squid alongside Sang-woo as a kid, cheering. Winning a game of squid against Sang-woo as an adult, sobbing. Called home for dinner, having to say goodbye. Saying a final goodbye to his childhood friend in the rain as he was announced as the winner.
His eyes caught sight of the number 181 once again.
Sang-woo had always been great at maths and anything else that required logic. When they were students, he'd always be the one memorising formulas and important numbers, sometimes giving into Gi-hun's begging to share the information during testing so they both passed. He was especially good with prime numbers. He could've sworn Sang-woo remembered every single one between 1-500. He was always the smart one out of the two. The memory gave Gi-hun a reason to smile, at least a little. Numbers, numbers, what do they even mean? 181 was a prime number, now that he thought about it.
181 was... A prime number.
181 couldn't be divided by any number besides one and itself.
181 players remained and the next game was tug of war, a team game. Gi-hun's smile dropped immediately. It was so perfect, and then, it wasn't. Had there just been one less player, it could be evenly split into 18 teams with 10 people each. But it wasn't. There was an extra player somewhere among them, someone who was supposed to die. Maybe it'd be like the situation with 212, who skipped marbles because there was an odd number of players when marbles were a pair game. Whoever would be left behind would be allowed to skip. But something told him otherwise. Maybe they'd be killed.
He would make sure that extra player wasn't anyone he knew face to face.
Notes:
I hate math. I hate math and I had to use the calculator for like 10 minutes straight to figure out how many people to kill so that it was a prime number that would require 1 death to even out into something nicely dividable. I hate math.
Ok a lot of unplanned stuff in this chapter. Sorry 328 who I just imagine as gender neutral because I couldn't decide their gender when they were first introduced. Got the stabby special..! Yeah but they're probably fine probably yeah. Also 420 and 102 going from beefing to being buddy buddy (my friends wanted to be in the fic so they picked two numbers to be. Blame THEM for 420 ok? not me. I'm mature I swear!)
What the HELL is going on with 089 bro was originally just a guy now he's got a kill streak 💔 I have plans for this man that I cannot disclose!
Is it obvious I'm bad at writing violence. I'm better at writing emotional pain than physical pain.
Chapter 12: Jacket
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Gi-hun hadn't slept. Not a moment with closed eyes, not a second of wavering thoughts that allowed him to slip into a calmer state in which he'd eventually lose consciousness. There was exhaustion weighing him down but it wasn't enough to make him even consider rest. It was strange, to feel so tired and yet unable to even try to sleep at the same time. Maybe it was the games finally ripping away the last thing that made him alive. First it took away his moments of joy, then those he cared about, then his appetite, now, his sleep.
In a way, even if he somehow made it out of here alive, he would never be like the people out there. Too much of his life was now tangled into the games. As if his own identity, the person he was, was always sewn into the games, unable to exist without them. No matter how much he wanted to stop them, he knew that deep down, the games have him a second chance. He hated it. He hated knowing that the games are the only reason he was alive, both after the first ones and presumably now. Just as he was a part of them, they were forever a part of him.
Time has passed between the interruption of the fight and the second lights out. Now that most players were finally drifting off to sleep or at least calm enough to close their eyes, Gi-hun was the only one left from the people he could see who was up and not at least laying down. He was still on that staircase. Everything was eerily silent. His whole team was sleeping, or trying to do so, in the bunks around him. His focus wasn't on them right now. He was just... Thinking. What else could he do? Thinking was the only other thing offering itself besides the unlikely possibility of sleep. So he took what he could.
181 was a prime number. Undevisable, impossible to play tug of war with. One player wasn't gonna play the game. He just silently prayed their fate would be much like with 212 who skipped marbles, who was allowed to move onto the next game with no punishment. But from what he's observed, it seemed like the games were crueller than he was used to. Lights out's fights were allowed to be longer. Food seemed somehow even scarcer than he was used to in the games. He had a bad feeling about it. Gi-hun knew someone wouldn't make it to tug of war, the question remained, whether they'd be spared or not.
He glanced back at the bunk where 328 was sleeping. They seemed asleep, but their leg... It would be an issue, to say the least. Despite what he said about it being fine, it was far from it. It seemed like a bad injury, causing the player to limp and barely be able to stand without any support. Obviously, they were supposed to be the one to go. But he wouldn't let that happen. Someone else would go. It'd be okay. 328 would make it through and...die later. He didn't want to think about it. He sighed quietly, unconsciously trying to pull the jacket he no longer had over himself.
It was cold in this room. He wasn't sure if it had always been this cold here, or whether it was another trick of Il-nam to make their survival chances a little more slim. Maybe he should've at least gone to bed under the blanket. It was thin, but it provided at least some insolation, compared to sitting out here with only the cheap shirt. He hoped that In-ho was at least a little more comfortable and asleep. A tired team in tug of war would be a major issue.
Of course, it wasn't written down anywhere that the game would be tug of war. But seeing as the first two games were exactly what he's gone through the first time, it was unlikely that the third would break the pattern. But who knows, maybe he'd get unlucky. Maybe it wouldn't be tug of war and he'd have to learn a new game and it's tricks again. It's not like it mattered, though. As long as he secured In-ho's survival and gave him insight about the possible games, he wouldn't mind dying. It was strange to want to protect him with his life after wanting to kill him only a week prior...
Though, this wasn't the front man. This was In-ho. He had to keep reminding himself that the two are not the same. In-ho was a good man who just wanted to save his wife. The front man was a killer. The front man was broken, yes, but he could've turned away from the offer he was given. He could've stayed a good man, but he didn't. It was a choice. It wasn't an event. It was all his choices leading him down to the wrong path. Gi-hun would make sure it didn't end like that. He would make sure, even if it costed him his own humanity, that In-ho never becomes the front man.
Something shifted in the distance. He didn't pay it much attention at first, it could just be a player moving in their sleep. But then he heard the sound of silent footsteps, near inaudible in the silence, barely caught amongst the emptiness. Heading right towards him. Not with shoes on. Bare, sneaky, strategically taken off to reduce noise. He could guess who it was pretty easily. Nobody had any business with him or anyone here besides one person.
As the face of the player appeared out of the darkness, Gi-hun stared at him. The jacket with dried blood, the number sewn on it, 089, meaning nothing at first but now meaning a strange danger that he felt deep down. Unarmed, not even looking like he intende to attack. Even with violence not allowed tonight, he knew better than to trust someone like that. He didn't freeze up or flinch, he simply stared at the player, face unchanging. It mattered, it mattered a lot, but it's nothing he could just bring up.
“I see you're not sleeping either.” 089 commented quietly.
“Are you awake because of guilt or something else?” Gi-hun asked, still sitting there without moving. He needed to know what was keeping him awake to figure out what to think of the man better. If it was remorse, he could at least try to ignore the killing. If it was anything else, he doubted he could even let the player near the rest of the team anymore. Humans were always unique, although he wasn't sure how to label someone who killed without hesitation besides being a monster, frankly.
“...If you're asking whether I can't sleep because the face of the person I killed keeps showing up in my mind, then no.” 089 said, standing far away enough for nobody to hear him talking, or so Gi-hun would guess.
“Are you sorry for what you did?” Gi-hun questioned.
“He would've died anyway. It's only a matter of when. There's only one person who gets out alive, remember?” 089 said, turning away to face the rest of the dark room for a few seconds. Gi-hun's hands balled up into fists. He didn't intend to fight. He knew the other wouldn't either. But something made him uneasy enough to do it. He couldn't trust this man no matter what he'd do next. At most he could allow him to join tug of war, but nothing else.
“Why are you here?” Gi-hun asked.
“To talk. Ask you about things, and let you ask some too. Does that sound and interesting to you?” 089 offered, standing there, not moving. It was smart, in a way, to not wake anyone else up. Gi-hun was far from sure that him even being here was a good idea. After a few moment of thinking, he eventually made up his mind, nodding as he stood up and watched as the other player gestured for him to follow. He walked slowly. He wasn't in any danger, he knew that better than anyone, but he still didn't trust 089.
As he and 089 eventually reached the rooms corner, far away so that nobody would hear them talk, he watched the other player lean against the wall with a sigh. 089 stared at the piggy bank held above their heads. Gi-hun glanced at it too. It was so much money. More than a single human being would ever need. He figured that since he was allowed to ask questions, he might as well. He glanced back at where he came from, his teammates hidden in the darkness. Even with the enforced peace, it felt wrong leaving them, leaving In-ho alone.
“You said your business failed out there and that's why you came here. What would you even do with all that money if you won?” Gi-hun asked quietly, not looking the other player's way. He was too busy thinking, thinking about the past and the future. He had to save In-ho from what he'd become. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else would ever matter besides that, nobody else was currently anything more than a number to him. They couldn't be saved. It was wrong to ask for their stories, since all they'd do was make their deaths a smidge more painful.
“If I won, yeah... If only. Out there? I owned this stand. I used to make little charms and ornaments, and I was really good at it, too. Started out while I still lived with my parents. I always loved creating things, pretty little things that made others happy.” 089 explained, staring up at the money. That didn't explain a thing. Didn't respond to the question of what he'd do with the money, didn't explain how it failed. And it certainly didn't explain why he heartlessly killed two human beings.
“That doesn't answer my question.” Gi-hun said quietly. He tried to think back to ever seeing a small store like that, but couldn't quite find anything in his memories that matched the description. Not even something he saw while walking around, not something he saw out the corner of his eye. It's not like he knew every single shop in the surrounding area, but he felt like he'd remember it at least faintly. He heard 089 snicker faintly.
“Too bad. Now it's my turn. Are you working with the pink masked men?” 089 asked.
“...no.” Gi-hun replied. He wouldn't do that, not even if it was a life or death scenario. The only way someone could force him into that would be if it meant a change in what happens to In-ho. How could he do something like that, even if he had to? Shoot people? Clean away their corpses like they were nothing more than discarded dolls? That wasn't something he could handle. A mask on his face all day as he would have to murder coldly or drag corpses? He'd die before doing that.
“Figured.” 089 shrugged.
“You killed that man. Why?” Gi-hun pushed the question again.
“... I got scared. Yeah, scared, you heard what I said. Scared of an unconscious man. Stupid, I know. Can't help it.” 089 said, still somewhat nonchalant for the topic that was on hand. Gi-hun stared off to where his team was again. He wondered when they'd be woken up, led into the game area, potentially told to pick teams, leaving one unfortunate player alone. It had to be soon. They were well over halfway through the night, he'd guess. But he wasn't sure. No way to tell the time, no way to count how many seconds until something happened. Gi-hun didn't respond. Yet again too vague to make anything of it.
“...Ah, my turn again! Well, now i have a real good question; what's up with you and 132? He said something about meeting at a bar, but that explains nothing else. And you don't have a jacket. Let me guess, you gave it to him? He acts like you don't know eachother and you act like you're best friends. I dunno, just wondering, it's... Weird.” 089 said, glancing over to Gi-hun with a curious expression. He ignored it as best as he could, wondering the same himself. The truth was too complicated. Maybe he could just give 089 a taste of his own medicine.
“You wouldn't believe me if I said the truth.” Gi-hun said simply, feeling the slightest bit of satisfaction deep down.
“Try me.” 089 responded, crossing his arms as he stared up at the piggy bank.
“I'm from the future, and I know him there. Right now, I'm trying to save him from becoming the man he would end up being. Is that good enough for you?” Gi-hun's questioned, sighing slightly. It felt good to say the truth, even if it sounded like complete insanity to anyone who would hear it. It's not like it would matter though, as 089 would die just like the rest of them. To his suprise, 089 just hummed in response, nodding along. Like he genuinely believed it. And that made Gi-hun more concerned than anything.
“Hm. Okay. Your turn to ask.” 089 shrugged, staring up.
“...the truth. Why did you kill that man? What got you so scared of someone who was unconscious?” Gi-hun asked. He just wanted to know, wanted to see behind the reasoning, wanted to understand. Not because he cared about the man's life or about what he went through, but because he needed to know whether he could trust him for just another day. They'd need strong players to give 328 a chance in tug of war. 089 seemed like he could help. But first he needed to be sure whether it was a good idea.
“It wasn't the first time I killed someone. I was younger, I was stupid, and i was walking alone at night. This drunk guy wanted my money. I gave him everything I had. It wasn't enough though. He pushed me down and had his hands around my throat. It was in an alleyway and there was trash everywhere, so i grabbed the nearest thing and it happened to be a glass bottle. He was dead before some passerby called the police.” 089 said, staring up at the money, hand going up towards his neck. Gi-hun remained silent. If he didn't interrupt, who knows, maybe he'd finish the story in one sitting.
“... I got sentenced for ten years. Lower than the usual 25, because it was deemed as in self defense, but it was still ten whole years. My family stopped calling me a few months after i was locked up. My shop closed in the meantime. My apartment got taken. My car got taken. Everything I had was gone. I always thought I'd die before I got out, I tried so many times, and it never worked.” 089 continued, just the slightest bit of sadness reflecting in his expression before it went back to neutrality. Gi-hun started feeling uncomfortable, hearing a complete stranger pour out such a personal story.
“When I got out, I tried getting a job. Nothing worked. I wandered the streets for two weeks without a place to stay. One day I went to the subway and just waited for the next departure that I could figure something out with. Maybe step onto the tracks or something. But then this man with a briefcase stopped me before I got up from a bench. I played until all the money he had was in my hand. I would play more, but he refused. He gave me that business card. And now I'm here.” 089 finished, looking back at Gi-hun.
“... I'm sorry.” Gi-hun said hesitantly. Should he say that? It's not like he seemed truly sorry. He seemed too... Detached to be really sorry for what he went though. He didn't regret the killing. He might've even thought that it was justified. But none of it mattered in the long run. He knew that 089 had his reasons now, that it wasn't just because he was a psychopath who liked killing others. He would gladly go back to staring into the dark now, to stop this already uncomfortable interaction. Unfortunately for him, 089 continued talking.
“I didn't have my family or any of my friends. Here, nobody knew what I've done. Nobody saw me as the murderer I am. 067 was the first person in years who didn't look at me like I was a monster, but looked at me like I was a human. At least until I killed those two. They used to be in the same prison as I was. I remember them. They got out way earlier than me, and they don't remember me. But I remember them.” 089 said, putting his arms behind his head and staring up at piggy bank that was filled halfway with money.
“Right...” Gi-hun tried to take a few steps back, but didn't get far.
“Hey, don't go. I still have to ask you one more thing.” 089 interrupted, snapping his fingers to get his attention. Was that necessary? Gi-hun stood there for a few moments, thinking whether to just leave without letting 089 have his answers, or whether to give him at least that. In the end, he figured one last question wouldn't hurt either of them. In fact, it could possibly convince him to stop asking any other questions.
“...okay. last question.” Gi-hun sighed, turning back to the other player.
“What's the next game?” 089 asked.
“A team game. It's all you need to know. You can come with our team, I have it all planned out. We'll make it.” Gi-hun replied, turning away and walking away, now not even caring whether 089 has other things to ask. He'd have to wait until the game actually came. Gi-hun just wanted to be back with his team. Back where he knew that they were all still alive. Especially In-ho. He didn't even try to deny it to himself anymore, he cared about In-ho. In some messed up way, he cared about him more than about himself. Maybe because he felt like he was obligated to. Maybe because he genuinely wanted to.
He finally got back to the staircase he'd sat on for the past hour, or however much time had passed. What he didn't expect was for In-ho to be sitting there already, a jacket that wasn't his own wrapped around his shoulders. They exchanged quick looks as Gi-hun sat back down, sighing as he looked down at his hands. A slight shiver went though him, reminding him of how cold the room was. He heard as In-ho slid down a step lower to sit beside him, looking away for no particular reason besides the fact his brain told him to.
“You should have it back.” In-ho said quietly, pulling the jacket off of his shoulders.
“No need. I'm fine.” Gi-hun said. Maybe if he stayed without it on for a little longer, it'd end up like the hunger he no longer had. It'd fade away like the exhaustion of living. It's slowly leave just as everything else that made him even remotely alive had in the second games. Nothing would remain eventually. And he was okay with that. This was never about him. These games, this life, it wasn't his to live. It never was and it never will be. The cold stung faintly for now, but soon, it would be gone.
“You are shivering. And it is yours.” In-ho insisted, the fabric in his hands and offered up to Gi-hun. Unlike him though, Gi-hun didn't give in. He never would. He just smiled, not even sure if it was supposed to be an ironic, pained play on a joyful expression or the true thing. His emotions have long since stopped making sense, and in a way, that was okay. In a few days, he'd be dead just like the rest of them. The world could forget about him, and so could In-ho. This wrong version of him could be forgotten. The second games could become only a nightmare he faintly remembered.
“Keep it. I'll stop feeling cold soon.” Gi-hun said.
“No. Take it.” In-ho said, voice getting the slightest bit frustrated. Gi-hun felt swayed by the tone, strangely. His hand lifted slightly, fingers outstretched, almost reaching for the jacket. Not because he wanted it, not because he needed the insulation, but because In-ho sounded annoyed when he didn't take it. Slowly, his fingers found the fabric and gripped it, pulling it closer to himself for a moment. He stared down at it. His own jacket that was wrapped around In-ho's shoulders for some time. Something about it felt strangely comforting.
“... Did you sleep at all?” In-ho asked after a moment.
“No.” Gi-hun admitted, staring down at the jacket in his lap. He looked back at In-ho, staring at the other man for several seconds longer than he needed to. It wasn't even fully unconscious, he knew exactly what he was doing, but he hoped the low light concealed just how much he was looking. If anything, he could excuse it for there being blood on his face, or something... He looked away a moment later, staring into the darkness.
“You said I killed them all.” In-ho said quietly.
Gi-hun froze. Right. That thing he let slip after they'd passed dalgona... How could he possibly cover that up... Maybe he could just repurpose Dae-ho's story into In-ho's. He didn't know. He had to figure something out fast. God, he was an awful liar, what could he possibly say to make it seem genuine? He was glad In-ho waited this long to bring it up anyways, but he'd be happier if it was never brought up at all.
“...you... You made a mistake. It cost most of the people who were there rebelling their lives. They killed you too, though, so in the end, it didn't matter.” Gi-hun said quietly, looking down at his hands. It was far from the truth. But he had to remember that if In-ho knew about the fact he'd become the front man in the future, then it'd be harder to change his fate. Or, so he guessed. Maybe that wasn't how it worked. But something told him it'd be easier to do if In-ho was completely unaware.
“I'm sorry.” In-ho said.
“Stop being sorry for something that was a mistake and that hadn't happened yet.” Gi-hun replied quietly, gripping the fabric tightly. He let go of it a second later, not even thinking as he shoved it back into In-ho's hands and stood up before he could protest. The lights turned on with a bright flash, making him hiss out a quiet cuss. Too bright... The classical music filled the room once more, making him cringe even further. Hearing it once was okay. Hearing it day by day was equally as annoying as it was disturbing. The song accompanied death.
“Who picked this music..?” In-ho mumbled quietly, covering his face with an arm to shield himself from the bright light. Players around them began waking up slowly, most equally as annoyed, though not at the music like Gi-hun and In-ho were. Rather at the unnecessarily bright lights, which, he had to admit, were irritating. He glanced over at 067 as the player got up with a sigh, rubbing his eyes. 100 was already standing up, 172 was sitting up. 328 stirred awake and pulled themselves up, visibly cringing at the pain in their leg. Though, he was far more interested in what In-ho said.
“You don't like classical?” Gi-hun turned around, a little surprised.
“...no. I hate it.” In-ho said, looking around as other players awakened.
“...huh...” Gi-hun hummed, smiling just a little.
Notes:
Chapter is a bit shorter but hey whatever as long as it's out on time I'm happy.
Chapter 13: Tug of war
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“...Right, your jacket.” In-ho's hand was outstretched towards Gi-hun again, the dark green jacket held out. Gi-hun didn't understand why In-ho was so stubborn about not keeping it. He didn't complain when he had it as a second blanket, but now he was suddenly shoving it back in his hands? Gi-hun didn't need it. He didn't need anything at all. He was only here to guide In-ho to victory and to the correct path, after all. He was less like a player and more like a voice that said what needed to be said.
“Keep it.” Gi-hun said, not even looking back. He heard In-ho huff somewhere behind him, but he ignored it. He looked around the room, watched as more and more players went towards the centre of the room, afraid, eager, prepared and hesitant all at the same time. He spotted 089 walk amongst the others, but didn't acknowledge him. It'd be complicated to even convince the others to let him onto the team again. Only for the next game. Only for tug of war. That was all that he'd be given.
“Gi-hun, what if the masked people get angry at it? It has your number on it.” In-ho insisted.
“...they didn't get mad when I gave another player my jacket.” Gi-hun said quietly, looking back at their team. 067 and 100 were acting as living crutches for 328 and 172 was walking close to them, occasionally looking off into the crowd. The four players followed behind In-ho and Gi-hun slowly, almost acting as if he was the leader and In-ho was some sort of second in command. Gi-hun would've laughed if it wasn't for the fact they were fighting for their lives and most of them were already predetermined to die.
“That was years apart from this. Who knows what they'll do.” In-ho insisted, a faint glint of fear in his eyes. Gi-hun knew that it wasn't that big of a deal, that if anything, all they would do was tell him to switch back, but that expression won him over faster than he'd like to admit. He carefully took the jacket back with a nod, watching as In-ho's expression eased within moments. He felt a little bit lighter all of a sudden, trying to ignore the faint sting of guilt for taking something he didn't truly need. But if nothing else, it made In-ho happy. And that was enough.
Gi-hun ended up tying the jacket around his waist as the players slowly entered the room of staircases. He waited for his makeshift team to make it there, which proved to be harder for them than he assumed. It looks like 328's injury was far more serious than any of them guessed it would be. Yes, it was a stab wound which wasn't too deep, into the leg, but the player could barely stand on their own. They'd make it though. They'd be okay. For one more game at least they'd all be alive and safe.
“... we'll help you get through, I promise.” 067 said, patting 328's shoulder.
Gi-hun was certain they'd manage.
He started walking up the stairs at a slower pace, keeping an eye on his teammates in the back. In-ho was right behind him, followed by 172 and then the trio. He knew what would happen the moment they entered the bright white room and the announcer said to make teams of ten. He was prepared for the people to look towards the number of remaining players, confused and afraid that they'd be the one remaining without a team. In the end, it was 328 who would end up without a group of it weren't for his plan. He pitied the unfortunate last player, but it had to be done.
He walked up the staircases, ignoring the soldiers standing around and blocking off alternative paths. Just how many of them were here more than once? Did people return to be guards time and time again? Supposedly the salesman used to be a guard here like the rest of those with masks, walking amongst them. He was a psychopath. He played with the lives of others whilst smiling. He spun the barrel of the gun without a twinge of fear, believing the odds to be in his favour. And then they weren't. He hoped not all of the masked people were lunatics like him.
He entered the eerily familiar white room, watching as everyone else looked around. Some looked at the empty screen that would soon display the time they'd have to create groups. A few talked amongst themselves, still believing their fellow players despite the events during lights out. Maybe it was naivety. Maybe they believed that people were all good, deep down. No matter what it was, there were still those who believed in goodness, no matter how many times the exact opposite had been shown to their face.
“Do you still have faith in people?”
Back then, he didn't know the answer. Back then, he turned away from the man who he once thought of as a friend, now revealed to be the one he wanted to destroy this whole time. Back then, he wasn't sure himself, because all he's seen those years seemed to be betrayals and backstabbing. But in the end, the few brave, selfless souls that sacrificed themselves instead of taking and stealing from others, they outshined all the bad. There was still good in people, no matter how deep down it was.
The front man had given him a choice. Even if all Gi-hun believed him to be was a heartless monster who laughed at the misery of others, it couldn't be more false. He was a victim of these games. He had lost almost everything he had, and all he did was reach for the only thing that was offered to him. He wasn't a one sided villain. He was a broken man. The salesman, although far less justifiable, could've shot him that day. The bullet was there. But he kept his word, he played by the rules even if it cost him his life. Even if he was insane, a lunatic, in the end, he kept his word.
The doors closed behind them and Gi-hun braced for the words to be said.
“Players, please form groups of 10 and await further instructions.”
There it was. The chatter that arose, the looks people gave one another, confusion, worry, uncertainty. Someone was counting all the players left, as stupid as that task was. Some people were just forming groups without questioning it at all, taking everyone and anyone that came their way. Others were thinking of who to take, what game was played in teams, what the game would be. His team was standing around, with the exception of 328, who was leaning on the wall and sitting down. 067 looked at him with worry, looking desperate to know what to do.
“... Three of you, go find another player to bring into the team. It doesn't particularly matter who, but stronger players will have an advantage.” Gi-hun sighed, looking off into the white wall.
“But there's six of us, that'll leave us at nine players! We need ten!” 067 said, looking back at the crowd, before going still. It was 089, walking towards them as if nothing had happened the night before. Gi-hun remained silent, hearing as his entire team went silent. 100 took a step back, In-ho on the other hand, stepped forwards. 172, who hadn't yet figured out what exactly happened, just looked at him suspiciously. 328 raised their head, expression not betraying anything.
“I wish to join your team.” 089 said calmly.
“...like...like we'd allow a murderer to join us! Right, 456?” 067 spat, looking over at Gi-hun for confirmation. He didn't respond. It was better to have 089 with them than against them. And he'd already said that he'd have a spot on the team. The fact he killed two, or, really, three people, it didn't change a thing here. He himself has killed before, with his own hands, with his own mind in control. It was only a matter of time until they were all the same; murderers who just wanted to survive.
“...He can join us. We're not forgiving him, I'm not asking anyone to trust him. It'll be his life on the line too. He can't betray us, not like this. And after it's over, he'll leave and live through this on his own. Is that clear?” Gi-hun said, the last part very much directed at 089. Despite the shocked and somewhat betrayed expression of 067, he eventually nodded and looked away from 089. He walked over to the rest of the team, greeting politely. Not many of them responded. Most just stared. In-ho didn't say anything either.
“... Go get the other teams members. Strong is good, but it's okay if it's someone weaker. Everyone deserves a chance.” Gi-hun said quietly, looking away and walking off from the team. One player would be left here. Maybe to skip the game, maybe to die. Everyone here deserved their chance, everyone here should get at least the opportunity to fight and survive, even if it'll end in death anyways. There was just one person who didn't deserve another change. Just one person who wasn't even supposed to be here. And that was no other than Seong Gi-hun himself, or, at least, what was left of who he used to be.
Most teams were already formed or only missing one or two members. Everything seemed to have it's balance, players didn't know what the game would end up being, so overall they didn't hiss when they got the weaker people. Gi-hun passed through the crowd, looking for someone alone, someone who wouldn't get into a team and would be that last person. There was a woman standing nearby, alone, looking around, not yet taken into a team. She was number 297. Gi-hun figured that she was his only choice.
“Hello, excuse me. Would you like to join our team?” Gi-hun said, voice kept as neutral, as normal as he could keep it. He sounded so unlike everyone else here. There was some kind of undertone in his voice that he didn't hear in anyone nearby, some kind of oddity that set him apart from the humans he was walking amongst. Perhaps it was the knowledge of everything that's come before and is yet to happen, maybe it's the feeling that started faintly stinging in the back of his neck, like a fracture that was there but also wasn't.
“Under one condition. I need you to say this to player 132.” Gi-hun said before the woman could agree without thinking. He wondered what the message he should give could be. Right now, he wanted 297 to join his team and switch places with him. He'd end up the lone player without a team and most likely eliminated. The woman, hopefully, would pass on his advice to 132 and thus ensure his survival. And everything would be alright. Gi-hun nodded to himself absently. Sounded good.
“First of all, tell him to tell his team to grip the rope under their arms, and to stand in an alternating way. Person on the left, then the right, and so on. First ten seconds, hold your ground. Then start pulling with all you have. If you start failing, take three steps forward, then pull again. Do you have all that? Okay, okay, then, after that, there's...” Gi-hun trailed off, staring off into the crowd. There was a person staring at him, straight at him, 218. Not the one he knew here. It was Sang-woo. Complete with glasses, wounds and blood, and his nos tired, dead eyes.
Then he disappeared when Gi-hun blinked, as if he was never there. Gi-hun shut his eyes closed, trying to imagine someone familiar still standing there, offering a helping hand and some advice, but when he opened his eyes, he was alone. The player he was talking to just a moment ago was gone too, lost in the crowd, as if she wasn't standing here a moment ago. He had to tell In-ho himself, he had to share the information before it was too late. He didn't care that he's cheating the system, he needed to make sure that the one person he can save will be saved.
Before he found In-ho, In-ho found him.
“Go back to the team, we're almost out of time. Come on. They probably have the players we need by now.” In-ho urged, gesturing for Gi-hun to come. For a moment, he barely registered the man talking to him, just staring out into the crowd, into where be last saw his childhood best friend stand, or at least imagined him to. Like that rainy day of the last game, so injured he looked less like himself than he should. Broken into chunks that could no longer be fixed. All because of the games, but also because of himself.
He walked to where In-ho had led him, not registering the outside world for what felt like minutes. He knew it wasn't, it was only a few seconds that passed, and yet, it felt far longer than it was. Familiar yet inaudible words played in his ears, piercing like needles and easing like cotton all at the same time. He felt a faint fog in his brain, like the sort moments before falling unconscious. He wasn't tired though. Why was it happening? He came back to his senses, eyes open properly as he faced his group.
“Hey, that's... That's 11 people, why'd you bring two?” 067 asked, pointing at the two players 089 brought.
“They are both very strong. Simple, just let one of the players you others brought leave.” 089 said, nodding to the two other newcomers. Sounds of protest arose from both them and the players who had brought them here. 100 remained seated beside 328, talking with the other player quietly, trying to ignore what's going on. Gi-hun looked between the group, first at the new players, then at his previous allies, then to In-ho. The idea arose in his head again.
“I'll go. After I talk to In-h- ... Player 132.” Gi-hun suggested, eyes searching the crowd. He didn't know what he was looking for. Maybe for a chance, something telling him it was possible and that what he thought could work would actually work as he wanted it to. If he leaves, their team would have 10 players. They could make it out just fine. Everything would be okay. In-ho would be given instructions and they'd end up saving him. It had to work.
“No. You're not going anywhere. One of you four is gonna have to go.” In-ho's hand grabbed his wrist before he tried to leave. Any ideas of giving up his chance for the others was gone with the way In-ho held him in place. It was hard to protest with that. It was more complicated to make his own decision, always feeling like he was suddenly the only person beside In-ho. Gi-hun let out a soft, quiet breath, almost strange coming out of his mouth, and remained silent.
“...I'm not going! I don't wanna die!” One of the new players protested, arms crossed.
“Why not the one with the bad leg?” Another suggested.
“328 was here way before any of you were, don't you dare even think about kicking them out!” 100 suddenly raised his voice. A very big contrast to the player who was shaking and close to tears only hours earlier. Everyone in their current team went silent, 067 looking at him like he'd just done something impossible and 089 looking shocked. 172 raised an eyebrow, looking between him and the newcomers to their team. The only player that didn't say anything was 328, who was staring straight into the ground.
“...no...” 328 whispered quietly, making at least a couple of people's heads in their team turn. Gi-hun felt like he knew what to expect. It wasn't good. It felt unavoidable. It felt like fate wanted this all along, that's why they got injured, that's why they survived lights out but remained weakened. Gi-hun didn't ever believe in fate, it seemed like something that was made up to justify bad and good things unexpectedly happen. It was like miracles that some people said existed.
Everyone remained silent. The ticking of the time limit left to create teams slowly flew by, all teams already formed, leaving only theirs the one left with an extra person who would have to leave. Somewhere on the other side of the room, a pair of players was excitedly chattering about something. But that didn't matter. What did was how 328 slowly lifted themselves up to their feet, or at least attempted to, hand on 100's shoulder as to not fall over. There was a sad sort of look in their eyes. A choice had been made. Gi-hun knew that look.
“I'll go. It's... It's not like I'd make it very far with that leg anyway.” 328 said quietly, looking into the floor.
“No, wait. One of you four get out! It's okay, we'll help you through it, I promise.” 100 said, staring at 328 with wide eyes. Nobody dared move. It was between the two of them right now, and it wasn't something that should be interrupted. A sort of friendship grew between the two in the short time they had together. And now it was being ripped away. It could've been worse. It could've been them being paired up for marbles. But Gi-hun knew that it'd hurt. Maybe not from experience, but he could guess.
328 didn't respond, standing there for a few moments as the countdown reached zero. Guards walked amongst them, inspecting the groups and how many there were in each one. Some were holding eachother by the arms, others just stood clumped close to one another. Theirs did too. But there was a major difference between their group and everyone else's. There was 11 of them instead of 10. Not for long, in just a few seconds, it'd all be correct like it's supposed to be.
“Please make groups of ten players. Ten players.” The square guard commanded, looking downwards at the group of people. Player 100 was glancing between the manager and 328, something frantic in his eyes now. Gi-hun remained quiet. It wasn't supposed to go like this. He was supposed to be the one left all alone. But that's not how this story ended for him. Fate didn't exist. It was all about action and consequence, about chance and probability and about random endings that didn't have to make sense.
One last step made in the wrong direction, setting 328 apart from the group enough for the guard to recognise. Teams began to be led out of the white room and onto the lower platform off of which they'd be led onto the upper platforms, where tug of war would be played. Gi-hun already knew the story, word for word, he could recite it. He knew the begining, the plot and the ending. It was all already written down. He was not a character in this story. He was the narrator. And even narrators eventually cease to exist with the last page of the book turned.
He could hear the quiet words 100 mumbled but not what exactly was said. He caught a snippet of the conversation between the four newcomer's, who's numbers he didn't even manage to read, mumbling something about feeling sorry for 328. Deep down, he was still hoping that maybe 328 would just skip the round and when they'd return, the player would be resting in the dormitory with a proper bandage and a calm expression. But he doubted it'd happen. Mercy was rare in this place. Mercy was even rarer without In-ho in charge up there.
Gi-hun realised it wasn't the exact same room as the one he remembered. The platforms were set lower, still more than enough for the fall to kill you, but it was a noticeable difference. Strange. Was it because the game wasn't perfected yet? Did the games change over the years, even before the front man he knew decided to switch things up to toy with him? He didn't think so. So far, everything was the exact same as it was before. Same games, same rules, almost the same rooms. Some slight paranoia was telling him to be a little more worried, but he pushed it away. Three out of six were the exact same. It wouldn't make sense for the fourth one to differ. Besides, marbles must be entertaining to those above them.
He and the other members sat down in a line, the very last one. Team 18. Eighteen total teams participated in tug of war. 180 people. Ninety would remain after that. And after marbles, that would make 45. Too much for glass bridge, that's for sure. Maybe they'd trim down the numbers between rounds somehow, force the players into more lights out fights. Whatever they'd end up doing, Gi-hun knew for sure that it'd end up stinging. His plan couldn't fail easily though, it would work even with a couple of changes to the game he knew. As long as he survived until it was just him and In-ho, he won. Not literally, but making sure In-ho survived and went back to a normal life was his win.
He really thought about it his plan more often than he needed.
The rules of the game and the game itself was explained. Some teams looked like they'd pay to switch a few members around, others looked content and even confident. A worker drew the first ball from the gumball machine, choosing the first team that'll compete. The number drawn was 3, a team Gi-hun's eyes couldn't quite reach without looking too suspicious. The team slowly got up, looking around. The second team drawn was 17, and they stood up too. Gi-hun spotted a pair of familiar faces. 420 and 102, right behind one another. And to think not even a day earlier these two were at eachother's throats.
Team 17 was at a major disadvantage. 102 has a weak leg, although it seemed sprained rather than stabbed through like 328's was. 420 on the other hand, moved his hand strangely, almost as if it, too, was in some way wounded. Gi-hun couldn't see team 3 from this angle, but unless they were all as thin as sticks, they'd probably manage fine. The two teams walked towards the elevators, team 17 seeming far too eager for what they were about to go through. Gi-hun stared into the ground as the two teams got prepared to fight.
It didn't take even thirty seconds. He counted. Team 17 was sent plummeting over the edge faster than most would imagine. Yells erupted from the players chained to the rope, but it was far too late. The rope was sliced in half, sending team 17 downwards, never to be seen again. Team 3 didn't seem to have it in them to cheer. They remained put as they were unchained and allowed to depart back to the dorms. The next two numbers were drawn. 5 and 8. The two teams began preparing themselves. Gi-hun didn't spot any familiar faces or numbers right away, but he realised that number 199 was standing with team 8. He tried to think back to what happened to Ali all that time ago.
He knew it was during marbles. What he didn't know was what exactly happened. He was paired with Sang-woo, and he probably didn't play any variation of marbles back where he lived most of his life. It wasn't too big of a surprise that he didn't make it through, especially since his marbles partner was an intellectual like Sang-woo... That man was the reason Gi-hun ever had a change here. Had he not grabbed him by the jacket that day, none of this would've ever happened. He'd be one of the many bodies cleared away after the first game.
Team 8 fell down to their deaths after a respectable amount of time. They tried their best, they did what they could, but it wasn't enough. 199 was placed at the very beginning of the line. Who knows if he'd be fit to be at the end. Ali was. This man might've not been. Gi-hun stared off into nowhere, or maybe, it was somewhere. Was there a difference? It was blank anyway. As team 5 was unshackled and allowed to go back to the dorms, the game continued. Team 9 and 14, and team 14 won. Team 11 and team 4, team 4 won. Gi-hun was silently waiting for the number 18 to be called, to get up and finally get a grip of that rope, to stare into the face of death like all those years ago.
“Team 1”
The team rose to their feet slowly. They stood on the other side of the waiting platform, too far away and at too awkward of an angle of Gi-hun to be able to read their numbers. The machine rattled faintly as another ball was drawn, falling into the hand of the guard with the circle mask. He felt as one of the players on his team, not bothered to check which one, froze. Something told him he wouldn't have to wait for long. As the guard looked at the ball, he exhaled slowly. He already knew what was coming. He stood up slowly in unison with the number being called.
“Team 18”
It'd be hilarious to everyone but himself if it wasn't his team and he stood up for no reason. But looks like his assumption was correct. His other teammates stood up, the more familiar ones looking at him, searching for advice. He'd tell them, eventually. In the elevator and shortly before it. Gi-hun turned to face the other team. One of their players was staring right at him. For a moment he thought it was Sang-woo again, his face and his splattered blood, but it wasn't. At least it wasn't until the player turned around to walk to their elevator, showing the 218 on their jacket. Gi-hun stared for a moment longer. He had to remind himself that it wasn't the friend he watched die. It was a stranger wearing his number.
He and his team stepped towards the elevator in silence, but the second they were out of the guards' earshot, Gi-hun started speaking.
“Listen to me so we can survive. We stand in an alternating pattern. One person on the right, another on the left, and then it repeats. This is so our pull is spread out evenly. Five on each side instead of ten on just one.”
Him, 089, 067, somewhere between them would be the four unfamiliar players, followed by 172, 100 and lastly In-ho. He trusted In-ho to be their anchor. 100 had to be kept away from the edge, he was far too easily scared. It was In-ho who would have to be the anchor, and he, he would be the person at the front. The one who will face death and not turn away.
“The rope must be under our arms, almost in the armpit. That way, our arms don't get tired and he have a firm grip. I will be at the front. 132 will be at the very back. I trust him to be the one holding us in place.”
Chains set to their wrists, chaining them to the rope they could very well die holding if something somehow went wrong. But Gi-hun doubted it. With how many things he's survived here, he started feeling like something was protecting him from death. Some kind of armour shielding him from an untimely death. Maybe it sounded like fate. But he didn't like thinking about fate being real.
“The first ten seconds are the most important. We have to hold our ground, not push ourselves, but tire them out. They have to get frustrated with not getting anywhere. And after they are, we pull with all we have.”
He stared straight at the person across from him. He tried to ignore how the 218 sewn onto his jacket looked like. All he saw was a stranger. Not a friend he had lost. He watched as he and his team struggled, teeth bared in frustration. Nine seconds have passed holding their position, he can hear heavy breathing from around himself. Ten. He starts pulling more, feeling the rope get lighter in his grip as his team pushes themselves to the very limit.
“If we begin losing grip somehow and start losing? I'll call out on three. And on three, we all take three steps forwards. That'll stun our opponents for long enough so that we can regain our footing and pull them over the edge.”
The trick was not necessary. He didn't count the seconds, but he felt as the rope began to feel less harsh to pull, as he saw the flashes of terror in the face of the people on the other side. It was almost comparable to when you bet on something, saying that whoever won gets something. Gi-hun did that countless times as a kid, saying he'd buy things for his friends if they beat him. And then they would. And then he'd pretend like he never did.
The man with the familiar number slipped over the edge with a scream. The rope felt too light. Gi-hun's fingers let go of it, for whatever reason. More and more people began falling, and he felt the weight pulling him forwards. He couldn't move. It was Sang-woo again, staring up at him, blood pooling at his mouth, rejecting the outstretched hand. The scar on the hand felt like it stung, even if it didn't give off any sensation whatsoever. Something snapped overhead, sending ten people falling into the emptiness below and sending him and his team stumbling back. The rope was out of his hands. The man with Sang-woo's number was dead.
The announcer announced all the eliminated players. 218's number seemed to echo, at least in his head. He heard the relief from the other members on his team, pretending as if they hadn't all turned into murderers today. Maybe they weren't stabbing the others to death, but what they did was still murder. It was either they or us, something in his head tried to rationalise, but it was too quiet for him to hear. Even as the cuffs were unlocked and as they were allowed to leave, he didn't talk. He felt the passing touch on his shoulder, someone trying to get his attention, but he knew it wasn't who he wanted it to be.
Even as they were slowly led back to the dormitory, he didn't say a word. Somewhere nearby, 100 said something. He referred to 328 by name, a name that was said with an almost trembling voice. A name Gi-hun didn't register in his brain. Calling one another names was too far. Once you knew someone's name, it was too late. You'd get attached. You'd care about them. You'd grieve once you saw them die. 100 would die here too, but first he would spend his last days wondering if he could've saved 328 someway. He'd die, not knowing the ending. Most of them would.
None of the sacrifices people made for one another would matter here. If you died for someone during marbles, they might've died as soon as they stepped onto the glass bridge. What then? Was your death in vain? Was everything you gave to that person meaningless because they died here too? Sae-byeok died not knowing whether her brother would end up in a safe place. She placed her brother's fate in the hands of someone who had a fifty percent chance of death. It was luck that he was the one who survived and fulfilled her wish.
“Player 132.”
Gi-hun paused as he heard the guard speak to In-ho. It was strange, as they were almost down to the dormitory. A circle mask held out the jacket player 328 had tied around their wound previously, the manager standing besides and speaking for them observed what In-ho would do. In-ho hesitated for a moment, staring at the jacket. It had droplets of fresh blood on it. Not bled through, but splatters. He didn't hear the gunshot after they were escorted out of the white room, but he was now sure it had happened. Gi-hun stood still as In-ho dipped his head and took the jacket back with a quiet thank you.
He resumed walking, but Gi-hun stared at the two guards for a moment.
“Did they need to be killed? Was it their fault that the number of players wasn't perfect like you needed it to be?” Gi-hun questioned, barely feeling anything as he asked those words. Revealing anything else would get him shot or at least questioned for sure. The least he could wonder was this. The masks did their intended job perfectly, shielding the reaction of both of them, although he still saw the faint tension in the way the circle mask stood. It changed. It was human. They were all humans here.
“A player who refuses to participate in the games has to be eliminated.” The manager responded simply.
“328 didn't refuse. They weren't allowed to play. Does that seem fair to you? Aren't these games all about equality?” Gi-hun felt his own voice carry a hint of venom. It wasn't fair, not like they were so keen on keeping their games. All about second chances and everyone having the same odds, but then they didn't even give someone the opportunity. He glared at the manager, knowing the worker wouldn't be allowed to respond with their own words even if they wanted to.
“Player 456, please return to the dormitory. This is a warning.” The manager spoke through the modulated mask, hand hovering somewhere near where the gun would be stored in the outfit. For a second, Gi-hun considered taunting the guards some more, spiting them just a little further, daring that manager to pull out that gun and point it at his head. But he decided against it. Instead of replying he turned around without a word, following downwards to where In-ho was waiting for him at the end of the stairway.
“... It feels wrong having the jacket back.” In-ho admitted.
“It's yours. 328 only borrowed it. Don't feel bad.” Gi-hun said quietly, hand lifted up as he planned to place it on the other man's shoulder. He decided against it last moment. Their other teammates were already in the dormitory, just wanting to get back to where it felt at least a bit safe. It wasn't safe, nothing here was, it was just that it was the least dangerous place. Unless it was night, as that complicated the situation, of course.
“Doesn't change the fact that it feels wrong having it again.” In-ho protested as they walked through the door to the dormitory. He headed to where their teammates, both temporary and prior to tug of war, were sitting. 089 kept a bit of a distance, though it was most likely not because of his own wishes, but because of the others keeping their distance. 100 was also sitting further away, facing away. It didn't look like he knew 328 outside of the games. Maybe it was a situation like between himself and... Everyone he'd lost. He lost so many people he'd known for a few days at most. And he felt broken over it.
In-ho silently led the way, sitting down with them. Gi-hun hesitated for a moment, instead heading over to the bathroom. When he entered it was still empty. Not a single person in the room. He headed to the sink, staring into the mirror. It was most likely plastic. He wouldn't bother checking. Someone would use it as a weapon if it were glass, so it was obviously not proper glass, but some kind of plastic replacement. He stared at his reflection. The blood from the night's punches was peeling off of his skin, but it wasn't gone. He splashed some water into his face, trying to get rid of the remaining blood.
Even if he did get it off eventually, it didn't make anything better. He cupped his hand under the running stream, lifting it up to his lips and taking a large sip. God it was about time they gave them something to drink. This was the last thing he had left. He was thirsty. He was still thirsty, even if only a little. Hunger no longer stung. Exhaustion no longer left it's dull hits on his body. The cold stung less. But dry lips, needing just a bit of water, that remained. He guessed it'd be the last thing to go. Last thing to leave him before his body too, finally died.
He returned from the bathrooms, walking over to where everyone he knew was sitting near one another silently.
Notes:
Thank you for every single kudos and comment, I appreciate the support! :D
This was a bit longer than I intended it to be but hey... Better than it being too short, right? First somewhat major background character death! Whoops, sorry 328, you had a good run!
I finished writing this at nearly 4 am so don't blame me for any mistakes. Shh. Just. Skim over them. One day I'll be brave enough to read through this all and fix mistakes...one day...
Also you may have noticed I reduced the number of tags. Yeah it was kind of messy and I guessed that that might've been what kept readers from clicking on it! So yeah, sane tagging.
Chapter 14: Uncertainty
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Gi-hun returned to the group with slow steps, watching as another group of players entered after having made it through the game. No familiar numbers were in the crowd at first glance, and frankly, he didn't want to look for them. It was pointless to look, to search for more people he'd recognise the bodies of when they'd eventually die. He turned away, returning to where his group was seated. It felt wrong. They looked wrong. This was their first big loss, the first death that felt wholly personal. They were all silent, not a word spoken between them.
Gi-hun sat down in his usual spot, on the staircase, near In-ho. Nobody acknowledged that he returned later. Nobody acknowledged his momentary disappearance. No greeting, no nod suggesting he was even sitting there. Even the four additional players present during the third game were hanging around, although further away from the other six. 172 was sitting on one of the bunks, the least shaken by the death of 328 - she was the newest one to the alliance and knew them the least. It wasn't a suprise that it didn't hit her nearly as much as the others.
100 was on the other end of the spectrum. He seemed to genuinely care, and a lot. He was sitting on a different bunk, curled up onto himself. 067 looked at the floor, not saying a word unlike how he'd usually have everyone's attention due to a very intense discussion of some very unserious topic. 089 was sitting on the very top of the staircase, alone, separated from the others. In-ho sat still right next to Gi-hun, his own bloodstained jacket in his hands. His eyes seemed clouded with some sort of regret. Gi-hun stared at the returning team, watching as most of them settled near one another. They're making teams.
These teams would soon be ripped apart with the introduction of marbles. They'd try to stick together but all they'd obtain was a bag of marbles that determines two peoples fate's. Set up so strategically, first they'd ignore one another, then fight, then connect and ally themselves with others and ultimately betray the one they'd care about the most. It was a cruel game to make them play. You'd go in thinking it was you two against the world, only to be pitted against one another like rabid animals.
It was either dying, hoping the person you sacrificed yourself for made it to the end and had the chance to remember you out there in the world, or watching someone you trusted enough to pick in the whole room of people die because you wanted to live so badly. Gi-hun didn't know what was worse. In one, you never know the end of the story, and in the other, you'd have to live with yourself knowing what you've done. The only thing that eased Gi-hun's own experience was the true identity of the old man he considered a friend.
The creator of the games? It left him completely disgusted and with an uneasy feeling in his bones. An innocent looking old man who just wants to have fun before dying, in truth, someone who created the games for amusement of the rich and because he thought giving the poor fools a second chance would be entertaining. Maybe good on paper, it you'd exclude the killing and blatant favouritism that defeated the purpose of the games. He felt truly horrible lying to the old man while playing marbles to survive, and even worse when the man was supposedly shot. But then, of course, he turned out to be alive and well for a while longer.
He glanced at the next group entering the room. There was a handful of minutes between each one, but it ultimately didn't change a thing. Out of the 180 players, only 90 would make it to the next round. The game had it's rules, simple ones that couldn't be changed. No matter how many players died during red light green light and dalgona, from then on, it was scripted. Half the teams would die in tug of war, halving the total amount of participants. The same would happen in marbles, again, a neat slice in half. From 180 to 90 to 45. But that's when it started sounding off. Eighteen glass panels to go through, and far too many people for them. Even if the numbers would go down during lights out, it still left far too many survivors.
Something about it felt off. Like the sequence he'd read over time and time again was suddenly not working anymore, with an interruption or an out of order pattern. As if something perfect, predetermined, was suddenly smashed into pieces, leaving behind only the remains what was once known as stable. Could they extend the bridge? Would they maybe let the players split in half and somehow replace all the panels of glass between the two rounds? The latter seemed far more possible, although still unlikely. It'd work itself out somehow, he was sure. The next group of players entered, and he saw a familiar face. The woman he'd tried recruiting into the team as a replacement for himself. Her team looked weak, but she must've used Gi-hun tactic to survive.
A few more minutes passed and finally, the last team entered the room. Guards followed soon after, making some of the players not so subtly shrink away from the masked soldiers and workers. Everyone seemed to understand the routine now. The piggy bank slowly lowered itself, although still completely out of reach for an ordinary human being, and money dropped into it. The count of players decreased until it landed on 90. Some participants were ogling at the money as if they weren't at a complete risk of dying. Others finally realised that the money wasn't worth it in the first place, staring into the floor.
089 stared at the money intently, not greedily, more-so in a curious and intrigued way. 067 didn't even lift his head up. In-ho remained seated, only giving the money a quick glance before his eyes faced the ground once more. Gi-hun stared at In-ho for a moment, lost in thought. It was still such a shock to see where the man he hated with every fibre of his being came from. From a fair, kind man who felt grief over someone who's basically a stranger. A human being with emotion, not wearing a cold mask with a distorted voice and lies shrouding his true self like shadows.
He and In-ho were both winners, people who made decisions that determined their fates, watched people they cared about die, sometimes because of their own actions and choices. And yet, In-ho ended up staying tied to the games, even closer than Gi-hun, directly within them, pulling the strings. But even the man pulling the strings was just a puppet for those above him, a toy that serves as a mask for those who truly are in charge of this place. The front man was never making choices on his own, just listening to commands. But that didn't change the fact he remained in the games even after he was allowed to leave, told to just forget.
In a way, they were the exact same. Two men who went through horrible things, lost those close to them, won games stained with the blood of hundreds of others, and held the money in their hands. One tried to forget, to move on, but something pulled him back no matter what he tried to do. It was impossible to block out the memory, to pretend the deaths here weren't real. He didn't know what happened to In-ho. He didn't figure out what happened between the games he's playing right now and his first ones. It was a blind spot, a fuzzy static of possiblity and uncertainty. Did In-ho somehow get pulled into the spot of the overseer in the games immediately after, if not during the games? Was it later? How many years had he been working for them?
“...I wonder if we'll get food soon.” 067 spoke up, the first to speak out of the entire group. Gi-hun looked over to the man, seeing his slightly annoyed expression break the sad look he harboured previously, if only for a second. The others, excluding 100, looked over at him with various expressions, ranging from anywhere between annoyance at the question to deep thought. Gi-hun was certain that everyone was, deep down, thinking it. Maybe besides himself. There was not a single flicker of thought regarding food in his brain.
“I'm guessing it'll be in an hour or a few? Don't bet on that though. God knows.” 172 hummed thoughtfully, looking over at the remaining players. Gi-hun thought back to his second games. The votes after mingle were a complete tie, fifty to fifty, that means there were a hundred people. Ten less than during his second games. As for his first games? Sixteen people went on the bridge. Seventeen made it out of marbles. Times two was... Thirty four? Times two again for tug of war... Sixty eight? No, he wasn't sure. Sang-woo was the math guy when it came to the two of them. He was the one who could do mental math. Oh, right, obviously the numbers seemed wrong because of lights out.
“...First they kill an innocent player. Then they starve us. Those masked bastards...” 067 muttered quietly. Gi-hun couldn't pay it that much attention though. He was trying to figure out how the comparison was to his two other games. Ten fewer people than second games. And if his math was at least a little correct, twenty two more than his first games. He blinked as he tried to figure out anything else to judge it by. It was a strange mid point with the two, it seems, worse than the second games but better than the first ones. He knew how many people were eliminated in the red light green light for his first game, that was 255, an easy to remember number. It left 201 players, a win for leaving by a single player. If only that player was an actual player and not Oh Il-nam.
“They're people just like us, 067. They're not bastards. For all we know, they're also playing their own sort of game with whoever is above them.” In-ho said, bringing Gi-hun out of his thoughts. What In-ho said was... Eerily accurate. Although he wouldn't call the guards' job a game, as it was just work. Jun-ho had mentioned some things about them, like their hierarchy. Circles were workers who couldn't speak unless spoken to. Triangles, soldiers could speak to circles but not to squares. Squares were managers, they could speak to anyone and also spoke to the players, which was pretty obvious.
“Huh, I read a comic book about something like that.” 172 said thoughtfully.
067 and 172 slowly started talking again, seemingly both at least somewhat recovered from what happened prior. Something about some manga, although it was far from how eager the conversation was when it was between 328 and 089 with ddakji. 172 explained something about it while 067 nodded along. In-ho completely ignored what had been said, staring off into space. They still hadn't heard a word from 100, and Gi-hun didn't want to disturb the man. He should be allowed to have the silence he wanted. 089 left a few minutes later, without a word, his departure barely acknowledged by the others.
“Are we going to keep watch again? During lights out, I mean.” In-ho asked quietly, wanting only Gi-hun to hear his question, but it appears that both 067 and 172 heard too. They turned over to In-ho, their conversation coming to a sudden halt. Gi-hun cleared his throat, thinking about it. Well, no, not really. He already knew he'd keep watch, it was up to the others if they wanted to, too. It was the least he could do.
“Keep watch, huh? That's smart.” 172 said, nodding.
“Oh, right, you don't know it goes yet. In short, we pair up and watch out for any potential attacker. We could also make a barricade again, if you think that's wise, 456.” 067 explained the logistics to 172, who listened for no more than the first two seconds before she looked over at Gi-hun, curious about the initial question rather than whatever the other player would try to babble on about next. In-ho looked at Gi-hun with equal interest. About his decision, of course. Gi-hun looked off to the side for a moment, before speaking up.
“Right. Yes, we will.” Gi-hun concluded, watching as 067 nodded.
“So you're gonna keep watch with 132, I'm gonna take a wild guess?” 172 said with a small smirk.
“Yes.” Gi-hun confirmed, paying little to no mind to her expression. In-ho seemed to look at her with confusion, surprised she had guessed that, but didn't say a word. 067 started saying something again, about how the watch went, how he totally didn't fall asleep immediately. Gi-hun realised 089 still wasn't back. Maybe he wouldn't come back at all, maybe he did exactly what they had agreed upon, just one game and then going their seperate ways. It felt strange with only five players in the... Alliance? Team? It didn't feel that formal for alliance. It felt like a true team, a team that wanted to stick together until the end.
172 agreed to keep watch with 067, the latter repeating that he wouldn't pass out immediately over and over again, convincing nobody. They, along with Gi-hun, agreed that 100 wouldn't participate in keeping watch since he was not only unpaired but also looked exhausted enough as is. Gi-hun's only input was just a nod, but it seemed enough for the other two. He was kind of busy, right now, glancing over to In-ho. The realisation of just how much his hair changed had only now hit him. It looked so.... fluffy, for the lack of a better word, compared to the slick hair he was used to paired with that face.
The team remained largely silent as time passed. 172 had laid down in a nearby bunk, deeming it a good time to catch up on sleep she's missed due to the fight and it's consequences. She said that she couldn't fall back asleep after the guards had interrupted the fight and entered the room, so it made sense. 067 was silently sitting there, staring up into the ceiling, occasionally humming some random melody to break the silence. In-ho was staring at the crowd and observing what people were doing, much like Gi-hun himself was. Small alliances formed from tug of war teams some times, other times, people left the people they survived with immediately. Gi-hun couldn't let the hair thing go though.
“...you know, in the future, your hair is a lot less...” Gi-hun trailed off as In-ho turned to him, instead gesturing with his hand, trying to get the meaning across. It was hard to say and even harder to gesticulate, which made him slightly embarrassed. He didn't know how exactly to describe his hair. Fluffy, yes, but in a completely different way than his used to be. Bangs over his eyes, very... Thick, hair? Maybe that was the word. Of course, it looked less magnificent than it had when they had taken their photos due to all the stress and sweat, but it was still so different from what he was used to with In-ho.
“...Nine years later you mean? You're saying I'll be fifty soon and balding?” In-ho said in a hushed voice, carrying the slightest hint of shock and... Horror, funnily enough? Like he was truly terrified of the true future, of hair loss. It was as if that information was the worst part of today, and not the death of a teammate and half their fellow players. For just a moment, that bloodied jacket and it's symbolism lay forgotten. For just a second, it was about a funny observation and misunderstanding.
“Oh, no, not that! I mean just... A different style, I suppose. Your hair was shorter and more slicked down, I think?” Gi-hun found himself smiling slightly, maybe too much, maybe too wide, maybe too suddenly. But Gi-hun couldn't help it. It wasn't genuine joy, not true amusement, just something supposed to resemble it. Like an off brand soda that was supposed to trick people to think it was the real deal. It'd taste off, something about the sugar or the fizz would feel wrong on your tongue, and you'd take a glance at the bottle and see that the logo was wrong too. It was a pathetic excuse for the emotion if happiness, but he supposed that for today, it had to do.
“Ah... Well, my wife says this looks good.” In-ho said quietly, a faint smile on his lips. Gi-hun didn't understand why that sweet moment made his own smile drop slowly, replaced with something that was almost a frown. The reaction was strange, something he didn't understand even if he gave it several moments of thought. He should be happy about In-ho's own joy, or at least feel whatever the closest thing to it he could. But he didn't, in fact, it made him feel disappointed. What part of the sentence? He wasn't sure. But something about it made him feel strangely. It wasn't correct. Something about it was wrong.
“Really? I think it looks great too.” Gi-hun said before he thought about it too much.
”...thank you?” The hesitance and confusion in In-ho's tone was unfortunately very obvious.
“I once dyed my hair red.” Gi-hun said after a moment, trying to move past the uncomfortable air that had been created in the past few seconds. Red hair. Why exactly did he do it? He himself wasn't sure. It was a spur of the moment, new life new me, sort of thing. He wanted to leave the games and his life before them behind. The simplest, and the most symbolic way? Cut his hair short and dye it. Of course, then he never did what he wanted to, and his hair wasn't a bright red by the time he'd gotten to the second games. Who cares, though, it was just a small window of time and it had no importance in the long term.
“Red? Why red?” In-ho asked, blinking.
“Because... They didn't have pink?” Gi-hun said without thinking. In reality, red was just the colour that the hairdresser had the nearest on hand, and the first his eyes landed upon. He thought it suited him okay. Probably better than what could've happened had it been blue or something. Why was he even seriously considering this, anyway? Was he just trying to make conversation out of nothing? At this point, yes, yes he was. But it was quickly just turning into random words being said without intention and without result, so it was pointless to drag it on. “Nevermind, it doesn't matter.”
In-ho stared at him for a few more moments before he eventually looked away, giving up on keeping the hair discussion going. 172 was back out of the bed, sitting on the stairs, staring at the other players in the room. 067 was talking, or at least trying to talk to 100, without much hearable result. A few players were lingering around the front of the dormitory where the food would be distributed. They were smart to do so, as Gi-hun felt like they'd get food soon. So far it was, or seemed to be, the exact food they were given during the first games. Although he could be wrong. He wasn't a hundred percent sure. The games blurred together and details like good weren't important.
“Food's going to get given out, let's go.” In-ho stood up first, immediately at the sight of the first worker entering, even before the tables and the food itself were brought out. 172 stood up shortly after. Gi-hun slowly got up as well, glancing back to where 067 and 100 were. They'd follow eventually. Human hunger won over grief and hopelessness. It had always worked like that. It was always food that pulled you out of states like these. A bowl of warm soup could stop the shivers, and not only those from the cold. A good meal could teach you that there was still steps to be taken forward.
The trio headed down to where at least half the players were already gathered, and by the time the tables with portions and guards to hand them out were set up, every single player was gathered there without fail. All stood in perfect lines, for once peaceful and not pushing. Or so Gi-hun had thought before he heard commotion between two random players who were arguing over who goes first. As if there wasn't exactly ninety servings of... Ah, today's meal was corn. He waited as the few players in front got their shares, accompanied by a plastic bottle, observing as they quickly left to eat the food somewhere in a corner.
Gi-hun grabbed his own share, turning away from the guard without a word. He waited for In-ho, who was right behind him watching as the man thanked the guard with a polite nod and spoken words of gratitude, turning away and walking over to Gi-hun. They didn't wait for the others, instead returning to where they were previously. The corn didn't look bad at all. It was probably the best looking food he'd seen in his... Now three games. The corn looked good the first time he'd seen it here, yes, but even so it looked great here. He wasn't hungry though. He just waited for In-ho to sit down. He wordlessly offered the corn to him, looking over at the shorter man.
“Gi-hun...” In-ho sounded like he'd protest and try to lecture him about giving away his food again, but he went silent and his mouth closed. He instead looked away and took it. Selfish, Gi-hun thought. Not in a bad way though. He was hungry and didn't turn it down. Instead, he bit into his own corn, eating in silence and looking at him. For whatever reason, it was taking the other three some time to get back, although he wasn't bothered enough to check. When In-ho had mostly finished the first portion, he looked over to Gi-hun again.
“Thank you.” The words sounded more than just sincere. Something in In-ho's eyes looked almost vulnerable, guilty about taking Gi-hun's portion but satisfied with it all the same. Gi-hun's heart practically skipped a beat, and he couldn't deny it to himself no matter how much he wanted it to. Such emotion in the eyes of what would've been the man he hated so much... He couldn't describe what he felt. Whatever it was, it was a lot. He slowly looked away from In-ho, watching as the other three had finally returned. 067 seemed to be in a better mood, at least on the outside, gnawing on the corn. 172 was doing the exact same, she was just less obnoxious about it.
100 was silent though. Not eating the corn or drinking the water he was given. He wordlessly passed by the other four, sitting down on the bunk he was previously seated on, turned away from the group. Strange how much a death of a complete stranger affected him. Sure, they were in the same team, but they hardly knew one another. They talked, what, once? Gi-hun understood that the loss of those around you, no matter how much you knew them or didn't, hurt, but that applied to neighbours, friends, co-workers. Not a stranger you knew face to face for about a day.
“456, where's your share?” 067 asked curiously, nodding over to him.
“He gave it to 132, if I were to guess?” 172 said, raising an eyebrow. Gi-hun, In-ho and 067 all turned to her. 067 seemed shocked at her guess. In-ho looked weirded out and confused. Gi-hun was just used to turning to people when it was about him, in all honesty. For a few seconds, all four remained silent, before 172 shrugged and waved the interaction off. For a moment, Gi-hun wondered if they'd question his apparent selflessness and sacrifices, but it didn't seem like it. They just accepted it as a thing that happened.
“You are really good at reading people. What do you do for work? A psychologist, maybe?” In-ho asked 172, now genuinely seeming curious.
“Psychologist? Okay, no, you're thinking too deep about it. I don't like the whole sharing secrets thing. Or people confiding in me. What I used to do was interior design! At least before I quit a few months ago.” 172 explained, sounding pretty proud of herself, and not all that broken up about the whole quitting thing. Nobody said a word for several seconds, only the sound of 067 taking a generous bite of his meal sounding. Gi-hun didn't think about it too deeply. It was just another person sharing their story. Nothing new. He'd heard it plenty of times before. Stories told to be forgotten as everyone who's heard them will die, and the one who would survive could care less about it.
“Why did you quit?” 067 questioned, mouth full of corn. Disgusting.
“There wasn't a point in continuing anymore.” 172 shrugged, looking off into the distance as she leaned back.
“Huh? Surely there was a point in it! Otherwise you wouldn't be here!” 067 protested.
Gi-hun mostly ignored their little conversation continuing and devolving into a flurry of no and yes from either side. Marbles. How would marbles go down? How would he ensure that In-ho and him both got out alive? He couldn't rely on luck. It was a one in two chance of survival. He couldn't find someone who was willing to die. Nobody was willing to just die here. Maybe he could just leave it up to fate. Let In-ho play against a stranger and hopefully win. It felt completely wrong to even consider it. But he couldn't die there yet. He still had to make sure In-ho survived and won, not just make it to the finale.
“Who's gonna have the first watch?” 172 asked out of seemingly nowhere.
“Me and In-ho can take it, if he doesn't mind.” Gi-hun said, glancing over to the man beside him.
“In-ho?” 172 echoed, but she quickly understood. She didn't comment on it, though, just shooting them both a strange glance before resuming the conversation the conversation she was leading with 067. 067 didn't even seem to register the usage of names, and Gi-hun was thankful, deep down. Maybe it was stupid to call him by name, but it was too late to think about that right now. In-ho didn't say anything about it, anyways, just sat there without a word, staring off somewhere into the distance. With the other two deep in a discussion again and 100 silent in a corner, Gi-hun felt at ease. Strangely calm. He still felt a twinge of anger at the guards for just killing 328 but... It was ignorable now.
Everyone had finished their meals now and most were just talking to eachother now. Alliances were rising now. Hilarious, isn't it? To those in gold masks above it must be. Alliances formed just before the game in which you kill the person you are paired with. The plan was disgustingly well thought through, providing the greatest form of entertainment in the form of drama and desperation. The VIPs must get a laugh from it. To watch people be the cause of their most trusted person's death, laughing at their distress and hopelessness. If Gi-hun could he'd murder them all. They were the humans who were the least human of them all. They were the true animals in this game, the beasts that laugh at misery.
But for now, there was peace.
At least for a few more hours, there would be peace.
Notes:
Okay I am so sorry for the delay on this one but i got caught up with things. Whoopsies!! I touched grass for the first time in a few days and actually went outside and interacted with my family members. A time where I act like a normal human being? What!? Sounds impossible I know. Also my mother is trying to force a bedtime upon me. Like excuse me it's summer break? Does it matter..? Too bad I'll break it anyways. I was supposed to be asleep two hours ago.
As always I appreciate all your kudos and comments y'all are always awesome :D
I'm curious as to what your theories are for the future! Especially regarding the additional characters here... At last I have their fates figured out. And the entirety of the 2015 games, actually! The first arc is finally at least somewhat sketched out in my mind :D yeah. First arc. There's a lot more coming. I don't know how to bridge it together but i have this ending figured out, a few things in-between and the ENDING ENDING for the fic. Hehe.
Sadly I can't be certain I'll actually get that far with the fic. I'll try to, but who knows if I'll manage to. It all depends on how my motivation and interests shift, and of course, how hard I'll get my ass kicked by the education system.
Chapter 15: Keep peace
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Indistinct chatter of all the other teams made the silence between the give group members a little more bearable. Nobody was talking, not even 067, he was instead laying down on the bed he claimed and dozing off. Everyone was exhausted. Not only from the game itself, but also from the stress they'd undergone during the night and it's fights. No wonder most people were either making teams out of the people that stuck together in tug of war, sleeping before the lights even turned off or relaxing in any other way. Many didn't seen affected by the deaths they caused with their own hands and own pulling. It felt justifiable, because it was either you or them. But even so, it didn't change anything. You were still a killer.
Nobody who's made it this far isn't a killer. Lights out, whether you just swung your weapon in self defense, or if you were the one attacking someone with their back turned to you, it made you a killer. Surviving tug of war meant you had the blood of ten people on your hands, and if you hadn't won, it'd be your blood on their own. It didn't matter what you do or don't, in the end, only a killer emerges from these games alive. Whether you took a gilded knife from a masked man or pushed a fellow player off of a tall platform in order to not be the one plummeting to your death, you'd be a killer. There was only one way to not be a killer; to die as well, before anything forces you to kill those around you.
Gi-hun knew he had the blood of countless people on his hands. No, not just on his hands. It seeped into that dark green tracksuit he felt he belonged in by now. It stained his skin, impossible to wash off no matter how much you tried or scrubbed. The team put against his own in tug of war. Sang-woo lying in the rain, almost taking that extended hand that'd save his life. The player he tried carrying to the finish line in the second games', only to witness him being shot through the head. All those people he made believe the second game would be dalgona, those who didn't have the time to prepare themselves for anything else. The rebellion he created and led to slaughter with hope. Dae-ho, strangled with his own hands.
Every single player who once stood beside him in these games died, all because of him. Maybe not because of what he did and what he chose, but because he was even there in the first place. Had he died in the first game like he was meant to, tripping over a corpse, with nobody to catch him, someone else would survive. Maybe that someone wouldn't spend years looking around for the games. That someone could be Sang-woo, capable of starting a new life, able to forget it and just he glad for what he got. If only that day when the fake sand was turned to a muddy mess had it been Gi-hun with a knife plunged into his throat instead of through his hand. Sang-woo should've won. Gi-hun's survival was never supposed to be.
Life, at least while in the games, kept throwing things at him he shouldn't survive. Nearly running out of time in red light green light and slipping, only saved by Ali who didn't even know him. Picking the hardest shape in dalgona, only pulling it free seconds before the countdown reached zero. Having an obviously weak team in tug of war, prevailing only thanks to wits. Having to lie to get the marbles he needed, because he was losing. Being the last on the bridge, nearly forgetting the next panel that was correct, barely jumping onto the safe platform. Messed up beyond recognition during squid, blood pouring from cuts and wounds, tears slipping down his face. It was surprising, shocking, that he had made it all the way to the end.
Nearly falling once more during red light green light, yet again caught by someone strong and kind. Barely kicking that god forsaken jegi in time, and only because of someone else's help. Mingle... Mingle in on itself was one close call after another, and it was hard to pick a singular moment that proved what he was thinking. Almost died in hide and seek, first because of Dae-ho's fear and counterattack, then thanks to the knife he had at his own throat. His fingers lightly graze the scab, the only remainder of the two drops of blood that came from that attempt to end it. Stumbling so many times during jump rope that it was a wonder both he and the baby made it out unharmed. Nearly falling off the platform during the finale, that jacket being the only thing saving him.
It was all proof of his self preservation or determination to move on. Not for himself, but for others. Pulling with all the strength he had to make sure his team survives another day. Lying to who seemed like an innocent old man, sobbing over the death of a friend who had tricked him. Pulling himself up onto that circular platform because the button needed to be pressed, to make sure the baby, the innocent little girl, would survive. Only then could he die. Death was always around the corner, looming behind the door, waiting. And he always avoided it, because he wanted to live, because he was supposed to live, for one more game at least. That was the case for the first two games.
Now? There were no close calls. It was all deliberate choices, perfectly tailored to make it seem like any other player's story. Nothing set him apart from the rest. No close calls that left people staring. He was always comfortably in time for the game, not missing anything, surviving fine. He'd lay forgotten in the eyes of the VIPs within days. And that was what he was supposed to do. No close calls, no unexpected games, all was almost too smooth sailing. He was here to guide In-ho, not play to survive. He'd sacrifice himself again and again to save the innocent and change the fates of people who would go on the wrong paths. He'd do it again and again, no matter how many times his body would end up mangled on the ground and his mind would be sent back many years ago.
Was this second chance he was given to save those around him just once? Would he wake up again after he dies in three days, supposed to repeat this until something changes? He hoped not. He had had enough of living. There stopped being happy moments after his first games, and the poor excuse for joy he happened to feel occasionally barely qualified for anything more than a false chuckle that meant nothing. He hasn't been living for the past few years, only surviving, walking forwards because he had the faintest hope of taking down the rot seeping into his very being. And when his only attempt failed, it held no point anymore. It was just about saving one person, not many. And that one person wasn't himself.
Here he was again, in the games, but this time, the vote wasn't even an option. It was hopeless, death was a guarantee. He just had the choice between his own and someone elses. He'd never let someone die for him again... But there were marbles, the looming thought of him being the cause of someone else's death. He had to ensure In-ho made it out though. He had to kill, just to survive long enough for it to just be the two of them. Then it was simple. It'd be one against one. All Gi-hun would have to do is die there to ensure In-ho survived. That's all he had to do. He'd have to kill someone in marbles, be the cause of someone's death, but he'd be okay. As long as In-ho's victory was guaranteed, it'd be worth it.
Time slowly ticked by, although uncountable. No way to tell the time besides your own exhaustion slowly setting in. Except for Gi-hun. He didn't feel exhausted at all. Dying bodies don't need sleep. Dying bodies do not need to eat. Dying bodies won't need to drink in a few days. He lifted the bottle to his lips slowly, taking a few gulps. Thirst was the only thing that remained. He wasn't tired, not hungry, barely reacting to temperature changes, but the dryness of his throat and his cracked lips were still there. The last thing to separate him from a corpse was the water he still needed, no matter how much he tried to ignore the ugly feeling in his mouth.
“So, should i start up on the barricade now? There's fewer of us here so it'll take longer.” 067 spoke after a moment.
Gi-hun looked over at him slowly. It was just like looking at Jung-bae, but it was so unlike him all at the same time. They shared traits, maybe not physical, but in terms of personality, it was almost like there was a stranger's skin over his old friend. The way he kept his head up no matter how harsh things got, the hope in his eyes, the caring words he shared with those he cared about. The memory stained his brain now, his friend, staring at him with wide eyes, knowing it's over but not wanting to believe it. A bullet straight through his heart, making him fall limp within seconds. Shot by someone he trusted, even if he didn't know it. Maybe, had he taken the man In-ho pretended to be with him instead, it'd turn out differently. But it was too late to wonder.
“No. There's no need for barricading ourselves tonight. We all saw how little it worked yesterday, leaving us trapped in a confined space instead of with at least an escape route. We'll just keep watch this time.” Gi-hun said, looking around for agreement. Everyone nodded eventually, save for 100, who was still staring blankly into the wall. He knew it wouldn't work flawlessly, but barricades made it even worse. The best he could do was make sure to warn the rest of his team on time, to alert them of danger before it's too late. Hopefully 172 and 067 would keep proper watch and not fall asleep immediately. If they did, his plan would crumble immediately. If they wanted to survive this night, they had to work together.
“Okay. I promise I'll keep us safe. Swear on my mother.” 067 said, clenching one fist as if to make his point seem more real. Gi-hun remembered, vaguely, saying something along those lines somewhere down the line in one of those games. Maybe it was after the vote in the first games when they'd gotten out, when he was tied up in the street with Sae-byeok? He wasn't certain. He was sure he'd heard those words come out of his own mouth at some point for sure. 172 mumbled something in agreement, looking off somewhere else. In-ho wasn't focusing on the conversation, looking lost in thought. Everything seemed silent for a few seconds, at least until In-ho lifted up his head.
“You said you were an interior designer, or something along those lines, right? What do you think of this place in terms of looks?” In-ho turned to 172, who began looking around.
“Oh, yeah, yeah. In on itself it's kind of... Bland. Sure, the tiling on the walls looks alright and the gray floor connects the black beds and white walls together, but it needs a pop of color. We're all dressed in a great accent color though! The dark green goes nicely with everything else here. But you know what's a nightmare? That staircase room. The primarily yellow walls combined with pink aren't the worst, but then it keeps going with adding splashes of other colours, and ends up cluttered.” 172 went on a short ramble about the way this place looks. Gi-hun never thought about it too deep. He just thought about it as "gray room where we sleep" and "colorful room that'll give me nightmares for life" for as long as he's been here.
“Good point! If I were them, I'd replace all the accents in that bright room with dark green like our suits, personally.” 067 joined in eagerly.
“Nonsense! That'd clash with the pastels too much and draw too much attention. What I think would fit is a light blue, nothing else.” 172 argued, dismissing the man's suggestion immediately. Nobody dared to go against her. This whole thing was her job, after all. Was. She said she quit. Who knows why. Maybe she just didn't find it enjoyable anymore, maybe she's lying, and she got fired. Gi-hun didn't know. And it wasn't an important thing to ponder. Just another story that'll be forgotten the moment the games end, words that the survivor of this bloodbath won't care about in the slightest. Most things didn't matter by the end of it.
“Oh... I guess that's true, now that I think about it.” 067 said, shrugging.
Gi-hun didn't focus on their little conversation anymore, even if it continued. Instead, his eyes landed on player 100, still sitting hidden away from everyone's gaze, pretending he wasn't there at all. Staying away, guilty, looking elsewhere. It reminded him of how Dae-ho stayed away after the rebellion, guilty and afraid. A liar who just wanted to survive. A liar wracked with regret, scared that he'd get killed for his wrongs. Gi-hun looked down at his hands. Hands that had strangled a man who only made a single mistake, killing him without even using the weapon he was given. Hands that had blood on them, blood of a man who just wanted to survive. He lied, yes. But so had Gi-hun. So had everyone. Everybody lies.
He slowly stood up, glancing back at where In-ho and the other two were talking. They didn't seem to notice him getting up and slowly leaving, or just didn't point it out. 172 carried the conversation with her points of what whoever designed this place did wrong or right, what she'd change and what she'd keep if it were here making this place. It seemed to put the rest of the team at ease, as they could listen to something pointless, something that wasn't about life and death. Even In-ho seemed to listen very intently, although with little to no input. The conversation became background noise as Gi-hun slowly walked towards player 100.
The man slowly looked up, no longer staring at his half eaten corn, instead facing Gi-hun. No words were exchanged for the first few seconds. The blank stare, the lack of expression, the defeated posture, the half eaten food. It all reminded Gi-hun of himself after the failed rebellion so painfully. He knew it was about self blame, thinking that if player 100 had done something differently, 328 wouldn't have died. Of course, that wasn't the truth. The number of players predetermined the fate. It couldn't have been changed, no matter what would've been done. The leg injury was enough to lower the chance of survival to zero. Gi-hun slowly sat down on the bunk across from the player.
“It wasn't your fault. It was chance, and 328 just happened to get unlucky.” Gi-hun said slowly, not wanting to tick 100 off.
“It was.” 100 protested quietly.
“No it wasn't. One player couldn't play and that just happened to be 328.” Gi-hun said. Of course 100 would deny the fact it had nothing to do with him. It was so simple to understand and yet the man shook his head in disagreement. It was like talking to a child, a stubborn, sad child, who was refusing to believe that their goldfish died on their own and tried putting the blame on themselves. There were those blamed others for their mistakes, and those that put other's mistakes on themselves to cover for the rest. The latter was the case of 100. He just refused to believe it was the game's design that killed 328.
“Yes it was! Don't you get it? I was hiding under that stupid bed while those people got killed and 328 got hurt! If I got out of there and helped you, they would've all been okay...” 100 snapped, eyes wide with a mixture of anger, regret and sadness. His hands trembled, he shook. Gi-hun slowly looked away. It's not that it completely changed things. Fear was a human reaction. Dae-ho became afraid of the gunshots, and that's why he never returned with the ammunition. It killed many people, but it's not like they were meant to survive. By design, defiance meant death. The only way to avoid it would be if someone above you was pulling strings. Such as the front man.
“Fear is human. Everyone here is at a risk of dying, you understand? Me, you, and every other player. You didn't kill 328. The game's design did.” Gi-hun said, looking back at the player, who was staring off into space. A string of "no"s came from 100 as he shook his head. Gi-hun sighed slightly as he turned to face the other three players on their team, who were still talking. Although, it was mostly 172 and 067 talking and In-ho listening and looking off into the crowd. Gi-hun took a glance over to the other remaining players too. Less than a hundred. The four players that had joined them during tug of war seemed spread out and joining other alliances, while 089 remained alone and looming behind the bunks, observing everyone else without being spotted. Gi-hun turned to 100 again.
“I also lost someone here once. I've been here before, you know? I want to stop these games because the rich laugh at the poor suffering. She got got wounded in the games, and I tried saving her. And you know what happened? She died. She died because she knew that even if she made it through another round, she'd end up dying sooner or later.” Gi-hun started speaking again, now more directly to 100. It was about Jun-hee, or it was supposed to be. But it also sounded so eerily familiar to how Sae-byeok died. The only difference was that Jun-hee made a choice and Sae-byeok let the choice be made for her. A step taken, or hands not raised in defense. It ended the same. Someone he cared about dead because he tried to save them.
100 remained silent, so Gi-hun continued.
“I went through this once already. Everyone who came here with me was dead by the end. But you know what kept me going forwards? The hope that I'll stop these games.” Gi-hun said quietly, looking off to the side. He didn't truly mean it, no, not anymore. These are the words he would've said in the second games, while the votes were held, when there was always hope of getting out. People themselves decided to stay here. The majority was too consumed by greed than to think of the others who wanted to live. They'd rather die than leave without a few more won. They were gamblers, always betting on their lives because of chances.
“... So you came back here?” 100 slowly said, looking up towards Gi-hun. Gi-hun nodded slowly, looking away again. Or, more exactly, looking over to In-ho. 067 had left in the meantime, leaving just him and 172 talking to one another. Although it seemed more like it was just her talking and In-ho zoning out. For a split second their eyes met, making In-ho tilt his head slightly at the sight of Gi-hun talking to the other player. Gi-hun gives a faint wave of his hand, trying to signal that it's nothing important, but maybe it ended up looking like more of a "hello" sort of wave. Whatever... It's not like it mattered.
“Yeah.” Gi-hun confirmed quietly.
“I don't wanna die here.” 100 admitted, hands clenched.
“Nobody does.” Gi-hun replied, looking down at his hands. Almost nobody. He knew one person who said they'd be content dying in the games, reliving their childhood just one more time. That person did also end up faking their death and was revealed to be the very creator of the games they were playing too, though, so maybe he didn't exactly count. Oh Il-nam, or, the man he pretended to be, seemed okay with dying in a house that resembled his own. Of course he never died, but even then, his acting skills were convincing. Not one person wanted to die here, not really. Those who died of their own accord only did it because it was the last thing they could do. But even then, they had hope towards the start.
“Is there even any way all of us get out alive?” 100 said those words to himself, but even if he did, it caught Gi-hun's attention. The rebellion, of course, again, in his head and gnawing it's way into his mouth. Of course, this time, if there were enough people who could operate a gun and were brave enough for it, there was a possibility that it could work. No undercover traitor in sight that had their plan figured out and made a counterplan. But he also didn't know the nature of these games. For all he knew, they could have more guards, better strategies, different layout.
“Not unless every other person in this room can shoot a gun flawlessly, and isn't afraid to shoot tens of guards trying to get out without the guarantee of there being a real way out.” Gi-hun said quietly.
“Oh...” 100 sighed, looking down at his shaky hands. Gi-hun didn't comment on it. So what if the man's hands are shaky? Everyone has some sort of issue or weakness here and it was just the way humans are. On the surface, everyone was a flawless mask of perfection without a single scratch on the surface. But if you look, even for a moment, you see the way it can easily crack. If you just observe the person for an hour, a day, you start seeing things. Habits, patterns, issues, and if you think and watch long enough, their intentions will soon be revealed to you. Unless they know they are being studied. Even after only a few minutes of watching, Gi-hun knew that this player was afraid and harmless.
“What did you do out there? What led you here?” Gi-hun asked before he thought about it further. Yet again, asking things, getting at least a little attached to a stranger. Knowing the story already left him wanting to help, even if he knew there was no helping anyone here. He was here to save In-ho, not anybody else. These people have been dead for years, and there was no way to change their fates. Maybe if he was sent just a year earlier, there were changes to be made, but he came back too late. He had to focus on In-ho. Maybe he could allow himself to listen to their stories. Just for once. It's not like he'll grieve over them when he eventually dies here too.
“I... I had a job. Nothing much else. I was just on the subway and this man wanted to play ddakji with me. Then he gave me the card.” Player 100 explained with a small shrug, looking away as his fingers flexed. Was something wrong with his hands? They shook more than just anxiety and nerves could cause. Maybe it was something deeper than that. That wasn't the question he wanted to ask. What was strange that 100 mentioned no debts. He had a job, no mentions of anything he'd need the money for. Just the slightest bit of curiosity made Gi-hun press on.
“So no debts?” Gi-hun asked slowly, almost expecting the man to correct himself and say that he had some.
“No. I... I don't really know what I'm even doing here. I just didn't wanna be out there. And now what I'd give to be back home.” 100 said quietly, forcing his hands to ball up into fists despite the visible strain it took. Gi-hun remained silent. So it wasn't money. Maybe it was a bad situation, people being after him, something he had done or something he hadn't done. Whatever it was, to go all the way here in search of escape meant it had to be bad. He watched as the player sighed quietly, looking upwards with a defeated expression.
“You played with the recruiter because he offered money, no?” Gi-hun hummed thoughtfully.
“Well...yes. but it's not like I was in desperate need of money. Sure, if I somehow got that huge sum, it'd fix most of my issues, but I came here to run away from everyone else. I didn't want to die here. If they let us leave after the first game, I'd be out of here immediately!” 100 said with a hiss, hands shaking once more. He grabbed the water bottle he was given, taking a swig of water before closing the cap and tossing it away. Gi-hun stared for a moment, taking a glance back towards here In-ho and 172 were, then looked back to player 100.
“Okay. We all are scared of dying here, and know that it's near impossible odds were the one living through, but you can't just stop eating midway through. Giving up this soon is pointless. Finish that corn and get some rest.” Gi-hun said, nodding to the half eaten food laying a little away from 100. How unhygienic it was to just leave it laying there, but he supposed it could be worse. The players basically didn't shower or tend to hygiene at all. The most you could do was splash water on your face or if you were really feeling up for it, try to wash yourself with the bathroom sink in front of another ten people. Taking care of yourself was the least important thing here.
“But... It doesn't matter, since we'll all die. You're helping 132. It's obvious that you want him to win.” 100 protested, but reached for the corn anyways. His eyes dropped to the food as he slowly took a bite. Gi-hun shifted slightly, guilt flooding his mind. Okay, maybe it's a little wrong to give false hopes, but at least player 100 was aware? He was at least glad that the player was eating now. His gaze, almost automatically, found it's way to In-ho. He was there alone now, with 172 having left to go wherever. He has just sitting there, staring out into the open. He must be thinking about his wife.
“You have to fight. We're still a team. The least you can do is eat and push on.” Gi-hun insisted, turning back to player 100.
“You haven't eaten either. I didn't see you with the corn.” 100 said quietly, the faintest accusatory undertone in his voice. It was fair though, he couldn't have seen Gi-hun with corn if he shoved it into In-ho's hands the moment he could. Gi-hun shrugged slightly, trying to wave his lack of eating off. It's not like he needed it. Hypocritical, yes, to think he himself didn't need food because he'd die soon when he forced a man who didn't wanna eat because he was dying soon to eat. So what? He was allowed to care about others at least a little. It'd hurt when they die. The best he could hope for was for them to get bested in marbles against a stranger. That was it hurt everyone a little less.
“I gave it to... Player 132.” Gi-hun said, the number replacing the name feeling unfamiliar of his tongue.
“... Why do you care about him so much?” 100 questioned, taking another, albeit unwilling bite of his food.
“...Well, we met in a... Small shop before coming here. We had ramen and some drinks and talked. He's the only person here I recognise and I know something about him.” Gi-hun tried his best to stick to the lie In-ho saved him with earlier, but he couldn't remember exactly what he said. He definitely remembered drinks and meeting randomly being a part of it though. Something something, soju, something something, accidentally meeting, something something, they talked. That's the base of the lie. Simple enough. Gi-hun sighed slightly, looking over to In-ho. His eyes were drawn to the other man. Wow, okay, that sounded strange in his thoughts.
“...so little and you care so much.” 100 muttered under his breath, looking away.
The announcement cut through the silence, thirty minutes until lights out. Within seconds, Gi-hun was on his feet. He had to make sure there were no fights. No more people should die. He watched as 172 and 067 both returned to the group from wherever they were, greetings him, In-ho and 100. Speaking of, the player sat up straighter, looking over to the timer with a thoughtful expression. Gi-hun looked around the room. He had to get their attention somehow. Make sure the players don't fight, don't kill anyone, don't leave the numbers odd. The best spot to stand on seemed the highest remaining bunk. For a moment, he stared at it, before someone else's words snapped him out of it.
“Wait, who should I keep watch with? There's five of us in the team. Should I get 089?” 100 asked, the question directed directly at Gi-hun, so he slowly turned around to face the player.
“No. Just sleep. Me and the rest of the team can handle it. If you don't feel tired though, feel free to join 172 and 067's watch.” Gi-hun said, waiting for 100 to nod and confirm that he understood. When he did, he walked back down to where the other three were sitting. 172 and 067 were talking while In-ho seemed to be daydreaming, or in some other way, completely zoned out. Gi-hun didn't even realise that it made him smile. As he got down to where the three were, In-ho slowly snapped out of his thoughts and soon the other two players followed, all looking at him.
“Right...” He cleared his throat. Before he could get on with the whole speak to the players thing, he had to do one more thing. He looked at the nearby bunks, or what remained of them. Most were shorter, there were fewer of them. They had moved some out while they were playing tug of war. Now there were the drawings, white sticker, or paint, he couldn't quite tell, on the tiled wall. The one here, closest to him, had a bunch of figures playing red light green light, one person turned away with covered eyes and the rest approaching quietly. At least one of these bunks could do...
“I'll need someone to take apart one of these support beams. They're heavy from what I've seen, but can be unscrewed if you try hard enough. You don't need a tool or anything, just some good grip. Maybe put a blanket around your hand or try to smash the connection point into the wall. We don't have anything to defend ourselves with, so this is the best we can get in case something happens.” Gi-hun explained, tapping one of the metal beams with his knuckles. He'd seen Ali holding one of these things like it was a club, although maybe that was after one of those structures fell. When he gave the screw a small tug between his fingers he saw it shift slightly. They either had shitty screws or he had a good plan.
“I can do it.” 067 volunteered, walking over there. Gi-hun slowly stepped away, and tried to slip away from his team. Of course, as luck would have it, he almost bumped into In-ho, who was standing closer than he had anticipated. He quickly took a step back, mumbling a quiet apology as he scurried off, hoping he wasn't being followed. Simple, it'd be easy. All he had to do was climb up onto that top bunk and get it through the players' thick skulls that killing one another doesn't give them better odds. 1 out of 2 is the same as 50 out of 100. All they had to do was listen. He weaved better the bunks, trying not to bump into anyone.
“Player 456.” A voice made him whip around. It was a stranger. Who the hell could it possibly be?
Player 390, sitting on a nearby bunk, observing from far away. He cringed at the sight of her number. It was the loner he'd seen through the last three games, who seemed a little too nonchalant for all that was happening. She just watched, didn't speak all that much, loomed somewhere nearby like a sentry. Jung-bae's number and yet she was kind of like an unsettling mixture of 044 with her observer personality and Sae-byeok with the isolation from others. At least she wasn't telling people she was a... Psychic was it? No, nevermind, he couldn't remember what 044 convinced people she was.
“You know the next game, don't you? Tell me and I promise i will ensure your survival and defend you. Please.” The player kept her distance, but her eyes told him enough. Although on the outside it seemed like she was trying to get an upper hand and have better odds, he realised she looked more afraid than anything. Desperate for an advantage because she was already sinking in the blood filling the room. The last please only confirmed the thought. Of course he wasn't going to tell her the exact game, as the information would spread and cause chaos, but the least he could do was a little hint...
“...don't trust anyone. Friend or enemy, they bleed as one during the next game. It's kill or be killed.” Gi-hun forced his voice to sound mysterious and ominous, although it just ended up sounding like he's out of his mind, and or under the influence of something illegal. Whatever acting classes 044 took to convince people to follow her blindly had to be good because there was no way he'd reach the level of mystery like she did. Before played 390 could say a word he left at a brisk pace, wanting to just do the thing he planned.
He glanced back a few seconds later, making sure the player didn't follow, before he sighed and ran up the staircase leading to the tallest remaining bunk. He took off his shoes at the last step, not wanting to mess up whoever's bed it was with his sandy bloody who knows what else stained shoes. As he stepped onto the bed he felt the mattress bend under his weight slightly, making him waver just the tiniest bit. Wouldn't it be hilarious if he lost his balance and fell to his death? Maybe to the VIPs... Not to him though. A faint ripple swam through his vision, making him feel a pang of nausea deep down.
He wasn't afraid of heights, not as a child, not now. But that ripple felt familiar. A shift in his vision, a faint distortion in the shapes and color around him. Like a droplet hitting the water during rain. He steadied himself, staring down at the players around him. Just the fact he was just standing at the tallest bunk was enough to get the attention of more than a handful of players. What could he say? "Hey, don't kill one another, that's bad!" Like hell that'd work... "We have better chances in larger numbers" a plain lie, but maybe it'd work... He had to say something that would play with people's lives. Something that would catch their attention because their lives depended on it.
“Everyone listen!” Gi-hun yelled at the top of his lungs, making all heads turn to him. He stared down at the players below him. If he happened to fall, it'd be survivable with luck. Only a few metres. What, seven, eight metres? If he happened to fall he could probably break a leg or a few bones at worst. Sure, his changes would go to hell, but he'd at least have time to tell In-ho everything on time. He felt sick deep down. He wouldn't stumble, he knew that, but some selfish part of his brain was telling him that if he just stepped off right now, it'd be better for everyone. He'd no longer be altering the odds with his hands in the game.
“Attacking one another tonight will get you killed! Those masked men? They just wanted the numbers down. But if you try tonight, they'll shoot you straight through the skull!” Gi-hun said as loudly as his lungs allowed. He heard murmurs from under him. What he said was a lie. The guards wouldn't step in, not for a few minutes at least. He knew there were still doubts to be made in his statement, holes he had to cover up so doubts wouldn't take over immediately. He glanced around, seeing how even his own group, at the other end of the room, were looking over at him. In-ho stared wide eyed. Was he scared of him falling? Hm...
“I know because I overheard two of those people with triangle masks talking about it!” Gi-hun added, hoping that was enough to make his statement believable. He hoped that made the lie fool-proof enough. He felt how his heartbeat seemed faster, both form the unease of being so high up, the act of running up those stairs and knowing damn well Oh Il-nam knows something is off about him now. As eyes slowly turned away from him and faced other players, he wavered and stepped back, huffing the moment he got back onto the staircase. He slipped his shoes back on and booked it straight to his team, ignoring how eyes followed him.
He was panting by the time he got back, reaching for what he hoped was his water bottle. It's not like they were labeled, so he just prayed he didn't just drink half of someone else's bottle. Was he getting that old, breathing heavily after he barely ran? He could've sworn he wasn't this messed up after red light green light. Then again, that wasn't a race. It was steady steps interrupted by paused. When he looked back up, he saw all four of the people on his team stare at him with wide eyes, 067 with a metal bar in his hands.
“That... Statement wasn't true. I just don't want conflict.” Gi-hun explained with a faint wheeze, cringing at the sound that escaped his throat. What the hell? Freshly fifty and acting like he was supposed to be wheeled off into the retirement home tomorrow. He was doing fine thank you. Maybe he had some kind of disease. Maybe it was the three, technically four, years of eating only ramen and microwavable food. Maybe it was the smoking. It was probably the smoking. Why did he think it wasn't? He huffed quietly as he felt the stares not go away.
“... Mr. 456, you need a moment?” 067 said quietly, setting the metal bar against the nearest support in the most quiet was you can put a heavy ass piece of metal against another piece of metal. Of course it made a loud clank which made 100 jump and both In-ho and 172 flinch. Everyone remained silent, save for the faint, but still audibly louder than normal breaths from Gi-hun that he was quickly growing embarrassed of. He inhaled through his nose and hugged out of his mouth, hoping his breathing would go to normal soon. He only spoke when he seemed at least a little calmer.
“I'm fine, leave it be.” Gi-hun said, convincing nobody. 100 looked away and back to him in silence, while 067 gave a skeptical nod. 172 just rolled her eyes, arms crossed. In-ho gave no words, no outwards reaction to the event, but his eyes, which Gi-hun stared too deeply into, told him there was worry and uncertainty under that feigned neutrality. He walked over to sit on the bed he slept in last night, trying to ignore how he still felt the stares of his teammates on him. The time remaining until lights out was almost gone. The last thing he could think of before they all began settling into beds was a refill or water.
“172, 067, could you both please refill all our waters? The amount we're given isn't exactly enough and most of us are already out.” Gi-hun said, tossing his own empty bottle over to the two. Shit, so he really did drink out of someone else's... 100 still had his in hand, 172 picked hers up just a moment ago, 067 was holding two now... Damnit. So he really just chugged half of In-ho's water on the spot. He'd have to apologise later. 172 and 067 grabbed all the remaining bottles and hurried off to the bathrooms to fill them up. 100 slowly walked over to his chosen bed, which Gi-hun was sure wasn't the same one he'd slept in the last night, saying a goodnight in advance.
Gi-hun sat on the stairs, still feeling a bit winded despite the minute or two he's been sitting down. In-ho dragged the metal bar over, sitting down beside him after he placed the bar aside where it was somewhat hidden and couldn't be tripped over. Both remained silent for a moment, just staring off. Most players settled into beds already, some seemed adamant on keeping an eye out for danger for at least a few more minutes or hours. Others were sleeping near their old groups, sticking close to their allies. Some rested in solitude, smart to stay away from even those who had worked with them previously.
172 and 067 returned, giving the bottles to In-ho and Gi-hun, as they could guard them through the night. In-ho seemed to find the idea of protecting their precious water hilarious, chuckling to himself. The idea was stupid and unfunny, and yet Gi-hun found his lips curled up into a smile at In-ho's laughter. By the time all three other people on their team were gone and in bed, only seconds remained on the countdown to lights out. Less than a minute. He and In-ho stayed seated, Gi-hun picking up a water bottle and taking a sip. He was feeling a faint pain in his stomach, strangely familiar and yet one he thought he was over already.
The dull ache of hunger began to creep in. A dead body taking its first breath again. It wasn't supposed to be there. He was supposed to be content with dying. He was, but his body wasn't. That faint ripple, that strange trick of the eyes, as it the air was a water whirl, yet again filling his vision. He wasn't supposed to be hungry. He was supposed to give his food to In-ho and work as only a leading hand. But if it's only hunger, it was still something he could ignore. Just a dull ache that'd go away on its own, just as would his body's will to survive. It was temporary. It was a fluke. It'd go away quickly on its own. Simplex gone in a few minutes, or hours. The jacket was still there, abandoned, alone.
The lights turned off with a loud beep of the timer running out, plunging the room into darkness.
Notes:
Writing is getting scary because I write at night and the clothes on this hanger in my room look like a nightmarish figure staring me down. get me out of here bro I think the hallucinations and shit from when I was 13 are coming back. I'll need to rearrange that hanger or im gonna crash the hell out.
I got an important role in a big roleplay that i was in in like 2021??? Let's go??? It's making me STRESSED but fuck it we ball. Also hell yeah finally tried undertale again and i actually got somewhere. Indie games by beloved.
Good god this fic is moving so slowly. Why am I giving my background characters so much lore. They wanna be important soo bad. And the worst part is that they're succeeding. Get the hell out of this fic you little shits.
Marbles in... 2 chapters I think? WHY is there such a big gap what could POSSIBLY be happening between this crap.
Chapter 16: Who are you really?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“You stabbed me in the back, you're the reason they all died!”
In-ho wouldn't do that. Gi-hun was a good man with a good heart, he was trying to save people, he was selfless, bordering on self sacrificial. Why he said this, why he meant those words, it didn't make sense. In-ho doesn't betray people. Not even when he used to be undercover and trying to spy on the problematic group from the inside, he didn't stab them in the back. It was more of a nudge into a different weapon pointed at them by someone else. And this wasn't a crime organisation that he was hiding in the ranks of. This was a stranger who he's known for three days.
He never knew what to quite think of Gi-hun. It started with complete, blind trust, melting away into dependence for survival, and finally, revealing a mixture of uncertainty and trust. Despite what Gi-hun said and didn't say, In-ho didn't stop following him. Always in his shadow, knowing that where Gi-hun goes, safety follows. He didn't know what to think of the future. Had they become friends? Was In-ho's supposed betrayal a mere misunderstanding? Was his return to the games because of loyalty towards Gi-hun? No matter how many possibilities showed themselves, not a single one seemed to hold a concrete truth.
Only one winner, and yet, Gi-hun kept insisting they've met. The concept of time travel is strange. Perhaps who he means met was In-ho and that version of himself out there who was living a real life. Maybe it looped around, maybe the path the truth took was a snaking river that flowed between smooth sandy shores, harsh gravel dips and waterways constructed by mankind. Gi-hun would die here. They were both aware of that. In-ho didn't wish death upon the other man. Although, he wouldn't go as far as to sacrifice himself for a stranger.
He didn't miss how Gi-hun looked at him whenever he thought In-ho wouldn't notice it. It was a strange feeling to know he was being looked at like that. Not a good strange, no, far from that. At first, he believed that Gi-hun was helping him because of obligation, maybe hope, maybe something between the two. But now he saw something else. The way he'd rather let others die without batting an eye to keep In-ho safe. The glances, the vague attempts at physical contact that were supposed to lay forgotten. In-ho felt wrong not pushing Gi-hun away immediately. He felt wrong because he let himself be guided and didn't tell Gi-hun to let him walk this path on his own.
A fascination was how it'd be described in a romance book, maybe. Gi-hun stared at him too much, cared too much, talked too much. It wasn't just trying to ensure that he won, not anymore, or maybe it wasn't only that since the start. There was care, way beyond than the way two people should care about eachother. There was no regard for himself, for anything else. It felt wrong to be a part of this. Gi-hun was silent though, so he supposed that it was better than it could've been. Gi-hun would die before any words about it could be exchanged. And maybe that's the best outcome.
“Do you believe in god?” In-ho spoke up after a moment, staring out into the darkness. He himself had no strong opinions of religion, but he wondered that if maybe somewhere out there, when both of them had died, they could talk again. It's not like it mattered though. Everyone would die one day, it was just a matter of when. Maybe it was tomorrow, maybe it was today, maybe it'd be in twenty four years, lying in a field as your life slips away. It all amounted to the same thing no matter what you believed in.
“I'm a buddhist.” Gi-hun replied simply, staring straight ahead into the darkness. In-ho nodded slightly. Curious. There was nothing wrong with it, of course, he could care less. However there was some irony to the statement. The cycle of death and rebirth, and the man had woken up again after death. It was slightly amusing, to see the way Gi-hun's story matched up with his beliefs. Perhaps when he died in the games this time, he'd just wake up again, and again. Or maybe he'd be set free, to live a different life somewhere else, away from this mess. In-ho hoped for the latter. Being stuck in a loop didn't sound very comfortable.
“Okay.” In-ho said, leaving his tone completely neutral. There was nothing much to say about it. It was just belief, one that barely mattered in the grand scheme of things. Here, under the watchful eye of people in pink suits and strange masks, they were all equal. Young and old, man and woman, brave and cowardly, they all had equal chances of surviving and winning. Those plagued with blood on their hands from murders and those drowning in their own gore, they are the same here. It doesn't matter what you did before this. It doesn't matter what kind of life you lived. In the end, you'd most likely die here and it wouldn't be important.
To be frank, he knew who 089 was from the start. There was a strange familiarity in how the man looked. Although In-ho tried to dismiss it for paranoia, in the end, when he stood over the two dead men, he knew it wasn't a trick of the eyes. He'd worked on that case. A kill in self defense, but not deemed rationalised by court. He didn't know how long the man was sentenced for, as that was something he no longer had any say in. All he did was confirm that the man did in fact hold the bottle that was stabbed through the victims throat. It was one of those earlier cases, a decade ago, maybe a little more than that, before he was a detective. He was one among many policemen.
A murderer, and yet, one who still had humanity in him. How many people come out of these games like this? Scarred and yet kind? Broken and yet not a monster... Gi-hun himself was a winner, and yet he wasn't willing to kill without reason, keeping peace at all costs, even if it'd help him tremendously. He was such a strange human being, so unpredictable, and yet In-ho still followed his instructions. He had a good heart. Maybe too good. Too kind. Trusting that everyone was good at their core, no matter what their actions said. He still allowed 089 return to their team in tug of war, and even if he said he wasn't trusted, he still forgave everything he did.
Did he know that 089 was a killer before all of this? Could he guess the fact by the way he held the bottle and the way his eyes filled with fear disguised as anger? Or would he just assume it was just because his morals have always been wrong? In-ho wondered that in silence. The golden piggy bank was full of money. Had they split it between all of them evenly, maybe, just maybe, everyone here could live. How deep in debt are these people drowning? Evenly splitting such a sum amongst people was surely near enough to help them all, right? However, that would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it? It was a huge chance for a single person.
“The games... Why are you so adamant on stopping them?” In-ho asked quietly, finally turning to Gi-hun. He was, strangely, not surprised at all to see the man facing him. Gi-hun was surprised, maybe even offended at the questions, as if it was obvious all along. The games are evil, messed up and morally wrong in all the ways possible, but at the same time, they collect people who would have died out there anyway. Without money, his wife would die. And without her, In-ho would likely not last long. Losing her was something he feared more than losing himself. She was his hope, his light...
Gi-hun scoffed in disbelief, which brought In-ho back to the present.
“The games are evil. Is that so hard to understand? Innocent people are killed just so those rich bastards in golden masks can laugh and bet on them. That's wrong. There's no justification. They think a human life is worth a hundred million won. Is that not evil?” Gi-hun said, eyes narrowed as he stared out into the darkness. Evil, he liked using that word to describe the games. He agreed that the mortality wasn't good. He understood where Gi-hun was coming from, that it was wrong to kill people, it was wrong to think of a human as a piece of meat to bet on. But there was something else. The games were evil. Yet...
“How many people here, in this room, do you think would lead a happy life or survive at all without the money?” Those words In-ho just said seemed to make Gi-hun go completely still. Shock, that was his first guess. Maybe he was thinking, just how many people had chances out there. In-ho would personally guess that there were very few people who could make it out there in the world. He himself? He didn't have a job. And without his wife and their child... He didn't know what he'd do with his life. 089 was a criminal who must've lost everything he had while he was locked up, and nobody would hire him.
“I'm sure there's at least a few.” Gi-hun protested, although sounded uncertain.
“How many would you guess?” In-ho pushed on, searching Gi-hun's expression. Now it was full of doubt. He didn't know. He had no clue. And that made In-ho feel the slightest bit afraid. He knew that if he really got lucky, he could get out of here alive without Gi-hun's help. But who was he to refuse a helping hand? A hand that would guide him through danger and keep him alive no matter what. It was wrong, it avoided rules and probabilities that were written down, but it gave him and his wife better chances. It was all for her. That's all he has to do. Try and win for her. No matter what it takes.
“I don't know! It doesn't matter, anyways, the games are still wrong! Why are you defending them?” Gi-hun's doubt bled into anger, glaring at In-ho. There was a faint shine of something like fear in his eyes. Like remembrance of something long past, now burning and stinging once more. And not something good, seeing as the anger's flames enveloped that emotion. In-ho didn't react. He still barely knew anything about Gi-hun as a person, the man who he was before all this.
“Because they give people a chance. Think about it. Where would you be without the money in 2020? Would you be alive? Even if you didn't join, would you have a chance?” In-ho stared right into Gi-hun's eyes. He knew he could look menacing if he tried. It was a part of the job. To be unreadable but to read people perfectly. To conceal your own emotions and bring out other's to figure out their intentions, their past, if they were guilty, better. Mind games, in a way, searching for hints of hidden fear or unease. Right now, he saw all the doubt and uncertainty in Gi-hun's eyes that he guessed would be there.
“This isn't about me.” Gi-hun said quietly, looking away.
“Yes it is. What was your life before the games?” In-ho asked, searching Gi-hun's expression for something that would give away whether his next words would be genuine or a lie to hide all of himself but the shell he wants to be remembered as. First came a stern look, unreadable. Then it softened into a flicker of nostalgia, the best kind, yet tainted with guilt. Then came a whirlwind of events that brought up all the possible emotions, ranging from ignorance, covered up joy, to guilt and hopelessness. Then that empty look returned.
“...Dragon motors. My coworker got killed in front of my eyes... That's... That's also the day my daughter was born. I wasn't there. I was at that damn strike because I wanted to keep my job. And I still lost it.” Gi-hun said quietly, sighing as his eyes avoided meeting In-ho. The fact he had a daughter, and thus, obviously, a wife, was probably the biggest suprise to In-ho. He didn't exactly seem like the kind of person to have either... Something about him suggested the very opposite. Although, he supposed that he shouldn't judge a book by it's cover. Maybe Gi-hun saw himself in In-ho, and that's why he wanted to help. The same lost kind of person in the games.
“... I'm sorry.” In-ho said slowly, looking away and into the darkness out ahead.
“Then I had a business. Two, actually. Both failed. I never had enough money, I always needed more. One of my friends from the old job he... He introduced me to betting. On racehorses. The first win was when the ice cracked.” Gi-hun added, staring off as well. In-ho remained silent. A gambler. A person who believes that chances will save them from who they are and what they're going through. Money multiplies, money divides, money falls and money gets lost. As he said, the ice cracked. And when the ice cracked, it was only a matter of time until it shattered and pulled you into the cold water under.
“...The divorce came in 2017. I was a chauffeur at the time, up until when I first joined the games. My daughter was moving away overseas, my mother was dying, I signed my body away to loan sharks. I...” Gi-hun trailed off, staring at his own hands. Under this light, In-ho caught the way a chunk of skin on one of his hands glistened. A scar. It didn't seem like a small scratch either. Maybe impaled on something, back at his job? Stabbed through? Seemed like it used to be a deep wound. Did his hands still work the same they should've? They seemed to he okay, considering he pulled with such strength during tug of war.
“... I didn't have a chance.” Gi-hun finally admitted it, out loud, into the darkness. In-ho nodded. The games were the only reason he was still alive, even if it cost the lives of so many other people. It seemed like the man only realised it now, figured out the true nature of the games. Maybe he'd stop denying it. Maybe he'd admit that the games were a necessary evil, a dark, near ink colored gray on the spectrum of good and bad. Never fully black. A faint flicker of light was held in the pool of blood. The one person who's life got saved.
“The games are why you survived.” In-ho concluded.
“That doesn't mean they're not fucked up. And I'm sure most of the other people had a chance out there! I'm an outlier!” Gi-hun protested with a hiss, teeth grit and fists clenched. The anger seemed to leave him with a trembling breath though, as he leaned back against the staircase. Stubborn, isn't he? Refusing to believe the truth. People die everyday. People die out there. People can die here and someone will at least benefit from it. So what if some rich bastards laugh at them? They would never have to co-exist with those animals. They'd never meet and never even walk near one another. Those rich fools didn't matter.
“Are you sure?” In-ho said slowly, tilting his head. He could see the hesitance. The slow gulp, the sudden stillness. Gi-hun didn't know what to think. And as much as In-ho would love to continue prying and figuring out Gi-hun's intentions, his thoughts shifted. They said she had two weeks at most. At most. That could mean she had less. But two weeks was promising. He'd be here for four days in a couple of hours. That still left ten days at most. Those were good odds. But worry gnawed at him no matter what. Good odds were one thing, but reality was another. It was unpredictable.
“Yes.” Gi-hun said, but In-ho was barely listening. The memories flooded back into his mind. She was in a hospital bed. She was alone. Maybe Jun-ho came to visit because In-ho has been gone for a few days. He didn't tell his family where he was going. He just slipped that card between the books he had and dissapeared. His wife was the only one he told in some way. She was unconscious, she couldn't have heard him, but he still said it. Told her that he'd be gone for a few days. Told her that he'd be back soon, that he'd get the money. It wasn't just words. It was a promise. A promise that had to be kept.
He wished he could have his phone. He wished he could check whether the doctors messaged him updating him on her status. About them finding a donor on time through some strange means, about her being okay and waiting for him to return. But miracles don't happen. The least he could pray was that she was stable and her condition didn't begin worsening out of nowhere. She had to be okay. He promised her that he'd be back. He promised that she'd get better and that everything will be okay again. In-ho's eyes stung faintly. Now wasn't the time to cry though. She was still okay.
Gi-hun was silent. He looked like he was thinking, maybe about the past, maybe about the future, maybe about tomorrow, maybe about yesterday. It wasn't clear, and maybe, that was okay. This watch seemed to drag on forever, but neither of them seemed very tired. In-ho stared out into the darkness. Nobody was awake, or at least nobody was giving it away. People weren't sleeping peacefully, not completely. Most were breathing silently on instinct, afraid to give away their location to anyone still awake. What a wonder that the human mind could do, silencing it's body's breaths as to stay hidden and safe.
“I was a part of the police for fifteen years. I got fired because of suspected bribe. It was a loan though, not a bribe. It was stupid, I was desperate, and that's why I'm here.” In-ho admitted with a quiet voice. It was the worst decision he's ever made. The money he got plus what he'd make by his next paycheck would be enough to get a liver from the black market or something, but they found him out too soon. Then rent and hospital bills ate away at the money he got fired over. By the time the ddakji pieces were in his hands, there was no possibility that the money could be won that way. He'd gladly let his face get slapped until skin peeled off but there was no more money to get from the suitcase.
“I know. You told me that in the future.” Gi-hun said slowly. Always on about the future. Why would he need to reveal his story again? They already knew eachother. It made no sense at all. In-ho slowly, almost absently, reached for the jacket that was still laying a few steps under him. The blood was long dry now, but the thought of it wasn't. 328 was brave, braver than most people here. Punched an armed aggressor with bare hands, and willingly stepped into death to save others. What was their life like? Nobody would ever know. Their name lays forgotten, and they are now only a number in the system. Unfortunate. It has happened to hundreds of people here by now, but this was the first person that he knew at least a little.
“Gi-hun, I have to ask, and please be honest... Did we know eachother in the future, or was that conversation during... 2024 our first meeting?” In-ho asked, staring down at the jacket's number. 132. Is that all he's known as to everyone here but Gi-hun, and maybe his team? A piece of livestock with a number, the question was whether it'd go into the slaughterhouse or miraculously escape. What were the numbers decided by? The order in which they played with the strange man, or by the order they gave their calls? He played only a few days before the game stated, so it was most likely the latter. He couldn't imagine a single man had the time to play ddakji with over three hundred other people in the span of a few days. Maybe there were several of those recruiters?
“...In a way, it was. Our actual first meeting was brief, not enough for us to even meet eyes.” Gi-hun admitted with a small shrug. In-ho didn't react. So this wasn't how it originally was. They didn't meet here, they were never supposed to see one another. So when they met in the future, that was their true first meeting. But Gi-hun left out major details, kept everything vague, as if he was hiding some fact that'd ruin everything. Maybe... Maybe Gi-hun would end up working for them... Maybe that's why he was hiding it. Gi-hun didn't seem like the kind of person to end up collaborating with them, he seems to hate them, but maybe that's how he ended up. He wants to stop the games. Maybe he tried ending them from the inside out.
“...Hm... I guess that makes sense.” In-ho hums, thumb brushing over the number on his jacket. 132. Did the number have any significance, or was it just another three digit symbol that would end up meaning nothing? The jacket was bloody, the jacket symbolised inequality, but it was still a jacket. The room was chilly, and despite getting used to it, he'd still rather wear it despite everything than have to sit in the cold for another hour or more. He slowly slipped it on, feeling the uncomfortable fabric slide across his skin. He slowly zipped it up, not saying a word. The world felt warmer. If he were the one running these games, he'd make sure nobody got eliminated just because they happened to not be liked. If they didn't find a group, they should be allowed to skip. It was unfair.
“Cold?” Gi-hun asked quietly.
“If you'll offer me your jacket or something again I'm going to kick you in the shin.” In-ho said flatly, meaning it as a joke... Maybe it didn't sound like one, seeing as Gi-hun went silent and sat there frozen for a few seconds before shamefully looking away. He didn't mean to do that. The damage has been done though. In-ho just sat there for a moment, feeling a little less cold with the jacket on. He felt hungry again. It seemed like he'd just stay hungry until, or if, he got out of here. They served only a little food. Whoever was in charge of this was a sadistic bastard, not just because they created a literal slaughterhouse to amuse the rich. As Gi-hun described them, assholes in golden masks.
If they had golden masks, whether it was of actual gold, plated or just an imitation, it was clear they were filthy rich. He still wasn't sure how all that money could even be gathered and offered to a person. Maybe it was because of them. He already knew they bet on people, but maybe they paid for the games to be ran. Golden plated masks... What motif did they have? Were they imitations of a human face, drenched in expensive metal and decorated with wealth? Was it a featureless cover of the face, showing no personality and no intention, and yet still displaying the message of "I'm rich, and I want it to be obvious"? He'd never find out.
“It was a joke. I have no plans to harm you, whatever you're planning on doing. If you try to give me anything else though, I'll have to refuse.” In-ho mumbled with a sigh, tilting his head back, staring at the money up there. The room was bathed in this faint golden light, not enough to seem beautiful or serene, instead looking more like a laughable attempt at making this seem like something that should be considered pretty. He wished they had gotten fresh clothes at least somewhere down the line. His were stained with blood. Gi-hun's were probably too. Almost everyone probably had at least a little splatter of blood on themselves. It smelled. Not to mention the lack of hygiene.
“Thanks...” Gi-hun said with a small snort.
For a moment, both of them were silent. Someone moved in the distance. In-ho reached for the metal pole they had as self defense immediately. It was a wonder that it didn't make anything crumble apart. And not to mention 067 unscrewed it with his bare hands. Gi-hun said that the screw was loose, but even then, shouldn't the workers put a little more effort into this? The bunk it held up didn't fall apart though. Maybe there were more support beams than there were needed, maybe they were loose on purpose, for the smart players to use. The sound was a player who had gotten up from bed. The stranger didn't even go near them, instead heading right over to the nearest bathroom. In-ho already knew how that'd go.
The player began knocking on the door, calling out a quiet hello. Not quiet enough, considering he heard a few very angry shushes from the nearest bunk to the player. A faint light entered the room from the circular window in the door as it was slid open, however was shadowed by what he could only assume was a guard. What shape did they have? He still wondered what exactly they meant. He saw the triangles shoot, the circles give out food and clean up after lights out, and that one square spoke to them between games. Must've been the same man, his voice wasn't changing. He doubted he'd ever get an answer though.
The player continued begging towards the door up until it was shut in their face, cutting off that faint extra light. The player didn't get up, just sitting in front of the door, quietly pleading. In-ho looked away. Cruel. Not even letting people go to the bathroom at night? What if someone had an urinary problem, were the just supposed to...? In-ho cringed internally. Sadistic bastard, whoever made the rule that people can't even get a bathroom break at night. After a moment, Gi-hun got up. In-ho didn't question it as he walked over to the player sitting in front of the door and banging on it quietly.
In-ho observed as Gi-hun walked over and said something that he couldn't quite hear to the player. It was only a few words, maybe a sentence at most, a few seconds before Gi-hun turned back around and walked back. As the player knocked louder again, saying something In-ho didn't quite catch, the window slid open and this time, the door did too. The player was ushered in and In-ho caught the shape on the mask. A triangle. Are they supposed to shoot people who take too long on the bathroom? If that's the case, then this place is truly messed up. Not that it wasn't before. It's just way worse than he thought.
“What could you have possibly suggested to say for it to work?” In-ho wondered out loud, staring at the now closed door as Gi-hun sat back down next to him with a huff. For a few moments, Gi-hun remained silent, looking off to the side. In-ho was seriously curious, because that could be useful information for later. Bottle refills during the night, the possibility of washing off at least a little, just being alone for a few minutes, it all was suddenly a small hint of what to say away. Speaking of bottle, he reached for one of the three beside him, as Gi-hun had the other two. He took a few sips. If only they had a marker or something to label them...
“Threatening to piss yourself usually works.” Gi-hun said with surprising nonchalance.
“...and you know that from experience?” In-ho raised an eyebrow.
“No. Just quiet observation.” Gi-hun said, opening up a bottle and taking a few generous gulps as well. He quietly screwed back the cap and set the water down beside himself, wiping away at his chin which had a few stray drops on it. Not an elegant drinker, that's for sure. Looks like the type to order three shots knowing he should take one at most and that his maximum to handle without being disgustingly drunk is two. In short, this man didn't make good decision about drinking. Or so In-ho guessed. Maybe he was completely wrong, but that's just how it felt like to him. And now he found yet another thing to ask and start a conversation about.
“Do you drink a lot?” In-ho asked, staring off into the darkness. Just another conversation starter to make the watch a little less boring. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn't want to wake up 172 and 067 quite yet. They should be allowed to sleep a little longer. There were only four people in groups of two to watch the entire night, and with no way to tell time, In-ho would just have to hope they'd keep watch for at least of however long the night here lasted. He wondered where they were. There was a sky during red light green light, a real sky, with the slightest hint of salt in the air. They had to be near the shore. Maybe on an island. He could've sworn he had heard seagull calls. In-ho lost his train of thought quickly as Gi-hun replied to his question.
“No, not really. Used to go out with my friend sometimes, but not too often. I smoked a lot though. I mean, still did, even after the games.” Gi-hun answered quietly. The door slowly creaked open as the player slid out and went straight back to bed. Good for them. Nobody who was awake, if there even was anyone, acknowledged the return of a random player. Not too much a drinker. In-ho could relate. He barely drank anything, mainly because of his one kidney. Sure, alcohol was mostly a liver thing, but missing a kidney wasn't ideal for it either. The most was a few sips on special occasions but even that was very rare. And it was a long time ago. Since his wife fell ill there was no time for it.
“Smoked, huh. Do you think that's why you got so wheezy when you ran just a little distance?” In-ho asked. It was a valid question in his eyes. Gi-hun sounded like he was having an asthma attack a few seconds after he got back to the team. Smoking was the logical conclusion. Hopefully it was just some faint deterioration, nothing a few months of abstinence couldn't fix. Addictions were hard to get rid of, of course, but... Ah... It didn't matter. Gi-hun would be dead within days. It no longer mattered.
“Maybe... You don't get this easily exhausted at fifty, right?” Gi-hun asked quietly.
“You're fifty?” In-ho asked, somewhat surprised. Gi-hun didn't look that old. Or maybe his version of how old people looked like was a bit outdated. Whatever it was, he'd guess the man was in his mid forties, rather than fifty. Granted, age was one of those things he couldn't guess about people for the life of him. He could essentially read their minds just by how they behaved, figure out what their intentions were if he focused and watched enough, but age? Not good at guessing that, not at all. For a few seconds, silence stretched between them.
“By November 2024 I am. And... I'm in the same physical body that I was then. I should be about 41 now in reality.” Gi-hun explained with a small chuckle, smiling just a little bit. He found the strangeness of the situation funny. In-ho couldn't relate. How was it even possible that he went back in time? There was nothing to suggest he was a liar, either. Somehow, someway, there was a man from the future standing among them. He should get out solely so he could get studied by scientists who could figure out how this even happened. He's going to die though. It was certain already. It has been for some time now, it seems. Fate was an unavoidable thing. Even if you avoided what was supposed to kill you, something else would find you. Final destination? Was that the movie's name?
“We're... Technically not too far apart in age.” In-ho said.
“I know.” Gi-hun said. Oh, at this point, what doesn't he know? It's annoying, how he knows everything about him without even being told. He wished that other version of himself, the one that Gi-hun had met, had lied a little more. A supposed cover for the name was clearly not enough. Why would he even lie about his name? Not that In-ho hadn't done it on a couple of cases in which he tried to slip between the ranks of the people he was trying to take down, but why would he lie to Gi-hun? Who knows. No, wait, Gi-hun probably does. All-knowing man who would die for him, for whatever reason...
“Can you stop with the "I know"? It's not exactly comforting that you know every single detail of my life.” In-ho huffed. It's not that it could be stopped, because it clearly couldn't be, but if only it could be. It was seriously getting a bit creepy, almost. He knew that's not what Gi-hun was trying to be, and he understood that it couldn't just be forgotten, but he really wished it could be. If only Gi-hun wasn't some strange kind of time traveller who just happened to know a different version of him out there. If only he was a normal human being just like him. Maybe it'd be more enjoyable to talk to him. Maybe they could be proper friends, even despite this place. Any interaction, deep down felt wrong. To him, it was a stranger talking to him, acting like they've been friends before. Or maybe not friends.
“Sorry.” Gi-hun apologised quickly, looking away. By now, it must've been at least an hour or two on the watch. Probably more. In-ho nodded to the apology, standing up for a few moments to stretch his legs. His back felt sore by now. Couldn't they sit on mattresses like they did yesterday? That was far more comfortable... Like, at least a hundred times more easy to handle. Sitting on cold metal stairs for hours on end wasn't doing his behind any favour. He sat back down a few moments later nonetheless, groaning faintly. He didn't dare look at Gi-hun. He didn't wanna see that the other man was both looking at him and listening.
“Aren't you tired?” In-ho asked after a moment. He expected the usual denial of "no not really" followed by some messed up comparison of himself to a corpse or a dying person. And it seemed like that was exactly what Gi-hun planned to respond with, opening his mouth but getting interrupted by a yawn, that, he might've tried to bite down and hide, but it had already been seen. The awkward silence, the surprise on Gi-hun's own face, it said everything. He was tired. He was actually tired. He wasn't yesterday. He stayed on watch like a sentry, capable of doing so for hours on end. He didn't seem to sleep often. Was he going to deny it again?
“I... There's your answer.” Gi-hun concluded with a dry laugh, kept quiet as he didn't want to wake up the other players. In-ho felt himself smile slightly. The smile meant nothing to him, just an automatic reaction to something that was slightly amusing, but maybe it meant something to Gi-hun. In-ho's thoughts moved to the next game. What could it be? He didn't want to push Gi-hun to say it early, and frankly, he liked the slight suprise. And even then, Gi-hun always had a plan. It would be a childhood game again... No concrete idea settled in his mind though. It's okay, he didn't need to have ideas. Six games total, three done, three to go. He heard the suggestion of squid before dalgona. Squid seemed kind of harsh though. It seemed like the games got harsher and harsher round by round.
He remained silent, looking off into the darkness. He could feel his exhaustion creeping up on him, slowly seeping into his muscles and pulsing in his brain. His eyes weren't drooping yet, far from it, but he knew that he couldn't last another hour sitting here. And with the length of their conversations being little to none, it's not like it offered much entertainment to keep his brain running. Or, so he thought, because he saw Gi-hun's expression shift to something akin to grief. Was he thinking about the past? Stupid thought, of course he was. The question was about what? Not that he had to wait for an answer, because Gi-hun started speaking on his own.
“You know... When you saved me back there, during red light green light, it reminded me of how I stumbled every time I played. The first time? Tripped over a dead man, and someone grabbed me. The second time? Tripped when I was carrying a wounded man and someone grabbed the both of us.” Gi-hun reminisced, facing off into the darkness. So it was a recurring thing for him, to slip and trip and almost die in the first game. Is it bad luck or is the past simply looping into itself? God, time travel was suddenly such an interesting topic. He'd have to look up some movies to watch that are about it once he got out. Wait. It wouldn't matter. The man would be dead.
“...First time it was player 199. He died during the fourth game. The second time it was player 120. She died during the fourth game.” Gi-hun continued, some sort of grief in his eyes. He couldn't have known the people for more than a few days. In-ho recognised the number 199 though. The person wearing it died during tug of war. They were at the very front of one of the other teams, if he remembered correctly. He wasn't sure. It all just sort of blended together between screams of those falling and the sickening thud as their bodies hit the floor deep under them. How did Gi-hun even manage to remember every single person he talked to who died? How do they not bleed into one dead face? Gi-hun's eyes seemed glazed with unshed tears.
“So helping you guarantees death during the fourth game. I'll write that down.” In-ho muttered, trying to joke, but clearly, this time it absolutely did not land. He heard a short, unsteady breath, and then he saw as Gi-hun wiped at his eyes. He quickly shut his mouth. Not a good time to try to lighten the situation. His next action came almost automatically, reaching over to pat his shoulder, trying to at least comfort him a little without needing to do all that much. It seemed to work at least a little, seeing as no tears were spilled and Gi-hun went still. For a few moments, In-ho kept his hand on the other man's shoulder. He pulled it away when he felt like it was okay to do so.
“I promise not to die next game.” In-ho said quietly, hoping that'll do the trick.
“If you die, I... I think I'll just kill myself. I'm here to save you.” Gi-hun admitted quietly, sounding uncomfortably genuine.
“...can you not say that.” In-ho felt the cringe on his face no matter how neutral he tried to keep it. He understood that Gi-hun was willing to die for him, but suicide in the scenario of In-ho dying seemed a little extreme. Worse yet, he felt like Gi-hun would follow through with it. No, he didn't just feel like it, he knew it. God, why was this man just... Messed up in the head? Did the games really do this to you? They probably did. Let alone imagine going through this twice, and now thrice. It was a wonder that Gi-hun didn't complete snap. Or if he did, he was sneaky about it.
“...it's true though.” Gi-hun said. In-ho really didn't need to hear a confirmation. He gave up on holding the conversation any longer, sighing as he looked away. Well, that was enough finding out about this man for one night. Watched a guy die in front of his eyes, owned two failed businesses, had a wife and a kid, by some miracle, also drove people around as a job and gambled. He sounded like a miserable character in someone's book. And if a book's main character had that many things going on in his past then the book's writer must be a mess too. And a messy writer usually doesn't perfect poetry.
Silence resumed. This time, In-ho didn't speak, and nor did Gi-hun. Both of them remained quiet and maybe that's the way it should be. In-ho felt bad for all that the other man had to go through. How does so much happen in such a short time? And not to mention that's probably not even half of it. In-ho's thoughts wandered. He wondered what his wife was doing right now. She was probably asleep, under pain medication and being kept stable with wires and pipes. Acute liver cirrhosis. Fourteen days of survival at most, and he was about four through. She'd make it. She had to... He didn't know what he'd do without her. How could he even go on without her?
He wasn't sure how much time he spent reminiscing of happy times with his wife, and fleeting moments of joy with his brother. Last he knew Jun-ho was on a small case that happened the night he left. He only heard it quickly mentioned over the phone, but that was enough to know about it. He had no clue what it was about, no idea what it entailed, but it was supposedly a minor thing. Probably a man found dead in an alley and the blood of two people splattered on him. Jun-ho would figure it out. He was a smart kid. And he grew up to be a smart man. For a moment, In-ho felt himself smile. He'd always be proud of his little brother. Always and forever.
Only a few more minutes later did he realise that this time, he wasn't the one who fell asleep first. The same man who insisted he was already dead was in a deep sleepy slumped uncomfortably against metal stairs, mouth slightly open. In-ho figured it had to be about time to swap with the other two if even Seong Gi-hun himself had fallen asleep. Funny how his last name literally translated to last name. He probably used to get made fun of for it when he was a kid. Or, that was at least his guess. Who knows, maybe it was never mentioned to him ever. He slowly reached out, grabbing Gi-hun by the arm and shaking him slightly. The man snapped awake.
“What-” Gi-hun immediately reached for a weapon, not even realising he had picked up a half empty plastic water bottle instead of the metal bar they had prepared, swinging in front of himself. In-ho couldn't hold back a snort. Gi-hun blinked a few times, turning to look at In-ho with a confused and half asleep expression. He slowly lowered his weapon of choice, looking around. In-ho waited patiently for him to figure out that they were in fact not under attack and that it was simply time to switch with 067 and 172. It took a few more seconds of looking around for the embarrassment to enter the man's face with a faint blush and for him to give a small chuckle.
“... sorry, did I doze off?” Gi-hun asked, half surprised.
“Yes. Go to bed, I'll wake up the others.” In-ho said, already standing up before Gi-hun could say a word. He walked away quickly, over to where the other three people in their team were sleeping. He looked around between them. All of them were completely out of it, 067 even snoring faintly. Unfortunately, it was about time they swap. In-ho shook the sleeping player faintly, making the man sit up with a grunt, rubbing his eyes. He blinked up at In-ho, wordlessly nodding as he got out of the bed. He didn't understand how people could get comfortable and sleep so easily. These beds weren't good. Just about enough to keep the players rested so that they wouldn't pass out during the day. Maybe that was the intention. To drive people to the very edge of their abilities.
He walked over to 172's bed next, but didn't need to wake her. She was already sitting up, staring off into the darkness. He didn't dare say a word, just waiting for her to get the hint and get up. A few seconds in, it began feeling awkward. For a moment, he wondered whether she was sleeping with her eyes open. He heard 067 and Gi-hun exchange a few words, but didn't turn his head. Something about a ruined sleep schedule from 067 and some mumbled reply from Gi-hun that sounded completely disinterested. In-ho cleared his throat finally, giving up on subtlety. 172 turned to him slowly, sighing as she stood up.
“Have a good night.” She said with a small nod, to which In-ho nodded back. He slowly walked over to his chosen bed, glancing at player 100 who was still fast asleep in his own bed. Gi-hun talked to him earlier, but who knows about what. Whatever it was, it seemed to make the player feel a little better over what happened. That's what it was about, right? There wasn't much else he could imagine it being over. He slowly sat down on his own bed, slipping the shoes he had off. Pure white shoes. A strange stylistic choice, but he supposed it wasn't the strangest thing ever. Before he got a chance to lay down, he got interrupted by Gi-hun, who was too, sitting on his bed.
“Goodnight, In-ho.” Gi-hun smiled.
“... goodnight to you too, Gi-hun.” In-ho said, nodding.
He laid down slowly, staring at the blank nothing above him. The ceiling was barely anything at all. He slowly closed his eyes, trying to think of something that'd lull him to sleep. Usually when he could manage to slip under the radar of nurses, he'd just sleep in the visitors chair by his wife's side. Of course, that wasn't something he could pull off daily. When he had to drive back to their apartment and sleep there alone, in their bed, he'd try to imagine his wife was next to him. Maybe holding him in a tight embrace, as if she was right there. Or he imagined holding her close, feeling her heart beat as if nothing was ever wrong. He slowly pulled the blanket off of himself, crumpling it up into a shape that he could at least pretend felt like a human.
He pulled his arms around it, trying desperately to remember. It had been months since they actually slept beside one another. She was always at the hospital, under close monitoring due to her unsteady condition. There was always a risk that something new could come up, drinking or eating something that could worsen her condition, a small illness, normally harmless, that could lower her chances even further. His hands gripped the fabric gently, trying to recall. It was getting harder to remember. No matter how many years they had slept beside one another, just a few months without it and it was begining to feel distant.
In-ho shut his eyes, trying to just remember one little thing. How her hands hugged him, anything that even faintly could ease him enough into an easy rest. The previous two nights he just waited to fall asleep. Tonight it felt like it wouldn't work. She had to survive. He didn't know what he could do without her. Life felt like it meant nothing without her by his side. His life was dull, colorless, just work and work and work in a spiral that faded into black. She was light, she was the warm sun. She was what made it all worth it. Her smile at the end of the day when he'd come back from yet another failure or mistake was what made everything feel a little less cold. She was dying. She had to survive.
A few tears soaked the blanket his face was buried in by the time he was finally asleep.
Notes:
Woohoo! Another longer chapter :D I'm actually proud of this one! I love writing In-ho so so much ahhh. My man.
The only reason this chapter is on time and of good length is because i was given the beverage of gods (I chugged a monster. which isn't common cause my mother HATES seeing me drink energy drinks) and thus my power of creation had returned. (Give a teenager caffeine and watch them go ham on a fic ig?)
I am always open to hearing theories and seeing your input!!! I love comments. I love when people care about my silly writing. I appreciate every comment every bookmark and every kudos you guys are awesome!!! I decided to split the story into three arcs (potentially two?) which I may write as separate fics or just slam into this one, who knows. Heh. I mean, I already have an absolutely crazy scene from early arc 2 figured out so i gotta keep going don't I? God... this fic is gonna be heartbreaking if I finish writing it.
I will reference things I like no matter what you say idc. Final destination mentioned! Yay! I watched like two movies when I was like 10 let's just say it did unfortunate things to my brain. It's important to the fic. Yeah.
I also have a Tumblr by the way! I draw, I yap, I might give updates on the fic. Yea. https://foxett.tumblr.com/?source=share
Chapter 17: Possiblity
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Players flooded into a white room, shoulder on shoulder, head on head. Forty four human beings pushed against one another in confusion, unsure of where they were being led and what was about to happen. Voices, untraceable to a distinct face, and yet so clear. The words bled into one another like color flooded into water, like blood painted a puddle in the rain. Not a single readable number, it was all a blur, and yet it felt clearer than it ever had before. Sixteen mannequins hold their respective numbers. Gi-hun reaches beside himself, hand searching blindly for something, someone, who wasn't there.
Too many players. To few vests. Someone asks, or at least the sound that he hears sounds like a question. Everything he hears feels like he's listening to it underwater, from a distance, as if it's in a different place, different time. The last two vests glow. He reaches out, but just then, all the other players lunge. Hands upon hands all reaching out for the nearest number that could be grabbed, failing. People push one another, shove eachother, yelling words that didn't reach him. He grabbed at the vest numbered fifteen, whipping around to see where the one he's looking for is.
He searches the room, seeing nothing. People are fighting over the remaining numbers like it means something. He stares at the simple number, looking around again. He can't see him. Silence pounds louder than anything else could. The quiet whirr of his own mind fills the quiet after a moment, not letting the fighting of the other players reach him. And then it goes silent. Suddenly, everyone is standing there with their numbers, or, at least are the sixteen players picked to participate. He searches the crowd for the thirty nine others who couldn't. Everyone's faces are twisted in a blur. Nothing concrete is in this room. Not even he himself.
Players who do not get a number will be eliminated. The words aren't said by anyone, but he hears them. That's how these games are played. It was never about equality, fairness and skill, it was always about luck. He watches as shapes of pink appear out of nowhere, cornering the bigger crowd of those who are to be shot. He holds his vest, staring at it and then around himself. Where's In-ho? He's supposed to be right next to him, holding the jacket with the number sixteen. But he wasn't there. The face was obscured by something like fog, but even through it, it wasn't In-ho.
He heard someone call out for him in the crowd. As he turned around, he saw In-ho staring back at him. His face looked wrong. Like a pathetic attempt to capture his true appearance, the way his eyes looked, his jawline, his hair stuck to his forehead and his expression a mixture of hope and worry. It was all blurred, and yet, fear stung in Gi-hun's chest. His feet carried him over without hesitation, each step feeling like it was on air. He offered up the vest in both hands, he heard himself plead to just take it, to save himself.
You don't need to give me anything. No, doesn't he understand? This is so he can survive. His wife needs him. No matter how that thought stung him, he knew it was never about him. He was here for In-ho. A blurry figure dressed in pink and masked in inky black appeared behind In-ho. Blood rushed in Gi-hun's ears. His feet rooted in place, unable to move. He could've moved, but his body didn't let him. He watched as a gun was pulled out of seemingly nowhere and pointed at the back of In-ho's head. A defeated smile, strangely not as surreal seeming as the rest of the man, crossed his face. And then a loud gunshot, a blink, and everything was gone.
Glass shattered behind him. Only a stranger with the number sixteen on a vest stood behind him, face hidden in the shadows. Gi-hun stared into the ground down below, into the floor where fourteen other people had lost their lives. The other finalist didn't speak a word, and maybe, if he did, Gi-hun hadn't heard it. Blood dripped from somewhere, but he wasn't quite sure. He wasn't in control of his own body or his own thoughts. He was a mere observer once again. He had no say in this. His thoughts weren't allowed to wander. All he could do was recall the past.
Another blink. Sitting at a table illuminated by the golden light of the money hanging above their heads. The other man ate without a thought, not flinching, not caring. The glint of glasses caught Gi-hun's attention. Air caught in his throat as the man's head lifted up, suddenly faced with an old friend whose face seemed fabricated. Even the number matched. But... He could've sworn 218 was the man that died during tug of war...? It's like Sang-woo heard his thoughts, the look he gave him was menacing.
Kill the trash.
He was holding a knife, from where, he wasn't sure. Another blink. Sang-woo was asleep in the bed and now he was standing over him. Knife pointed at the throat of someone he remembered. He felt like he'd done this before. It felt like he did this whenever he dared to close his eyes. The knife trembled with his hands. The man in his glasses was still in a deep sleep. His face changed with every second. For a split second, it seemed more like the face of a man who'd killed hundreds, created this hellhole because he wanted it to exist. For another, it was the face of a stranger who's death would ensure safety for him and an innocent life. Another, the face of a hundred strangers, slaughtered as the mechanical voice called out red light.
He raised the knife in preparation. He knew he'd never do it. He wasn't that kind of person. Sae-byeok knew it too. She was dead. Tears gathered in his eyes, blurring the world he wasn't sure was real even further. And yet the strange ripples that eventually found their way into his field of view didn't return. This wasn't Sang-woo. It wasn't real. None of this was real. All he had to was wake up. He remembered how. The night after tug of war, tomorrow it's marbles. Everything would be okay. Nothing horrible would happen. In-ho wasn't dead. It was just paranoia and his worst fears speaking.
The body laid on the bed was now the clearest it had been yet. A hole right through the forehead, dead eyes that still faced him as if they still saw, pale face not too far off from a corpse itself. And yet the man stared straight at him. Breathed despite everything. Nothing died. Not in dreams. Not in nightmares. The man, Hwang In-ho, or at least this distorted improbable yet possible part of him, slowly sat up, staring him straight in the eyes, not even glancing at the knife. No words came from his mouth. And yet he still heard them clearly.
How far are you willing to go with this second chance?
He didn't know. He had already gone as far as to pick what his end goal was. All he was going to do was save In-ho from fate. Then he could die. Because that was the intention since the start. That's how this second chance worked. It wasn't for him. It never was. It's always been about In-ho. Everything in the past few years has really been about him even if the words weren't said aloud. The exit hole of the bullet still dropped with blood. And yet the eyes saw. The eyes he knew were still awake.
You're doing all of this for a stranger who doesn't even know you.
But is In-ho really a stranger? He is the one Gi-hun hated with all the parts of him that were dying and wilting away, and loved with the part of his heart that didn't stop beating. Gi-hun is a darkness, enveloping with whether he liked it or not, and so is he the light currently keeping him from snapping in a dark room. He is both the hand that chokes him half to death and the hand that holds his with concern. It didn't matter that In-ho didn't know him. He knew In-ho. And in its own way, that would be enough.
Are you even sure what you're doing will work? Fate finds it's way to you no matter what you do.
“Don't do it. I know you're not that kind of person.”
He turns to the face saying those words, but all he finds is a man lying in the rain, the wound from a knife in the side of his neck, still gushing blood. He looks around, but all he sees are bodies. A body on a bed, neck punctured in the same place, with the same knife. A corpse shot through the heart, his last words having been his best friend's name. An old man in a hospital bed, one not to be grieved over, but to be resented hor what he's done. A body, hung with bedsheets, a mother with blood of her own child on her hands. A corpse on a floor covered with flowers, blood staining the back of her head.
“Kill the trash.”
He whips around but all he finds is an innocent looking man facing him with a small smile and an X patch. Holding a thread in one hand and a spinning top in the other. It's flung into the distance, falling over immediately. Young-il reaches for it with his left hand, and tried again, winding the thread around the shallow ridges with his right. Gi-hun stared once more. His heart was beating fast as it had been during the six legged pentathlon. He knew it wasn't happening. He wanted to wake up. He had enough of this. He had enough of seeing everything and finding out nothing. He just wanted to he back in reality.
“I'm sorry about...” Young-il. In-ho. The man you believed was your friend. The words blended into one, and yet the meeting was clear. He finally met him face to face. A man in a back mask, unreadable, inhuman. He still held a gun, pointed at a now dead man on the bed. Despite all the whirling of the reality or lack thereof he was standing in, In-ho's not real, impossible corpse remained. That's not how glass bridge worked. His subconscious was beginning to string together nonsensical and foolish things. He still couldn't step away. He held the knife tightly, with purpose now.
He lunged, pushing the masked man onto his back, knife held above where his heart should be, or at least used to be. Could the front man have a heart? He was a monster. And yet, the man Young-il was played by was the same man. And yet, In-ho who he held so dearly, was where he had come from. He is human, no matter how much Gi-hun wanted to deny it. The knife was piercing through the jacket, held right above the skin. Just a few inches in, just a slight increase of strength and a smidge of movement, and the monster would be dead. The gun wasn't pointed at him. The gun was pointing at the masked man's own head.
“You won't do it.” Gi-hun and in-ho's both said simultaneously, voices blending together in a strange, unnatural way. Gi-hun tore the mask away from the other man, glaring at the eyes that he expected to be cold, sneering in triumph. Instead, the eyes he met were sad, almost regretful. What of? He wasn't sure. Silence stretched between the two of them. Gi-hun almost forgot that this was a dream. If it wasn't for the front man's refusal when it came to shooting him straight through the head, or his carelessness for the knife, or his glazed eyes.
He hated the man. He would've killed him if he was given the choice. He was the villian in this story, the evil that needed to be defeated, the man who needed to die to keep the peace. He raised the knife above his heart, where it was maybe still beating, but in the end, he knew he wouldn't do it. He couldn't kill a human being, no, not again. No matter how freeing it would feel. No matter how much good it'd bring the world. In-ho, now without that mask, looked like he did how Gi-hun liked him as. But he hated him. He hated the man he'd become. And yet, despite the hate, his hand brushed against the man's face with gentleness.
“You know you're not that kind of person.”
The words didn't reach Gi-hun's ears. He wanted to be greedy. He wanted to pretend like he wasn't struggling to keep In-ho alive and well. He wanted to pretend like his reality was just deciding whether to stab the man he held such indescribable feelings, negative and positive, for, or whether to drive the knife into his own guts. His other hand reached to grip the hand In-ho was holding the pistol in. The other man's fingers slowly let go of the metal, instead gently interlacing with his own. He didn't react. Not because he didn't know how to, but because he already knew he couldn't stay here.
He could've chosen to stay here for a moment longer. To experience what he, deep down, hatred or not, wanted. To feel just a moment of happiness, even if it was just a dream his mind had made up in order to play with him. He could be greedy. But he wasn't. He stared into In-ho's eyes. The adoration, the care, the regret, the sadness, all conjured up in his head. None of this was real. None of this was ever real. His grip on the knife tightened once more. He could've stayed here. He could've remained in this moment for as long as his mind would let him. He could forget about the games and the horror of it all. He could throw that knife away and just kiss him.
Slowly, he leaned in, searching the eyes of the other man. For what? For the slightest sign of this not being entirely impossible? One of them had to die. It was either him or In-ho who would lose their lives here. But only one of them was here by mistake, only one man who had another old, long gone part of himself living his life out there. And that's how it was supposed to be. His brain was making up this whole thing, trying to make that selfish want, that selfish need, seem at least a little possible. In truth, it never was possible. Just as he was mere centimetres away, he closed his eyes and leaned away from the thing he wanted most.
The knife went straight through his own chest.
Gi-hun jolted awake at last, and if was still dark, at least for a split second, before the lights turned on. The sound of classical music, as haunting and discomforting as ever, filled his ears. It was familiar. It held nothing more than memories connected to the games. The sound wasn't bad on its own. It sounded like a great peace, although, he wasn't too much of a music man himself. He watched as the others slowly got up, besides, curiously enough, player 100, who was sitting on the staircase, wide awake just now. Gi-hun slowly sat up, wiping the cold sweat on his face away with a sleeve. Somewhere behind him, player 067 yawned.
“I had a horrible dream, oh man. I was just at home eating dinner with my sister and bam, one of those masked men was watching through the window! Absolutely horrifying...” 067 said to 172, who seemed a lot less awake than he was. The woman brushed messy hair away from her face with a grunt, clearly not interested in hearing anything this early in the morning. 172 waved him off after a few moments, making the man go silent with an awkward chuckle a moment later. Gi-hun glanced back ho In-ho's bed, seeing the man slowly wake up, sleeping with the blanket hugged in his arms. He didn't dare to ask.
“Morning.” Gi-hun said, unfortunately far softer than what he intended. If In-ho heard it, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead he just nodded in response, putting the blanket back to it's rightful place and sitting up. Gi-hun glanced down at his chest, where the knife slid into his flesh like it was butter. Not even a strand of fabric was pulled in the wrong direction. There was no forgetting it. No matter how much he would try to deny it, the dream would stick with him for his last few days. And he wouldn't reveal that it happened. Never. This would go down with him. He almost hesitated for a moment. For a moment, he considered the option of selfish comfort over reality.
To the annoyance of all five of them, they were called to gather for the game immediately. Gi-hun's blood ran cold. Immediately after waking up? Not even a ten minute intermission for them to properly open their eyes? No, they're herded off to their deaths before even getting a chance to stretch their arms. Only now did the realisation dawn on him. Nobody had fought. No deaths occured in the cover of the night, no players had fallen victim to fear. The count of ninety players shone brightly above their heads, ignored by most, but cherished by Gi-hun. The knowledge that no more players had to die a pointless death because of luck, or the lack of it.
The group moved to the door slowly, stepping in one by one. First player 067, cut off from the rest of the group by a stranger, then 172, followed by In-ho, and only then Gi-hun, trailed by player 100. Gi-hun remained silent as they all began ascending the staircases. Steps, like a clockwork, up and up and up. Like being trapped in a spiral of ants, following one another until one day, there's nobody to follow, and you're left all alone with only the memory of those around you remains. You'll be lost chasing after what you remember of them until you tire yourself to death. He tried to ignore how tight his chest felt. Did the years of smoking finally get to him? He wasn't sure. Deep down, he hoped not. Not because of an impossible future, but because of the moment.
If he really was ill, or his lungs were having issues of any kind, then glass bridge would be far less made up of guesses and more of hopes that he could even make the jump. Without enough breath, even a jump like that could be trouble. But even then, he supposed it was better than if it were jump rope, or something else that required constant jumping. Luckily, there's not too many other childhood games he can think of that even needed people jumping over and over again. He was just glad it was the games he was most familiar with over and over. Luck was on his side, save for the lack of breathing ability right now.
“...Mr... 456, sorry, I don't know your last name. You're rasping.” Player 100 said quietly from behind him. Gi-hun glanced back, standing off to the side to let other people pass them, but not before making sure In-ho was moving along okay. Maybe it'd be wise to just sort of disappear from In-ho's field of view for a few minutes and pray he finds a partner for marbles on time. People passed him and the other player as they stood there.
“Yeah.” Gi-hun admitted without much reaction.
“Did you try coughing?” Player 100 suggested with an unsure expression, as if he was scared to offend. Gi-hun wasn't even a little offended. It kind of felt a bit like a cold, although he couldn't figure out where it could come from. Unless there was something like time travel caused colds, he had no idea. For a moment he didn't want to try it, but curiosity overtook the hesitance, clearing his throat. For a moment, it seemed like nothing changed. He prepared to continue walking before he broke into a coughing fit. It lasted several moments, feeling the strain in his stomach. He groaned when he finally stopped.
“Are you alright Mr.-” Player 100 blinked, concerned.
“Seong. It's Seong.” Gi-hun interrupted, waving the younger player off before he could worry anymore. He supported himself against the wall as he got up on his feet. A few seconds later, he began walking again, no longer feeling the strain in his lungs. How did he get a cold? He came here healthy. Or, to the second games, at least. Unless he was laying out in the rain in a puddle who knows where without realising it, there was no logical reason to have a cold. How much mucus could've possibly been in his airways to make him feel like he was dying earlier? A lot, that's the answer. 100 followed behind him without a word now.
He finally reached the entrance to the selection area. A white room, the players already staring between one another. He could see a player looking around for someone, who he immediately figured was In-ho. He couldn't show himself though. That went against the entirety of what he was trying to do. To save In-ho, had to survive longer. To survive longer, they must not be paired together. Gi-hun stepped off ho the side, hiding behind a couple of other players. A couple of players have sat down. He heard someone wonder out loud whether they're playing tug of war again.
Player 100 began to walk past him, heading back towards the group, but Gi-hun stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. The player flinched, turning back in something that resembled fear. A few moments passed without words as the chatter of other players filled the room. Most voices sounded worried about the game but not afraid. Maybe they thought they could work together again, saving and covering for one another, leaving nobody to die alone. But in the end, they'd be forced to do just that. Leaving their most trusted and most important person lying in the sand while they got away unscathed. Unless they knew what was coming, that is. And it was only Gi-hun who was prepared. It was only him who saw what would happen and knew what it'd result in.
Player 089 walked past Gi-hun's, not even glancing back at him.
“Why aren't we going back to the group?” 100 questioned skeptically, glancing between where the other three were most likely in the crowd, looking for them and Gi-hun. The player looked afraid. But despite it, he trusted Gi-hun. Everyone wanted to trust him. They trusted him and then it killed them. That's how it always went. He'd gave to catch In-ho once they all their other player and explain how to win to him. Gi-hun had to find someone too, of course, ideally someone who wasn't 100. It wasn't about not being sure whether he could beat him. It was about guilt. Just when he was loving he's about to die. But that's how it goes in these games.
“We should stick together. Who knows, maybe one of them will betray us like 089 did when he killed those men.” Gi-hun said simply. It wasn't the first time he was doing this. Not his first time of suggesting vague things that he knew could he useful or prevent harm, without making the game he was trying to make the person playing fall for too obvious. It worked surprisingly well. He'd done this when suggesting played 101 would be betrayed by his team, preventing him from attacking anyone back in the first games. He'd done this in the second games when he did the same to the other player 100, the old greedy man who was more in debt than a human being should manage to be.
“... Okay. But why don't you stick with 132? I was thinking-” 100's thoughts weren't allowed to continue.
“I can't trust him, can I? He had a... Weird look in his eyes.” Gi-hun lied, but smoother than he himself expected. Maybe because it wasn't that far off. There was something about the stare he gave in the second games that he could only describe as weird. Beyond weird, actually. Scary, almost. But in the end, it was just a look. 100 didn't protest, nodding after a second of thinking, but not looking a hundred percent convinced quite yet. What else did have to say and do? Lie and said he had a nightmare about him? Well, lie about him being the bad guy in it... Same thing, right?
Before player 100 spoke again, the announcement shunned the entire room.
“Players, please get in pairs and await further instruction.”
Notes:
Chapter is a bit shorter, but the next two are gonna be long to make up for it!
I was in the mood for writing some dreams / I guess nightmares. this is evil. Wonderous. I'd like to point out I wrote this entirely past midnight while running on pure spite, so mistakes are definitely all around. Anyways. I knew I wanted a Gi-hun dream chapter since the last few uploaded but I didn't know the subject. And then I realised I need to show just how crazy he is in this chapter. He wants In-ho BAD but is conflicted horribly because of the whole "he's like a stranger but not really also he's evil but he's also not"
My mother forced me to become employed. Sure it's only a few days and it's only sorting books for my school but I didn't even sign up for this. Just because I'm a minor doesn't mean you get to choose whether I can waste my time writing slop or have to actually work!!! >:( all jokes aside I want the money so I ain't gon complain.
Your theories... Certainly are something. Make of that what you will. Every comment and kudos is awesome btw!!! Love you all!! /platonic I'm always up to hear more. And interpretations of the stuff I write too!!!
The decision is made, this story will be all in one fic so the tags make more sense. Right. So there's one tag that really doesn't make sense and I don't wanna remove it because it'd also be misleading. In short; schrodinger's fix-it. Is it one? Yeah, theres a second chance! Does anything end up fixed...? Right, so did I mention final destination yet, haha.
Chapter 18: Even or odd
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Gi-hun closed his eyes upon hearing the announcement. For a few seconds, nobody moved, not him, not player 100, not anyone else in the room. Then chatter arose. Players wondered what they were picking partners for in the first place, and most just assumed it'd be pairs fighting others. Little did they know the truth. Gi-hun knew he couldn't end up with In-ho. Not yet. He had to hold onto life no matter how much he wanted to let go of it until it was just the two of them. There was no saving anyone else. 45 players may survive this game, and some will survive the next, but in the end, it'll just be a single winner standing in the sand.
That winner had to be In-ho. It was a loop in his head. In-ho had to win. That's why he was here in the first place. To save In-ho from becoming a monster. How could he make sure that would happen though, when he was dead? Just hoping wasn't going to cut it... Maybe... Maybe he could just... Nudge In-ho in the direction of his other self. Maybe that old version of Gi-hun could somehow help him out of there. He wasn't sure. But it had to be done somehow. He slowly peered over to the crowd under the staircase, and spotted a player who was looking around, looking for someone. He didn't even have to read the number to realise it was In-ho. With a slow step, he slipped out of view.
“... Mr. Seong, may I pair with you please?” Player 100 asked quietly, reaching out a hand. It was careful, slow, but still sure of the decision. His own answer would barely matter. As long as he wasn't with In-ho and In-ho would make it through, it'd be okay. Player 100 could die here, right now, shot through the head, no matter whether Gi-hun took his hand or not. Or he'd die at the bridge because of a bad guess. Or he'd die during the finale. He wouldn't make it through, nobody would. It was a matter of when and right now, it'd benefit Gi-hun. He'd find a marbles partner before In-ho could make a mistake and pair with him.
“I promise we'll make it through. I won't betray you like 089 did! And... You can trust me, okay? Please. You're probably the only person I still trust in this room.” 100 said, speaking a little faster, sounding afraid that Gi-hun wouldn't take his hand and would find a different person to go with. Well, he had his reasons to be afraid, seeing as a stranger was making their way towards them. Gi-hun barely lifted up his head upon the stranger's arrival. He knew it wasn't In-ho or anyone he knew, so why would he bother to check. The number 062 seemed familiar though, and after a moment, Gi-hun recalled why. Someone with that number tried to pair with him in marbles.
Gi-hun reached out to take 100's hand before played 062 could butt in. Sure, 100 might've had a chance to survive if he paired with someone else, but it Gi-hun went in a stranger, in the off-chance that he did die, that he managed to lose, a stranger couldn't tell In-ho what he wanted him to hear. A stranger wouldn't deliver the message of "pick the last number next game. Keep the marbles, use them to determine which pane is safe by the sound", other tips, and so on. A stranger would keep it to themselves. Someone who knew Gi-hun and In-ho might share. It was the best hope he had and the best justification for why he picked 100. Strangely enough, played 062 didn't seem dejected by losing the opportunity of a pair.
“Hello, excuse me! We played tug of war in the same team. Is there anyone not paired from there yet?” 062 asked with a grin, looking between 100 and him. Gi-hun remained silent for a few moments, unsure of what to say. He couldn't say he remembered at all, not the player's number or his face. But now that he thought back, it was one of the four players that just happened to end up with them for tug of war. Didn't look special or unique in any way, just another person who desperately needed money to get out of issues. There was no time to wonder what those issues were or how the person ended up dragged all the way here.
“I don't have a pair yet, so I'm open to you with going with me.” Gi-hun looked behind himself, spotting 089 approaching with slow, measured steps. Completely unhurried despite the countdown above his head. First he looks at Gi-hun, raising an eyebrow as he spots him beside 100, and then his eyes land on player 062.
The more he looks at him, the more the strange knowledge behind his eyes becomes obvious. There's something reminiscent of the calculative intelligence Sang-woo possessed, but with less familiarity. The player then smiles as if he hadn't been figuring them all out slowly in his brain and reaches out a hand. 062 takes it without complaint.
“Hey, I remember you! You were there too... Second in line, right?” 062 asked eagerly, shaking 089's hand without a thought. Gi-hun watched carefully. How does someone change from a guy arguing about ddakji to a man who strikes fear in him within the span of a few days? He was hiding this all along. Hiding this cleverness and the murder behind a facade of silliness and naivety. If the front man's masquerade as Young-il was terrifying manipulation, this was a crime concealed as a play. People can be good at tricks. But being this good was different. Was the story of a man with a charm stand and a mistake on his hands also a lie? He wasn't sure.
“Yes. That was me.” Player 089 said with a slow nod, looking off to the crowd for a moment, turning back after he saw whatever he was looking for. He glanced at Gi-hun, just the slightest hint of curiosity in his eyes, before he turned back to his eager companion who started speculating on what they could be playing. 100 remained silent, not saying a word towards 089, just quietly glaring at him. As if there was something he resented 089 specifically for. Maybe it was about 328 again. If 089 hadn't joined the team, they wouldn't have had to be the one to leave. It was too late to ponder that though.
“Hey, wait, 100! You were the one that caught me on the stairs when I stumbled! Sorry I didn't thank you earlier. I was just caught up with stuff, you know?” 062 turned to player 100, who took a step back upon being spoken directly to. 062 went on about how sorry he was for not saying thank you earlier, how he was seriously thankful, and lastly, about how he would've probably broken a limb because he would've fallen a long way. Gi-hun barely focused on them as the two started speaking to eachother about something unimportant, turning to 089 instead. He caught a snippet of the conversation, something about how the two pairs should stick together for better chances. If only they knew.
“You didn't go with 132.” 089 said slowly, looking Gi-hun over.
“I didn't.” Gi-hun's slowly admitted, looking away. There was still time for pairs to form, but it wasn't much. By now, In-ho would most likely have a pair. He'd just have to catch him before the game starts and try to help him somehow. He'd cheat if it meant In-ho would have a guaranteed victory. He'd do it somehow. 062 said something about drinks that caught Gi-hun's attention enough for him to turn his head for a couple of moments, but the second he heard a quiet "hm" from 089, his head snapped back. The other player was staring somewhere off into space for a few more seconds.
“People pick the player they trust and know the most. And yet you didn't, settling for someone you knew for fewer games. That tells me that this round has a catch. It's not about making teams of two, is it? It's about pairs. And there is a difference. Play together, or play against one another, I'm guessing?” 089 put a hand up to his chin, pretending to be deep in thought, although he clearly had it figured out. How he knew, that was beyond Gi-hun. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was intelligent deduction from his actions, hell, maybe player 089 was collaborating with someone above someway for hints.
Gi-hun didn't respond.
“Not that it matters to me. I'm just curious about what's going on in your head. You very clearly told me to piss off and leave the group after tug of war, and yet, you didn't chase me away right now. You don't really care that much about whether i am near or not. I'm just another player that'll end up dead.” 089 concluded, looking away, ending his ominous and yet completely accurate speech just as 062 tried to bring him into the conversation. Something about drinks again. With more context, that is. Turns out 062 worked in a bar in the outside world and was inviting all three of them for a drink after they got out.
“100, what drinks do you like?” 062 nudged the other player who stepped back slightly.
“Oh, no, I don't drink, sorry.” 100 responded quietly, holding his hands together, maybe to conceal the constant shake. Strange. He didn't expect anyone here to be completely sober, or maybe what 100 said was just a lie. Not that such a small detail mattered. 089 observed quietly, not saying a word. He and Sang-woo might've gotten along, not accounting for 089's background. But if they had met without any sort of things looming over them, and it was just their personalities at play, they would've paired together amazingly. An observant, determined and a good actor, with a well spoken, intelligent businessman? A killer duo. Hopefully not literally.
“Wait, seriously? Not even soju? Not even a little bit? Not even like a little shot? Damn, talk about an alcohol virgin. What about you 089? When we get out of here, you wanna come with? Seriously, I'll pay for the drinks and everything. I need new drinking buddies, all of my old friends ditched when I moved to a new apartment because it was too far or whatever.” 062 quickly turned away from 100, who seemed a little offended and uncomfortable at that jab, instead facing the aforementioned player. 089 didn't say a word. Gi-hun would assume he didn't know what to answer with because of the 10 years in prison thing.
“If all four of us manage to get out, I say we could get drinks, yes. We could buy player 100 some bottled water if he'd like that, even.” 089 said simply, turning to player 100, who nodded skeptically, as if not sure if he'd ever wanna go anywhere with either of them. Gi-hun was honestly glad he was left out of the discussion. He probably wouldn't pass up on free drinks if it were his old self being offered this. But now he wasn't sure. Under the assumption that the possibility of more than just one of them getting out alive, he probably would. Of course, they wouldn't. So it didn't even matter.
“What about you, er, 456, is it? What do you like? If I were to guess you're more of a fancy drink guy. Probably not wine, seems too extravagant. Whiskey, maybe? Ah, no, that's too expensive, I think. Soju? Everyone loves a good glass of soju!” 062 practically beamed. Gi-hun hesitated. The guess of whiskey made him a bit uneasy. When he was given that knife, the front man had a glass of whiskey on the table. Actually, the entire corridor smelled of it. He was right on point with soju though. Back in the day he'd go out for a drink all the time, sometimes alone, sometimes with Jung-bae, sometimes with other friends who he'd see once or twice after they met and then never again.
“... I'm okay with some soju.” He replied slowly, not wanting to drag on the conversation any longer. He still needed to talk to In-ho before the game started. Apologise for ditching him so suddenly, too, probably. He glanced at the countdown. Less than a minute left. Shit. Did 062 really talk about alcohol long enough for him to nearly run out of time? Something told him that the player was doomed from the start. 089 seemed like he'd win without even moving a finger. He'd be a threat if he made it to the finale, which he most likely would. He followed Gi-hun's every step, and watched him like a hawk, too. Ah, and let's not forget, he was obviously smart.
“Come on 100, we should get going back to the rest of our team.” Gi-hun gestured.
“But I thought you said we shouldn't trust anyone-” 100 tried to speak but stopped himself. He followed silently and without further complaint. Gi-hun heard a confused 062 wonder what's happening and 089's footsteps shadowing his own. He slowly walked towards the centre of the room, hearing the tick of the countdown. It seems like the timing was right, after all, as it hit zero just as he caught sight of In-ho and the others. 067 was paired with a complete stranger, not someone he recalled by number or by face, the two clasping hands. In-ho stood beside 172, looking into the floor until all four heard Gi-hun approach.
No words were exchanged at first. Nobody seemed to feel anything at all. 067 greeted with a nod, smiling, as if trying to signal good luck, looking over to the person he was paired with. 172 tilted her head at Gi-hun as he stepped closer, still silent. His eyes met In-ho's. Confusion, uncertainty and the slightest hint of betrayal in his eyes, he didn't say a word though, mouth closed, just standing beside his partner for the game, face as blank as can be. But Gi-hun still saw the sudden nervousness. He seemed to understand that this game had to be tricky in some way, because Gi-hun, the man who was vowing to protect him at every step and every corner, suddenly left him to fend for himself.
The doors opened, and pairs of players began to head out.
“Good luck you guys! See you when it's over!” 067 said optimistically as he headed out, followed closely by the stranger he was paired with. 172 said something in return, but Gi-hun barely registered it. He stared directly at In-ho. He wanted to say something, something to explain why he did this, something he could say to help, but he found no words. His throat felt dry. He wished he had some water right now. Just a few gulps would help his nerves and soothe everything. But he couldn't ask for that. Not right now. All he could do was stand there and wait for In-ho to leave. What if this is the last time he sees In-ho? In the meantime, player 089 and 062 walked past them.
“You better make it out, 100! And try to have some fun in your life, geez! I'll force you to have at least a shot of soju when we get out, hah.” 062 gave a thumbs up as he followed. 089 remained silent as he walked beside the other player, not looking back. The other players were departing, but neither Gi-hun or In-ho, or the other two they were paired with, moved. Gi-hun was still lost for words. He did the only logical thing he could, turning to 172 and trying to communicate it to her. "Please, make sure he makes it out alive" was it too much to ask? Yes, yes it was. He was asking a human being to sacrifice herself for someone she barely knew. It wouldn't work.
“...am I interrupting something?” 100 mumbled quietly, more to himself, looking concerned looking at how the other three were silently staring at eachother.
There was a faint flicker of understanding in 172's eyes. Gi-hun wasn't sure whether to feel relieved that she got it or worried that she'll do something to sabotage In-ho. But it was too late to worry about that right now. He should've thought about that before leaving him to pick a random player to pair with. It was too late to change anything. All he could hope for is mercy and luck. The most luck In-ho could get. Gi-hun looked away again, signaling for 100 to follow again. He looked back at In-ho for a moment, finally finding at least a few words.
“You can make it.” He whispered quietly, maybe too quiet for In-ho to hear, but it didn't matter whether he heard it. It was something Gi-hun wished, not something he wanted to say as a comfort. This wasn't about soothing the wound, but about preventing it. He walked past, hearing the faster footsteps of player 100 follow him closely. He slowly walked through the entrance, stepping on the fake sand once more. The laughable attempt at mimicking the comfortable sand a kid would have under their feet while playing outside with their friends was present in nearly all the rooms he'd been through in his third games. It felt surreal to say third games. It was always only supposed to be two. And now there's three.
The room was unchanged from how he remembered it. Houses, walls, narrow streets, benches, that faux sand that stuck to your shoes more than it should, background painted to resemble a sunset, a few potted, likely fake plants and guards standing everywhere near them. As they slowly made their way to a more secluded area, they each got a small fabric pouch. Player 100 examined it curiously, not daring to open it yet as to not break rules. Gi-hun stared at his. Ten marbles. He'd have to leave with twenty. They could play any game they wanted to, and yet he already knew that he'd go for even or odd. It wasn't about skill or thought. It was about luck. And luck was the fairest thing he could offer in a rigged game.
“Players, please spread out evenly through the area and do not position yourselves close to other pairs. Guards will move you to a suitable location if you cannot find one yourself.”
The game maker didn't assume there'd be so many of them left. There should've been only thirty something at most, and the amount of space there was for the players reflected that. Circle guards were leading pairs left and right, trying to isolate them from others, to very little success. Too many survived red light green light. Too many survived dalgona. Too few died in lights out. Gi-hun's presence broke the predetermined formula and statistics. And he liked it that way. It was a last ditch effort to reject the system in his dying days. The players who were supposed to die and didn't would cause problems for the man up there running the games. And he wouldn't pass up a chance to show Il-nam that his prediction of the game was wrong.
It took a few more minutes for them to sort everyone out. He and player 100 ended up near the corner of the play area, beside a wall, sitting in the sand. Player 100 was fidgeting with the pouch now, getting more nervous. It was obviously marbles by now, but they didn't know what exactly it was about them. Were they supposed to play against eachother? Were they a team against other teams? They didn't know yet. They'd know soon. Any minute now the announcer would explain the rules and everyone's smiles would drop and they're pit against their friends. Even or odd. It was simple, a string of guesses which determine your fate. The simplest yet most deadly game of them all.
“... Marbles... Marbles... What could they want us doing with marbles. What do you think, Mr. Seong?” 100 asked quietly, holding the little fabric pouch in both hands.
Before Gi-hun could open his mouth, the announcement began. The rules were explained. Everyone has ten marbles. They have thirty minutes to get the other ten from their partner, or rather, opponents, through any game they want. No violence is permitted. 100 went from at least a little optimistic about survival to completely crushed within mere seconds. He slowly rolled out the marbles into his palm, staring at the small glass spheres with horror in his eyes. Gi-hun didn't grab his yet, just staring at the beige pouch blankly. 100 mumbled something illegible.
“...no...” The words sounded broken, like all hope had already been lost. And in a way, it almost was. Gi-hun had played these games before, and had an unfair advantage against everyone else. The short clink of glass against glass, breaths, too fast, too shallow, distant words from other players with similar reactions. And just then, the digital clock began ticking. One second, two seconds, they slowly slipped by. Half an hour to determine the fate of half the people in the room. Wasn't it insane? The concept of their lives being in the hands of little spheres that shimmered nicely under sunlight?
“I... I don't wanna die...” 100 muttered, one marble dropping into the sand with the faintest sound. Gi-hun didn't lift his head up. He watched as the player frantically snatched it back, as it afraid he'd would reach for it first and steal it. 100's breaths were too loud, too panicked. Who wouldn't panic in this situation? Knowing it's kill or he killed? There was nothing to do other than to play and hope. Gi-hun shifted the bag in his hold slowly, listening as the marbles clinked slightly inside. Such a beautiful sound with such a haunting meaning. To know that this is the last thing some of these people would experience was saddening. All your life you're doing great things, getting through, and all that stops it in the end is a glass marble and a bullet from an anonymous person.
“Please...” 100 begged quietly. Not for Gi-hun's mercy, not for the guard standing nearest to them to let them leave, but to the empty air.
“...let's play, then. We'll see who wins.” Gi-hun suggested quietly, letting the marbles roll out into his palm. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. The tenth one would remain in the pouch for now. Maybe as backup, maybe as a callback to his first games' forgotten marble that saved him. He himself wasn't sure. It was symbolic. No matter what happened, he had that extra marble that could bring him back. Maybe he wouldn't need it. Maybe he would. It was too early to know. Gi-hun listened to the air. No announcement had yet began. Now he'd listen, wait to know whether In-ho had made it through. If he didn't, he'd just give his marbles to 100. But In-ho had to make it...
“I don't wanna play. I don't wanna die.” 100 muttered quickly, hands shaking heavier than before. His eyes flicked between the marbles in his hands and the now empty pouch. Gi-hun remained silent for a moment. He didn't want to play. He didn't want to die. But playing ensured that you would at least have a chance. What a paradox, for death and life to be the result of the same game. He looked over the marbles in his hand, putting all but two away. He closed his palm around them, closing his eyes as he sighed. Even or odd. He had to get player 100 to play no matter what it took.
“Come on, let's play. Even or odd?” Gi-hun said quietly, holding out his closed hand. Player 100 lifted up his head quietly, holding only one marble in his hands as a bet. Betting one was safe, but slow. They didn't have forever. If it got too bad, Gi-hun might end up suggesting an all or nothing. Risky, yes, but with the way the games were going, not finishing the game on time would get them both shot. He didn't want that. He watched as the other player stared at his hand, eyes flicking between it and Gi-hun's face. 100's lip was trembling. Gi-hun felt genuine pity for him.
“...even.” Player 100 answered finally, jaw clenching as he braced for impact.
“That's right.” Gi-hun tried to smile as naturally as possible, but it was hard to do. He slowly handed over one marble, dropping it in the palm of the other player. Player 100 seemed motivated enough by getting a single marble extra, slowly moving marbles between his hand and next to him. Gi-hun pretended to be interested in the sand beside him, but he couldn't unhear the shaky fingers trying to add or subtract marbles without being obvious. Three, isn't it? It's three. He already knew it was. He heard one being most likely taken away from the hand and clumsily dropped into the sand and then two being added to his cupped hand. Gi-hun sighed, trying to pretend to be disinterested and not like he knows exactly what the other player is doing. Gi-hun put three marbles in his hand as a bet.
“...even or odd?” Player 100 asked quietly, holding his hand closed tightly, but it still shook despite it.
“Odd.” Gi-hun answered quietly, watching as the other player's eyes widened in shock and fear. He felt guilty. But there was no going easy on him. It'd lay forgotten soon as he dies here, though. He'd hold no guilt after this is all over. They'd both die here. The sacrifice 100 would end up being was temporary. The man didn't say a word as he slowly opened his palm to reveal three marbles. He gasped in what sounded like terror more than anything else as Gi-hun opened his own palm to show three as well. For a moment, he hesitated, not moving his hand an inch. Then, with clear hesitance he dropped the marbles into Gi-hun's hand. Each glass sphere lost seemed to hit the younger player like a stab in the chest.
“... I don't wanna die.” 100 repeated quietly, almost like a mantra, afraid that it he stops saying it, he won't survive a moment more. Gi-hun didn't interrupt him. It was 12 to 8 marbles right now, and they still had plenty of time left. Gi-hun figured they should talk a little. He was only a little curious, mostly because he knew that no matter what, the things he'd learn would end up burnt here with him. The least he could do is listen, maybe offer a shoulder to lean on in the last moments. Although, maybe not too long, he didn't want his jacket soaked through with blood. Only his own should soak it once and for all. Forever staining the jacket which carries the number he would or wouldn't be remembered as. Gi-hun died years ago. Now it's just player 456 playing the same games over and over.
“What would you do with all the money it you were to win?” Gi-hun asked softly, rearranging the marbles in his hand. Should he put two or three? He wasn't going to put more than that. The fewer he had in his hand the easier it was to mess up. The difference between two and three marbles clicking against one another was miniscule. The difference between six and three was far bigger. He looked over at player 100 who's already creased forehead looked even more worry-ridden than before. He stared up at the ceiling, avoiding Gi-hun's gaze. He let the player take his time, whether he was thinking or trying to calm down.
“...I... I'd move away. I don't know where to. Just far away from here.” 100 admitted quietly, clenching his fists, although it seemed to take major effort to even do that. The shaky hands haunted followed all the way through. It must be something in the brain. It's not nervousness, that much was obvious, it was a health problem. What exactly it was didn't matter. Gi-hun closed his palm around three marbles, lifting it up for player 100 to see. For a few moments, the other didn't react, just staring off to space, before looking down at the closed hand. He looked at the marbles in his own hand, hesitantly, before looking away. He didn't respond.
“What did you do for work?” Gi-hun wondered out loud, still offering the hand and waiting for the other's pick.
“... I worked in an office. Nothing extraordinary.” Player 100 said quietly, looking away still. He shuffled the bet he had in hand with his fingers shakily, sucking in a breath, as if trying to calm himself down in any way possible. It didn't work. Gi-hun watched as 100 glanced somewhere off into the distance. When he needed time, it always seemed to pass by so fast that it hurt. And now, when he wouldn't mind a few minutes slipping by faster, it barely seemed to move. Player 100 finally made a pick, seeing as he held out a fist in which his bet was concealed.
“...odd.” He finally said, quietly. His eyes lit up the slightest bit when he saw the three marbles Gi-hun was holding in his hand. He revealed his bet. One measly marble. Why didn't he bet more? He still had...eight, now nine, to spare. He was afraid, too afraid to take risks. Not a gambler who would bet his life on a fifty, if not less percent chance. Cautiousness was useful, but right now, all it did was make the risk not worth the gain. Steady was good. Overly careful not so much. Gi-hun dropped the single marble in his hand, looking off into the distance. Everything seemed eerily quiet, besides the occasional mumbles. He wondered how In-ho was doing. Deep down, he was paying In-ho was okay.
“... You don't have to keep secrets here. Only one of us is making it out alive. If you tell me something you want to take to the grave, it's either me dying and not spilling it or you dying and me having no use for it. Works in reverse, too.” Gi-hun pointed out. Besides, he'd gladly share something about himself, too, if that made the conversation a little better. 100 looked at him for a long moment, then back to the marbles in his hand. A few more moments passed and nothing happened. No words spoken, no confessions that would've been taken to the grave otherwise. Until 100 finally opened his mouth.
“...I've always felt left out. I have... I don't remember what it's called. It's a brain thing. Makes my hands shaky. It also kind of messes up my coordination. I know my family still cares about me, my mom was always so kind and careful about it, doing anything to help me with it, and my older sister helped me learn how to write...” 100 trailed off, staring at his shaking hand, at the marbles in it, slowly closing his fist around the spheres with a sigh. Gi-hun listened carefully, not saying a word. It felt wrong to know so much about someone who would die, or be the cause of his death.
“But I knew that deep down my father resented me for it. He never said a word, but the way he'd stare at me like I was wrong was enough. He started drinking a lot. Sometimes he'd yell. He never hurt anyone though. I had to watch him down bottles day by day.” 100 said, teeth clenched as his lower lip wobbled and his eyes glazed over with what would soon be tears. Gi-hun looked away. He expected anything but that. And frankly he wasn't sure he was supposed to be hearing this. Everyone here had some kind of story, and it was usually unkind to them.
“One night, he left and the next thing we knew he was jailed up for hitting two pedestrians while drunk driving. They both died. And it felt like my fault. I knew I wasn't there. I know I was like fifteen and I was just trying to love my life, but it always felt like I was behind it.” 100 said, brushing his eyes dry with his sleeve. He looked away from Gi-hun now. Gi-hun stared at the bet he'd use next round in his own hand. Two marbles. Not because he was afraid of losing it he used too many, but because it just felt like the right thing to do. Somehow. For a few moments, he just let 100 sit there and wallow in sadness, before he figured he should probably say something.
“... I'm... Sorry. I don't know what you want to hear.” Gi-hun said quietly, planning to follow up with an attempt to continue the game, but not getting a chance.
“You're what I wished my dad would be like. You knew what was waiting for us and you chose to help me instead of letting me die in dalgona. You let me join your team. You never once said anything about me being less useful in anything because of the hands.” Player 100 said, a slight smile crossing his face. Gi-hun... Didn't know exactly how to feel about that. It felt strange, to be seen in such a positive light with so little reasoning, but in a way, he understood it. He could count at least two players who he cared about like they were family. Or, well, three. Sae-byeok, Jun-hee, and her baby, he protected them as if they were his daughters. Maybe it was strange to an outsider's perspective, but it felt natural for him.
“... So you want the money to move away from... the past.” Gi-hun said quietly, staring over at the digital clock. They had about twenty five minutes left. A sixth of the time was up, which was still relatively little. Nobody had gotten eliminated in those five minutes. It was only a matter of time before the first winners would show their marbles to guards and the first losers would beg for their lives to no avail. He got a short nod from 100, who slowly glanced over at the countdown too. No words were exchanged and yet 100 understood. It was time to continue playing. The momentary relaxed, somewhat emotional atmosphere was gone in a moment.
“Even or odd?” 100 asked quietly.
“even.” Gi-hun guessed calmly.
It went on for the next five minutes without much change. They both won and lost about an equal amount of times. The ratio of marbles never exceeded 13:7 from either side. It was going nowhere. About ten minutes into the game, the first shot broke through the silence. Two players, neither of whom Gi-hun recognised, one announced as having passed the game, the other as eliminated. The air shifted into something more tense, more afraid, as if player 100 realised their lives were really at stake here. Gi-hun listened closely whenever eliminations were announced. So far nobody familiar. Only strangers that would either survive or fall into the sand with a hole in their head. No change. Gi-hun got worried about 15 minutes in. Halfway mark and nothing moved. Right now, the marbles were 12:8 in favour of player 100.
A shot rang through the air again, closer than ever before, making Gi-hun flinch slightly.
“Player 062, eliminated. Player 089, pass.”
He couldn't pretend to be surprised. It was obvious from the beginning. So much for wanting to offer drinks on the house, huh? A shame, really. He seemed nice. But he was no match for 089's wit, and whatever else he had under his sleeve. He watched as the slightest frown crossed 100's face, but gave away pretty much nothing else. No suprise there, it was pretty obvious that 100 would root for 062. Unfortunately for both, the cards weren't in favour of him. Gi-hun looked at the four marbles in his hand. He had to push a little further, get a little more. He still listened, paused and focused whenever a shot rang through the air or the announcer began saying the word player. In-ho had to survive. He had to make it.
“Even or odd?” Gi-hun asked, far more focused on anything that is said by the announcer than the game itself. He didn't try guessing how many marbles 100 had put as a bet or anything else. He left it up to chance like he was probably supposed to. The other player was getting a little more bold when he had the upper hand, and that made him risk more. Gi-hun knew he tended to put fewer marbles in hand, but even then, it'd probably be enough to at least even it out again. One or two, he'd guess for the bet to be. If player 100 really decided to be brave he might've put three. He doubted more than that though. Another shot followed by two stranger's numbers followed.
“Odd.” Player 100 said quietly. Gi-hun opened his hand to reveal the four marbles resting in his palm, watching as his opponent, if you could even call him that, did the same. Four marbles as well. Someone took the risk. Unfortunately, it wasn't a good one. All four marbles were handed over to Gi-hun, making player 100 tense up. He'd be focused again, bet one at mosty and slow down the game. At this rate, they'd be playing for another hour, which isn't ideal with the fifteen minutes left they had. Now it was 12:8 in favour of Gi-hun. It barely mattered though. It'd keep being near 10:10 and they'd run out of time. Not to mention the stress looming over his head constantly about In-ho's survival.
Another announcement. Player 067 passed. The number he was paired with, which Gi-hun didn't recognise or particularly care about passed away. Another gunshot just like the rest. Gi-hun stared at the marbles he had, 11 in hand, one hidden away in case of an emergency. He had to do something about this status quo, and fast. This evenness would lead to both their deaths if they didn't hurry. What he was thinking about doing would be a huge risk. If he pulled it off, it'd be worth it. If he failed, it'd be had, but not entirely game ending. At least not immediately. Gi-hun listened as the marbles were placed and removed from 100's hand, not counting, just staring off into the wall. He slowly shifted the marbles in his fingers. One, two, three, four, five, six and finally, seven... someone's lucky number, he was sure. It didn't matter who's.
“Even or odd.” Player 100 asked, sounding a little bit at ease. Like he was momentarily unaware of the death around them. Gi-hun lifted up his head for a moment upon hearing the announcement begin, but it was just two unfamiliar numbers again. Gi-hun sighed, closing his eyes. Even or odd, even or odd, what does he pick? It he picks wrong, that'd leave him with how many marbles? Five? Far from ideal, but at the very least it'd break the constant ties he was subjected to. Even or odd... There was nothing that could help him right now. He glanced at the minutes. A little over thirteen minutes remaining. Thirteen was an odd number. He could barely hold the seven marbles he would be betting in one hand... Thirteen. Odd number. His choice was made.
“Odd.” Gi-hun said, bracing himself.
Player 100's shaky fingers uncurled around a single marble. Gi-hun had usually been keeping himself at bay with the marbles he was betting. Two, three usually, sometimes just one, occasionally four. Player 100 had to be expecting that. Had to expect that he wouldn't step out of pattern. Gi-hun slowly opened his own hand, revealing the seven marbles smashed together to fit in his hand and not be revealed. A beat passed in silence. Player 100 stared down at the marbles in his Gi-hun's hand and then to his own. Shock. Fear. Horror. A quiet shaky breath. Counting in his head, wondering if that's all of his marbles. But it wasn't. A single one would remain. And that was the plan. It wasn't supposed to hurt. It was supposed to work.
“No... I...” Player 100's hand held the single marble protectively, pulling it away. He stared in disbelief at the marbles in Gi-hun's hand, slowly shaking his head. He didn't believe it. And Gi-hun didn't blame him. It barely made sense, for such a risk to be taken at such a critical point in the game. But it worked. Marbles wasn't only about betrayal and sacrifice. It was also about predicting your opponents next move and, of course, above all else, luck. Immense, insane amounts of luck for one to manage to survive. Gi-hun stayed silent, not looking away. Yet another gunshot, they seemed to only get more frequent, followed by two unrecognisable numbers once more. Were all of them playing even or odd? Were some playing other games, making their own rules and subsequently breaking them?
“...but that just leaves me with...” 100 trailed off, staring at his closed hand.
“I can't play with one marble. I- I don't wanna die!” 100's panic set in, grasping at his singular marble and ignoring the rest. Gi-hun slowly took them. He now had nineteen. It wasn't the end, far from it, though. He had to wait for In-ho to pass before going himself. It In-ho didn't, he'd let 100 pass and allow himself to be eliminated. Simple enough. Gi-hun coughed slightly, feeling himself grow annoyed with the supposed cold. Seriously, where could he have gotten it? A bad time to wonder about that though, seeing as player 100 was beginning to panic completely, mumbling near nonsense, trying to protect his singular pointless marble. It was his round. He couldn't even make even. It was already game over for him, unless...
“Listen... Wait for a few minutes with me, okay? If player 132 passes, we'll continue playing. And if he doesn't... Then you can have all my marbles.” Gi-hun suggested softly, watching as the smallest hit of hope gleaned in 100's panicked eyes. The agreement was made fast. Time ticked down. Eliminations came and went, but nobody recognisable or important. He was waiting for that number to be said, to be announced as a survivor so he could cheer and yell. At 8 minutes, he watched as player 100 stared at the countdown intensely. At 6 minutes he got concerned. At 5 minutes Gi-hun's stood up slowly, concern winning over logic.
Then a shot rang through the air.
“Player 172, eliminated. Player 132, pass.”
Gi-hun felt his chest lighten and his face get distorted by a smile that should certainly not cross his face just as someone was killed. But In-ho made it. In-ho made it out alive. He wanted to turn to player 100, say that 132 is okay with a smile, but the he remembered. Player 100 was staring blankly into the wall, holding the single marble he had left close. Gi-hun sat back down, sighing. His hand landed on player 100's shoulder, slowly, trying to provide at least a little comfort if nothing else. For a few more moments, silence stretched on, only broken up by the evermore frequent interruptions in 100's breath.
“I- don't wanna die.” He muttered, now crying completely. Not just with wet eyes, not just sniffling. There were tears, threatening to seriously spill. Gi-hun didn't blame him. Knowing you're about to die was scary. Knowing that there's about to be a bullet shot straight into your head or heart might be worse than the feeling itself. The anticipation of when, how, if it hurt... It was probably worse than the bullet itself. Gi-hun stayed silent as he listened to player 100. Four minutes now. He reached over to the pouch, pulling out the spare marble, just in case things went south. But that wouldn't be it's purpose. He slipped it over to the player mercifully. He now had two, and with it, a chance. Maybe it was just an illusion, the promise of a chance that would be taken away.
“...what... Why...” player 100 trailed off, staring at the marbles in his hand.
“Come on. Let's finish this.” Gi-hun prompted slowly, putting two marbles in his palm. For a second, a wobbly half smile crossed 100's face, interrupted by a sob. With a trembling breath, the player turned away, picking whether to put an odd or even number of marbles on his hand. Gi-hun stared at the countdown. They had time for an additional few rounds just in case. But somehow he felt like they weren't necessary. He heard the rearranging of marbles that meant nothing, soft clink of glass that'd lay forgotten within this fake town just as it's victims would. The hope was fake. It was mercy, but sometimes, a blunt, fast death was better than the mercy that's stretch on the suffering.
“Odd or even..?” Player 100 asked quietly, voice wavering. Gi-hun stared at the countdown just as it slipped from four to three minutes. He should pick odd. For all that's right, he should pick odd. Odd number of minutes left, so that's wha he should pick. But he wouldn't. Maybe that'd what 100 thought he'd pick so he'd of put the opposite. Maybe he was reading too much into a random choice. No matter what, he had already made up his mind. He needs to live a little longer, just hold on one more day and maybe a little more and then it's enough. Then he can let go. After that, he'll be free.
“Even.” The choice was made, the words have been said.
100's eyes widen as his hand reveals the two marbles. It shakes, dropping both of them to the ground. Gi-hun doesn't speak. It's over. They both know it is. He should pick them up and leave, stuff them in the pouch and show it to the guard, go, leave and continue protecting In-ho like he was meant to do. But instead, he stays sitting there, watching as the player's eyes dart around in a panic. The nearest soldier slowly approaches them, peering down at them through the mask. 100 looks up at him, breaking into a sob, looking back at Gi-hun desperately. Gi-hun feels the guilt. It stings.
“..please...one...one more chance please I... I don't wanna die. Please I don't wanna die. Please!” 100's words slur together into a mess of despair as he drops onto his knees, hands clasped together. The guard does not yet react, almost taunting Gi-hun, as if he was supposed to give 100 yet another chance. Second chances were just that. Second. Thirds don't exist. It's over. Gi-hun flinches as player 100 grabs him, unsure whether he's about to be tackled or hugged. It ends up being the latter. Not a hug between friends. A hug of despair, as if it'd save player 100. Gi-hun can barely move.
“Please... Please I don't wanna die... Please...I-” Player 100 hiccups and sobs, but it's not enough.
The words are cut short with a loud gunshot, making Gi-hun flinch before the blood splatters over his face. The player's head drops to his shoulder, blood soaking through it like if it was rainwater during a downpour. He feels the hot liquid seep into the shirt underneath his jacket too. He can't move. He thought he'd grown accustomed to death, that he can deal with seeing people shot. At least until one was shot while directly next to him. His breaths quicken. Fear takes over everything else. He feels the blood on his skin now, soaking through both layers of clothes on his shoulder. The corpse is slumping against him. He can't move. Something stings in his eyes. It's not from grief or sadness, not yet, but shock.
“Player 100, eliminated. Player 456, pass.”
He sits there for a minute, maybe more, frozen. His heart beats fast in his chest. He knows he's out of danger, and yet, a stupid part of his brain tells him otherwise. The rise of his chest goes from relatively still calm to plain hyperventilation. His eyes are struck wide, barely blinking, he knows because they sting even more. His hands tremble. He hears more gunshots, more eliminations, more players that passed, and yet nothing moves him. Not even the time running out. Someone drags him backwards, away from the corpse. He watches at the body falls forwards, barely any blood left to spill onto the sand. A modulated voice speaks to him, but he barely hears it. Strangely enough, there is no gun pressed to his back or to his head when he doesn't cooperate. People nudge him out of the room. He knows they aren't players. The faint blur of hot pink reveals the truth.
He can barely thing as he's essentially dragged down the stairs. He barely even realises he's anywhere else, that he's moved an inch, only figuring it out through the shift of colours and feelings of his foot hitting the edge of the stairs sometimes. Strangely, the guards handle him with care. More care than they should, that is. They're dragging him down the stairs into the dormitory, that much he knows, but why they're doing it is beyond him. He feels the sickening feelings of the warm, still sticky blood on his skin and bleeding through his clothes. His breaths are still shaky, still too loud. He still can't focus. All he hears is white noise. The stairs stop. He can't take a step. A door opens. A few more steps, a change of light.
He is dropped suddenly, hands hitting the linoleum floor. There's blood all over them. Not just metaphorically one of his hands is completely drenched in red, and the other has more than a few splatters. His clothes stick to his skin. All he sees is his shadow and the gray ground. He hears things, commotion, happenings around him, but nothing seems concrete. He tried to snap out of it. He'd witnessed death so many times before. He had his childhood best friend's corpse in his arms. He watched his closest friend get shot straight through the heart. They were both so close, both physically a d metaphorically. And yet he could move over a stranger. Someone's speaking to him.
Gi-hun heard his names he was sure of it, but he couldn't tell who said it. He wasn't sure if it was even real or if he was imagining it. He tries to ease his breathing, but he can't. He tries to stop how his body trembles but he can't even move. Gi-hun shuts his eyes closed, trying to focus on whoever was speaking to him. He can't hear it. He can feel someone trying to drag him again. He isn't sure who. He doesn't dare to check. He hears the sound of a zipper and a considerable amount of weight lifting from his shoulder. Someone must've pulled off his jacket. Is it In-ho? He isn't sure. His eyes feel blurry. He couldn't focus, no matter how much he wanted to.
And then everything is gone. All that remains is a gray floor and no sound. It wasn't the ringing that was there before, concealing the sound and making it seem distant. Right now, there was no sound. No people. No blood weighing him down. Suddenly he could move again. Slowly, he stood up. There it was again. Rippling in the concern of his eyes. Water droplet falling into a puddle, creating a tiny wave that changes and stretches, but eventually evens out. He takes a breath. Normal. Gi-hun looks around. The room is empty. There are two beds and no people. Or so he assumes. Someone is standing behind him. He slowly turns around. He himself is dressed in a plain t-shirt, not the game's clothes.
Behind him stands Sang-woo. Not bloodied with a suit. Not dead, not dying, not planning harm. He has the player tracksuit, without a single wrinkle or droplet of dry blood. His glasses are set straight, his face without a scratch. Gi-hun is idle for a moment. His mouth hangs open slightly, even though he doesn't realise it. At first, Sang-woo stares straight through him, but then, their eyes meet. Really meet, not just that they happen to stare in the opposite directions and through one another. Gi-hun looks at him, and he looks at Gi-hun. This version of Sang-woo must've been gone years before he entered the games even began for the two of them. He looked younger. Less ridden with debts and bad bets. More alive.
“...did I make that whole scenario up? Am I dead?” Gi-hun managed, looking down at his hands. No scar. This is... He reached up to touch his hair, feeling the scruffy, unkempt strands under his fingers. This must be before 2020. How long ago is this? Is this some messed up dream? Was that whole thing a dream? Him playing the games again? Was this where he was after falling off that platform? So many questions and yet, no answers. He looked back to Sang-woo, seeing the curious glint in his eyes. And yet he received no words. At this point, anything could be possible, right? Anything... He wasn't even sure what was real anymore.
“...I feel like being dead makes more sense than time travelling. I mean, how would that even work?” Gi-hun mumbled to himself, dropping to his knees on the ground. He sat down, then, after a moment of thinking, laid down on his back. He stared up at the bright light in the dormitory. The piggy back was concealed in shadow, and completely empty, by the looks of it. He heard the click of shoes as Sang-woo came over to him, peering down at him. It felt like something from their childhood. Maybe after an especially long and tiring game of tug of war, Gi-hun would be laying on his back, completely exhausted but still laughing. It was all in good fun. Always.
“Why would you be dead?” Sang-woo hummed the question, staring down at Gi-hun. Gi-hun felt an involuntary smile crawl onto his face despite the situation as he slowly sat up. Sang-woo crouched in front of him to get on eye level. For being the smart one, Sang-woo seemed to not realise the simple facts. First he fell such a height that no human could survive, and under such a had angle, too. Then he played marbles and didn't leave or show his winnings to the guards. Who knows, maybe he got shot there and he made everything else up. The room was unchanging. Pristine, strangely. No painful classical music, no guards, no count of people.
“I don't know, there's a lot of reasons why that's my first guess.” Gi-hun said quietly.
“You're just sleeping.” Sang-woo informed with a sigh, sitting down on the floor beside him. Now he knew for sure that it was a dream. Sang-woo hated sitting on the floor since he was a kid outside his own house. He always went on about how dirty it was, how his clothes would get dusty, and so on. He cared about those things since he was young. It was almost laughable. But now it confirmed it. If this were Sang-woo's ghost for whatever reason, he wouldn't break such a habit to mess with him. Gi-hun nodded slowly, taking another look around the room. Nothing on the white tiled walls, no hints towards the next game.
“Can ghosts appear in my dreams? Are you a ghost?” Gi-hun asked quietly, facing Sang-woo again. He expected a no. Frankly, it was a stupid question. But who knows, maybe his guess was a lucky one. There were no distracting or unsettling sounds. It barely looked like the game dormitory. It was a white room, with a gray floor, two beds on opposite sides of eachother and an empty piggy bank above their heads. Empty. Nobody has died. Maybe nobody could die. It was just the two of them here. But what is here? Where even are they? Not in the real world, that's for sure.
“I'm your subconscious.” Sang-woo, or, well, what Gi-hun's brain made of him, replied simply, looking away. Gi-hun expected that. This dream was strange, though. Did he just pass out randomly there? How does one go from hyperventilating and going through something traumatic one second to sleeping the next? He supposed that's how a brain can work. Anything to shield itself from the damage of something bad happening. Even if it means completely shutting down at a critical point. Gi-hun slowly brought his knees to his chest, staring into the wall. No more words were exchanged. Whatever he asked, he already had an answer to. Besides one question
“Why is Sang-woo my subconscious? Why not anyone else? Why not a version of myself? Why is it you? Why is it alway you..?” Gi-hun asked softly.
“...maybe because you miss me. Maybe because I'm the logical part of you that you lack. Or maybe it's like you said, not out loud but in your head; both you and I died that day, playing squid in the rain.” Sang-woo said, eyes turning to the ceiling. Gi-hun's follow, even if there's nothing to be seen except the black shadows that envelop it. The silence was strangely comforting, the lack of ringing in his ears, the lack of humans talking on the background, the lack of electronics whirring... It was calming. Like they were out here alone, like when they were outside as kids alone, just having a quiet moment.
“I do miss you.” Gi-hun admitted with a sigh, leaning his head on Sang-woo's shoulder. He knew well that the real Sang-woo, at least as an adult, would get annoyed and try to shrug him off before begrudgingly agreeing, and eventually even enjoying it. As a kid, he would've complained, maybe even tried to fight him, of course in a playful way, but he'd also warm up to it eventually. Gi-hun knew this wasn't real, but it's not something he could reject. he closed his eyes slowly sighing. It felt like those dreams you'd wake up from, thinking they were real, and feel horribly disappointed upon realising they never happened. And in a way, it was exactly that. A merciful dream in a dark time.
“...Gi-hun.” Sang-woo started quietly.
“Hm?” Gi-hun hummed, opening his eyes slightly.
“...don't try to change fate.”
Notes:
Okay. Most things here were planned. Besides the very end. The fact Gi-hun gets to experience a person dying practically against him was written on a whim. And the whole Sang-woo segment was also kind of on a whim. But still planned, just not here specifically. If there's no random Sang-woo appearing as a hallucination or dream in a chapter then I've been replaced by an alien. Run.
Gi-hun is GOING THROUGH IT. Dude isn't catching a break. In-ho pov next chapter, showing the events of marbles through his eyes :D
Today was fun i was out of the country for several hours. My life is uneventful so this is a big thing by the way. I also played one of my favourite childhood games yesterday and beat it on hard mode (I played for 7 hours in a single day, most of it without a break) which is awesome. Luxor 3 is such an awesome game dude.
Posting this at 4 am :D woohoo!! Awesome!! (I chugged a monster at 11 pm for this exact reason)
Chapter 19: Odd or even
Chapter Text
Get in pairs. A simple instruction without any catches, so simple, and yet so haunting. Why were they getting in pairs, what for? To play against others or play against one another? In-ho heard as nearby players began discussing exactly what was on his mind. At least a couple of them, anyway. He stared between 172 and 067, the latter of whom was staring at the countdown. It seemed like none of them were sure who to pick. In-ho looked behind himself again, searching, although only very briefly, for the man who's been leading him all this way.
Gi-hun was nowhere to be seen. He was hiding, somewhere, surely. It was deliberate, he didn't want to be seen, he was avoiding the group, and maybe In-ho specifically. The question was why? Why was Gi-hun staying away? Was it because the next game would make players turn on one another? Was it because Gi-hun was trying to protect them this way? That was the best guess he had. But it didn't make sense. Gi-hun could've just told them what would happen, gave them better chances, rather than hidden away in a sea of strangers that would conceal intention and thoughts.
“Hey, we should all find someone to pair up with, and fast. The last people not picked are bound to be loners that won't be too useful... Right?” 067 said, looking over to In-ho and 172 as if searching for confirmation and agreement. He got none, seeing as 172 was too busy glancing off into the crowd. In-ho remained silent. He had a point, a very good one, but still missed the main issue. They didn't know what to look for. Whether they needed strength, wits, agility or pure luck, it mattered more than anything else. They didn't know what was coming. That was the entire trick of these games. In-ho had began observing it by the time they were picking teams for tug of war.
They didn't know what the game would be, and had to blindly pick a team. For all they knew, the game could've been something that required them to be fast and perceptive rather than have strength and strength alone. It was only so easy for them to win because of Gi-hun's advice of picking stronger players and his tactic in the actual game. Same goes for dalgona. They were told to blindly pick shapes without context. He himself would've most likely picked star. Not because of the star itself, but because of the soft yellow it was painted in. It reminded him of his wife. That was her favourite color. A sunny yellow, like bright flowers and the gentle glow of a lamp late at night. The triangle was far easier, and he only picked it because of Gi-hun's warning.
There were no choices in red light green light, but it's blindness came from the fact they didn't know about the killing that would be a part of it. And yet again, Gi-hun saved quite a few people with his observation of the detection being flawed. It didn't see behind other players, saving anyone hidden like that. Players forming long lines that served as defense. In-ho himself had been saved by it. Gi-hun had warned all of them loudly, then warned the ones in danger with actions alone, then warned those closest to him. But now? He wasn't present nearby. The first two games didn't have a limit for the amount of people who would survive. The third one had. And for the third one was the one in which he only warned the people who would work with him.
Now, there was no warning. That told In-ho that this game wasn't based on skill. The person you'd pick would most likely not matter in the long run. But why? In-ho couldn't give it too much thought, seeing as that just brought up even more questions. The games in this place tended to trick you, to allow yourself to pick your fate without even realising it. The shapes, the teams, and now, the pairs. In-ho closed his eyes for a moment. There were things on the walls in the room they had slept in. What exactly? He couldn't recall. People playing games. The four shapes presented before them in dalgona, a figure turned away whilst others approached. Tug of war had to be there somewhere too. But what about this game? He couldn't recall. He couldn't remember anything that could help.
“Let's all find a second player and get back to one another, how's that sound?” 067 suggested, looking between 172 and In-ho.
“No. 067, you get one more person. We'll decide who's with who a bit before the time is out.” In-ho interrupted, opening his eyes slowly. He didn't look around again, didn't search for the man deliberately hiding out of sight. It was pointless. Even if he did find him, what use did it have? It was probably better for the both of them to let Gi-hun do whatever he was doing, since he knew what was coming. Just allow it to play out, allow the world to continue spinning instead of trying to stop it. He must have a plan. In-ho watched as 067 said something about agreeing before heading off into the crowd, leaving just him and 172 standing there.
“Have you seen 456 around here?” 172 questioned quietly, looking over into the crowd curiously, looking for him too. She gave up a few seconds in though, just sighing and closing her eyes. In-ho shook his head slightly, not knowing what else to say about it. He wondered if Gi-hun would reappear last second and pair up with one of them, potentially specifically In-ho. Or maybe he'd come give them a hint or a tip after the time to make pairs runs out. Maybe he'd stay away during the whole game, leaving it up to fate. He doubted the last possibility though. It felt like Gi-hun was always going against fate, trying to twist it to something he liked more. That's how he acted.
“...I think he's avoiding me.” In-ho said quietly, staring blankly into the crowd of moving numbers. So many numbers. He wondered how many he'd freeze up upon seeing again, how many faces he'd mistake for people here. If he got out alive, which he refused to believe was set in stone, he knew there were at least a handful he'd never forget. How many times would he check the time on his phone and see 4:56 in the future, seeing only the face of the man who helped him survive? Would he glance over to it saying 3:28 and remember someone who got unfairly slaughtered, someone who's blood was still on his jacket? His fingers dug into the sleeves of the dark green tracksuit. Or was it dark teal? He wasn't sure.
“Why would he avoid you?” 172 wondered out loud.
“I don't know. It makes no sense.” In-ho said quietly. It made sense in its own way, beneath everything that said otherwise. In the meantime, 067 returned with the player he had brought, a short stranger, proudly wearing the number 322. The stranger nodded slightly, greeting them wordlessly. 172 said her hello in return. In-ho just observed the stranger silently, trying to figure out anything. Didn't speak yet, just dipped their head and smiled while greeting them. Stood a little awkwardly. Looked around too much, as if nervous. A bit of blood stained the jacket, although it's not like that was anything to take note of, seeing as a clean jacket would be a rarity instead.
“Hello to you, 322.” In-ho said slowly, waiting for a reaction. The player just nodded again, obviously a little too eagerly, a little too fast. Afraid of seeming impolite or strange. And still not speaking. Muteness seemed like an unlikely possibility, seeing as there was no getting into a team in tug of war without speaking. Unless you were incredibly lucky, that is. And he doubted that someone would just drag 322 into the team without question. Maybe they didn't speak korean? No, again, stupid idea. Not speaking korean would mean not understanding instructions, thus immediate death. And copying other players wouldn't get you too far, since luck was still a factor.
“Hello, hello.” 322 eventually muttered awkwardly. Certainly had an accent. Clearly not from around here, maybe from japan or china, or somewhere more south? In-ho couldn't tell, but there was a clear difference between the intonation and pronunciation with his own words and 322's. 067 said something along the lines of "wow, wait, you can speak?" But nobody said anything about the accent. It's not like it mattered in the long run. This was just another competitor, another person who may or may not survive today, another lost soul in this place. It didn't seem like there was a language barrier either, as 067 and 322 started talking without much trouble. There seemed to be the occasional hiccup or two, a word that was unfamiliar, but it wasn't frequent.
Time slipped by slowly. At first, it seemed like nothing was changing. 067 kept glancing around, looking for a signal that it was time to solidify the pairings for the next game. 322 was saying something about dalgona, pointing out that his shape was a star and that he almost broke it but that he saw others licking the cookie, which he copied and survived thanks to. Yet another person only alive thanks to Gi-hun. And all for what? Would he even survive today's game? Even if he did, he'd most likely not make it out. He'd lay there dead somewhere, just like everyone else would. Just like he might end up. Just like Gi-hun's corpse would lay in a pool of blood, if In-ho was to win.
“Does anyone have any idea what the next game would be?” 172 asked, sounding slightly disinterested despite the question.
“...hm, i don't know. What games do you play in pairs? The first thing that comes to mind for me is neolttwigi, but they're not gonna make us play a woman's game, right? This room is like 80% men!” 067 said with narrowed eyes, thinking deeply, looking off somewhere into the distance. Ah, In-ho's heard some things about that game. Seemed pretty challenging, despite the simple concept. 322 asked about it immediately, unfamiliar with the game, getting a simple run-down of how it works by 067, who kept mentioning how he was once forced to play with his sister because she didn't have anyone to play with, speaking with sheer contempt at the idea of the game. 322 seemed to agree after the rules were explained.
“Maybe the ddakji again? The game we played with the businessman.” 322 suggested, tilting his head at 067, looking for a reaction.
“...Well, it's not exactly a pair game, but I could see them making it into one. If that's the game then you're dead though. I'll win that for sure!” 067 joked, but nobody laughed. 322 tried to distance himself without looking suspicious but failed miserably, just shuffling away awkwardly. 172 didn't react, just looking back to the crowd. The time was almost up, and they had no clue what was coming or how they'd pair up. In-ho would definitely pick 172 or 067 over 322. Nothing against the newcomer, but he'd rather be paired with someone he knows at least a bit. If it was between 067 and 172, he'd pick the former. Again, nothing against the other option, but 067 seems to be better at socialising and thus easier to talk things out with. And he doesn't know about any possible strengths that 172 has. He just had to make sure he'd pick correctly.
“We're running out of time.” 172 commented, looking over to the countdown. About forty seconds remained. For several seconds, nobody said a word, just looking towards the clock. 322 looked at 067, like he was already set on pairing up with him rather than either of them. That did ruin In-ho's initial plan of going with him, but in the end, 172 was still better than 322. Not that it mattered in the end. As long as he made it through, he barely cared. Gi-hun still hasn't appeared. He definitely had a reason for it. What it was? He didn't want to dwell on it too much, because he didn't want his brain to slip into a spiral of possibilities and futures that may never happen. There was a small selfish part of him, wishing that he and Gi-hun's could both get out, and become friends out there. The rules of the game had prevented the possibility though. Only one winner, only one survivor.
“Ahh.. I say me and 067 go together, is that okay?” 322 suggested with a grin, pointing at the player he had mentioned. It was obvious enough from the start, the fact he was the one 067 had brought in as an additional choice barely mattered. It was probably written down the second the player had invited him. Fate was a strange thing. It always followed people around. It felt like there was no changing it, ever. When he had donated Jun-ho his kidney, it barely mattered to him that he wouldn't have the ability to donate ever again because of the high risks. But now, he could've donated a chunk of his liver, had it not been for the previous transplant he'd undergone. It was a conscious choice that he had made years ago, not even knowing that picking no would've saved another live. No, wouldn't have saved. She'll live.
She'll survive. The fact he wasn't able to donate his own organs wasn't the end, there were other people who could donate, the black market existed. All he needed was the money to obtain a spare liver with the correct blood. And winning would ensure that money. The choice he didn't know he had, it never prevented his wife's survival. All it was was a minor hiccup in everything. He'd get the transplant for her, he'll forget about these damned games, they'll raise their child without any trouble and he'll put all of this behind himself. He'll forget about Gi-hun's unavoidable sacrifice, and if he himself is to die, he'll make Gi-hun makes it out and saves his wife. He'll beg if he has to. He doubted he'd have to though. Gi-hun seems easy to sway.
“Okay, works for me. So 132 and 172 will go together, then? Is that okay with everyone?” 067's words dragged him out of his thoughts once again. He said nothing towards the start, still a little disappointed at his plan not being usable anymore, but he'd get over it. Within the next ten seconds, most likely. 172 hums noncommittally, nodding, barely caring from what it seems. In-ho eventually gave a short nod himself, watching 322 almost beam at the fact his choice won. He was a little too optimistic for what he'd gone through, which seemed a little too suspicious to In-ho, but he didn't say a word. He wasn't the one paired with 322, so it was none of his concern in the end.
He watched as 067 and 322 clasped hands to seal the deal. The countdown hit zero, he knew it already, just by the way the sudden motion moved through the room, people knowing something had changed without even glancing at the time to pick pairs. 172 it is, then. In-ho's eyes hit the floor once more, as he drifted off into thought. He'd soon find out what game was awaiting them, so there was no need to think about this. Right now, the thoughts he had were primarily centered around Gi-hun. He just hoped he'd make it through this game. Since Gi-hun decided to become a ghost, he figured he couldn't count on the other man's advice and help. Not that he needed it... Well, he did, but something told him he'd make it through with or without him. As long as luck was on his side...
Slow footsteps broke through the occasional chatter of surrounding players, making in-ho's head snap up. Well, speak, or, in this case, think, of the devil. Gi-hun approaches them with a completely neutral look on his face, as if he didn't just randomly disappear and hide from them. Behind him, Player 100, who In-ho guesses is his pair for the game, seeing as the younger, twitchy man followed so close behind. Who else followed? An unfamiliar player who In-ho only vaguely remembered seeing sometime during the previous game, maybe on their own team. He wasn't sure, being in the very back of the line holding the rope, while he did get a good view of their numbers, it wasn't something he focused on. Frankly, they were his last thought. Gi-hun had mentioned something, the anchor, the person making sure they don't slip at the back.
Why he picked In-ho for such a challenging role? In-ho could barely hold himself steady during tug of war, feeling like those white shoes would slip against his best efforts any second. And yet they didn't. He struggled to stay in place or pull further than he already was, but in the end, it all worked out just fine and they made it through without needing any additional strategy. That suggestion of three steps forward from Gi-hun? It was tricky, not something In-ho would've agreed to blindly if it wasn't for the fact it was someone who must've already tested it saying that. Now that he looked closer, he also spotted 089 standing behind the stranger. His best assumption was that he was paired with the newcomer. Speaking of, the man seemed cheerful despite the situation, unlike his partner, who looked like he already had assumptions about the game.
Silence settled between the eight players, nobody speaking for several seconds, the air neutral. At least until 067 nodded in greeting, smiling widely, probably trying to say something like "good luck" but it's not like it was clear, with the lack of words. He turned to 322 after a moment, like trying to tell him to say good luck too. Unfortunately, if he tried to look Gi-hun's way, he was completely ignored. Gi-hun faced In-ho silently, face near unreadable. But there was a flicker of fear, worry. Afraid, which he'd guess was about his safety. In-ho didn't say a word. He just hoped he looked as composed as he intended to, not letting that unease and hurt slip. He understood that Gi-hun had a reason to do this. The question was what the reason was.
The doors opened, and pairs of players began to head out.
“Good luck you guys! See you when it's over!” 067 optimism never seemed to falter as he began moving towards the exit, 322 following closely right behind him with one last glance at the group with a grin. He heard 172's quiet mumble, something about hoping they'll both be okay and that she hopes 322 won't get screwed over if they're playing ddakji. Unfortunately, In-ho couldn't chuckle at it, as Gi-hun stared at him for an unsettling amount of time. Sure, he occasionally stared at Gi-hun too, but that was because this man was a time traveller among other things. He had reasons to be curious. Now he looked awkward, like he desperately wanted to say something, but didn't find the words. While he was staring silently, the pair consisting from 089 and the other one slipped by them, heading away.
“You better make it out, 100! And try to have some fun in your life, geez! I'll force you to have at least a shot of soju when we get out, hah.” 062, the player accompanying 089, called quickly, giving an eager thumbs up to played 100, turned around whilst leaving. 089 didn't even turn his head though, walking straight to the exit. Whatever that meant... In-ho must've missed an important conversation regarding them. Oh well. Others walked past them, entering the arena, but In-ho didn't budge. Then Gi-hun turned to 172, the despair, the silent communication, he was desperately begging for something. For what? That's the issue, In-ho could absolutely not figure it out. Must be regarding him however... He's no narcissist, but he knows when it's about him. He probably sounds like a narcissist. Every day he's more and more glad that mind readers don't exist.
“...am I interrupting something?” the quiet mumble of 100 reached his ears, the player standing awkwardly behind Gi-hun, not saying a word. In-ho could unfortunately relate to that question, even if it was completely rhetorical from what he understood. This entire interaction was turning out quite strange. With In-ho trying to talk to 172 with eyes alone and not saying a word to In-ho, even though he probably should. In-ho didn't want, or need, an apology, just acknowledgement would be far more than enough. There was guilt in Gi-hun's eyes now, although not directed at In-ho, or at least, not visibly. For a few more moments, In-ho just watched awkwardly. At least until there was a slight change in how 172 stood there. A flicker, a small breath of a dying flame.
Understanding. Of what? In-ho had no idea. Whatever Gi-hun was trying to communicate, it had to be. He just hoped that she understood correctly and that there was no misunderstanding of intentions or requests. Gi-hun's eyes slowly turned away. He looked nervous. About the game? About him? About others? He wasn't sure. And it wasn't his place to ask. He couldn't imagine going through this not once, not twice, but thrice. It had to have scarred him. For all he knows, Gi-hun might've spent the better part of the time reserved for finding partners panicking over what would happen. That made him feel guilty about the earlier frustration at Gi-hun's disappearance. He had to remember that he was talking to a human who'd been through hell and back, twice. Of course, all those thoughts come to a halt when he meets Gi-hun's gaze and the other opens his mouth
“You can make it.” Gi-hun said, almost too quiet to hear.
For a moment, In-ho just stared, seeing as Gi-hun might've not even been trying to speak to him directly. It was comforting, not a promise, but the begining of one. He didn't say "I hope" or "please" or any other unsure word. He was certain, at least on the outside, and that was already miles better than anything else he could've said. Gi-hun walked past him without a second look, although the glimpse of his expression told him he wanted to turn back and gaze for a few more seconds. In-ho almost found himself smiling at the amusing scenario, if it wasn't for player 100 almost knocking him over with the speed he near sprinted after Gi-hun with.
“Sorry!” 100 hissed quietly, disappearing through the door. In-ho scoffed, although he found himself smiling. Nice kid. Not that the other is that young, In-ho would guess he's closer to thirty than twenty, at least. Just acted like a kid, one of those polite kids who'd offer to help you pick something off a shelf at the store if you happened to be shorter than them. 172 chuckled fondly as she watched player 100 dash off, walking after him. They were practically the last ones left in the waiting room, besides one pair of players who were quietly arguing about something In-ho couldn't quite discern. Whatever it was, it was either something extremely pointless or extremely important. The two extremes seemed to clash in this place.
“That kid reminds me of my son.” played 172 said with a small smile, making In-ho turn to her with suprise. Well then, that's new information to him. He sort of forgot that people here had lives, that they had their reasons to be here, that something led them to choose this instead of the outside world. For a few days they just seemed like passing shapes fluttering about his vision, working only as background visuals and background noise. It was different with Gi-hun, of course, he acted more important than to fade into the background, and it's not like the others in their temporary team looked like cardboard cut outs. It's just that something like this, such a confession, seemed... Out of place. Hm.
“huh.” In-ho hummed, not really knowing how to respond to that. He slowly entered the room first, ignoring the shift of that odd sand under his feet. Whatever it was, it wasn't sand, that's for sure. Something about it felt fake, cheap, like it was grinded down eggshells rather than the soothing feel of little grains under his shoes. In-ho personally liked sand. Not the fact it gets everywhere. Just everything else about it. The way it shifts and the way it feels under the sun. The days he spent on the beach when he was younger on his off days because Jun-ho had begged him to take him there... Those were the days. The rooms walls are painted to resemble a sunset. Perhaps sunrise, it's not clear. A very red variation of either, though. There's buildings scattered throughout the room, broken down walls here and there, thin corridors.
It looked like a small town, like those some of them might've been raised in. With dusty paths, lined with that pathetic excuse for sand instead of the familiar dry dirt. Fake potted plants instead of the weeds that tended to take up any slightly moister dirt in town. Without the nonsensical dip in the ground that'd become a deep puddle that one would try to splash into and sprain her ankle trying to do so. Hide and seek? But that didn't fit for pairs... Unless they'd be forced to find one another. That sounded too unlike the traditional way hide and seek would be played, however. They wouldn't do it. They played the games with small twists. They do not change the nature or layout. Guards, those with triangles, were scattered throughout the room, holding those shotguns. Of course death would be involved, the question is how it'd come?
The announcement cut through the room, saying something about pairs needing to keep distance from eachother. In-ho barely listens as he's handed a small bag, undoubtedly filled with marbles, judging by the general shape of the little pouch and the feel of the small spheres underneath the fabric. He and player 172 settled into a small corner between the houses, In-ho feeling uncomfortable sitting on the sand, so for the time being, he leaned against the stone wall. Was it even real stone, or just some sort of polymer molded to resemble it? Not that it mattered. This entire place wasn't really real. Clearly, it was supposed to have resemblance to distant childhood memories. It didn't succeed though. Something was always a bit off. The fake sand under their feet, the surveillance of masked workers, the constant threat of death lingering right behind you.
172 opens the bag without a thought, letting a couple marbles, which In-ho correctly guessed would be the thing provided for this game, roll out into her palm. Strangely enough, a guard approached them hurriedly, although still somewhat nonchalantly with the lack of reaction. The faster footsteps were obvious, at least to In-ho. The gloved hand reached for the weapon, lifting it up slightly. 172 nearly dropped her marbles from shock, and In-ho took a step back. For a few seconds, both of them just stared in shock at the black mask with a simple white triangle, shielding whoever the worked was underneath. Then the modulated voice spoke.
“Player 172, refrain from opening the provided pouch prematurely, or you will face repercussions.” The guard seemed to stare straight at them, although it was hard to tell with the mask on.
“Sorry, sorry, I won't do that again.” 172 said with a small bow, quickly dropping the marbles back into the pouch. The guard lowered the weapon, not saying a word. In-ho wondered what their life was like. Not this one specifically, just guards in general. Were they permanently tied to the games, or was it just a gig for them? How many were there, right now, or the probable years before? Surely this isn't the first time the games have happened. For Gi-hun obviously it wasn't, and it was also unlikely that 2015 wasn't a first, right? If only he could ever find out more... Now this was gonna be weighing his mind down for several years. He looked at his own marble bag, seeing as he was almost halfway through opening it before he had heard the guards interruption.
“Thank you for telling us.” In-ho dipped his head to the guard, quickly pulling the drawstrings on the bag closed before anything else could happen. Despite the masked face and completely covered body, concealing any humanity, he could've sworn he saw the guard nod faintly, not robotically like he'd watched them do previously, but awkwardly. Was the person beyond the mask surprised or taken aback, whatever you wanna call it, by the thanks? Did they expect ignorance or a bitter remark? In-ho hoped not. The least this awful place could do was make sure the personnel was taken care of a little better than the players. If someone was surprised at being thanked for something like this, it just mean the working conditions are awful.
The guard headed away slowly, not looking back, leaving the two of them alone, 172 sitting in the sand and In-ho leaned against the wall. The announcement yet again shunned the pair of players gossiping behind the wall, neither of whom In-ho recognised. The rules were explained. In-ho understood Gi-hun's avoidance immediately. They weren't gonna win against others. They're going to fight one another for their lives, all in the hands of a couple of glass balls. He heard the previously lively pair now exchange quiet mumbles of despair over the wall. 172's expression dropped quite fast as she once again opened the bag and pulled out all ten marbles. By the end of this, one of them will have twenty. Was Gi-hun trying to tell her to just let him win? To kill herself for someone else? He just really be foolish if he thinks that'll work.
“... Thirty minutes, huh? More than enough time to both play and talk, don't you think?” 172 said quietly, her composed expression and demeanor not faltering. In-ho knew it was a matter it time before she would break. Under pressure, even the most tough would shatter like a piece of glass striking the floor. In-ho didn't respond. Gi-hun wanted him this survive, and he did this by... Letting him pick a random teammate, who would most likely do anything and everything to be the one to live. Not exactly the most brilliant choice, is all he could say in his head. Ten marbles fell into the sand quietly. In-ho slowly leaned away from the wall, feeling the need to dust himself off immediately, but not quite having the will to do it.
“Let's okay. What about odd or even?” In-ho said slowly.
“Let's talk first, no?” 172 suggested quietly, picking up one of the fallen marbles from the sand and looking into it for a few seconds. In-ho doesn't respond at first, figuring that she probably won't back down. Instead he slowly sits down in the strange sand, which probably wasn't sand, or maybe he was just overthinking... He sighs as he looks down at the bag of his marbles, still closed. How ironic, to put a game that forced you to turn on your allies right after forcing you to cooperate with others. Maybe it was intentional. No, scratch that, it was definitely intentional. Those rich pigs must enjoy this. In-ho didn't even know them, and he already hated them. He hoped he never would have to. He sighed quietly, figuring that talking wasn't too bad.
“...hm. okay. You mentioned having a son. What about played 100 reminded you of him?” In-ho asked quietly, tilting his head. He was genuinely, seriously curious. He guarded himself as much as he could here, only letting Gi-hun in on things because he already knew anyway. It was strange how she just immediately mentioned someone close to her without a second of thought. Maybe it was because the topic wasn't sensitive. Who knows. In-ho didn't. He wouldn't ever mention his wife to anyone here. These are strangers, strangers willing to die, and sometimes to kill, for money. He snapped back to reality when 172 hummed, thinking of an answer.
“...I don't really know. My son? He's... Quiet, a smart kid. Top of the class, best grades, so on. Quite an achievement for someone who's freshly 17, at least in my opinion. Just something about 100 being so sorry about bumping into you and running off because he's busy, he did that pretty often when he was little.” 172 sighed with a smile, rolling around a few marbles in her palm. In-ho knew she wasn't lying either. Sounded exactly like his step-mother talked to strangers about Jun-ho. Save for the personality descriptors, Jun-ho wasn't too quiet or the smartest in the room, he was intelligent, yes, but he was an ordinary kid. Pretty loud too, especially when tousling with In-ho. Not that it happened often. With over a decade between the two brothers, Jun-ho was just starting school when In-ho was busy with exams that would blow his little brother's mind.
“...that's sweet, I think.” In-ho said quietly. He always wondered how it'd be like to be a parent, and he was supposed to be one soon, if his wife recovered. He'd been the one to bring up termination, which would save his wife's life... But... She always refused firmly, saying that she'd be okay with dying as long as the little one got a chance at living. They never argued about it, but deep down, In-ho himself was too attached to the idea of a child. How would it be like to be a father? The nights sleeping in the visitors chair by her hospital bed, or just pretending to rest, daydreaming about the future which he wasn't even sure was possible anymore.
“mhm.” 172 smiled again, sighing slightly as she, not so subtly, nudged one of her marbles over to In-ho. He sent it back to her, expecting it to be some kind of game he hadn't heard about, but instead, all she did was push it back towards him. In-ho blinked, squinting at the marble. Weird. Why was she doing this? She needs all the marbles she can get for an equal chance against him. It's all about equality and chances here, or so In-ho had began to interpret. Anonymous guards without faces and voices, couldn't be bribed by players who needed help. Everyone stood at an equal ground, and that was the only good thing about this place. Save for that meal they got the first day. That was delicious.
“does your son know? That you're here? Or did you just disappear without a word, leaving your close ones wondering?” Like he did to his wife, his brother, and his mother. In-ho tried to swallow down the guilt that suddenly made itself quite apparent. Technically he did say something about going somewhere to his wife, but she was unconscious, in a deep state of sleep. Was it even sleep? it was something like it, as her chest rose and fell steadily, and her vitals were supposedly, according to the doctors, just fine, but she didn't stir at his words. It felt wrong. In-ho tried to forget that he also abandoned his brother. Jun-ho was probably wondering where he disappeared off to. Where he went when his wife was in such a critical condition...
“I told him I'd be gone for a few days.” 172 said with a small shrug, once more sending a marble tumbling his way. In-ho didn't react to it this time. She'll likely die here and her son will never know, he'll just think she abandoned him. If In-ho dies here by chance, is that what his brother would think? His mother? She might've not been the one to give birth to him, but she deserved that title. She's been there for him, not just for Jun-ho. Would they think he fled from responsibility, not wanting to watch his wife hang onto life and running away instead? Would they think somebody got to him? Would they grieve, even if his body would never be seen? In-ho didn't know. And this is true for every player.
“...but... If you don't make it out...” In-ho started slowly.
“He knows I don't have long. He's known since the start. It's beyond saving, at least here, but... Somewhere overseas there's experimental treatment. It was either dying in a hospital bed or with a chance. And even if it doesn't work, I suppose at least I met some great people, didn't I?” 172 interrupted with a small chuckle, although it sounded far from happy. It was more of a melancholic sound, resigned to fate. In-ho frowned, pushing the marble he just realised was in his pile and was an extra, back to the player across from him. She didn't send the marble back this time.
“That's why I left work, too. Being an interior designer was... Great, it had good pay, it was fun, but the condition I was in is unpredictable. I could've dropped near dead within days or just been fine for half a year. I quit because I didn't wanna start anything I could potentially not finish. We had money saved to just live for a few months. And then that salesman came up to me. I refused his little game and then he gave me a card, saying I can win more digits than I could count on my hands. So I figured, hey, why not? I either win or lose.” 172 continued, staring upwards at the fake painted sky. Even it looked slightly strange, wrong in its own way. Too red, too vermilion, too similar to the color of blood.
“...that's... A lot. I'm sorry.” In-ho said, trying to sound genuine, although it came out a bit awkward. He was no good at comforting people, especially not ones that he barely knew. Luckily, or, unluckily for whoever got a bullet through the chest or head, the awkward interaction was cut short by a gunshot. In-ho didn't bother looking at the timer, though. It barely mattered. The numbers announced were unfamiliar, two strangers, one of whom was going to live on while the other would forever be lost to this place. In the end, everyone would be, but some sooner than others.
“What about you? Why are you here?” 172 asked, looking off into the wall. There was this constant ring of noise, quiet clicks of glass against eachother, those who were trying to send marbles into small sand pits, whilst murmurs of odd and even created a steady, quiet hum in the room. Ninety, or, well, eighty eight people all fighting for their lives in the form of such an innocent game. In-ho pondered it for a moment, wondering whether to lie, whether to just say debts or actually say the truth. After a moment of thought, he decides on the latter. If he dies, who cares what she reveals about him? And if she dies, then nobody will know what In-ho revealed anyway.
“...my wife is very ill. She needs a liver transplant desperately. I came here in the hopes of getting money to buy one off the black market if things got too bad.” In-ho explained quietly, in on itself, admitting the truth was hard. He would've rather just avoided it by saying he had debts. Like, who here didn't have debts? Besides Gi-hun, since he was... Well, Gi-hun. And, well, 172 didn't either. Speaking of, he very much noticed that she looked stunned upon the mention of his wife. That offended him, just a little. What was she looking so surprised for? Did he look like the type of man to not have a wife, or something? The type of man to be alone until he was old?
“...sorry, sorry, I just assumed you weren't...” 172 trailed off, shaking her head. Well, now In-ho won't find out what she was getting at. But, in the end, who knows, maybe it's for the best. Some things can be left forgotten. Weren't what, though? That good with people? In-ho assumed he's great with people... Or the type to marry, to commit to someone? Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe he shouldn't be thinking about this at all, infact. The lack of clarification ticked him off a little but he didn't dare question it any further. It's not important. Whatever she assumed was wrong anyway. And he hoped that whatever her idea was had nothing to do with Gi-hun.
“...it's okay. Let's play now.” In-ho tried to change the subject, gesturing to the marbles laid out in front of them. 172 didn't respond for a few seconds, looking a little lost in thought. Frankly, In-ho was getting a bit irritated. Not angry, especially not at her, but just... Itching to get to the game. He didn't wanna stall. He didn't wanna find out what happened to those who didn't conclude their game in time. The silence between them stretched on, making In-ho have to hold back a small hiss. Come on, he wasn't the type of person to be impatient, but they seriously should get to playing. It had probably taken 172 a minute of just sitting there silently.
“...so, even or odd?” 172 hummed, lifting up hand.
“...odd?” In-ho replied, mostly just relieved that they were finally playing. Although, he realised that 172 didn't even add or subtract any marbles from her hand. She just held the one that she was rolling around in her palm previously, showing it to In-ho with no expression on her face. No fear upon being a marble closer to death. No disappointment in the face of losing. No frustration with the lucky guess that would make things harder for her. She just handed the marble to him without a word, looking off into the distance. Said distance was a wall.
“... Odd or even?” In-ho looked down at the sand, holding three in his hand a few seconds later. The game was going slowly, but so what? They were playing, at least, if nothing else was going forwards. First glance towards the clock. They still had a bit over twenty minutes left. That was more than enough, of course, but it'd still take some time to play, so best hurry it up. Not that he could ask, that'd he awkward and unkind. Instead, he waited for 172 to pick. Instead, she squinted at him, raising an eyebrow. In-ho wasn't sure what he did wrong or what he could've said, looking off to the side, as if his mistake was written down in the fake sand.
“...it's even or odd, you know that, right?” 172 pointed out, sounding more curious than offended or anything along those lines. Huh. In-ho didn't even realise the mix-up. Weird, odd or even didn't roll off the tongue quite as easily and yet he still somehow managed to say it. Happens, he supposed, as he shrugged it off. He wondered what Gi-hun was doing, how he was making it through. He hoped it was as calm as his own game. Or, well, calm as can be. How would player 100 act under pressure? Would he lash out? Who knows. In-ho might never find out. He could die and never learn. 100 could die and never say how messed up he got. Gi-hun might die and never mention played 100's potential yell. Although, he would probably hear that, no?
“...right. even or odd? pick.” In-ho reiterated, a small, slightly tired smile on his face. They could've probably let them sleep a little longer, no? What In-ho wouldn't give for an extra few hours of rest in this place. Well, he wouldn't give a kidney, seeing as that would be his death. And, ah, well, he probably wouldn't give an eye either. He'd miss his depth perception too much. What else was something he could metaphorically and physically lose and live without... Technically a limb, if it's done right, but he wouldn't give either arms or legs for extra sleep. He'd give... Maybe a toe, at most. Not a finger though. You need all fingers to work properly. Toes? Feel free to say goodbye to any of the four smaller ones, you'll probably be fine without them.
“...even.” 172 responds, barely reacting when In-ho unfolded his three marbles and she revealed her bet of five. In-ho blinked. High risk, high reward clearly wasn't the way to go about it. 172 barely reacted as she handed over the required marbles, keeping one in her hand. Someone's a cheater... In the opposite way to the usual way someone cheats at games. Usually people do it to win. In 172's case, she's trying to make this easier for him. Too bad that he's smart enough to notice it and fair enough to mention it. He stares at his marbles putting him in the lead, then over to the smaller group of them in the sand opposite of him. Luckily, it couldn't be 1:72, so he didn't have to worry about being reminded of yet another player if he dies.
“...you're cheating.” He said bluntly.
“...Is it cheating if I'm helping you win?” 172 said, almost challenging him to protest. Before she could say anything against it, he pushed the extra marbles back to her, leaving them ten against ten once more. She didn't respond for a few seconds, debating on sending them back, but she seemed to get a better idea. She didn't. She just kept them, although visibly, she wasn't planning to at first. In-ho found himself staring off af the wall again. How many people had died here, thinking they're gonna survive and play with someone they trust, only to taste bitter cold reality of having to die for your friends whether they wanted to or not?
“Going against rules is going against rules, no matter the reason. The games we play should be fair. So let's start again. No more putting one marble in your hand every round or anything of the sorts, okay?” In-ho said, a sort of sternness slipping through. Reminded him of lecturing Jun-ho when he broke some of those very simple rules enforced during games. Like, hey, don't go splash in the puddles while I make myself some coffee, mom isn't home, so don't try anything stupid. Five minutes later and he'd look back to see Jun-ho drenched up to his knees with mud. Which wasn't too much, actually, considering Jun-ho was like 7, but still a pain to hose him off with the younger brother's protest. He only took the babysitting watch sometimes, but it was always a joy. Whether that was sarcastic or not, he wasn't sure.
“Mr. Policeman or something, huh?” 172 joked quietly, looking at her ten marbles with curiousity and amusement. In-ho almost froze, but didn't dare mention it. She already knew enough as is, she didn't also need to know where he worked for years on end. A decade and a half and look where that got him. Kicked and pushed into the rainy street after a small misunderstanding. It wasn't a bribe. It was a loan. A small loan that he could've payed off with his job. But no, now, here he is, without either the money or a job.
“...let's play again.” In-ho said quietly. He knew he sounded like a broken gramophone disc, but he couldn't help it. He just wanted this mess of a game done, both the round, the fourth game as a whole, and of course, the sequence of all six games. What would he give to just lay in his own bed or fall asleep to the hum of machines in the hospital, knowing the dearest person in his life is holding on, despite everything else. And maybe, later, rest with the lack of those machines, and feeling everything run as it's supposed to. It seemed distant, locked behind doors that had no keyhole or knob. Doors that you had to force open, go around them, or pray someone opens from the inside.
“I just want to talk about boring things. It's been a long time since-” 172 is interrupted by a gunshot somewhere further away, making her freeze. In-ho barely reacted anymore though. Being a part of the police kind of does that to you overtime, with the occasional big event only making it more obvious. What caught his attention was the numbers announced. 062 had died and 089 had made it through. Not that he was surprised in any way. 089 had intelligence on his side. He'd seen 062 for only a few seconds and the only thing he mentioned was alcohol. Maybe he was a drinker. Who here wasn't? Well, In-ho only drank rarely, because even though it's not his kidney doing this job, he'd rather be safe than sorry while dying because of it.
“Boring things, hm? Like the weather we can't see?” In-ho muttered, staring off into the wall again. The walls of the room, not the strange mimicry of stone that the other ones were supposed to look like. Painted red and orange. A sunset, a sunrise, perhaps both at the same time. One player falls dead, but maybe, from far away, it looks like sleep. Another wakes up to reality, realising that you can't trust nobody, not the person you care about the most, or yourself. You would've thought you'd never harm another person, and here you'd stand, knowing that someone else's blood is on your hands. Or it'd be them above your dead body, bloody marbles in their hands, staring down at you. Half the room would die. And that felt surreal in its own way. It was insane, to realise that you'd come here surrounded by people, half of whom would get a bullet through the head.
“Sure. What do you think the weather is like back where you're from? Looked at the forecast recently?” 172 asked, one marble in hand. Looks like she won't drop that tactic, at least not yet. Now that In-ho thought about it for a moment, no, he hasn't looked at a forecast in a really long time. He went to the hospital day by day, almost mechanically by now, like it was a path he walked all his life. If it was sunny, he'd walk the way there. If it was raining, sometimes he'd drive unless the traffic was bad. Some days, he walked regardless of weather, maybe to bring himself to reality. It didn't matter to him, whether the next day would bring a fresh breeze, cold drops of rain or rays of sunlight. In the end, his feet would lead him to the hospital no matter what.
“...I don't know. I don't check the forecast much.” In-ho admitted, looking at the marbles in his hands. Ten and ten, yet again, the game was made as fair as he could possibly make it. 172 nodded in response, clearly having nothing to say regarding it. It was a meaningless confession of something that didn't matter now or in the future, just a string of words thrown around to fill up the silence. In-ho slowly picked up one marble, watching it gleam slightly under the artificial light. Such a beautiful little thing, isn't it? So simple, so pretty, and yet, so deadly. People will die over these. People die over them. The gunshots become more and more frequent as time passes, unfamiliar numbers being thrown about. He wonders if their bodies are cleaned up and put away immediately or whether they'll lie in the sand going cold for who knows how many more minutes?
“You like to get caught in rain without an umbrella or something?” 172 replied questioningly, although it was obviously a joke.
“No. I don't like taking chances. I just... It feels like it doesn't matter.” In-ho said quietly, barely reacting at another gunshot being fired. 067 passed, while 322 was the one on the receiving end of that shot. Unfortunate, but it was either of them. He'd have to see how 067 reacted after this, would this game tear the smile off his face, or would he continue trying to keep up the happy façade as long as possible? Would he break or would he preserve? It would all come to light soon enough. How would Gi-hun react, if he made it out alive? Would guilt overpower the urge to protect, and make him shield himself from the world for the remainder of the games? Would he push on, determined to carry on with what he thinks he has to do?
“Look at that. 067 made it out. I feel bad for 322 though.” 172 commented, one hand under her chin as she sat there. In-ho stayed silent. He agreed internally, but he knew that he was happy about the outcome. He didn't know what 322 was like, didn't know his story, all he knew was tidbits that were nothing more than guesses. He could've come here for a job, needing something better than his homeland offered. He might've escaped from somewhere, could be on the run. There was no telling now, as the player he'd briefly met is now only memory that would soon fog up. 3:22 was a number that could show up in a digital clock. At least there was the chance of forgetting it though. Unlike some others...
“If you keep talking and stalling, we'll run out of time.” In-ho said firmly, sighing as he set down the marble he'd looked through a little bit ago. He hears the hum 172 responds with, although there is no meaning to it. It's not a mumbled yes or no, not annoyance at the insistence or unease at the thought of not having time and being killed for it. All it seems like is complete ignorance towards the situation at hand, as if it didn't matter. Maybe to her it didn't. Maybe she was already set on dying just because she was ill anyways, thinking it didn't matter whether her death came now or later. But this was all about the rules, the way the game is played, the marbles that are passed around, the click of glass against eachother.
“How about we simplify the game a little bit instead? Instead of betting and getting, all we do is bet everything and play? Simple, right? Winner takes it all.” 172 suggested, putting all ten marbles into her hand one by one. Not that they all fit, they'd probably fall in moments, but the attempt solidified her suggestion as something that was on the table rather than just said. In-ho saw the vision, simplified rules, making the game faster and simpler. It basically meant you'd pick between death and survival, fifty percent survival chances, and a single chance for it to work out. It was barely a game, more like leading a blindfolded person to two buttons. One kills, the other one sets them free. They don't know which one is which.
“Even or odd but without rounds? It makes the whole game a simple gamble that doesn't have chances to turn the tide. And the rules? That's now how this game is supposed to go.” In-ho said, eyes closed. If he loses once, he's dead, and he doesn't want that. And even then, something told him 172 would just go "oh no no no, you get an extra chance. You know, you also gave me a second chance, so it's even now!" Or something along those lines. It wasn't bending the rules from his side though. All he did was restart the game when he found it wasn't being played correctly. That's all he did.
“Okay. What if we included second chances that you could choose to take, but aren't required to use?” 172 suggested, smiling as if her suggestion wasn't basically "I'll let you try again but sure as hell believe I'll let myself get killed" said a bit more fancily. In-ho kept his mouth shut for a few seconds. Someone so adamant on self sacrifice, almost as much as Gi-hun himself, felt unbelievable. Gi-hun, hm... He was playing somewhere out there with 100. Was he playing, though, or just trying to get the other player to stop shaking and play? It seemed like something that could realistically happen, or, well, probably is happening. But maybe Gi-hun was the solution to 172's suicidal suggestion.
“...okay, we will play by your rules. But only after player 456 passes or gets eliminated.” In-ho replied, tilting his head. 172 eventually agreed, although seemed a little bit disappointed by the need to wait. They spent the next several minutes talking. First the topic was the food here, and he was glad to see someone besides himself and Gi-hun point out that those rice cakes they'd received before dalgona tasted like the plastic wrap they were stored in. Then it ended up being about the feel of this specific room. They'd agreed on it looking like a poor attempt at reconstructing a small old town, as so many things barely added up. Minutes slipped by, interrupted by gunshots and announcements of elimination. No Gi-hun, however.
When the topic circled back around to food, with 172 acknowledging the fact she was starving and would probably go insane if she didn't eat in the next few hours, In-ho drifted off into his thoughts. No Gi-hun, no mention of him getting through or dying. Like he was stalling. As if they were both stalling like idiots, waiting for one another. In-ho hoped that that wasn't the case and that Gi-hun was just busy trying to win, because if he'd just spent the last nine minutes sitting and talking about food and the interior it this room instead of getting through, he'd probably bash his head against something by the end of this. For the first time since the begining of marbles, he took the time to look at the clock. Seven minutes left. Not much. Not enough.
He remained silent as he straighted his back, holding in a sigh as he stared at his hand and the marbles held within. What could he do, wait for both of them to be shot instead of surviving? Yes, he'd feel guilty for the woman and her abandoned nearly adult son, but there was no other way out. If she offered to make this sacrifice then so be it. If she was willing to face death to give him a chance, who was he to deny it? Was he selfish for letting someone die for him without a fight? Maybe he was. No, not maybe, he definitely was. He was selfish, greedy, but most importantly, just trying to survive. That's what it was. That's what it's been.
“...let's play, then. One last round, one last game, even if the rules are wrong and the game is rigged in my favour.” In-ho said, staring straight at 172, who gave a faint smile as she began to arrange marbles in her palm, hiding them from sight. He didn't speak for several seconds, just letting her do what was needed. He wondered if Gi-hun was waiting for him anxiously. Or if he was struggling to keep those marbles. What if Gi-hun dies and he ends up alone, struggling to stay afloat? 172's soon to be made sacrifice would be in vain. Everything Gi-hun would've done would be in vain. In-ho had to make it out. For his wife, for his brother, for his mother, for his strange new friend and for himself.
“Even or odd?” 172 said simply, holding out a fist towards him. In-ho didn't make a guess yet, seeing as he was interrupted by a guard stepping over closer to them, watching closely. Was it the same one from before? He wasn't sure. All with the same mask, same suits, same weapons. Height varied, and so did build, on occasion, but he couldn't just tell one apart from the other. Equality, yet again, shone in his head. The players were all equal, nothing more than numbers. The workers were all equal between the specific ranks, being only the masks they wear. Supposedly the rich were equal here too, all wearing those golden plated masks Gi-hun had mentioned.
“...odd.” In-ho said, not sure what to expect. It's a one in two chance, a coin toss, although In-ho's heard that it's not a simple fifty fifty like most people think. He stared at the uncurling hand that soon revealed a singular marble. Just as he had anticipated. The same move over and over. Had she switched it up, he wouldn't have anticipated it at all, he would've been fooled completely. He might've even lost if that's what she was trying to achieve. But it wasn't. There was slight manipulation at play, repeating patterns that could abruptly change to throw him off. He was only alive because she wanted him to be. It wasn't stupidity that made her lose. It was mercy, even pity, maybe.
“You won.” 172 said simply, picking up all ten marbles.
“But only because you let me. You could've easily picked a different number of marbles. I only picked odd because you previously only put one, one, and only one. It was a pattern. An anomaly in it would be unlikely. And you know that. So why did you let me win? Is it pity? Is it belief that my life is worth more than yours? Or is it the satisfaction of going against imposed rules of playing a game one last time, avoiding the system and doing it your own way?” In-ho questioned, staring at the marbles now offered to him. The guard was still looming over them, lingering, watching, waiting for the glass spheres to be all in one hand for the shot to be fired. In-ho didn't take them though. He wanted an explanation.
“Maybe it's a little bit of everything. I'm dying, and you're not. You have motivations, I do not. And lastly, I do wanna go against the rules, since playing the game like they wanted it to be played just didn't sound right to me.” 172 smiled a little, looking proud of herself. She's smart and observant, In-ho concluded. But also completely hopeless when it comes to decisions. Only someone who's insane or already dying just decides to sacrifice themselves for a stranger. He supposed the latter did fit in this case. Not in Gi-hun's though. His constant babbling about being already dead or destined to die sounded like paranoia or delusion.
“This entire system is built on rules. You play the game so you can live, not play around it so you can guarantee your death.” In-ho said quietly. He knew the slightest bit of sadness entered his face when the marbles were dropped into his palm, and he heard the guard slowly step closer. 172 didn't look too phased, at least not on the surface. The way her eyes glinted with tears slightly told him otherwise though. She held the last marble in her hand for a few more seconds. Such a brilliant piece of glass, huh? In-ho remained silent as he waited for the response he wasn't sure would come. The guard was waiting for that last marble.
“This system is broken then. People here kill, and people here turn into merciless animals. They go senseless and feral when the lights turn off, and barely care about anyone besides themselves. It's wrong. That's now how humans are supposed to be.” 172 muttered, staring through the marble into the light above. The guard is probably getting impatient, but luckily, hides it well, just standing there, ready to pull out the weapon. In-ho sighs quietly. It was true in some way, but there was something that her statement neglected. It's the fact that humans aren't just... One thing. They vary. The past shapes them, the present leads them, the future beckons them.
“Humans are still humans even if they act like monsters. There's always good underneath. The world isn't black and white like in kid's books. It's an array of grays that blur together. That's how the world looks like at it's core.” In-ho said quietly, staring at the last marble as it fell into his hand with a quiet clank of glass against glass. He holds his breath, staring at it for a moment. There's something swirling in his chest, guilt, uncertainty, a quiet, pushed down wish that he had picked 322 instead. He knew 172 would've died anyways, today, maybe tomorrow, and that he wouldn't have had this conversation. He wasn't crying. She was a stranger, and he didn't cry over dead strangers in his years of investigation, which did include murders. Sadness didn't always equal tears.
“... If that's how you look at it, then everything around you is gray. Even those that kill. You believe there's good somewhere underneath. Just don't forget that applies to everyone including you.” 172 said quietly, lifting up her head as the gun was slowly raised.
“Win for your wife, and maybe for him, too, will you?” she added after a moment. In-ho shut his eyes just as the shot rung through the air, making something in his head hurt faintly. He doesn't open his eyes as he hears something falling against the ground, a sickly thud. He knows it's a body, and he'd rather not look at it, no matter what state it's in. Whether it carries a peaceful expression or terror, whether brains spilled or it's just blood, he instead stands up quietly, hearing the marbles all hit the sand, besides a single one that managed to stay between his thumb and palm. The last one dropped. The final marble to settle the death.
“Player 172, eliminated. Player 132, pass”
Several seconds passed with him just standing there, eyes shut closed, holding the singular marble he hadn't dropped. He feels how his breath is unsteady, and a slight shiver goes through him as the smell of blood hits his nose. Metallic, but somehow more alarming, perhaps natural evolution to make human beings wary at the first whiff of blood. He slowly opens his eyes, not looking at the ground. He doesn't intend to just stand there, he wants to step away, find Gi-hun, ensure the man who was dedicating his supposed second chance at life to saving him was alive. Unfortunately, the back of a shotgun to his back makes him weigh his options a little more carefully. In the meantime, the marble slips into his pocket.
“Players who win are required to leave the room after they are announced as passed. Otherwise, they will be eliminated. Player 132, move.” The guard, the same one shot 172, and now that he listened closely, he was sure it was the same one who warned them about the marble pouch. In-ho grits his teeth, especially at the last part. It sounded way more personal than the first sentence, which just sounded like standard procedure. For a few seconds, he didn't. He just stood there. He wondered how this stranger would feel if the roles were reversed. In-ho slowly turned around, just to speak, is all.
“... I wonder why you're here. I'm guessing you're not allowed to talk to players as per the rules. But you're a human under there. Here we're all surviving.” In-ho said swiftly, watching as the gun dropped for a moment, and how the guard seemed to tense. Then it's pointed to him again, which makes him turn around without a word. There wasn't anything to get out of this person, so he didn't bother anymore. He wasn't sure why he even tried. Maybe to just remove the unwanted emotions from watching someone he actually trusted killed in front of him. Maybe snapping at the killer would make him feel better. It didn't.
Surprisingly, the guard follows with fast steps, and In-ho almost braces to get a bullet through the head.
“two days ago, I stared at my own father as he was holding a broken cookie, and I did as I was hired to do. I shot him right between the eyes. I am not surviving, I am thriving.” The guard's words are shunned, like he's not meant to even speak to him. In-ho barely thinks about the rules though because what the hell had just been dropped onto him? Excuse you? In-ho was trying his best to rationalise humanity, especially the humanity here, and this completely broke the gray world view of everything. Because this wasn't even dark gray. This was inky, pure black with it's morales. Unless he'd follow up with something about abuse, In-ho wouldn't see the guards as humans anymore, seeing as this one said he killed his father without hesitation.
Unfortunately for him, the guard didn't say a word, just not so subtly jabbing him with a gun into the back, signaling for him to get going immediately, which In-ho took to heart. He quickly stepped forwards, not turning around to see the guard, walking out the door. No guards stood there, but there were a couple outside on the stairs. He wanted to wait for Gi-hun there, but of course, he got another nudge to go downstairs before he'd become one of the dead bodies. He no longer protested, just going back to the dormitory as fast as possible. He could maybe catch 067 and check up on him? Oh god, it was just him left from the team. And... Well, Gi-hun would probably survive, right? And if he didn't... Then they had 100... Great...
When he reached the room, most players were already there. He didn't bother to count, but with the amount of gunshots and time left, it was probably over three quarters of the surviving players here. A few lifted their heads as he entered, but most just looked away moments later. He spotted player 067 seated somewhat far away, looking like he's hiding. It was bad if even someone like him was isolated. In-ho walked over slowly. The room was begining to feel empty, with so few players from how many there were in the begining, and the beds begining to clear up, it was a stark difference to the start. Went from being obnoxious, loud, full and crowded to quiet and with only a few people. Around forty was still a few, yes, but... Forty five out of four hundred and fifty six? Only every 10th person survived. Good god.
“...132, you're ...alive.” 067 acknowledged him, but that's about all he did, only nodding in greeting. He was guilty, surely, but over a stranger he'd met minutes prior? This man was too sensitive and too kind. It'd come to stab him in the back eventually, wouldn't it? In-ho nodded without a word, sitting down on the stair above. Gi-hun should be here soon. Or 100... Either of them. Preferably Gi-hun, but In-ho dismissed that thought. There were like four minutes left when he had exited. It took roughly three minutes to get down back to the dormitory. So Gi-hun could be here in around two to three minutes, he'd guess? Good. That's good. In-ho tried to push away the slight anxiety about it.
“...so 172 is...” 067 trailed off, not expecting a response, as he already knew.
“...yes. and 322 is too, huh?” In-ho said quietly, catching sight of a few fresh blood droplets on his pants. By now his clothes had the blood of two people on it. And neither of them were himself. Disgusting. Not the people part, just blood itself. Who wanted blood on their clothes? Nobody. He's not too surprised at the guilt in 067 expression, however what does shock him is the slight anger that flashes through his eyes. Probably not directed at the deceased player, though, he doubted that. Seeing as 067 was wallowing in despair prior to him coming here, clearly there was no resentment towards 322...
“It's not fair. He... He didn't even know how to play marbles! I had to teach him just for him to die... In front of my damn eyes! That'll haunt my nightmares...” 067 spat, teeth gritted. In-ho holds back the remark about how marbles aren't that hard to figure out, even if you've never played them, barely making sure the hurtful words don't slip out. He instead nods slowly, eyeing the door. One more player slips through, looking shaken to their core. Not Gi-hun. Or player 100. In-ho sighed outloud as he registered the nightmare part. Good luck with that, seeing as you're most likely gonna die in one to two days. Unfortunate. He just hoped to not talk to 067 too much so it'd hurt less but... Yeah, too late for that. He's been here for way too long.
“...I'm sorry.” In-ho hoped his words sounded genuine. He was being genuine, seriously, it's just that he was a little busy with other thoughts than to focus on conveying it. Every other second he could find his eyes on the door. He was anxious about it, he finally admit it to himself. Because he was far more likely to live with Gi-hun's asistence, of course... And the fact he cared about Gi-hun. It was hard not to, considering that the man was basically laying out safe steps for him without even asking. He wasn't unlikable either, maybe on the outside, they could've talked a lot about actual things, and not about the paradox of Gi-hun dying and yet being alive here in this, to him, alternative past.
The door opened and two more players left. Must've been over his three assumed minutes already, and two players coming back simultaneously wasn't exactly likely unless the game has ended. The issue? Neither of them were Gi-hun or player 100. Had they ran out of time? 067 didn't even lift up his head, as if he had forgotten other people on their team were still possibly alive. In-ho stared, but nobody else came. Curiously though, the door didn't shut yet. And then it came. A pair of guards, the shapes on their masks unidentifiable, were dragging someone into the room. Said person wasn't moving, at least not visibly from the distance. In-ho stood up immediately. Was it a corpse? Why were they carrying a corpse?
Half the jacket was drenched in blood, completely obscuring the number. Why was a corpse in this room and why was it brought here? Hold on, corpses don't shake when dropped onto the ground on their knees and elbows. That's Gi-hun. He can tell apart player 100 and him from a distance, and this was obviously not the younger player. In-ho quickly made him way down the stairs, hearing the muttering of players arise. Why was there so much blood? Was he shot by accident or something? No, they'd let him bleed out, wouldn't they? That was way more likely than whatever this is. He wasn't bleeding either. The blood wasn't coming from him and drizzling out through his clothes. It was soaking into his clothes from the outside. He runs over fast.
“Gi-hun!” In-ho yelled, although quieter than during dalgona, dropping on his knees in front of Gi-hun. The hurried footsteps of 067 follow close behind. He hears how suddenly, the dead silence of the room is exchanged for a very loud discussion, panic, confusion and suprise all mixing together. He watches as the other man shakes. Gi-hun is completely out of it, eyes struck wide open, breathing stuttering, hands stained with blood that isn't his own, entire body shaking. As 067 stops behind them, he looks around the crowd. Okay, what does he do right now? Does he just shake him until he snaps out of it? No, no that's absolutely not the right thing to do.
In-ho decides to pull off Gi-hun's jacket instead, feeling like the lack of blood touching him might ease him just a little. He grabs the zipper as gently as he manages to, sliding it down. The good part? The jacket is now off. The bad one? His shirt is soaked through underneath with crimson as well. And In-ho wasn't planning on taking that off, so he just looked at 067 with an unsure and nervous expression. What now? No, seriously, what now? Fortunately he doesn't have to wonder any longer, as Gi-hun stills. Unfortunately? He isn't snapping out of it. His limbs buckle under him as he presumably falls unconscious. The mumbling of players around them quiets slightly as most seem to think he just died.
“Let's get him to a bed, okay?” In-ho suggests, turning to 067. As the player nods, he turns to ask someone for help, but doesn't get the chance to, as In-ho manages to hoist up Gi-hun's unconscious self with ease. He checks pulse just in case, wanting to be completely sure. He's fine, obviously, probably just blacked out because of... stress? He looked shell shocked, the word stress was far from enough. 067 stares at In-ho with an open mouth, whether from suprise or an unsaid protest, he can't tell. Gi-hun is light, all things considered, despite being taller than both of them, they carry him without too much trouble. The man was definitely malnourished, or at least severely underweight. At first In-ho assumed it was just his general physique and face shape being sharp, but no, he was actually jus boney and starved.
The two place him down in a bed, with several curious observers watching from afar. 067 stares at the unconscious man worriedly, expression unsure, like he wanted to suggest something he expected to be shot down immediately. In-ho stood beside the bed with the bloody jacket in hand. Looks like their jackets are matching now. Although the fact Gi-hun's was stained a deep dark red around one shoulder, past the chest and to halfway through the sleeve was a big step up from In-ho's, which only had a spot of blood where it was pressed into 328's leg wound. He frankly doesn't expect Gi-hun to wake up anytime soon, but 067 looks like he's ready to explain everything the second Gi-hun's eyes open.
They're silent for the most part, just lingering near the bed. There's always someone watching, curious, confused, all of the sort. Nobody seems to ask or walk up to them though. Which In-ho is glad for, to say the least. 067 is awkwardly quiet, no longer lamenting the pain of the previous game as deeply, now more focused on their passed out and probably deeply scarred teammate. How does so much of a stranger's blood even get onto you? In-ho examines the jacket curiously, cringing despite his best efforts to not react. The only conclusion is that he and who he presumed was 100 were right next to one another when the latter got shot.
A sort of unspoken pact forms between the two. They keep watch over Gi-hun while he's... Unconscious, passed out, whatever you wanna call it, everything but soundly asleep. He's eerily still, which prompts player 067 to nervously reach out two fingers towards Gi-hun's neck to check his pulse. This unfortunately happened more than once. He looks like a corpse, In-ho had to admit, but corpses usually don't have obviously visible breathing. The watching starts getting a little dull and a little more boring, no offense, about an hour or so in. The fellow players stop peeking and just treat Gi-hun as if he was taking a nap. 067 leaves to go to the bathroom once, even. In-ho eventually slides down to sit on the stairs, staring up at the ceiling. They recounted the players at this point. Forty four. Not forty five like they expected. Apparently one pair didn't finish in time and both got eliminated.
Sometime later, they start giving out food. Said food isn't anything wonderful, just a sweet potato that you'd get handed to you and you had no choice but to bite in. 067 gets his share first, then when he returns, In-ho gets up. He'd get Gi-hun his share somehow. He doubted they'd just give it to him without a little bit of convincing, but luckily he had a little list in his subconscious of things to say and point out. When 067 sits down beside the bed they're guarding like dogs, which must surely entertain the rich people up there, In-ho finally goes to the sort lines for food that have formed. There are only two people in front of him, and when it's his turn, he sees two sweet potatoes in the basket and nobody behind him. Perfect.
“Excuse me, but there is an unconscious player. I figured that I should bring his share over, since he can't get it himself? There's no waking him, I'm afraid.” In-ho explained simply, holding his share in one hand and patiently waiting for the other to be handed to him. He watches as the circle guard not so subtly looks around, as if waiting for one of the other employees to tell them what to do in this situation. No verbal response however. Were the ones with circles on their masks not allowed to speak? That must be unpleasant, to have to keep your mouth shut for days and days... A few seconds pass with the guard staring at him, and him staring back.
“Thank you.” In-ho said with sincerity as Gi-hun's share was handed to him. He dips his head as he turns around, walking back to where 067 was beside the bed containing his unconscious friend. The player was already scarfing down the potato, but unfortunately, Gi-hun was still completely idle, just laying there like a corpse. How unsettling... In-ho carefully placed the sweet potato with it's small cardboard container beside the bed, as Gi-hun would be hungry by the time he'll wake up. Hopefully that's soon though... One of his hands is in his pockets, holding the marble tightly. 067 leaned back and started going on about how that last game was bullshit and whoever made it should be shot because, "that was disgustingly coldblooded." Or something along those lines.
He had to agree. He slowly bites into his sweet potato, not saying a word. Nothing remains the same here, now his previous allies are either dead, scarfing down a sweet potato, unconscious or 089. That was an array of things to be. In-ho closed his eyes as he heard a few more annoyed words from 067, regarding specifically the people willing to shoot others. That brought up the extremely recent, very uncomfortable and deeply unsettling conversation between himself and that guard. He definitely needed to be reminded of a stranger saying that he murdered his own father, knowingly, days ago. He was so glad that if he made it out, he wouldn't ever need to talk to whoever this lunatic was under the mask.
For a moment, he glanced over to Gi-hun's unconscious self. He looked strangely peaceful compared to his stressed expression In-ho had grown used to and assumed was akin to neutral. How does someone not wake up with these bright lights in their face? Clearly, Gi-hun is sleep deprived too, not just malnourished and deeply traumatized by these games. How does someone go through so much and yet remain kind in their own way? How does someone endure so much and still trust others, still offer help knowing there's nothing in return? Such a kind person, almost too much to be here. He doesn't want to survive. He wants to save.
People don't think of others first. People never do. Deep down, everyone is selfish and sad, everyone wants to be the one to survive and win in any situation. And then there's Seong Gi-hun. A contradiction to how humanity works. A interruption, an error in the sequence everyone is growing used to. Someone who's scars don't add up with their deeds of kindness. Someone who is still somehow putting others first, no matter what it means for themselves. This second change wasn't for him, Gi-hun kept insisting over and over, this is for In-ho. What lies in the future? What could possibly be so awful, lurking in the shadows of an uncrossed bridge? He didn't know. It was enough to make Gi-hun want a change. And that told him it's not someone he'd want himself to become.
In-ho stared at Gi-hun for a few seconds more before his eyes locked onto the wall instead.
Notes:
Hi new longest chapter. And I was worried about you not being long enough at the start. Kinda late methinks but I'll excuse for it being on the anniversary ok? Ok... Speaking of...
Woah! One month anniversary of the fic and we're at over 100k words!? Awesome! I didn't write that much in a YEAR for my previous multi-chapter fanfiction! Crazy work man.
I appreciate every kudos and comment :D comments keep a writer alive as I (have never said before this) always say! Special apologies today but I'm literally fighting off sleep with my fists as I'm writing this so mistakes are bound to happen especially towards the end. If you have any questions for things to clear up? ASK THEM PLEASE.
I low-key spent like 10 hours playing a game that's older than me that I bought out of nostalgia on a whim. Luxor 3 is peak trust me bro my mother AND grandparents played this when I was little and it forever is in my mind. I'm gonna be hearing that damn doon don don doooonnn dun dun DUN in my nightmares however. FUCK onslaught levels especially. And the well of anubis or whatever it's called I hate that level that thing felt like a familial urban legend with how hard it was to beat FOR EVERYONE. Okay wow I need to shut up. Somebody stab me in the leg whenever I mention luxor 3 please
Chapter 20: Three
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Gi-hun's eyes slowly open.
The room is dark, somewhat cool, as if there was an open window, and he's buried under a blanket. For a few moments, his thoughts are blurry. Sang-woo, he'd talked to him just now. He must've been dreaming. A couple seconds must've passed in silence. It felt so eerily familiar, to be in a completely dark room, woken up from a comfortable sleep by an unfortunate nightmare. Laying in his bed before the sun rose because the face of his dead co-worker flashed in his mind, years after it had happened. Or maybe, he was sitting in front of cameras that monitored the motel he'd bought to be his hideout, having passed out during a watch.
As his eyes adjust to the near lack of light, he sees the faint golden outline of the bunk above him. Ah, of course, he wasn't home. He was trying to prevail in the games once again. Third time now, isn't it? Third time in which he's fighting for his life, but not just for his own. First it was Sang-woo, then it was Jun-hee's baby, and now... In-ho. The first time he failed to get out both of them alive. Sang-woo chose death instead of a life full of suffering. Why? Why didn't he take the chance? Maybe because Sang-woo knew there was no making it out there. Because he knew that even if he made it out alive, but without a single won, he'd be lost anyways. It was the sad truth. Gi-hun slowly sat up, blinking into the dark.
“You're awake.” In-ho's quiet observation caught his ear. Gi-hun turned around, facing the other man, who was sitting on the stairs beside the bed. Gi-hun barely remembered passing out. It felt like a seamless transition from awake to dreaming, and the last second he remembered awake was staring into the floor and panicking. Because... The feeling on his shoulder, the dry blood on his shirt and on his skin, spilled from another human being. Not his jacket, strangely enough. Must've been taken off... He grimaced faintly as he reached over to touch his shoulder, fingers twitching as he made contact with the crusted up fabric. He slowly retracted his hand. He had a lot more questions now. He remembered the demise of player 100, the game, but everything after that was a complete blur. But before he had the chance to question anything, In-ho stood up.
“You should eat, Gi-hun.” In-ho added as he pulled out a small cardboard tray, which must be containing food. Gi-hun's first thought was to refuse it. Why wouldn't he? The whole point was that he's dying anyways. A dying body shouldn't be fed. On the contrary, the previously faint feeling of dull hunger was far stronger now, twisting his stomach in all the wrong ways. His meals have been small since the first games, only enough to keep him running, but not enough to make him feel fed, not enough to truly satisfy, never enough. And that was the intention, which he knew deep down but never admitted. Does someone like him deserve it? He barely had anything to push forwards for after the first games concluded. Only the goal of ending the games and survival's guilt prevented him from one night just taking one of those guns and-
“And don't try to say anything about not needing it. I know you're trying to assist me here, but if you collapse from hunger and thirst you're not gonna help much.” In-ho stopped the train of thought, handing him said tray, which contained a sweet potato. He also got a water bottle, one of the ones his team had received after tug of war, refilled. Gi-hun obeyed, not wanting his thoughts to take him back to those unfortunate nights during which he'd wondered if his efforts are even worth it. He slowly opened the water bottle, nearly chugging it on the spot even though he didn't intend to. As embarrassed as that waste of resources made him, he didn't say a word, instead grabbing the food and taking a big bite. He didn't realise just how much his stomach hurt until now. It really did, now that he registered it. He was being selfish. It was far from okay. But In-ho had a point.
Gi-hun was silent as he ate, each bite feeling oh so wonderful with how it soothed the pain and yet stung horribly with guilt, brain saying how he probably didn't even deserve it. He had to stay strong for In-ho. Just one more day...two if there were too many finalists. He'll eat after glass bridge, since the dinner has more than enough food for everyone. That's all he's allowed to take and all he needs. The sweet potato, is, unsurprisingly, quite sweet. He ignores how In-ho watches him, not because he's uncomfortable, but because he can't focus on him right now. He's too engrossed with the food. It actually tastes like something. It doesn't make him sick like when he sometimes forced himself to swallow a chunk of something against his body's will. It actually felt like food.
“... In-ho, how long has it been...?” Gi-hun asked, unintentionally speaking with his mouth full. He realised his mistake too late, trying to cover it by turning away. So much for having a twinge of life in him. In-ho hummed quietly, thinking it through. Gi-hun's eyes landed on the bed across from him, seeing a sleeping player. 067. He knew the man had made it through but didn't know he stuck around. And now that he thought about it, he was dropped just by the entrance, wasn't he? Gi-hun must've been carried to bed. And it wasn't just one person who could've done it. Must've been In-ho and 067 who dragged him here.
“A few hours at least. Me and 067 took turns watching. Both you and the other players.” In-ho explained after a moment of thinking, looking over to the currently asleep player too. The man shifted, leaning over to the other player, with intention to wake him, but Gi-hun's hand moved before he could think, grabbing In-ho's arm before he could shake 067 awake. In-ho stopped moving for a few moments, being understandably surprised but eventually sighed as he pulled his hand back away from the sleeping player. He turned to Gi-hun again. Gi-hun was already too caught up with another thought. The next game.
“... There's... Forty five players left, right?” Gi-hun said slowly. Too many to play glass bridge with. There was something else at play here, he was sure of it. Something was wrong. Too may players had made it this far. How would they make glass bridge playable with so many people? Even if they cut the amount of survivors in half it'd still be too many. So what would happen then? Was his nightmare actually a warning by some outside force, saying that he'll have to rush in for both his and In-ho's numbers before they get picked by somebody else? Not that he believed in foresight, or whatever 044 from the second games kept blabbering about at times. She was uncomfortably right about things sometimes.
“Forty four, actually. Seems like one pair didn't finish playing on time.” In-ho informed. 45, 44, tomato, tomato, it didn't change the fact that that was a major surplus of people. The way his nightmare handled it made the most sense. But... Hold on. The fight seemed to always happen, without the influence of voting, but because of food, after the second game. The two games after clearly cut the player count in half... There was a controlled number of people who would make it through. They could've kept the fight going, killed off more players, but they didn't. They wanted all of them to make it through... That made no sense. It was too many people for glass bridge.
“That's a lot of people.” Gi-hun said hesitantly, looking down at the now empty cardboard tray in his lap. The guilt bit at him. He should've left it for In-ho. But it was too late to whine about that now, with the potato down his gullet. In-ho said something quiet in return, too quiet to catch. Gi-hun could've sworn he heard the words "very few people" but he might've imagined it, anyways. It wasn't few people. Seventeen were left the first time they played. Sixteen in the morning, thanks to 069's suicide during the night. This is over twice as many people. Unless they'd stretch the bridge to twice the length or more, this would be a major problem. But it was intentional, wasn't it? They couldn't expect half the people to die during the night, could they? He only now realised how In-ho was staring at him
“...you have something on your neck...there.” In-ho pointed to his own neck, which Gi-hun blinked at. He didn't remember eating that messily. He reached over to the area on his own neck, but the second he touched what he assumed was food, he cringed. That scab. That failure. That horrible feeling of hopelessness as he had blood on his hands. In-ho must've caught onto his expression, given that his expression became less amused and more curious and intrigued. Gi-hun tried his best to discreetly tilt his head down to conceal the small wound, but it do much, considering that it had already been seen.
“Just a scratch. Happened in the games. Don't worry about it.” Gi-hun said quietly. It's not like it was a lie. It was only a small cut, only going a little below the skin, only stinging faintly when it had happened. It didn't go deep enough. And it did happen in the games, just not in the way In-ho would guess. In a cruel twist of fate the guards shot the knife out of his hand before he could finish the job. Were they specifically tasked to do that by In-ho, wearing that haunting mask? Just to toy with him a little longer? Or was it always a rule that there was no suicide to be tolerated during a round? No, the round had ended, it made no sense to carry the rules on after it had concluded. The front man must've specifically requested it. To torture him, to laugh in his face about the failure of even taking his own life.
“...ah. Lucky it's not too deep, that's a pretty bad place to get wounded.” In-ho said quietly, not doubting the explanation one bit. Was he that naive, to believe that such a vulnerable part of the body was only nicked by an attack? Or did he trust Gi-hun's words blindly, even if he had his own thoughts that he'd dismiss? Both choices were unfortunate. Gi-hun's index finger pressed down on the scab slightly, cringing, not because of the pain, but because of the thoughts connected to it. Why did this wound remain? He didn't feel the pain of all the other places where he had been stabbed, punched, sliced, and who knows what else, not even the nick of the bullet on his side... And yet this remained. The reminder of him killing in blind rage, the reminder that the front man wanted him alive, it stayed even through a distortion in time.
“Hm.” Gi-hun agreed with a faint hum.
“...I don't know how to bring it up, but who's Sang-woo?” In-ho said quietly after a few minutes in silence, tapping his knee with his fingers. Gi-hun almost shrieked if it wasn't for the fact he was too tired to. What? How did he, why did he- suddenly the amount of questions Gi-hun had went from like one to one hundred. In-ho must've realised his reaction when he coughed faintly, trying to cover up the awkwardness, looking away for a few moments. Gi-hun just stared. What the hell does he respond with to this? How does he explain? Or does he ask first? No, definitely the latter, he needed to understand how this could've possibly been figured out.
“Before you ask, you... You were talking in your sleep. You mumbled something and then said that name.” In-ho added quietly, looking away. Okay. That explains how. Not the first time someone pointed out he talks in his sleep. Jung-bae revealed that the reason he didn't give up during the strike was because he heard Gi-hun whining about being hungry in his sleep, which, by the way, was extremely embarrassing to find out about. He didn't wanna know how many times he said something in his sleep and never knew what. How many of those nights sleeping in that damn chair, waiting for someone who was hiding to show up, had he revealed something stupid to the cold air?
“...he...he was a friend of mine.” Gi-hun finally found his words, looking down at his hands. That face, bloodied, already half dead, a flicker of hope and then a flash of understanding, a decision made without being said. He killed himself so Gi-hun could survive and make it out with all the money. He refused an outstretched hand, he refused life, because in the end, that life was worse than death itself. He hated how scars gleamed faintly in the light, because it made the one on his hand all the more obvious. It was curious how it never damaged his hand's motor function one bit, and yet it went all the way through. Luck, wasn't it? In-ho was silent, listening. He didn't want to talk about Sang-woo. It felt painful to even say, to even thinkhis name. But he had to. Deep down he knew he couldn't keep this away.
“We were friends since we were kids. We lived next to eachother, played games with another, went to school together... At some point our paths diverged. We didn't see eachother anymore, maybe we exchanged messages once a few months... And then he was in the games. He was in the games with me, the first time I played...” Gi-hun's words died in his throat. Nobody was forcing him to say any of this, he wasn't held at gunpoint, but the story had to be shared. Maybe In-ho would care enough to help Sang-woo out of the debts he didn't yet have. Or maybe he did. Who knows, maybe it's been piling up for more than a few years.
“...He sacrificed himself so I could win. He stabbed himself in the neck just so I could make it out. And... And I held his body, I didn't... Want to believe that...” Gi-hun's hands were bloodstained. Not literally, In-ho and 067 must've cleaned them off, but figuratively. Soaked with his best friend's blood as he held him close, sobbing. Tears stung in his eyes again. Damnit, why was he crying again? The loss hurt, the memory of it hit hard, but it shouldn't be enough to cry over. He wiped at his face with his sleeve, or, as he realised only a second later, lack thereof. Right, his jacket was... Where was it? Not that he wanted it back. There wasn't much he could do with it, since it was soaked through and through with blood.
In-ho didn't reply. Gi-hun didn't expect a reply anyways, this wasn't something that had an appropriate response. To say sorry barely meant anything here, it was gone and it was far too painful than to be filled by a simple apology. Instead In-ho stood up and put an arm on Gi-hun's shoulder, a silent suggestion of comfort, but still awkward due to the unfamiliarity from In-ho's side. Gi-hun barely hid how he leaned into the touch just a little, trying to savour the feeling, the feeling of care, just for a moment. The silence stretched on for a few more seconds, allowing Gi-hun to calm down, or at least try to. Eugh, why was there so much snot under his nose all of a sudden? Yet another symptom of that damned cold that seemed to show up every few seconds. He didn't have anything to wipe it off with either. Ugh.
“... I couldn't imagine going through that, Gi-hun. it'd... It'd be like losing my brother. You mentioned Jun-ho once, if I remember.” In-ho said quietly after a moment, stepping away and pulling his hand away, much to Gi-hun's disappointment.
“...oh, yeah. I know Jun-ho. From the future. We've talked a couple of times.” A couple of times was an understatement. They collaborated on finding the island between the salesman's death and Gi-hun's entrance into the second games. It was short, but it allowed Gi-hun to get some insight. About the VIPs, about the guards, some things about the front man... Did he know that the same man Gi-hun was trying to kill was also his beloved lost brother? Gi-hun doubted it. Jun-ho would've said so, wouldn't he? He wouldn't keep something like that away from him, besides, he mentioned that he didn't even see the masked man's face. It Jun-ho had known, he'd be a liar... And... He wasn't a liar. He was the biggest help possible in this mess.
“...I almost lost him once.” In-ho admitted quietly. His eyes faced the ground now as he stood on the staircase, a faint pain flashing through his expression. Gi-hun didn't dare interrupt. First it was his turn to reminisce of someone long gone, now it was time for In-ho to have his turn of thinking back to the old, tough times. He watched as In-ho sat back down on the stairs, brushing hair away from his forehead. Gi-hun desperately ignored how different his hair looked to how he was used to it. If the situation was different and he was allowed to, he wouldn't hesitate to run his hand through it... But he'd keep his hands to himself.
“...I gave him my kidney. We have matching scars, hah...” In-ho mumbled, a small, not too happy smile on his face. Unzips the jacket and pulls up his shirt on one side. Even with the low light level, Gi-hun can see the scar from where his kidney must've been taken. Although the scar is far from the only thing he's looking at. He hopes the lack of light concealed how his eyes lingered on the man's skin for a second too long. And how disappointed he looked when the shirt was pulled back in it's place. Embarrassing thoughts, really, especially about a married man, which made him guilty on top of that. He cleared his throat, both because of the awkward feelings, and because of the cold he was sure he had.
“That's... Thoughtful...” Gi-hun mumbled, looking off into the darkness. Somewhere in the darkness, a player sneezed. Had his cold spread somehow? He hoped not. That'd be unfortunate, but it also begs the question, what would happen if there was a major illness spreading amongst the players. Would the VIPs find it enjoyable, as extra spice to the games, or would it be stopped before it spread too far in order to keep the games as intended? In-ho hummed something in response, but it was way too quiet to hear. Gi-hun hoped it wasn't anything important.
“...Do you know any guards from the outside? What are they like? Are they coldblooded killers or...?” In-ho left the words unfinished, but Gi-hun assumed it was something along the lines of "are they good people, deep down?" And honestly, it was a good question. He didn't know any guards. Well, not counting Jun-ho, who was, technically, undercover and not an actual employee. And the salesman. But was he really a guard? He said he had to clamber up the supposed hierarchy of the guards until he got such a high position, which allowed him to play games and slap people all day long. Gi-hun pondered what to reply with.
“...no, not really. Why are you asking?” Gi-hun figured it was the safest thing to say.
“...a guard came up to me after the game ended... He first shot 172 after she... She lost in marbles. Then he told me to get going, and then he had the audacity to brag about how he killed his own father by shooting him when he failed at marbles. I... I didn't even know what to say. I was hoping that the people under the masks and suits are, well, people, but that completely shattered my worldview.” In-ho admitted quietly, but Gi-hun was barely listening to that last part. Shot his own father? Either these guards kept shooting their own parents or that guard was the recruiter, alias the salesman, himself. Which, by the way, would be the most insane coincidence Gi-hun had the misfortune of hearing.
“...oh...what a... Psychopath.” Gi-hun mumbled quietly. He wasn't sure if bragging was what the salesman was trying to do when he said he shot his own father whilst they were playing russian roulette. Gi-hun would guess it was more like him trying to prove that he plays by the rules no matter how much it hurts. In the end that's what he did, wasn't it? He shot himself in the head instead of killing Gi-hun, because that's what the rules said he had to do. Even if he was an insane lunatic who killed his own father, he played by the rules and didn't trick him. But it did sound like him, in a way? Maybe not exactly, but who knows, time changes people, for the better or worse.
“Exactly... He even said how he shot him right between the eyes... That's just... That's just wrong!” In-ho's voice raised slightly. Gi-hun cringed, not from the noise, but from the words said. Isn't that exactly what the salesman said he did? Shot his father right between the eyes? Those words, letter for letter? That couldn't have been a coincidence, this was exactly it. The salesman was right here, right now, shooting people instead of slapping them. Ironic. When would he get his promotion to the position of the recruiter, huh? Had to be by the point Gi-hun would've first joined the games... And he didn't look like he was a newbie either, he must've been doing it for more than just a year. Gi-hun tried to pretend to sound disgusted and disapproving, but deep down, all he could think about is that bastards corpse slumped in a chair, blood on his motel's wall.
“...I'm glad I'll never have to see that person ever again when I get out of here.” In-ho said, a faint smile forming, almost ironically. A small joy in this time of pain, isn't it? Gi-hun knew for a fact that they must've worked together, side by side in the original timeline. But he'd change that. He'd make sure In-ho wouldn't have to work with that crazy man. He'd never have to think back to these games again. Gi-hun had to make sure of it, that's why he was here since the beginning, anyways. He watched as In-ho sighed slightly, leaning back against the stairs, staring up at the ceiling. Gi-hun's gaze followed his, facing that taunting gold light. Just as he opened his mouth to say something in agreement, a promise, perhaps, he instead nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard someone approach.
“456, you're awake! That's great! 132, why didn't you wake me up right away?” 067 was sitting up again, and within seconds, he was sitting on the stairs beside them. Gi-hun internally waved goodbye to a private conversation, figuring that they won't have a moment of privacy to talk about important things anymore. He didn't feel angry towards the other player, however, seeing as in the end, there wasn't anything else to talk about. He nodded in greeting, cracking a slight smile when he saw In-ho shushing the other player with a gesture before his words woke anyone up. 067 sheepishly chuckled.
“He woke up a few minutes ago, and you were still sleeping. I figured you needed the rest.” In-ho informed simply, expression strangely neutral compared to the array of emotions it showed during his conversation with Gi-hun. Even stranger so, Gi-hun felt happy at that, felt special in a weird way that made a faint flicker of warmth bloom in his chest. He got to see more emotion from In-ho than 067 could, and that felt right. How stupid it was to feel like this. To feel so much, knowing it can never be. That it was never meant to be, not in the future, not now, not anytime else. He knew what that warmth in his chest was. He knew his heart would stop beating before the words would he said. And that was right.
“456, are you doing alright? I was worried that you'd be cold cause of the blood on the clothes. I was gonna suggest that we take off the shirt and-” 067's words are gone by the time the player's eyes meet In-ho's glare which was a clear warning not to stray into that territory. Wow. Gi-hun looked away, not even knowing what the hell to feel anymore. It was embarrassing, first and foremost, but... No, no he couldn't entertain that thought. Right now there were bigger fish to fry than the idea of being shirtless for In-ho to see. He heard 067's awkward, apologetic chuckle, and In-ho's annoyed huff. Gi-hun gave a small snort, trying to make it sound more annoyed and embarrassed than amused, which it really was.
“I'm... I'm alright.” Gi-hun said quietly. He hasn't felt like this for a long time. Genuinely happy, for more than just a few seconds, smiling for longer than a moment. For a moment, the thought of the death that was slowly closing in felt distant, like it was only one of many possibilities that could be the path life takes. It was unavoidable, of course, but even so, he allowed himself to bask in the warmth of the moment. In-ho's presence, primarily. Although player 067's general demeanor did a lot to make the moment feel light as well. The only thing that could beat it was In-ho's arms around him. When that hug, or the imitation of one, was shared last time? It was probably the best thing that had happened to him in the past few years. Oh dear, he really felt things, didn't he?
“Well I'm glad you do, man! Wouldn't want our leader feeling down, wouldn't we?” 067 grinned.
“Right.” Gi-hun hummed, sighing faintly, nodding to player 067. He was no leader. Far from it, in truth, he was not a leader. He was always pushed into that position. The group in his first games didn't have a clear leader, just following whoever had the smartest ideas and the best tactics. In the second games, he was only a leader because of his prior experiences. And even then, that only lasted until the rebellion, because after it, there were no more people to lead. The alliance was shattered. He walked alone, only helping Jun-hee, or, more accurately, her baby, because he felt like it was the least he could do. He always ended up alone. Even here he'd end up alone. Whether 067 would make it across the bridge or not, it barely mattered. In-ho would win and Gi-hun would lay forgotten.
“... 067, I just realised, I never asked. What would you do with the money if you won?” In-ho asked out of nowhere, which reminded Gi-hun that that was the only living player on their team who's final goal he was still unfamiliar with. He never found out the intentions of 328 and 172, and now it was too late to understand. He'd die not knowing why they were here, what led them all the way to this hellhole. Maybe that was okay. Maybe it was easier to die blissfully ignorant to the perils they'd endured. 067's awkward chuckle broke the silence.
“Ah... Well, I'd pay off my debts, first and foremost. But then? I don't know. I... I think if I had this much money, I'd slip back into gambling again. And I don't want that! I don't wanna bet on red or black ever again! Id probably give a chunk of the money to my sister, some to my mother, and... The rest to charity, maybe? Sounds like a good thing to do, right?” 067 said with a small smile, looking away as if he was embarrassed. Slip back into gambling... Betting had never crossed Gi-hun's mind, not once, after he had won in the first games. Maybe it was the scarring that made him cut off the addiction so easily. The trauma of the games changed people. You wouldn't be addicted to something so normal. You'd wake up in cold sweat, thinking you're going through the hell again.
You'd flinch at a loud noise, thinking someone was getting shot. You'd hear the announcement of the next stop on the subway and you'd freeze because it sounded so eerily familiar to that voice, announcing deaths as if it were nothing and explaining what would kill you. You'd look at the clock, and see your number, or the number of someone you've grown to care about in the games, and it wouldn't leave your mind for days on end. The glimpse of a simple sugary treat would send you into a panic. The memory of childhood would be stained forever by the horrors you had to endure so much later on. You'd look at your winning and feel sick, knowing people died for your greedy hands to feel paper bills underneath.
“Charity, hm? That's a great idea.” In-ho agreed with a curt nod, looking over to Gi-hun to see his reaction. Gi-hun lifted up his head quickly, trying to look like he was listening and not pondering just how much the games ruined you. The image, conjured up in a nightmare, flashed through his mind, a masked man cloaked in black holding up two severed heads by the hair roughly. Only a nightmare, but it felt so real at the time. Gi-hun felt a twinge of sickness in his stomach, not enough to make him feel like throwing up, but it was far from pleasant. He didn't even realise his reaction was obvious enough for both 067 and In-ho to stare at him, waiting for an explanation.
Gi-hun swallowed nervously, jaw clenched. He tried to push the image out of his head, but all he achieved was for it to be replaced with something worse, something more real. Jung-bae's terrified expression moments before he got shot in the chest. Moments before the bullet pierced his heart. Hands above his head, eyes struck wide open with realisation that they had failed. In that moment Gi-hun wished they'd killed him. In that moment, he didn't understand why he was alive. He wanted to be dead. But he wasn't. And when he lashed out, wanting nothing more than a matching puncture through his head, all he got were handcuffs, mocking from the O voters and pitiful looks from the X voters who he didn't speak to personally. How horrible it felt, to be laughed at when he failed to end it...
“...ah, sorry. Just a bad memory.” Gi-hun explained, looking away. Not that it narrowed it down, at all. Everything since the first games have been one bad memory after another. The terror of tripping in red light green light, the despair of seeing his cookie's near impossible shape, the entirety of tug of war and marbles, the stare of the man who had picked the vest with the number 1 for the glass bridge, cutting right into the soul, staring at him as if he hadn't begged to take the first number and left Gi-hun with the last. The fight with Sang-woo after he had put Sae-byeok out of her misery. The fight with Sang-woo that ended with a knife in the throat of his best friend without his hands being the cause. The years of searching for the games that followed were no better.
The first six months were simple despair. Waiting for death to come to him first, waiting for something to kill him because he felt like Sang-woo's sacrifice was preventing him from doing it himself. His mother's dead body on the floor of their home, years spent trying to fulfill Sae-byeok's wish of reuniting her little brother with their mothers, and he didn't even know if he ever succeeded. The final game he played against Oh Il-nam and the only one he'd truly won, the first and last time he bet on a human life. Standing in the hallway that would lead him to the plane, that'd lead him to peace, only to hear that voice and turn around, choosing to swim downwards instead of struggling to get above the water. Cutting the skin behind his ear, pulling out that wretched tracker. And since then on, it never got better. It just fluctuated between bad and worse.
“You should've gotten on that plane.”
“...ah, i get it. You've been through this once before, right? Must've been awful. I can't imagine going through this twice. But trying to stop the games, that's crazy noble! Did you donate the money you won to charity, or did you spend it all? Sorry, just curious, haha...” 067 realised how eager he sounded to know, chuckling it off, but his expression never faltered. In-ho glanced at him curiously too, seeming interested in knowing as well. Gi-hun cleared his throat, feeling the uncomfortable mucus there. And he still didn't know why he had a cold. At times it was ignorable, but then it suddenly wasn't.
“I paid off my debts and I helped a couple of people with it. The rest is... Waiting for it's use.” Gi-hun admitted quietly. No point in pretending, this was essentially what he had done with the money prior to deciding to dedicate the life he had left in him to stopping those games. Unfortunate, how it ended in failure. He didn't stop the games. He only saved a singular person. And he'd do it again in two days. It was like fate was laughing in his face again and again, forcing him to repeat, grief and self sacrifice in a vicious cycle, biting at him like a rabid animal. Every elimination stung. But it'd stop soon. Second chances, not third chances, not fourth. He wouldn't be forced into this again. What was that movie, and the trope named after it again?
“...so you just have a ton of money sitting around? Sounds like a waste if you ask me... No judgement though. What sort of debts did you have?” 067 asked curiously, not letting In-ho get a word in. And In-ho clearly had something to ask, which made Gi-hun just a little ticked off. He wanted to tell 067 to slow down for a moment, to let others talk too, but he didn't say a word. In-ho already knew the truth, and he didn't seem to judge one bit. And 067 couldn't judge either, because gambling is the reason he's here himself. No reason to lie, no reason to keep things concealed. It'd bring nothing to him.
“... gambling. A failed business. Two, actually. My mother was also sick, which added to the things I needed to pay.” Gi-hun said, not letting anything slip into his expression. 067 seemed surprised, glancing over at In-ho as if looking for confirmation that this was indeed a stunning revelation. In-ho, upon seeing that reaction, faked suprise. Although going as far as to make an o shape with his mouth and give a little gasp might've been too much and too out of character, at least to Gi-hun. 067 seemed perfectly convinced however, glancing between Gi-hun and In-ho. Okay, this is getting ridiculous, just say something.
“What'd you bet on? Let me guess, you played poker... No, wait, slots?” 067 guessed.
“Horses.” Gi-hun said softly, looking away. Betting on horses. Wasn't that what started this all? Not his life falling apart, but it was what began this second chance. It was a topic, such an important one. The day he was recruited as a player, he bet on horses. Tied up in the back of a limousine, he received the speech about players being like horses, only to be bet on, by the front man. And to him, too, horses were nothing more than something to bet on, he'd almost forgotten they're real animals that exist, not just numbers and riders that he could place money on. For a few more seconds the silence continued. Then In-ho opened his mouth.
“...you mentioned that those people above bet on us, no? In a way, we're like horses, aren't we?” In-ho joked.
“... we are not horses!” Gi-hun's voice raised against his will. Was this what In-ho truly believed, even before he was the front man? His near-shout clearly startled both 067 and In-ho, the former of who blinked in shock, while In-ho tensed up slightly. Gi-hun stared at him for a moment. Humans weren't horses. They weren't just numbers to be bet on... His chest feels tight. The back of his head stings. He touches there, where it would've been smashed open by the impact against the ground. There's no blood, no wound, no crack, he wasn't sure why felt like he had to check. He was alive, wasn't he? That fall wasn't something he could survive. His somehow alive body was dragged into the past.
“...I... Nevermind. We should rest.” Gi-hun mumbled, looking away. He didn't understand why he snapped. No, that was a lie, he knew why he snapped, and it was reasonable. He just didn't expect to yell so loud and scare both In-ho and 067. Seems like neither of them were interested in going to bed unfortunately, seeing as both of them stayed put without a word said. Gi-hun glanced away, looking into the dark. He broke into a small cough, trying to push it down, not to much avail. The only sad thing about dying soon was the fact he'd die without finding out why he had a cold. What month was it anyways?
“Where'd you even get a cold in August?” 067 asked slowly, looking concerned.
There's his answer. Gi-hun coughed again, swallowing down the uncomfortable feeling in his throat and sighing. The second a hand that he knew for sure wasn't In-ho's landed on his shoulder he tried to shrug it off, and when it didn't work, he moved away from 067, accidentally, or maybe not so much, leaning towards In-ho instead. Nobody said anything about it, thankfully... And Gi-hun didn't allow himself to think about it. He almost broke into a second coughing fit but luckily he managed to bite it down, hissing quietly. He definitely didn't wanna wake up half the remaining players with his stupid coughing and the possible sneezes.
“Is it possible you were outside during the night? Maybe it rained during the night and you happened to be sleeping in a puddle?” In-ho's question is more of a joke, but Gi-hun genuinely considers it. he just appeared in the games, and if he was to presume he had the clothes he died with, then he'd be wearing the games' suit. That wasn't what he was woken up with. He must've been somewhere, likely unconscious, prior to that. Why the guards could've possibly taken him? He had no idea. Maybe... Maybe Il-nam was somehow aware of his existence and what significance it had to the games? No, that wasn't possible, it was a terrifying thought. He couldn't help but shiver, genuinely shiver, from sheer horror. He responded to In-ho's joke way more seriously than he should've.
“I already said I don't remember anything prior to waking up here, you remember that, right?” Gi-hun pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't understand why In-ho looked at him with shock. He said that before, didn't he? Yeah, he definitely did. Why did he look so flabbergasted then? Like Gi-hun said something he shouldn't have? And the sudden glance to the side- oh. Gi-hun had forgotten that 067 was right there. Right beside them, hearing every word said. That's. That's great. Now he's gonna have to explain... Or, maybe, In-ho would explain for him? He shot the other man a desperate look, hoping the message comes across. In-ho looks even more unsure of what to say than Gi-hun himself. So before 067 could question it, he said the first thing that came to mind.
“Remember how I said we met? Well, a few days after we ate that ramen together, we were out together again, and I got stupid drunk, and I passed out outside!” Gi-hun said. That was right, right? He said he got food with In-ho to someone, so that's the lie he was currently keeping up. Weird that 067 looked skeptical though, infact, maybe even less convinced than before. Why though? His lie didn't have any holes in it, it was perfect! He took a glance at In-ho, trying to see what he could've said wrong. Uh oh, In-ho looked at him like he said something nonsensical. Why? Why the hell were they both staring at him like that-
“Didn't you say you met at a bar and had drinks?” 067 said slowly, looking between In-ho and Gi-hun. Did he say that? Because if so, then he messed up badly. Shit, how does he get out of this. In-ho not-so-subtly slowly shakes his head, trying to stop him from digging himself deeper in the hole than he already was. Gi-hun was sure he could fix it, though! All he had to say was a few right words and he'd be fine... He tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that was flooding his mind as he cleared his throat, not to cough this time, just to get a word in. 067's faced him skeptically.
“Drinks, food, same thing, right?” Gi-hun said, trying to force a smile, but it felt somewhat unnatural on his lips.
Before any of the three could speak, an empty cardboard tray hit 067 on the head, quite roughly, although not causing much pain with it just being cardboard, flung from above by a stranger. 067 yelped quietly, staring up at the singular bunk above them with wide eyes. Offense taken, already. In-ho looked relieved at the conversation being cut short, at least a little bit, and Gi-hun coughed again, despite his best efforts to force it down. In-ho seemed braced for a fight, body tense. Gi-hun wasn't certain why he noticed... Not really. He knew why.
“Can you three shut up? Some of us are actually trying to sleep!” The player on top of the bunk, who was most likely the same person who threw that cardboard tray down onto 067's head, hissed at them. Somewhere in the darkness, but relatively nearby, a quiet “I second that” could be heard. He heard 067 mumble something under his breath, sounding annoyed by the attack. In-ho sighed quietly, relaxing immediately upon seeing that it's just someone annoyed with their probably too loud conversation. Gi-hun closed his eyes for a few seconds, feeling glad that that mess of a conversation was over. It was about time. Things were getting too close to being revealed...
“Sorry.” 067 called out quietly. In-ho said something like that too, although quieter, not even looking up again. Gi-hun just nodded quietly trying to signal his apologies without having to cause anymore commotion. Whoever that was above them seemed satisfied with the answer, a quiet huff coming from the general direction, followed by shifting of a blanket. The bunk wasn't too high, but he wondered if anyone ever died on the higher ones at the start. What if someone just rolled off in their sleep and fell to their death? What it someone did that before the first game even started? Did that ever happen? Was someone unlucky enough to be the victim of that?
At least the little conflict was enough to get them to get to bed. 067 was convinced they needed to keep watch, despite Gi-hun's best efforts of saying that it was okay by now, that all the problematic players were either eliminated or too shaken and tired to attack. In-ho was sent to sleep first, because he, apparently, 'held watch over Gi-hun the longest' which, if it was true, that was... Nice. But Gi-hun had his reasons to believe that 067 just wanted to confront him about earlier. And he ended up being right. Whenever the watch got to quiet 067 would open his mouth to start questioning. He didn't get a thing out of Gi-hun though. At most the confirmation that he did not have any sort of short term memory loss.
The watch was uneventful after 067 gave up on forcing the answer out of Gi-hun though. Besides 067's admission that he sort of regretted kicking 089 off their team, because apparently, murder doesn't make people bad in his eyes, because supposedly, he must've had his reasons. He also added that if the next game needs teams of four or five, they could take 089 and he wouldn't say a word. Gi-hun didn't have the heart to shoot his hopes down by saying the next game had no teams, so he just ended up agreeing to that quietly. 067 didn't need to know all that Gi-hun knew about 089...
They also had a short conversation about gambling. Mostly just 067 repeatedly asking how Gi-hun could just move past it without actively trying to. He didn't take trauma from the games and despair as a response, however, repeating that addiction isn't that easy to just leave behind. Eventually even that discussion quickly died down, leaving them in silence. Apparently Gi-hun had fallen asleep down the line, having to be shaken awake by 067 who then instructed him to go to bed and wake up In-ho. Gi-hun tried resisting for a few minutes, but the other player was pretty damn good at convincing him to get going. So he did.
“In-ho.” Gi-hun's hand slowly landed on In-ho's shoulder, but the touch was too gentle for what it was supposed to mean. A wake up for duty, not whatever the gentleness suggested. It was automatic, not something he intended to do, and yet, he couldn't force himself to shake him awake. And besides, it didn't look like he needed to shake him anyway... In-ho's eyes snapping open did scare him just a little, making his free hand jerk back just a little bit. In-ho slowly sat up, blinking his eyes open properly. Gi-hun waited patiently, not wanting to rush either way. He just stood there now, beside the support beam, occasionally glancing over to 067 who was also waiting on the stairs. Gi-hun bit down a yawn.
“...I wasn't sleeping anyway.” In-ho mumbled standing up.
“Doubt it.” Gi-hun said with unintentional softness.
In-ho went to the staircase to sit beside 067, to stay guard, to keep an eye on the players who Gi-hun knew for sure wouldn't try anything. But so what, maybe 067's gut feeling was right all along, and they should keep watch. These weren't the same people he'd played against the last two times. They thought differently... But at least the games were the same, and there were no surprises waiting behind familiar doors. Maybe there'd be changes made to the fifth game to account for more players, but besides that, it'd be something he was familiar with. That was good enough.
Gi-hun laid down in the bed he'd picked for himself. He ignored the crustiness of his shirt around the shoulder and the lack of the jacket. They probably threw it away somewhere, which was good enough... It was unusable, drenched in blood, anyways. But it did mean it was a bit colder, which made him pull the blanket up a little higher. Would it kill them to make this room a little warmer? Surely they had control of the temperature too, and they could very well make it feel less like January. Maybe the VIPs wanted to watch the unfortunate players who are less used to the cold suffer. He'd guess they would. Sadistic, heartless bastards...
Gi-hun's eyes slowly close.
Notes:
Yes it's a bit shorter this time bleh whatever im proud of this actually!!! I roleplayed all of yesterday and didn't have time to write lol. AND I touched grass. Shocking. Fanfiction writer goes outside!? Impossible...
Today's game that's older than me that I'd like to mention is Aquaball from 2006. Chefs kiss. I dug up an old cd of it that we had (ALSO older than me, but NOT from 2006 lmao) but unfortunately it was corrupted so I just pirated it off some random site ngl. Shrugs. It's a fun game. I was terrified of the skull from it as a kid. I had to sleep with a light until I was like 10. And then I survived off of audiobooks since I was forbidden from keeping the lights on. Fun! Or no not really. I'm lying. It wasn't fun.
Second topic of my notes today is the song Breezeblocks by ALT-J. I found out about it from an Inhun animatic!! Woah. Insanely peak song I need it pumped into my veins.
Thank you for every kudos and comment augghh. I love to hear your theories whether they're close to the truth or not. Especially with the looming threat of the fifth game I need to hear what you guys think about it. Hint hint nudge nudge Season 1 Episode "VIPS" holds the answer! :)
Chapter 21: Glass bridge
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A pillar, spanning high up into the air, built from concrete, painted a soft, yet dull pink, with chips and imperfections. He was already standing at the edge, facing away from where the platform ended and avoiding the sight of the only other living being, curled into jackets. Words slip out of his mouth, inaudible to his own ears. He's stood here once before. But he won't stand here again. It was a dream, a mere nightmare. He'd wake up soon. There's the stinging pain, cuts and bruised painting his skin, reminding him of the scuffle that had happened on the previous pillars. But those aren't important, not anymore. He dies in the next moment, so his injuries do not matter.
He slowly slips off the pillar. But unlike the real memory, time doesn't slow down, doesn't allow him to ponder what humans really are. It only takes a second, maybe two, and he hears his own neck snap, his own head split open, bones cracking in ways they weren't intended to. He was dead then, Gi-hun knew that, but this strange dream allowed him to remained conscious. Nothing changes. He was trapped in silence, seeing only a blur of gray and white, with the lights on the ceiling and the walls being his only company. He can't blink, can't take a breathe, because by then, his body was already dead.
Someone walks to him. A figure. It's In-ho. He's more than sure that he's still dreaming, that the memory was no longer a memory, but a continuation of it that his head conjured up. In-ho, cloaked in black, holding the winner gently, but strangely enough, his face wasn't hidden with the geometrical mask. For a few moments, the man stands there, even though Gi-hun is already dead. His mind is making things up to comfort him. That Jun-hee's baby did make it out alive and unscathed because she won. In-ho's eyes linger on his corpse longer than he needs to. Searching, hoping, for a movement, for a miracle. None comes.
He slowly moves away, walking off. Gi-hun still faced the ceiling. Strange, that that's what his mind landed on. A wish, praying for something impossible, hoping that Gi-hun breathes faintly, as if that fall wasn't guaranteed to kill him. If it was something he could've survived, then others who fell earlier must've had chances too. But they didn't. The game was designed to kill without looking at it's victims, not caring who they were or if they were supposed to die. It was chance, it was luck, but not about a miracle survival of falling such a height and not being dead on impact. He starts counting the seconds, and later, the minutes. Must've been fifteen minutes since In-ho had departed. Why was he in such a rush? They had what the baby needed to be taken care of.
The silence stretched on. Seconds blur together, and he loses count. By now, someone should've come to clean his body. To throw him into a casket, shaped like a gift, a mockery to the horror he'd endured. Nobody comes. The room, and maybe, the entire complex is more silent than it's supposed to. The gray seems unchanging, his body wasn't something he could feel anymore. He was no longer there, he was nor the body on the floor, nor a spirit looming above it. He was merely an observer, seeing through dead eyes, dreaming up a continuation of something he'd never know the ending of. The final part of a story written by a soldier on the front line, stained with blood spilling from his heart and unreadable. Forever unfinished, lost to death's hands.
Something golden, or, maybe, orange, bloomed above. Like how a sunrise melts away the fog with it's warm rays. And yet, his body remained. Nobody had cleaned it up, nobody had thrown it in a box and into an incinerator, nobody dug around his innards for a good organ that could be of use. He was left laying there, without as much as a word. It was about time he should wake up from the dream, but his real, alive body wouldn't budge. All he could do was stare upwards to the warmth seeping closer. It wasn't embers, it wasn't gentle flames that flickered with a breath, it was a harsh flash of light, like recordings of the atomic bombs seen up close. If only. If only the island would end like that. But he knew it was only a dream. A merciful dream.
“456, sir?” Hands shake him by the shoulders, not roughly, not gently, just with purpose. Gi-hun's eyes open to reality, to the still-dark dormitory, to player 067 standing above, hands pulling back from him. The other man takes a step back, giving Gi-hun his space. The watch, yes, he knew. He just didn't expect another switch between who sleeps and who stays awake to be needed. He slowly sat up, grabbing at his shirt sleeve and pulling it slightly, as if it fixed the dried blood all over it. Then he slowly stood up, not dazed by sleep, not needing to blink away the memory of rest. Gi-hun watched as played 067 gestures go the stairs above, to where In-ho must still be sitting on watch.
Without words, Gi-hun moves past the other player, heading over to where In-ho is sitting. His eyes seem blank, facing the darkness without any readable thoughts. He looks tired. Anyone would be, due to the games themselves and the watches they were currently holding, nobody could blame him for it. 067 doesn't say a word, but Gi-hun can hear him stepping away and getting into bed himself. Keeping watch with only three people was harder than one would imagine, compared to four people. Only one was sleeping at a time, save for the small windows of time someone would doze off during watch. As Gi-hun sits down beside In-ho, the other man merely acknowledged him with a nod.
His feelings were so conflicted, so painful, all the wrong and yet all the right things. Anger, faint hints of resentment, to the man whose face his biggest enemy wore. Sadness, guilt, for all that he's gone through that Gi-hun wouldn't have ever known, sadness because of what is happening now and what'll happen in the future. And of course, the unexplainable pull, something bordering on affection, a care too deep than what he should ever feel towards someone like Hwang In-ho. Glances given and glanced received, now in the past, or then in the future. There was pity, too, knowing what would happen, knowing that his wife was most definitely dead no matter what would be done.
What did he even feel? Did something like this have a name? It was too complicated to be labeled so simply, to be called care was neglecting the dislike he still felt flicker between his thoughts once in a while. To call it friendship was ignoring the strong, otherworldly pull, which felt like it tethered him to the other man. Saying it's too complicated painted it as apathetic from his part, when it was everything but that. Gi-hun had so many things he wanted to say, all of which were wrong, not just at the moment, but at every single second. They weren't truly for In-ho, no, they were for the front man.
I hope you never become the front man, I hope you save yourself from the things fate has laid out for you. Please don't let this place ruin you. But those words would only reveal the real nature of In-ho. Would In-ho trust him, or would he realise that something else had happened? Would In-ho trust himself to stay a good person, or would he assume that that monster was underneath his skin all this time and it ripping through wasn't preventable. Would he still have hope if he knew a part of him could observe, no, not just observe, organise and host these games? Would he stare into the mirror and only see that version of himself that lost everything, including himself?
I hate you. I wish I stabbed you with that knife you handed me. If only I were a bit more like you, it could be your blood on my hands, and my blood on the floor. He couldn't say that. In-ho didn't do anything to warrant this anger, not yet, not in this string of reality that Gi-hun was clinging onto. And even then, he knew he would never do it, he could never sink that knife into anyone's throat. He didn't like the thrill of the fight. He only preferred it because it didn't make him a murderer. He could reason with his mind, to defend his actions, if he happened to kill in defense, if his own death was imminent. But when he stood over a greedy human being, it would be murder. It was murder when he killed an innocent, ruined man with his own hands. Right now, he was worse than the man beside him.
I care about you. I care about you so much that I can't put it into words. I've only known fragments of you, and I don't even know if anything we've done, any of the glanced we've shared, I don't know if it was real. It's beyond words. It's like fate tethered me to you against my will, and I'm not trying to break away. If he did say this, what sort of response could he even get? A confused, maybe even uncomfortable look, looking at him as if he were insane? And maybe he was, because every time he met this man, he was different. First it was a masked man with no emotion, no care, then a smiling puppet who wanted to save his wife, and lastly, his true self, missing the scars endured in the next nine years that Gi-hun would know all about.
I... No, it's not love. Love isn't a word that can describe this. Love is shallow, in it's own way, and you're a married man. I'm a ghost already, and these words don't need to be said. It's better that they die with me. There was nothing good about these words. They were selfish, they were wrong, they entailed that he wanted this to go somewhere, that he wanted a reaction, a response. He didn't even know if he'd even call it love, or if there ever was, or would be, a word for it. Love was kisses, hugs, laughs shared, held hands, soft, or sometimes rough noises in the dark and tears shed. This was a bitter taste in his mouth, a dull ache in his chest, trembling hands and eyes searching for something that wasn't there. This was grief over someone who didn't exist.
“I don't know how to feel about you.” Is still foolish. Those words should never be spoken out loud. They sound confused, they sound uncertain, they sound weak. They imply that all of the above is possible, that this is everything and nothing at the same time, that this is both the end and the beginning, death and life, love and hate, blood and water, hearts and lack thereof. Gi-hun noticed the way In-ho looked at him. He wondered why. In-ho couldn't read thoughts from what he knew, so there was no logical reasoning behind the odd look being given just then, unless he was, in some way, still dreaming. And he wasn't, he was sure of that. You don't wake up from a dream only to slip into a second one. That's not how dreaming worked.
“...Likewise.” In-ho said quietly, looking away after. Hm, so those words must've been said out loud afterall. Gi-hun was at least glad all the others were left quiet, unsaid, hidden in his brain until death. And honestly? He couldn't blame In-ho for not knowing what to make of him, given that he was the way he was. He had too many views of In-ho that clashed too much in his brain. A masked, heartless man he'd call a monster and evil at any time. A kind, good man, dying because of his own mistake. A person who was lost in the games, following the only lead he had. Like puzzle pieces that didn't connect, like conflicting spices on a serving of food that made you savour the taste one moment and hiss the second.
“And yet I trust you with my life. For some reason, I follow you blindly, even if I don't know why.” In-ho added after a moment, facing the dark ceiling above. Gi-hun didn't respond. He didn't know what to respond with, he wasn't sure what would be appropriate, what would cause a bad or good reaction. Instead, he remained silent, staring down at his own hands and lap. Those hands had more blood stuck behind the nails than the man his mind labeled a murderer sitting beside him. How ironic, to know that this was a fair man living a fair life, a policeman, no less, who he looked at and alarm bells blared in his brain. And there he was, a gambler, a bad father, a bad husband, a bad son, and a mediocre friend at best. And yet, look who ended up falling into a web of death, and who fell through it into the void?
“...You feel like it's the only logical thing to do.” Gi-hun thought out loud. It was, in a way. Like being terrified of the dark, and having the choice between a lantern and three random items. Of course you'd pick the light that was offered to you instead of stopping to think what the other three things could be. Maybe there was a light switch that could permanently light up the room, getting to the root of the problem, but instead, you picked a temporary solution because it was guaranteed. In-ho shifted quietly, leaning back on the stairs. It was uncomfortable to sit on the metal of hours upon hours, watching, waiting for something that wouldn't even come. Fearing a possibility that wasn't even likely. A one in a hundred chance of danger, and yet, a gamble you wouldn't take.
“I've never asked you about the upcoming games.” In-ho stated simply after a few seconds.
“You didn't.” Gi-hun confirmed. He revealed red light green light on his own, a warning in advance. He gave hints about dalgona long before it began, coincidentally helping many others. He said what sort of people they needed for tug of war, all on his own, without being promoted to. But he left In-ho in the dark prior to marbles, because he didn't know what to do. Instead he avoided him, hoping that it'll work out. And somehow, it did. It was strange, it was strangely lucky, for In-ho to make it through. It was a fifty percent chance that he won. A coin flip. A lucky one, a very lucky one. What he doesn't understand is why In-ho brought it up now, why he announced the fact like it had a meaning. Did he want to know what was coming, and not be left in the dark?
“I don't want you to tell me what's coming, if that's what you're thinking. I think being an exclusion to the fair chances we all have right now is wrong.” In-ho explained, but his eyes landed on Gi-hun with a faint head tilt. There was something akin to curiosity, to a yearning for knowledge, despite his words, like he only said it to stop himself from asking for hints. Gi-hun just stared back for a few seconds, studying, observing, scanning. He excused it as trying to figure out what the other man's expression truly was, but deep down, he just wanted to look at him for a few seconds. The only comfort he had about doing so was the fact it'd be forgotten, just as he would be, when he'd die in this place.
“I won't. But I won't abandon you and let you wander aimlessly like before marbles, either. Not again.” Gi-hun said quietly, the last words coming out too soft out of his mouth, barely whispered. He knows In-ho doesn't react for a reason. He sees the stillness that precedes a resume to normal behaviour. He knows the other man had caught it, and that he knew what it meant. He was observant, and that was bad. Why did he notice? He wasn't supposed to notice. Before his thoughts can slip further, an uncomfortable itch emerges on his shoulder. He reaches over to adjust the fabric, stained with dry blood, trying to stop it from irritating his skin. All he achieved was making himself cringe. Then he also sneezed.
“Thank you for that.” In-ho's response is simple, not carrying an opinion. It's like he wouldn't care either way, whether he would be left alone or led by his hand, because he knows it won't matter too much. The silence stretched on. Gi-hun's mind left the games for a moment, leading him to wonder, allowing his thoughts to shift to himself. Not the small sliver of him that remains, the man sitting on a staircase beside someone who he cares so deeply about, resents, adores and feels guilty about all at once. He thinks back to the man whose relationship is falling apart, who's trying to be the best father he can be to his little girl, the man who slips away to place bets when things get too much. The man who isn't yet in immediate danger, but whose life is already crumbling. Where is he now?
Is he with his wife and daughter, pretending like things are alright between them for Ga-yeong's sake? Are they two exchanging glances that say more than any legal documents could, hiding them away from the innocent girl? Were they arguing somewhere, mumbling insults under their breaths, or were they still wearing the masks of happy relationships? The divorce wouldn't come for another two years. Is the forgotten, less bruised, less broken Gi-hun standing on the street, letting smoke fill his nostrils as he tries to calm down from something that had happened? He is not yet torn to shreds by the games, and yet, there's marks on him that have already been there for years. A pointless death played out right before his eyes. That man doesn't know what would happen.
For a selfish moment, Gi-hun thought about making it out alive. Somehow surviving, maybe preventing his own entrance into the games. It'd be easier then. Maybe if he had the money, he could even pay off the debts of Sang-woo, help Sae-byeok with getting her mother to safety from the north and buying a house for her brother. But he knows this was never an option. Maybe the story he's known is meant to repeat, with Gi-hun entering the games, and being set on ending them without any success. He looks over to In-ho after a moment, wondering. Could he ask the man to do that for him, to save strangers, to spend the money he wins for good. To not let it lay in a room or in an account without use.
“...were you mad at me, during marbles, for just disappearing?” Gi-hun asked after a moment, figuring he could ask the other thing later.
“No. I knew that you did it for a reason, and the fact I didn't know why didn't change that. I trusted you again, and it worked out, didn't it? 172 just so happened to be dying either way, as she told me. She was content with death, now or later.” In-ho's words were shunned, not in shame, but something akin to grief. A very dull grief, a grief for someone who was barely anything more than a stranger, and yet, their death made him sad. It reminded him of Oh Il-nam, or at least, who he pretended to be. He was already dying anyways, and he joined the games to play, to be brought back to the old days, just one more time. He pulled himself out of the games, just to continue watching. He had his fun.
“...Did she just give up, letting you win?” Gi-hun said quietly. What a coincidence that was, for In-ho to get such an easy way out, to not have to play with life and death. Almost like he was intended to get this opportunity, but it's not like the game's overseer had any control of who he'd pair with. And there was no reason for them to be making this easier for him, either. This wasn't the front man, this was In-ho, not Young-il, or whoever he was even supposed to be. There was no reason for an outer force, somebody above the players, to be trying to change the odds. In-ho was just like everybody else here.
“...not quite. She wanted to, but I convinced her to at least try to play. Play fair, that is. We ended up with a compromise, a 1/2 chance for either side to win. No second chances, no unfair advantages or disadvantages. She lost. And it was a fair loss, which I took.” In-ho explained, digging around in a pocket for a few seconds. Smart, he kept the marbles. They could probably use that to their advantage. Sure, they couldn't tell the difference between how the glass sounds themselves, but just throwing a marble, one for each tile, and seeing which one breaks would tell them enough. Twenty marbles for ten tiles, that's well over half. That'd be good in case they needed a plan B for the bridge. In-ho pulled out a singular marble, holding it between his index finger and thumb, looking down into it.
“Do you have more?” Gi-hun immediately asked. Sure, this wasn't a necessity, which is why he didn't ever mention it, but it could be of use if they happened to get unlucky with their numbers. It wasn't likely, of course, but again, nothing is impossible here. Even if the odds were heavily in your favour, this place had a tendency to roll that 1/10 chance. You pick the wrong shape and even if you get far, it'll snap at the last second. Your team is good, but the other team is better, even if the other teams you could've been put against were a hundred times weaker. You just happened to get unlucky every single time, and at some point, it'd cost you your life.
“No. Just one. Is it important to have keep for the next game?” In-ho said, dropping the glass marble into his palm and watching it for a few more moments. Well, Gi-hun secondary, emergency plan was gone now. Not that it mattered too much. As long as they got the final two numbers it'd be alright. When they did, all they needed to do was hope the previous players moved a bit faster and that if anyone was stuck, someone would push them. And if it was just Gi-hun, In-ho, and one tile left, it'd be simple. If Gi-hun died, then In-ho would be the automatic winner. If he didn't, then he could talk to In-ho about things and use the dinner knife on himself. It was flawless. In the case of more players being against them, he and In-ho would stick to the same team in squid and he'd follow in Sang-woo's footsteps after. It was simple.
“It's alright. Could've been useful, but we'll make it either way.” Gi-hun offered a small smile. We'll make it. A lie, because they wouldn't. Only In-ho would, in the end, stand victorious, and that's how it was meant to be. The smile? Inappropriate for the fact Gi-hun's thoughts were lingering on his own death, wrong as to what it represented. But seeing as In-ho took it as hopeful, thought it held genuine optimism, he didn't try to wipe it off his face. In-ho slowly smiled back, a flicker of something akin to joy on his face. It was a far cry from a full smile, nothing like glee, but something that was close to happy. And that was as close as they could get here. Maybe that was the best it could be.
“Ah. Do you have any?” In-ho inquired, grasping his lone marble and staring down at his hand for a moment. Gi-hun checked his pockets. Empty. He didn't keep a single one, because he was too shocked by what happened at the end of his game than to focus on the marbles. A person getting shot while they're clinging onto you, straight through the head, making the blood drip straight onto you wasn't something you could just forget. If he survived he'd be thinking about it for years, but he was lucky to not need to ever experience that. He'd die here, not needing to carry the scars and the blood beyond the facility's wall. It'd all end here, all the horrors, all the confusion, all the pain and all the regret. It'd bleed into a pallet of crimson before being burnt away.
“No. Must've... Slipped my mind.” Gi-hun said quietly, reaching up to touch the bloodied fabric on his shoulder. It was uncomfortable but he couldn't exactly do much about it, given that there were no other clothes to put on here. And it's not like his jacket, wherever it currently was, would be of much use, given that it's condition was even worse than his shirt. He'd just have to brave through it, and if glass bridge had too many survivors, he'd get a chance to get out of those damn clothes. He wouldn't mind at least dying in something clean, but either way, he was dying, so it didn't matter too much. He was resigned to his fate anyways. There was no changing it.
“Ah. I'm gonna guess the end of the game was...” In-ho trails off, and Gi-hun notices how his gaze locks onto the dried blood. The feeling of desperate hands clinging on, begging to be spared, hugging tightly, not because of care but because of fear came back. The gunshot that was too loud, too close, too real. The slump of a corpse, the dripping, splattering blood. It was all too clear in his mind, even if it had been almost a day ago now. With it, the memory of that initial, all too vivid dream resurfaced. In on itself, it was strangely comforting, too see Sang-woo without the scent of blood and death lingering between them, to have his old self back, if even a little. But those words he, Sang-woo, his subconscious said? They lingered.
“Quite brutal.” In-ho finished, looking away from the bloody spot and back to Gi-hun. It's not like it was wrong, but everything here was brutal. It just so happened Gi-hun was in an unfortunate place and experienced it in the worst possible way. Most players just heard the gunshot, had the chance to look away, didn't have to see an ally lose their life because of them. He had the player he was pit against clinging onto him as if he were a lifeline, he had to feel the body slump against him, had to hear the last stuttered breath. His clothes carried the evidence of the horror both he and player 100 endured. And yet, the second that line of thought ended, the word he'd heard echoed in his mind. Words his own mind prepared for him. Don't try to change fate.
“In-ho... Do you believe in fate?” Gi-hun almost mumbled the words.
“...hm. I never really thought about fate. I think we should just think about the moment, not about what's coming. Don't linger too long on the future that might not happen. Some things are inevitable.” In-ho replied with a hum, the glass marble rolling around in his hand, looking down at it thoughtfully. It didn't really answer a thing, it wasn't a yes, or a no, or a maybe, or a sometimes. It was a string of confusion, tangled, like shrug you'd give when you didn't know what to think. Some things are inevitable. You can't change fate. But that's exactly what Gi-hun is trying to do here, and he's succeeding! All he needs to do is keep In-ho on the right path. And that wasn't giving him trouble. Fate could be changed. That's why he was here. That's why he didn't die, hitting the ground underneath the pink pillar.
“In-ho, please, don't trust anyone here.” Gi-hun let those words slip past his lips even if he didn't intend to. What if he got that offer, the same one Gi-hun got in the dark room, illuminated by the light? What if In-ho was handed a knife and told that if he killed everyone... No. This wouldn't happen, because In-ho's here for himself. He has nobody he'd want to get out of this place alive beside himself, because he was here for his wife. Two weeks, didn't he say? Two weeks is plenty more than enough, especially since the games last six days only. That's still good chances. A few hours would barely change anything. He didn't have to be worried about In-ho having to make this choice, he was so sure that it'd never happen.
“...not even you? Or player 067?” In-ho smiled faintly, the remark was very much a joke. Gi-hun didn't laugh, nor did he smile. Player 067 was someone even he's grown to trust, and not because of the number he shared with Sae-byeok. He was a good man who had made some less than ideal choices regarding his finance, but he didn't look like he'd stab either of them in the back. Sure, Gi-hun wasn't aware of how his game of marbles happened to go, but this wasn't the time to wonder about it. As for himself... What reason did In-ho have not to trust him? He said he wasn't mad about the silence preceding marbles, but who knows, maybe he was just being polite.
“Trust me. Don't trust any player, any guard who offers you some help from the inside, and especially don't trust anyone who's neither of those.” Gi-hun said, staring right into In-ho's eyes. Was it unlikely that either of the latter two would happen, that In-ho would be offered help from a VIP, a guard or even Oh Il-nam himself? No, it was extremely unlikely. But he himself didn't expect for the front man to be the player he'd grown to like during the second games either. He didn't expect an ally who looked like an innocent old man to be the creator of these bloody games. He didn't expect to meet his childhood best friend in these games, or his best friend later down the line, or someone who pickpocketed him and caused him to sign away physical rights, the same person he'd end up crying over. It was all unexpected. Strange, how this world worst.
In-ho nodded after a moment, looking out into the darkness.
The lights turned on with a click. This was the second night he was already awake by the point they had a wake up call, wasn't it? He squints at the bright lights, shrinks into himself when that classical music reaches his ears, sighs as he hears the commotion arise. In-ho reacts similarly, yet far less expressively. His eyes narrow slightly, the corner of his lip twitches slightly, and his jaw tightens. Gi-hun noticed all of it. He likes noticing these things, even if he won't say it out loud. His thoughts are cut short by a groan coming from player 067 who is slowly getting up, and a pretty loud annoyed huff from the player, who Gi-hun presumed was the one to chuck the cardboard tray onto him earlier.
Strangely enough, and luckily, they weren't herded off to their deaths immediately. For at least a few seconds, nobody interrupted the players as they began to sit up, some with major annoyance, some without clear emotions. Gi-hun stood up slowly, stretching his arms. Being stuck in his fifty year old body was far from ideal. He'd be... Huh, he'd be forty right now, on the outside. Somewhere out there there was a forty year old Gi-hun, forty one in a couple of months, probably still asleep, no matter how early or late it was. He hears as player 067 walks over to them with an obnoxious yawn, arms stretched out. Gi-hun however, notices something else. Someone's walking over, not just in their direction, but with purpose. It's not hard to recognise player 089, seeing as he tends to linger nearby.
The question of why is the first thing that comes to mind. Why does he keep hanging around them? No, that had a very simple explanation. He knows Gi-hun had played these games before, and as anyone who's at least a little smart, he stuck around. So far, it's been working out for him. Picking triangle in dalgona, being on Gi-hun's team in tug or war, not picking anyone close to him in marbles. He'd probably try to go for the later numbers the second he saw Gi-hun head towards them. He wasn't afraid to kill in self defense or just because the situation was stressful, so he'd be a huge problem if he made it far enough to play squid. It'd be ideal if he were to die on the bridge, for In-ho's sake. Of course, he couldn't count on that, though.
“...hello. I was wondering if I could stick with the three of you again? I will be of use in any case.” Player 089 greets a nod. Nobody responds for a few moments. The next game isn't a team game, and they won't need to stick together anymore no matter what. Then again, better to have him by their side as an ally, if even for a couple of minutes, than for him to be their enemy from now on. In-ho doesn't seem to share his idea though, expression visibly tense about the player even being near them... Sure, he was a murderer, but everyone in this room was by now. Maybe not as direct as this, but still the cause of death for someone else, because of those damn marbles. 067 seemed to hesitate for a moment, which brought Gi-hun back to the confession of him regretting kicking player 089 off the team.
”Sure. But you try anything and I won't hesitate... To... Uh, punch you!” Player 067 warns, but it's an empty threat. Judging by the hesitation, contrary to his words, and the lightness of the repercussion, it was clear played 067 wouldn't do a thing in the end. He'd probably be too stunned or too dead to do anything, maybe besides yelling in the case of the former. In-ho gives Gi-hun a look that's equal part concerned, unsure and ready to step in. It's no use, of course, and Gi-hun signals for him not to do anything. To just let it play out and sort itself out without either of them having to do anything. Clearly his signal goes over the other man's head.
“...like hell we'd let you into the team again...” In-ho said coldly, his arms crossing over his chest. 067 turns to him, just as surprised as shocked, whilst 089 just gives him a curious look. That sort of curiosity that isn't too obvious, just a faint rise of the eyebrow, a strange flicker in the eyes. Gi-hun barely noticed it though, seeing as he was too busy trying to tell In-ho, without audible words, to back off and let this be. In-ho finally catches his expression, although the words have already been said, so there's not much he can do about it. He looks away after a moment, not facing the other players or Gi-hun. It's silent for a few moments, before player 067 clears his throat.
“Ignoring that... As I said, don't try anything shady, or we'll deal with you, you hear me? We're only letting you back because you're useful.” Player 067 turns to player 089.
“Of course. I won't do anything. All I want is to get out of here alive, like the rest of you.” Player 089's words are almost too smooth, and his slight smile doesn't help. In-ho might've had a point with the doubt, honestly. Should they just let him back, knowing that the next game doesn't require teams in the first place? Suddenly he wasn't too sure, not with how suspiciously calm the other player sounded. He let someone follow him, even if that person wouldn't help him in return, just using his knowledge for their own gain. Only moments later, the players are told the game is about to start. The slight break in the calmness of player 089's face is oddly satisfying. There's a flicker of uncertainty. He doesn't know what's coming, and that scares him.
“Come on then, let's go!” 067 said, his cheeriness returning just a little as he gestured for his team to come. It's not like there were too many people left, only forty others beside the four of them, so they somewhat stood out as a group. Nearly everyone was walking on their own. And for a good reason, given that marbles tore apart alliances they had spent the previous game building. Now, nearly everyone was on their own, beside the four of them. Or, two now, as Gi-hun watched 089 get practically dragged along by 067 ahead of the group. Before he could follow, In-ho grabbed him by the should. Strangely, it made him relax, not tense up.
“...player 089 is dangerous. He's a murderer. Not just in here, but outside the games too. He's killed before. Gi-hun, you've made a mistake.” In-ho said with a quiet voice, trying to conceal the words from anyone listening on the outside. Gi-hun already knew this, of course, but even then, In-ho mentioning it surprised him. He doubted the other man talked with player 089 about this like he had, seeing as In-ho was clearly avoiding him, but there was no other explanation. And even then, that didn't mean this was a huge mistake like In-ho suggested. If he tries anything, it's three against one, not to mention the fact that one of them was a former policeman. They could easily overpower the potential traitor.
“I know. He told me. How do you know about this though?” Gi-hun wondered out loud, begining to walk towards the exit door. He didn't want to be late to the room, although he knew the announcement wouldn't start without them there. There was the faint sting of anxiety. He took fast steps, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling around his shoulder where the dry blood was splattered on the shirt. He coughed faintly as he got on the first staircase steps, hearing as In-ho hurried after him. There was hardly time for conversation right now. They'd have to leave it for later. If there was a later, that is. The guards eye them, or more accurately, him, curiously. They're looking at him. He's sure. Just at him.
“I worked on his case. Found guilty of murder, even if it was in self defense. Ten years instead of the standard twenty five. He messed the man up horribly, though, it wasn't a clean kill in panic... Don't trust him.” In-ho explained, making it up the stairs with ease. It almost stunned Gi-hun, who felt a slight ache in his knees as he walked. He really was old, wasn't he? It was very slight, akin to just exhaustion, but it felt like more. How old was In-ho? Did he ever even catch the man's age? It was too late to ask now, as they were both trying to catch up with the rest of the players, the last few of whom were still quite a bit ahead of the pair. Gi-hun found himself grabbing the edge of the staircase linings, finding the texture of the strangely smooth material unsettling.
“Okay. I wasn't trusting him anyways.” Gi-hun said between breaths, exhaling loudly when he was finally behind the last of the players. The person gives him a quick concerned look before looking back away. He ignores it mostly, watching as In-ho effortlessly catches up with him instead. The way he barely sweats, the way he lets out a small breath, barely strained with exhaustion. Gi-hun swallows, which has nothing to do with In-ho, or so he tells himself. In-ho gives a small nod to his response, less like he's just reacting and more like he's praising Gi-hun for seeing his point. Or maybe he's overthinking this. Gi-hun isn't sure.
“...I'm not sure about the next game.” Gi-hun admitted his worries quietly.
“...how so?” In-ho asks, with the slightest flicker of worry in his eyes. It's nearly imperceptible but Gi-hun notices it immediately. How does he explain it? Does he get into that mess of a nightmare that preceded the game or marbles? Does he dare go there, even to the first portion of said nightmare? He certainly won't get into the standoff with the front man, which... Was less like a standoff and more like a who kills themselves first-off. What a twisted dream. He knows that the front man would never willingly give up like that. There was no reason for him to do anything like that, especially not while being pinned underneath Gi-hun. Dreams were strange. Especially his own.
“Last time, there were far fewer players, and the game is a lot easier with more players. They might try to limit the amount of people that even play. I had this... Dream, and it didn't end too well, okay? There's gonna be these vests with numbers. Run for the last one. I'll pick the one before yours, and make sure you get out. Okay?” Gi-hun explained, chest feeling a little bit too tight. He wanted to believe this. He wholeheartedly wanted this to happen and for it to go this smoothly. For them to just push their way through, for In-ho to win without harm, to himself or causing it to others. It was almost too good of a plan.
“...okay. I trust you, Gi-hun.” In-ho said quietly. The two of them start moving right after, both walking up the stairs behind the rest of the players. The dreaded door is coming closer. The one in which glass bridge takes place seems to share a room with either the final game of his second games or jump rope... He can't quite remember which staircase that is. The guards block off alternative paths, allowing only one way up, and that being the intended one. He wondered if there's ever been a case of someone being pushed off the staircase between the games... It didn't look impossible, and they were quite high up. Someone could've died from this. Unlucky possibility.
They must've reached the entrance, seeing as there's no more turns taken. Gi-hun's chest tightened. How will they handle glass stepping stones with well over twice as many players than intended? 18 pairs of panels and forty four people... Now, Gi-hun was no math genius, but he knew that the odds were too good. Even if every player got a panel wrong first, it'd leave 26 survivors. The first idea he got, was, of course, the topic of his nightmare, a limited amount of vests. Eighteen vests was more plausible, since there were eighteen panels, one person for each, which could end up with a couple of eliminations. Extending the bridge sounded unlikely, especially with such a short notice... Unless this had been planned. Maybe the bridge was just long, like, fifty panels instead, to amount for the players playing.
He slowly walked through the entrance, holding his breath. The room was the familiar blinding white it was prior to tug of war, glass stepping stones and marbles. Too many players were in front though, and he couldn't catch sight of the vests. The first four games were the exact same as the first time he'd played. The chances of it being something different were near zero. Why would they only change one game, after all? It's all to entertain the rich, the VIPS, so obviously the more new games, the better. Gi-hun pushed past a couple of players, trying to get a view of the vests waiting for them, getting a few annoyed mumbles. He was quite tall compared to the average, it seems. He couldn't see past them though. Finally, he stood at the front of the crowd, and got a full view of the room.
There were no vests, or anything else to suggest his assumption of it being the glass bridge to be correct. It's a blinding white room, but there's nothing to pick your fate with. Gi-hun's heart feels like it's stopped for several seconds. He hears somebody pushing past, towards him, mumbling quiet apologies to everyone he bumps into. In-ho stands beside him now, looking over at the empty room with an expectant expression. First, confusion arrives, then, it's stained with realisation, then concern, and lastly, uncertainty. Their eyes meet for a moment, but Gi-hun can't think about it. This isn't how it's supposed to go. This... This isn't something he knows.
“Players, welcome to the fifth game. For this game, you will be playing in pairs. Please look around and find someone you wish to play with. You cannot change your partner after the time to pick runs out.” The announcement is almost the exact same as during marbles, which makes Gi-hun's blood run cold. This isn't what is supposed to happen. This isn't something he knows. They wouldn't make them play marbles again, would they? No, that's completely nonsensical, the VIPs would be so bored by something like that... There's a large amount of games that can be played in pairs, but most have one thing I'm common. It's not cooperation, it's competition. Logically, this would cut down the player count to 22... Gi-hun looks over at In-ho.
“I... I'm sorry.” Gi-hun manages, feeling as most of the other players walk past him to spread out. He can barely talk. All he can do is stare at In-ho, knowing that he can't help him here. They wouldn't use the same cruel twist twice in a row, would they...? They wouldn't pit two people who trusted one another against eachother two games in a row. That's what they want the players to assume, they like to trick you, that's what they do. Maybe this one will be about cooperation again. In which case, the logical outcome would be to stay with In-ho. Either to help him through this or sacrifice himself for the man. Either way, it'd work better than leaving him alone again.
“...You said we'd make it through. So let's do it, no? No matter what it is, we'll make it together.” In-ho doesn't hesitate as he reached out his hand, extended towards Gi-hun. He isn't sure whether to take it or not. On one hand, this is exactly the logical idea his mind came up with. Sticking together was better than leaving one another alone. And yet, could he trust his own judgement? Was it okay to bet on a guess, is it safe to assume they could both be okay? He noticed the way 089 stared at him for a moment, with a hint of betrayal, but it's not like it was Gi-hun's fault. He trusted, he got unlucky, and he had to deal with the consequence. Gi-hun turned back to In-ho after a second, their eyes meeting.
Slowly, Gi-hun takes his hand, grasping it firmly, and yet, gently.
Notes:
.........yeah.
I watched the VIPS episode for like the fifth time to fact check. The VIPs are unaware of the next game and are visibly curious, prying and asking what it is ahead of time. They don't realise what it is as the bridge is revealed. That leaves my lizard brain to take the obvious conclusion. Glass bridge is new. Thus didn't exist in 2015. Thus get ready for the next chapter because i stressed over it for like a week since I made the decision that the fifth game would NOT be glass bridge, which was around chapter 7 or 8 I think.
I'm going away for a two day trip tomorrow. This is like the third time I leave my hometown this summer break! Hooray! It's cool though and I get to ride on a train which is awesome. The little things matter! Gonna have fun, might delay the next chapter a bit, or the exact opposite in which I'll make it super fast, who knows.
Thank you for your kudos and comments!!! I'm especially eager to hear what you think the next game will be...hehe... You'll see soon, but I'd still love to hear! There's a small hint sometime in an earlier chapter >:3
Chapter 22: Hold my hand
Notes:
All I could think about naming this chapter was "darling hold my hand (nothing beats a jet two holiday)" which also led me to make an au of businessman frequent flier In-ho and flight attendant Gi-hun in my head. Stay tuned i might write that as a crackfic to keep myself sane with this mess of a fic.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Holding onto in-ho's hand tightly, Gi-hun took a look around the room. All the other players began to form pairs, or at least consider it before walking away and talking to someone else. Player 089 and 067 were still nearby, both standing there, not knowing what to do. Although, player 089 seemed like he was far more worried out of the two of them, with his usually calm eyes flicking from player to player, showing this strange unease and uncertainty that he usually didn't have. 067 stepped closer to Gi-hun, trying to listen to what he was going to say or suggest, but ultimately gaining nothing. All four of them stood there silently for at least a couple of seconds.
In-ho was completely silent, expression not showing a sliver of worry. He seemed determined, hopeful, unlike the rest of their little group. Gi-hun found it interesting, honestly, how he could hold so much trust in himself despite the unknown situation right before him. Gi-hun's eyes snapped away from the other man and scanned the room again, observing how the nearby players behaved. Nobody was rushing into grabbing a teammate, nobody was eagerly shaking hands with another person or discussing what was ahead. Most people were giving eachother shifty glances, unsure of who to trust and who to even look in the way of. Emphasis on most, as it seemed like a team of... Four, maybe five, Gi-hun would guess, was talking like nothing was happening.
“...well, we should find somebody to pair with. What are the chances it's gonna be marbles again, right?” 067 attempt to break the tense air around them failed miserably. It seemed like now the thoughts were on marbles now, for all of them. It wouldn't be marbles again, it couldn't be, not with how the games here functioned. They were to entertain, and there's nothing entertaining about playing the same thing twice in a row. But what else could it be? There were so many games that could be played in pairs, both as a teamwork sort of thing or being against one another. They could've also just repurposed a game typically played on your own into a competition, the faster wins, or something along those lines.
“No need. I could go with 456 and you go with 132.” 089 immediately cut in, arms crossed. He's trying to look like he's confident in his chances, but Gi-hun saw through it. Maybe it's the fact he's seen this face so many times, reflecting in different players, their fear and mask of bravery falling apart when their survival chances began plummeting. Some would still pretend, some would just hope and let the future play out on its own, but some would crawl their way to the strongest, betraying their allies for better chances. But there was nobody who's stronger, who has better chances, who knows what's coming. They're all lost right now. Even he himself, who had been through this twice, doesn't know what's coming.
“Me and Gi-hun are already paired up, so that won't work, I'm afraid.” In-ho said flatly, lifting up the hand he was still grasping Gi-hun's own with. He quickly nodded, only now realised that 089's suggestion made very little sense. After all, they were, indeed, already paired up. And you can't change your teams after you pair up. Wait, no, that's not what the announcer said. They said after the time is up. And there's still plenty of time. Gi-hun wasn't even slightly considering it, especially with the fact In-ho would be left with 067, who, no offense, would probably not protect him as well as Gi-hun would. 067 stepped away slightly, intending to find someone else to get as his own teammate, but 089 speaks first.
“You can still change your mind. I'm great at quite a few things, and I'll certainly be of more use than 132.” 089 interrupts, chin lifted up like he's trying to look unphased. There's no way to hide his very much clear unease and worry, though. He knows that Gi-hun is better at this, that he's capable of surviving even the more unexpected things put before them, but this time, he's wrong. In-ho looks like he's prepared to argue, which Gi-hun tells himself is just because he knows his chances are better with Gi-hun. 067 stops trying to shuffle away, now listening to what's happening with curiosity that's hard to hide.
“No. I've already made up my mind. I don't know what this game is, it's not what it was last time, so there's no point in sticking to me hoping that I know something you don't.” Gi-hun explained quietly, making In-ho shut his already open mouth and look away instead of saying a word. To 067 this was new information, which made the other player sigh quietly, crossing his arms in a defeated way. 089... He was already guessing this, but hearing it out loud must've drained him of the last bits of hope he was clinging onto. The player's eyes narrowed, concealing the fear as doubt and disappointment. In-ho didn't say a word. He was just silent, waiting for a reaction from the other two.
“That wasn't why I wanted to team up with you, 456. You're good at these games, it's not just luck that brought you this far!” 089 protested, his words clearly a lie to make it more plausible to team up with him. Oh, he doesn't even know how wrong he is with that statement, does he? His survival of red light green light, all three times was just because someone had caught him. During the first dalgona, he only separated the shape from the cookie in the last few seconds. In the pentathlon, his group only made it because of "Young-il's" lucky move for jegi. He couldn't even count the amount of close calls for mingle, and tug of war was another kind of struggle. He almost died during hide and seek, both because of the fight he'd undergone and his own hands. He barely fought off player 096 during jump rope. He would've picked the first number for the glass bridge had it not been for a lucky interruption from... Another player 096...?
“Doesn't mean anything. Me and 456 are teamed up and that's final. You can find someone else or go with 067.” In-ho's words barely watched his ears. Why was it played 096, during the fifth game, both times playing a major role? He didn't even think about player 096 from the first games ever, just seeing him as another victim of the cruel design that the games had. He just happened to make the wrong choice, and in the process, saved Gi-hun. The other one was nothing like him, just an asshole who thought blocking the bridge was genius in order to let only himself and Gi-hun, and unknowingly, the baby live. Of course, that was far from successful, given that he ended up with a thumb digging into his eye and the metal rope flinging him off the railroad themed bridge.
“Seems fair to me... I... I could go find someone else for you to team up with, 089, if that's needed.” 067 suggested softly, but once more, Gi-hun's thoughts were too much than for him to hear. Player 096. Where were they this time around? Already turned to dust, forgotten by their fellow players and grieved for by their family? Still somewhere in this crowd, fighting for survival? It made him think back to the people up there, not necessarily the VIPs, not Il-nam, but In-ho with the front man's mask. Did he ever look at numbers of previous winners and wonder if they're gonna be victorious again, or fall victim during the first game? Does he even stare at his own number, wondering if they're anything like him, only to see a bullet through their head? Does he ever wonder if that could've been him?
“No need. I'll find someone on my own.” 089 turned away. Gi-hun heard 067 say something and heard footsteps follow. In those years between his first and second games, who were the people with his number sewn onto their jackets? Were they also just some poor losers who happened to get lucky? Did they die in the first games or the very finale? Did they betray the people they cared about when the time came, or did they hold their promises until they too fell into the fake sand with blood spilling from their hearts? Did they live long enough to talk to someone, to grieve for people they barely knew? Did the front man ever look at them closer, feeling reminded of the winner, or were they just another horse on this gory racetrack?
“Gi-hun?” In-ho's voice stopped the whirlpool of thoughts at once, making his head lift up and face the other man.
“...sorry. I was just thinking.” Gi-hun apologised quietly, eyes searching the room. For who, exactly? All the numbers were already far too muddled up in his mind, flickering between familiar and unfamiliar, faces of friends and foes, X and O, terrified and smiling, dying alone or surrounded by people who loved them. He finally saw someone familiar. 390, sitting alone in the corner, approached by a random player who must've been offering to pair with her. What would've Jung-bae done, approached by a stranger, not knowing what's coming? Jung-bae would've taken their hand and said something like, let's do this right, and hoped for the best. This 390 slowly stood up, staring, silent, before slowly taking the stranger's hand.
“About?” In-ho questioned, the slightest bit of curiosity in his face.
“The past. How many people I've met here, how different and simalar everyone is... It's surreal. All these numbers that I've already read and remembered, coming back to haunt me. I've met tens of people here, and all of them die around me.” Gi-hun admitted after a moment. Sang-woo, Sae-byeok, Jun-hee, Jung-bae, Dae-ho and so many others, all gone just because he was the one to survive. How strange, that it was always him surviving. That it was Sang-woo's eventual sacrifice that ensured that he'd be the one to prevail and go on, Jun-hee's death, unavoidable and yet painful all the same because of how resigned she looked. Dae-ho choking on his own blood and clawing at him to stop and pull the hands away from his throat. Sae-byeok's pale face, wanting him to promise to take care of her brother.
“...you shouldn't have to worry about that right now. I'm not saying you shouldn't grieve, I'm asking you to think about the future. Not the future you lived through, but the future behind that door.” In-ho pointed out. The way he phrased it was... Strangely caring. He understood that if he just said future, Gi-hun would take it as a reference to what he's already been through. He didn't give Gi-hun even a sliver of false hope of living a new life, he just said he should focus on the upcoming game. It was harsh, brutal and somehow the kindest thing he's been given in days. Player 132 wasn't someone reoccurring, not a man he knew, not the same as the robotic voice talking to him through a piggy back, not a marionette dancing beside him with a smile. Somebody different, somebody who confused his brain even more.
“... you're right. There's no dwelling on things I won't live to see, right?” Gi-hun hummed, looking off into the distance. He saw as player 067 and 089 were talking somewhere in the crowd, the former of the two trying to convince the other something. He'd guess it was about partnering up for the next game. His assumption was further reinforced when 067 gestured to the timer on display, getting a defeated frown from 089. In-ho looked over at the two too, looking past the other players moving about. For a moment, they just watched the two, at least until In-ho turned back to Gi-hun with a blink.
“Is it a good idea for the two of them to pair up?” In-ho's question was simple, holding no ill intent. Gi-hun frankly didn't know. They didn't know what the next game was either way, so the two being paired up could be either good or bad. Or just a thing that happened to have happened, but nothing meaningful, nothing to remember. He didn't know what either of them were good at, besides the fact they both did alright in ddakji. Did that even mean anything? Ddakji wasn't a game they could play in pairs, nor was it in the finale, and they wouldn't live long enough to get out. At least he wouldn't think about either of them, wishing he could've done something differently, staring off into the dark skies with a cigarette in hand. He wouldn't live long enough to breathe in smoke again. Unfortunate.
“...I don't know. I'm just glad they're at least sticking together.” Gi-hun admitted, his fingers unconsciously shuffling. He needed a smoke, he needed one real bad. Unfortunately, it's not something he could somehow get here. He'd die needing that feeling, unlike the last time when he was simply too empty than to even feel any craving besides death. Maybe it'd end like that this time too, maybe the knowledge that it's about to be over again, this time for real, would put a stop to those mortal thoughts. Those mortal cravings, that hunger, that exhaustion, that feeling in his chest that felt like his heart hasn't ever stopped, they came back in full swing when he had woken up. It's like his body was against death despite knowing it's already guaranteed.
“Why though? You know what sort of person 089 is.” In-ho spoke quietly, the words hanging in the air, looking back at the two in the crowd again. They were still talking, but now, 067's hand was finally being shook, although begrudgingly. Gi-hun wondered what exactly was the argument between the two, why wouldn't they team up? They could easily grab some stranger to go with but, maybe it'd be better to go in with someone you know things about. You knew at least something about them, something you could figure strengths and weaknesses off of, if nothing else. And that beat being set against a stranger who you didn't know a word about.
“Even somebody like 089, a murderer, deserves a chance. He was hopeless out there, so he was put here with a slim chance of change. Some people could've probably gotten out of their situations and survived, but he himself told me he didn't have anything to do anymore.” Gi-hun's words came out a little more bitter than he expected them to be. He was reminded of what In-ho said some time ago, the mention of them dying either way, that this place was a... Necessary evil, had he called it? But in the case of 089, it was unfortunately true. He said it himself. That he was waiting for it to end when the man with ddakji came along. It was still not like In-ho thought it was, though. This place was evil. It wasn't something to be justified.
“...Maybe you're right. I don't understand why you believe in people so much, Gi-hun. It's like you believe that the world is black and white, and that even the darkest people have a dot of light inside.” In-ho said, still looking away. Like the light in the darkness, there was darkness in a light. The front man came from a fair human being, and maybe, in the end, there was a sliver of light underneath the mask. Young-il seemed like a great human being, but deep down, all he was was a mask for the person above, pulling the strings and grinning. Maybe... Maybe In-ho was what Young-il pretended to be. Maybe he was that pure light. And yet, even the brightest lights have a dark stain somewhere in their core...
“I do believe that. I'm a good person capable of doing wrong, and so are you. And 089 is a... Less than good person, but he means well in the end. He'd just surviving in a different way than we are. That's what we are. Black and white, pretending to be the other.” Gi-hun smiled faintly. That's what the world truly was. Everybody was either of the two, maybe a balance, maybe dark and twisted, maybe light and innocent, but in the end, there was always a stain of the opposite somewhere deep down, hidden under layers of hurt or façade. Unless there wasn't. Babies aren't stained by the gore of life. Rich bastards who are entertained by misery have no goodness in their hearts. In-ho clearly didn't share his sentiments, given how his face tensed up. Gi-hun didn't even have a chance to ask before he said his own opinion.
“That's not right. We're all gray. Light, dark, our morality never reaches the extremes you think we all are. Some cloak themselves in another shade, but in the end, it all comes to light.” In-ho's words sounded like an argument, like he refused to believe Gi-hun's idea, no matter how logical and how much simpler it was. If his idea was true, if it was even a tiny bit plausible, it'd mean that deep down, Il-nam always meant good for the players, that he wasn't just doing this for his own sick pleasure. It'd mean that the VIPs genuinely cared about people, that they were still humans. It'd mean that even the poor innocent girl he held tightly against himself, promising to get her out of there alive, wouldn't be pure. That just wasn't what this story was.
“... Whatever helps you sleep easier.” Gi-hun made sure the words weren't loud enough to be heard. They weren't meant for In-ho's ears, not addressed towards him, not anything like it. They were meant for the front man. He'd believe something like this. That he wasn't the evil, sick fuck he really was. The guilt from his own thoughts made Gi-hun tense up. But he wasn't just that. He was In-ho, he was Young-il, he was the front man. He was everything at once. He was pure and stained, dark and light, the balance and the disharmony only an out of tune piano could provide. Everything and yet nothing all at the same time. In-ho didn't hear the mumble, which Gi-hun was thankful for. And even more so luckily, 089 and 067 returned.
“Me and 089 are gonna do this together. Also, I thought through the games they could make us play! I thought about ddakji before marbles, and honestly, I feel like that might be it. I don't trust him by the way, far from it, but I feel like it's fate that'll put us on opposing sides with two ddakji pieces.” 067 explained as he got back to Gi-hun and In-ho, with 089 following quietly behind. Gi-hun doubted that it would be ddakji, but he didn't wanna just reply with that, instead nodding politely to acknowledge the two. In-ho seemed to have the exact same idea, giving the man a curious look, one that was, in truth, likely just disguised doubt. And, funnily enough, the first response to those words was from 089, who responded with just what Gi-hun felt too bad saying.
“It's childhood games played in a traditional way with a small twist. They won't turn ddakji into a two people competition.” 089 pointed out, crossing his arms. Neither Gi-hun or In-ho got to share their opinion and 067 immediately snapped back with something like, hey, it's not that impossible! only to get shot down. A small argument arose, one that Gi-hun had no interest listening to, especially with how their time to prepare and think was rapidly shortening. He looked at In-ho with the most obvious look he could manage, trying to signal for the two of them to slip away and talk without having to yell over these two. Although, frankly, it reminded Gi-hun of how the two interacted when they had first met... Strange, thinking back, to the fact that one of them was a murderer.
He and In-ho both slip away to the corner of the room, going unnoticed by both the players and everyone else in the room.
“We need to think about what games it could be.” Gi-hun said quickly, looking back to see if 067 and 089 noticed them slipping away. They hadn't, as they were still too busy squalling on about whether it could or couldn't be ddakji. The time was quickly running out, leaving them with only two or so minutes and a few seconds extra to discuss. In-ho nodded quickly, falling into thought, hand on his chin included. For several more seconds, the air around them was silent, making Gi-hun's eyes wander away for a moment. A pair of players were sitting on the floor on the other side of the room, talking. The team of four had divided into pairs, pointing at the crowd and talking about something. 089 and 067 were still arguing about ddakji, just as they had before. Player 390 was leaning against the wall, and the player beside her seemed like they were zoning out.
“...Hm. well, I think 067 might've not been completely off. The games have a small twist, the killing, the choice, you get it. Maybe the next twist will be larger. Maybe it's going to be one of those five games made into a competition...” In-ho hummed quietly, neck craned up as he faced the ceiling, eyes searching the plain white expanse like it meant something, like it held the answer they needed. It had nothing except it's blankness though, blinding, too bright for what this place was. An array of grays, as In-ho put it. He still found it hard to believe, that there was no pure evil and pure good. There always was a villain in a story.
“improbable.” Gi-hun dismissed. He didn't have an idea to share, a suggestion that In-ho could build off of, nothing to give. In-ho nodded simply, looking upwards still. Someone walked far too close to them, wandering through the room, most likely still searching for somebody to pair with. Gi-hun didn't get a chance to read the player's number, to get a glimpse of their face, as they disappeared in the crowd. Forty four people left... It's unlikely that they'd just do something like with marbles, to eliminate half the players, since that'd leave them with twenty two finalists... And that's far too much for both squid and sky squid. The concept of the latter was still baffling. It was nothing like the original game, just a messed up version of it that offered a way out, weirdly enough.
“...right. Being one against one is more likely, isn't it? Or, maybe, it'll be squid. You know squid, right? One against one, hard fights... I hope it's not that.” In-ho suggested, looking down from the ceiling and looking over at Gi-hun instead. Gi-hun knew that this wasn't it. Squid was the finale. Squid was the grand ending, the gory conclusion to bloodshed, a face-off between the two strongest, smartest, luckiest and most greedy players. Or at least that's what it was supposed to be. And yet, he'd gotten all the way there both times. Dumb luck, he told himself, being saved by others and spared time and time again. He was never meant to make it this far, and yet, there he was, facing the second to last game for the third time. Standing in front of a door, unsure of what's about to hit him.
“It can't be squid. That's always the last game.” Gi-hun replied without thinking, the mistake only registering several seconds later because of the way In-ho stared at him. Surprise, mixed with this awkward sort of blink, suggesting he wasn't sure what to say, whether to be grateful or a bit annoyed at being told this early. Gi-hun found it strange how focused he was on keeping this fair, not knowing the exact game too early on, but shamelessly accepting hints, tips, leads and assistance. It's like he wanted to refuse help but always gave in. In-ho gave a small 'huh' a few seconds later, looking away, thinking. Gi-hun didn't dare interrupt.
“... it'd be complicated to play squid with twenty two people. Clearly, they won't halve the amount of players thrice in a row...” In-ho mumbled, visibly ignoring the knowledge of squid being the finale. He looked like a kid getting spoiled their favourite show's ending and trying to pretend like what they were told was just a rumour, like they'd never heard it. The thought made Gi-hun unintentionally crack a smile, trying to force the expression down before In-ho could notice or even comment on it. Luckily, by the time In-ho looked back over to him, he looked just as calm and composed as prior. Gi-hun exhaled outloud, but luckily, the sound was very quiet and clearly didn't register for the other. Unfortunately, In-ho looked to be focused on something else entirely already.
“Wait. You said squid was the last game both times. You also said you died because of... Falling off of something at the end. That doesn't match up.” In-ho said, tone turning slightly accusatory for whatever reason, which Gi-hun couldn't quite figure out. What does he say? Ask the idiot who thought playing squid fifty metres in the air was gonna be fun. But who did think that? Il-nam was dead by that point in time, so clearly, it wasn't him who figured out that game. It must've been In-ho himself putting that idea together, implementing it, watching as whoever did those things around here built it. He designed it himself. He must've made all those games himself, from the paint on the walls to the rules. There were fewer twists, it was simpler, more straightforward. You play together. You grab people and run. You hunt or you pray you survive. You jump and move. You push, you beg, you fall or you survive.
“They made us play squid in the sky. Literally.” Gi-hun sighed, not wanting to get further into... That mess.
“...and you expect me to believe that? That instead of a game crafted like these to be so deceptively complicated and twisted and yet work like a grand machine, they'd just recycle an old concept into something worse?” In-ho gave him a look that exactly said the same words as he did. That what Gi-hun just said was pure bullshit and that for once, he lied straight through his teeth for whatever reason. This wasn't true, of course, but how could Gi-hun possibly explain that without letting anything even worse slip? There was nothing, so instead, he stayed quiet. Seems like it's about time too, as the countdown slowly became only seconds, instead of the minutes he was seeing earlier. Time passes. It tends to do that.
“Doesn't matter anymore. It won't matter in the future or in the past.” Gi-hun brushed it off after a moment, watching as the countdown hit zero. A few more panicked players quickly got a pair, nervously shaking hands with a last second choice, glancing behind themselves. Were they expecting a guard to be looming right behind then, gun lifted up, ready to go in for the kill? Most likely. He would expect something like that too, had it been him standing there, with a zero on the countdown and panic filling his chest like water fills the lungs when you eventually sink underneath. In-ho stood beside him again, looking around the room. 089 observed them quietly, while 067 gave them a small gesture that was probably meant to represent good luck.
“Players, please make your way to the play area with your partner by your side.” And so, slowly, all the players began moving. First, only a few players cautiously approached the doors leading into the new corridor that'd enter into the room. The first pair went through, both clearly unsure of whether this is a good idea or not, but not wanting to stall for time. The second two players followed behind, and after that, more pairing went through. One after another, or in this case, two, passing into the dark corridor that'd lead them to the next game. In-ho took a slow step forward, waiting on Gi-hun. Anxiety settled in his chest, pricking like a little spine stuck somewhere under his clothes that he couldn't remove.
Someone bumped into his shoulder, walking past without an apology, instead uttering 'good luck you two...' followed by a word that were completely illegible. Gi-hun blinked upon seeing the number 089, not having expected that to be... Him of all people cheering them on. Unless it had been sarcastic, which it might've been, but it was too quiet for him to tell. Whether genuine or not, it was strangely out of character, but... Who knows, maybe that's the light in the darkness that 089 has deep down. No matter. Gi-hun slowly starts walking. There's nobody familiar in front of him, no recognisable numbers, nobody he can remember. In-ho is right beside him, walking. Not in sync, not at a simalar pace, but close enough for him to not find the walking uncomfortable.
The corridor they enter is dimly lit, but the next room is bright. Gi-hun holds his breath. For once, maybe for the first time in years, he's genuinely terrified. Death wasn't scary, nor were gunshots, nor were the new games after he's gone through it a few times. But there he was now, feeling an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, where it shouldn't be, knowing only that he doesn't know a thing about what's coming. His eyes land on In-ho again, just as they walk through the entrance. The room is large, mostly painted in hues of a sky blue, much like it was for dalgona and the pentathlon. There was a singular thing, situated in the middle of the room, a large board, painted the same pink that accentuated the staircases, balanced in the middle. He was familiar. But he'd never played. He and In-ho enter the room just as the last few players do. Now they all stand in a crowd, waiting.
“Players, the game you will be playing today is neolttwigi. Team by team, you will get on the board and begin jumping until your time runs up. As an additional challenge, you will have to hang the bar suspended above for at least a second within the designated time limit. Players who fail to jump consistently or grab the bar in time will be eliminated.” ah... Neolttwigi. A game he'd never thought he'd play. It was more of a women's game, and it wasn't as common as gonggi, being played traditionally on new years, but... He supposed there weren't many other games to pick from. Chatter arose from the crowd, several protests about it being a very gendered game especially. It's not like it wasn't something they could learn quickly, though. It was just jumping, wasn't it? And the bar above didn't seem too high either, at most three metres above the board itself.
“... Neolttwigi... I think we'll manage. Right?” In-ho mumbled, sounding unsure of himself. Gi-hun didn't know a word of what to say, Instead looking at the wall for several seconds. Besides just being that usual sky blue, he noticed that it had people painted on it. Only vaguely, only silhouettes to suggest that others are watching, but still present. Like an audience to watch you, to bury you, to lay beside you. There were also a couple of clouds painted beside them, yet again resembling the familiar rooms quite a lot. The guards nudged the first pair forwards. A woman and a man, both looking like they were somewhere between thirty and forty, both equally as nervous. As the pair of strangers nervously climbed onto the long pink board, each one on opposing ends, the timer blinked into existence.
One jumped and landed, sending the other slightly into the air. The countdown began. They had to jump for five minutes straight and sometime find the time to grab the bar above them. Gi-hun had seen the game be played a couple of times, never too up close, but he knew it was commonly paired with additional tricks to show off. This must be the games equivalent of them. As the second player landed, the first was launched into the air, slightly higher than earlier. Players who watched the other two, poor souls, unfortunate enough to go as the very first pair. Some of the observing players had began sitting down, watching from a more comfortable spot. Slowly, the height each of the two was launched into was becoming greater. They had gotten to a steady rhythm. Fly, land, wait, repeat. They didn't seem to be struggling too much, each standing on the opposite sides, but not too close to the end of the board.
Everyone was mostly silent as the first four minutes slipped by. The two players were still jumping just fine, seemingly without a struggle. Would it be that easy for him and In-ho too? Would he drag him down to his demise? Gi-hun looked down at his hands, wondering if he could manage to grip onto that stupid metal bar for the time he and In-ho needed to survive. There wasn't a single strategy coming up in his mind unfortunately. The time the two players had was slowly coming to an end. With every jump, their heads turned up to face the metal bars, their final goal. It was wise to leave the bars for last, which was the first thing Gi-hun took note of during the whole game. With about ten seconds left, the man finally reached out and grabbed onto the metal rod, laughing loud enough for all the players underneath to hear. Somebody clapped.
“Get down here! We both need to make it up there to live!” The player standing on the end of the pink board yelled, making the other snap out of the haze he was left in for the past few seconds. The player quickly dropped back down, launching his teammate high up. The timer hit zero. The player had grabbed onto the metal bar, gaining a relieved laugh from the other. Neither of them had noticed that their timer was already up, only realising as their numbers were announced as eliminated. Both completely unfamiliar to Gi-hun, barely reacting as one gunshot was fired at the woman who was hanging onto the bar and about at the man standing at the end of the board. Both their bodies slumped into the fake sand that seemed to follow room after room, balancing the long board as it had been before.
Mere seconds later, another pair of players was already being nudged towards the board, without a smidge of mercy from the masked guards. The two quietly got on, not a word shared between them. First jump, then second. The two players, however, seemed to have a different strategy compared to the first pairing. They immediately went for the bar grab, instead of first getting most of those jumps they needed. The first of the two got it about two minutes in. The second one followed immediately after, but it seems like they weren't paying attention to the way dropped, their ankle twisting uncomfortably on impact. A few 'ooh...' and 'no!' came from the crowd as the injured player stumbled off of the board, sending them onto the sand with a thud before the shot came. Their teammate dropped onto the other end of the board, staring in horror. Two gunshots followed shortly. Workers dragged the bodies away from the main play area, placing them in their coffins.
The next two pairs came along and ended similarly to their predecessors. Gi-hun noticed that the issue was mainly on timing, especially when it came to grabbing the bar above. Doing it at the start would exhaust you more and create an uncomfortable gap between the jumps. Doing it at the end risked running out of time. The first of the two pairs failed to grab onto the pole on time, not jumping high enough. In-ho kept a carefully watch on what's happening, probably figuring out something in the meantime. The second pairing had a bit of a different ending. One of them had grabbed onto the bar, presumably too early given the angry yell from the other, and proceeded to hold on too long, getting eliminated. Their body hitting the board sent their teammate flying up, only to get shot through the head midair by a guard. Every player stared for a second. Most with horror. A twisted few with some awe.
Gi-hun watched as the next two players were nudged towards the board, feeling a strange sting of pain as he read the number. 390, walking towards the board without a word. Her teammate talked about something, but got no response, just having to walk to the other end of the pink platform. They both got on, facing one another, knowing that so far, nobody had survived it before them. Gi-hun noticed, out the corner of his eye, the look that In-ho was giving him. He knew that this was someone Gi-hun already knew, already having had this conversation before. He knew the story, he knew the death, he knew the core of it, but he didn't know the worst part. He didn't know that a broken, bloody, twisted version of himself was holding that gun that killed him.
“... Your friend. That was his number, wasn't it?” In-ho asked quietly, looking back at the pair of players who had already began jumping by now. Was it even jumping? It was one jump and all the rest had been launching, up and on, landing to give the other person a boost. One side flew, the other sunk, and then they swapped places, like a coin being flipped over and over. For a few seconds, Gi-hun just watched them play, not responding to In-ho's question, waiting for something to change. For the odds to become 1/4 instead of 0/5, for someone to slip up and get it over with, for something, anything to happen. Why were they going on the board one by one? Wouldn't it be easier to just build more places to play instead of dragging this on?
“Yes. Let's not talk about thi-” Gi-hun couldn't finish his sentence as he heard something that sounded suspiciously like somebody falling onto the sand and another person gasping in terror. He turned around just in time to witness the scene before him. 390 standing on one end of the board, staring down at her teammate who was trying to frantically scramble back up onto it, only to get shot in the back. The shot for her came a second later, right though the player number, almost mockingly. The player fell backwards and off the board, once more letting it settle to the evenness it was supposed to hold. Both the unfamiliar number and 390 were announced as eliminated, their bodies dragged away through the sand and off into a black gift box. Gi-hun noticed from this far away that the other player was still moving, despite the bullet in their back. The guards didn't seem to care though.
Another pair was pushed forwards. Nobody familiar, luckily. The previous elimination still left a bitter taste in his mouth, even more so than the usual deaths. Jung-bae was never announced as eliminated. He was just killed in front of his eyes and it was just played off as breaking the rules. Not a heroic death for a good cause. Was it a good cause, though? A mission already set in stone to fail, and he unknowingly led everyone to their deaths. Two people were lucky enough to escape because of the ammo. One person slipped away by faking it, having never been real in the first place. And then there was him, an unwilling survivor, someone lucky who wished he had died. Was it standard procedure for guards to stop people's suicide attempts, twice? Or was it just a him thing?
To nobody's surprise but to everyone's anxiety, the pairing had failed once again, both being shot and cleaned up like they were nothing more than a bit of dust on the countertop. Gi-hun nervously looked around the slowly thinning crowd. Thirty two remained, twelve have been killed by the game's design, and many more would come. Once again, two strangers were sent forwards, neither of them eager to do this. This time, the pair didn't even manage to make it through halfway, one of them panicking and yelling that they can't do this, midway through a jump, and stumbling off the second they landed. They not only doomed themselves but also their teammate. And as it was customary, they were nothing more than bits of grime to clean up without a word. These were people. They had lives, families, stories and feelings, and yet, they'd be forgotten within seconds.
The game dragged on. With every player standing on each end of the board, a new eliminated number came. Some were vaguely familiar. Others? Not so much. The crowd thinned down to twenty two first, half the players playing having been eliminated. Eleven pairs killed. The next pair didn't change anything, just causing more players to drop like flies. At first Gi-hun was afraid, knowing that there's no way he can protect and help In-ho through this, but that feat and anxiety sizzled down to resignation first. Nobody had succeeded so far, and it was unlikely that by some miracle, he and In-ho had a chance. Maybe he should've let In-ho go with a stranger. There was still a smart part of him hoping, wishing, that by some miracle, they both survive and make it to the finals. If only it was that easy, if only it was possible.
Two more players stepped onto the board. Gi-hun barely watched them, more-so staring through them. They had successfully both grabbed onto the metal beam at some point, and their odds were looking good. Gi-hun knew it was likely that something bad would happen, but who knows, maybe they'd prove the preexisting odds wrong. Maybe they'll be the first ones to succeed and make it through, or they'll just fall onto the sand like everyone before them. A few seconds pass without a fail in the rhythm, without a bad landing or slip up. Several more pass. And suddenly, there's ten seconds remaining. Gi-hun is, deep down, rooting for the two, even if their survival would be unpleasant in the long run. They represented hope and perseverance, the need to love and the will to survive. As the counter hits zero, loud cheers rise from the remaining survivors. The two are announced as having passed the game. They leave the room immediately after.
But that barely changes anything, in the end. Everyone assumes that suddenly they'll survive because of one lucky team, but they're left disappointed. The next few teams don't pass, not even close to lucky survival. Gi-hun's hopes plummet much like everyone else's. It's just two bodies that won't be cleaned and will be allowed to walk out of the room on their own, at least for today. At least one more will die in this place anyways. In-ho watches silently. Suddenly there's only four teams left, and nobody else had made it thus far. No familiar numbers were eliminated either, which Gi-hun was thankful for, deep down. Hearing the numbers again was painful. Even more so than he himself expected it to be. They were dead. They had always been dead. And they'll be dead too.
The next pair pushed forwards were 089 and 067. The two nervously shuffled over to the pink board in the centre of the room, looking back at them. Gi-hun saw how In-ho mouthed a good luck, and watched as played 067 clenched his fist, signaling that they've got it. The two move onwards without a word, slowly getting onto the board. 089 looks back to the other six remaining players, as if searching for some kind of reassurance. But deep down, he knew his chances were horrible as is. Gi-hun knew it too. They would almost certainly die here, forgotten in the sand. A mere number, nothing more, nothing less. The counter appeared, causing both of the players to glance at it. For a few more seconds, both were silent, staring at it. Gi-hun, In-ho and the other four players were silent.
“We can do this. Come on, just focus.” Player 067's words were loud enough for Gi-hun to catch, but they were never intended towards him. Player 089 gives a short nod, sighing slightly, eyes closed. He makes the first move, jumping upwards, landing on the board without trouble. Player 067 is launched upwards several centimetres, his subsequent landing doing the exact same for his teammate. Gi-hun watched the two of them play, internally hoping that they defy the odds and make it out. It was unlikely, it was near impossible, but hoping wasn't the same as believing it would actually work. Though, it seemed like the two were doing well..?
They took a different approach, with 067 grabbing onto the bar midway through the timer,dropping the second it was acknowledged by the lingering guards. Then it was 089's turn to grab on. Every attempt seemed to end with a slipping hand, a miss, a fail. Player 067 kept saying, loud enough for the rest of them to head, that it was fine, that they had time. But the time they had was running out second by second, turning the encouraging tone into something that closer resembled fear and desperation. 089 moved where he was standing closer to the middle of the pink board without acknowledging the fact it made him rise lower in the air. In-ho nudged into Gi-hun subtly, pointing at the place where the man was standing previously and now. Gi-hun nodded slowly, not getting what it was supposed to mean. There wasn't time to focus on it.
“089, focus! Just please-” 067's words trailed off as he watched his teammate fail once more. Gi-hun glanced towards the counter. About forty seconds left. Not much, to say the least, but not all hope is lost. In-ho's mouth opened, as if wanting to say something, not to Gi-hun, but to the pair on the board. But then the other man's gaze turns to the other two pairs who are yet to play, and his mouth slowly closes. Gi-hun didn't quite understand what that meant, but his attention is taken again by player 089 mumbling something that only 067 could hear. Even from the slight distance they had been away from the players currently competing, they could see the way 067's expression twisted into confusion and something that almost resembled anger.
“Yes you can do it! Don't give up, we still have- half a minute. Come on!” 067's cheering on sounded more like a begging by now. The man was launched up again, too low than to grab the bar above. In-ho's face looked tense as he glanced back and forth, as if looking for something. Maybe not something physical, maybe he was looking for a chance to say something, for bravery, but...he couldn't quite tell. As 067 landed once again, player 089 was launched upwards. Strangely enough, he didn't even try catching the bar, instead looking over to the waiting six players without a word. With another failure came another quiet cuss from 067, although not quiet enough, given that Gi-hun could hear it. Yet again, it was the man with the familiar number in the air, staring down at his teammate.
“It's over.” 089 sounded less like he was just saying it, and more like he was announcing his and his teammate's fate. For a split second, Gi-hun could've sworn he was looking straight at In-ho instead of just at the crowd. An equally confused and scared sound came from 067, too vague than to be counted as words. Player 089 took a small step towards the centre of the board without a response. In-ho might've been holding his breath in suspense, but Gi-hun didn't pay enough attention to have noticed it either way. As player 067 landed, it barely sent the other man into the air. It was just a split seconds of movement above air, and then, nothing more. They just stood there, facing eachother. One with wide, terrified eyes, one with solemn, resigned ones.
“What do you mean it's over!? Jump, we still have time!” 067 yelled, his frantic breath visible even from a distance.
“You think we had a chance either way? I didn't. Not here, not out there, and I doubt you did either. We played, we had fun, we found people we could smile with. That's what life is about.” 089 said, barely loud enough for Gi-hun to catch from the distance he and In-ho were seated at. One of the other four remaining players gasped. Player 067 stared blankly, with an open mouth and wide eyes. The board they stood on was completely balanced now, with the two of them close to the centre. That's not how you gain height. The closer you are to the centre, the less high up you'll be sprung up. Did 089 know this? Why did he do this? Was he suicidal enough to give up like this and take down, by his words, his only friend down with him?
“You... I don't want to die because you feel like giving up! Get up and fight for the both of us! We still have-” 067's words faded out into the empty air as the countdown beeped into a zero. His head snapped to the now empty black screen that would normally show the time they had left to pass the game. A guard moved, then a second one did, slowly heading towards them. For whatever reason, they weren't shooting from a distance, despite being capable of doing so. One gun was raised, then the other. Gi-hun stood up before he could think about it, In-ho following a moment later. Player 089 didn't react to the yell, to the panic, to the guns that were raised. For a few seconds, the world seemed to slow, as if holding its breath.
With a loud yell, powered by fear, but maybe by rage too, rung out a second before the gunshots. Both missed as player 067 tackled the other man off of the board, falling into the sand. Both of the guards who were after them sped up, intending to end the impending fight before it even started. Gi-hun froze, standing there like a fool, right beside In-ho. The gunshot finally came, at least one of them. Then a second. Player 067 trembled for a second before his body fell onto the other, who was laying in the sand. A gurgle came from the man, loud enough to hear even from the slight distance. For a second, nobody moved, not even the guards looming above the still alive 089.
Then they didn't. One of the two guards moved, gloves hands grabbing the dead, or dying player roughly by the jacket as if he was nothing more a piece of roadkill. He's tossed to the side like a rejected chunk of meat at a butchery. His eyes are probably still struck open. One of the bullets got him in the back of the neck while the other went into his upper back. The one in the neck was probably what caused the most damage. In the neck... Now what did that remind him of? Surely not the other player 067, who's demise he had seen, a knife through the neck, someone he cared about deeply. He stares blankly as player 089 mutters something too quiet for him and In-ho to hear and sits up. Then, the guard raises the gun for the second time. The gunshot pierced through the air.
“Player 067 and player 089, eliminated.”
Sae-byeok's limp body, slumped in the bed she had died in, Sang-woo with a knife stained with fresh blood looming right above her. Her finals words that he's heard, making him not kill Sang-woo, that sentence that stuck with him for the years to come. The phrase that made him choose not to kill the other finalists. Did it make him a good person, or just slightly less bad than the rest? He lunged at Sang-woo anyways, he tried to kill him with the knife either way. He ended up causing the death of the other finalists either way, so what changed? Was it more noble to kill them when they were conscious rather than when they were deep in their sleep? It didn't change anything in the end.
“Gi-hun?” Not even in-ho's voice brings him out of this. He stares blankly, at where the bodies of 089 and 067 are being put into coffins, and only notices that another pair is ushered to the board, getting on and begining to play. Sae-byeok. She died in that place, but why? He wanted to tell himself it's his fault, because it felt like it. Had he not listened to her, he would've killed Sang-woo, and maybe they would've both made it out alive. Without money, without glory, without hope, but alive. But she was already bleeding out, wasn't she? It must've happened when the glass at the end of the bridge shattered. Did she even have a chance? Was Sang-woo doing her a favour, putting her out of her misery. He slowly sunk back to the sandy floor, In-ho crouching down beside him.
“Gi-hun. You did notice where player 089 was standing. He was standing closer to the middle. It gives less height. Safer after we reach the bar. Are you listening? Please, focus. It's either us or the other team next. We both want to survive.” Gi-hun finally looks up as In-ho grabs his shoulders. Not roughly, not comfortingly, just as a reminder that for now, they're still both alive. It would've been simpler had they just been presented with the glass bridge, wouldn't it? But... Did they both want to survive? He didn't. He just wanted to live long enough to help In-ho win. Maybe deep down, he wanted to start a new, better life. But how could he, when there was a version of him that still had his daughter, his... Failing, but still existing marriage, a mother, a reason to live. He was in the wrong place. He wasn't supposed to be here for long.
“... I did. How is that going to help us? It's all about height.” Gi-hun pointed out quietly, feeling as his own voice wavered. Why? All he was remembering was himself. That old part of himself, who still hadn't succumbed to gambling that badly, only treating it as an occasional little game. The part of himself that still smiled, that still laughed at stupid jokes, that still went out for late drinks with Jung-bae, knowing they're both gonna get scolded by their wives. In-ho's hands slowly lifted off of his shoulders, almost making him slip back into thought, if it wasn't for the fact that In-ho grabbed his hands next. That removed even the possibility of thinking about the past, or the future, from his brain. He remained silent, staring at In-ho's hands over his own.
“We play as intended for the first two minutes, at the edge of the boards. Around halfway through, we both grab onto the bar. And after that, move closer to the middle. We'll jump lower, but it still counts as jumping. I counted at least three eliminations because of either an injury or slipping off the board. That'll be near impossible if we jump near the middle.” In-ho explained, and Gi-hun nodded absently. Somewhere behind them, where the board was occupied by the two players, a yell came from one of them. Gi-hun paid it no mind. They either got through the game, or failed miserably like most of the other teams. Judging by the tone of the yell, the latter was more likely. Confirmed by the gunshot a few seconds later.
“Okay. We can do that.” Gi-hun slowly nodded. Unfortunately, neither of them got a moment of peace, as guards came to them next. The gesture was vague, barely anything more than a faint nod, but it got the message across. Before either of them were nudged in the correct direction with the guns, they stood up, heading to the board slowly. Gi-hun stared at it, and at the small springs under either end of it. Makes sense, how else would it bounce humans so high up into the air? It should've been obvious but back in the day, Gi-hun just assumed the people, usually performers doing tricks with each jump, with hoops or paddles or other fancy thing, just had that ability. But no, turns out there's springs.
He slowly steps on, at the very same time as In-ho does. For a moment, the pink board wavers, just a little bit. It's paint is chipped. For how many years was this game played? Why was it replaced with stepping stones in form of the glass bridge later down the line? For the entertainment of the VIPs, of course, but why wasn't it changed sooner? He can't stay wondering for long as the counter lights up with a 05:00, making him turn to it. Then he takes a quick look at the only other two players sitting in the sand. Both of them look quite nervous, at least from this distance. Gi-hun's eyes finally landed back on In-ho, watching the other man. In-ho nodded slowly, stepping back to be at the very edge. For a second, he wanted to yell for him not to stand so close to it, that the place he was standing at before was fine, but he shuts his mouth before it can happen.
In-ho jumps up first. Strangely enough, unlike he expects, the board doesn't immediately send him up from the lack of weight. It only creaks slightly, making him shiver deep down, only to launch him slightly higher up as In-ho lands. He sees the sand around himself, the stains of blood from unfortunate players who tried feeling midway through their elimination, those who fell, and the faintest droplets of blood drying on the board underneath him from those shot while standing still. It was cleaned after each elimination since playing with a bloody board wasn't gonna work, but even then, it couldn't ever be quite cleaned up. He lands back down, bracing for his legs to twist in a way that they weren't supposed to, but strangely enough, the board was flexible and he landed without injury. He looked up just in time to catch In-ho land back down, sending him upwards again.
The feeling of rising up through the still air, the way he feels weightless for a split second feels completely unfamiliar. The feeling of coming back down after the leap is somewhat reminiscent of the way he felt falling, though. Like time has slowed, feeling he's floating down instead of falling, as if there's a million different thoughts to have before he hits the ground. But there wasn't even one, as his feet landed on the board once more, and he took the second he had before he'd be sent back up to glance at the countdown. It's only been twenty seconds, twenty one now, since they had began. And as In-ho's landing sends him upwards again, he watched the eight turn into a seven before his eyes. Then he's falling downwards again. Gi-hun's chest feels strangely light. Like there's nothing to worry about. Why did so many players die?
A full minute passed without a break in the rhythm. It's simple, almost like breathing. Up, down, stall, and up again, keeping your breath even, feeling your palms become sweaty with the stress. But even then, with the stress concealed beneath everything else, there's a strange feeling of peace. They knew the trick to the game, the strategy, everything they were supposed to do and know. He wasn't slipping up, not getting injured, not stressing over the metal bar hanging above their heads. He was thankful it was just this bar they had to grab into for a moment instead of the traditional tricks he's observed when he saw the game. No fancy jumps where he'd have to move his legs and arms to the side and clap some wooden board while midair. Just grabbing a bar and not killing himself trying to do that.
Then it happened. An unfortunate landing on his side, his feet being angled just the slightest bit wrong, making him waver when landing. Gi-hun tried to freeze himself, to force his arms not to flail when he was balancing himself. A shaky breath left his lips. No, he can't let this happen. He can't be the cause of In-ho's death just because he didn't hold his ground. His feet move to stand straighter and firmer, and he takes a deep breath before In-ho lands back down, sending him up once more. Strange, how this game made the opposing sides never stand in the same spot, facing one another. Obviously, that's how the game works, but even then, it symbolised something for him. He never quite saw into In-ho's eyes. He caught glimpses of his face, a blur or a distorted vision.
“We should start with getting the bar now! You stumbling isn't good!” In-ho called out to him as he landed, this time without a waver or a misstep. His breath feels too fast, his hands too clammy, his heart too fast. Too alive. Too scared, more exactly. This isn't a self preservation instinct that's doing this, he knows that, it's not something he can classify as an instinct. Him wanting to protect In-ho isn't an instinct. It's a choice he made with his own head, his own hand outstretching towards the other man, not something in his veins forcing him to move against his will. As Gi-hun is the one to land, he almost prepared for the previous mistake to replay, but it doesn't. Nothing happens out of the ordinary. He doesn't get a chance to glance at the other players, knowing he had to reply before In-ho made the decision for him.
“No, it's fine! Stick to the plan.” Gi-hun called back, watching as In-ho landed back on the board, maybe a bit rougher than usually? Or who knows, that might've just been his imagination talking. He looks above himself as his body is sent upwards, figuring out how high above him the bar is. It doesn't look too high up, especially with his height. Was that the problem? He was a bit taller than the average person here, including In-ho, so maybe this game wasn't intended for people taller than the average. He didn't try catching it this time, just landing back down without doing so. He didn't hear In-ho respond yet, and if he did, he didn't try to change their already decent plan, so it was alright. He watches In-ho go upwards. The jumps, yet again turn into a rhythm, like a dance. Gi-hun faces the counter just as it hits 02:27. Those three seconds better not be what they're missing.
“I'll go first!” In-ho yelled, bracing as Gi-hun landed. He steadied himself as he landed back on the board, watching the other man spring upwards towards the bar, hands outstretched. It was hard to tell whether he was close or not from this angle, but Gi-hun hoped he'd do fine. As he watched the man, who he should remind himself, was a policeman mere months ago, he realised that this was going... Strangely well. In-ho grabs onto the metal bar like it's barely anything, hanging from it like he'd done this before at least a few times. Maybe it had to do something with policeman duties, Gi-hun wouldn't know, but it was quite admirable, watching the man cling onto the metal with ease. For a moment, they're both silent, Gi-hun giving a little bounce a few centimeters above the board to show he's still... Technically jumping.
“Ready?” In-ho called quickly, fingers loosening around the metal rod he was holding onto.
“I'm ready.” Gi-hun answered, clenching his fists. He watched as In-ho let go of the metal, falling down feet first, trajectory straighter than an arrow. As the other man lands on the board, Gi-hun is shot upwards with more force than he expected, almost making him yell in suprise. He doesn't, though, focusing on catching the bar. It seems like he underestimated just how tall he was and just how bad his depth perception was, as he grabs the air above the metal bar without the time recover. He falls back down, luckily without injury, hearing In-ho say something along the lines of, it's okay, we have plenty of attempts, take your time. He takes a deep breath as he watches In-ho be the one going upwards this time and looks back at the clock for a moment, seeing that... Yeah, they had time.
When In-ho lands again, Gi-hun is once more sent far up. This time he understands how close the bar is to his hand, and actually grabs onto it, intending to steady himself with the other, but doesn't get the chance to. Curse the sweaty hands. The second he lands back down, he huffs, wiping them down against his pants. Luckily In-ho doesn't say anything, neither encouragement or discipline. It's strangely comforting to just be left unacknowledged like this in this situation. Encouraging him, telling him they had time, that might get him too relaxed than to focus enough. A light scolding, rising from fear of frustration, it would've made him too tense than to focus properly too. Leaving him as is was the best thing In-ho could've done. The countdown hits 01:43 seconds. Okay, that's still enough time.
As In-ho's weight, the force with which he lands against the board hits, Gi-hun is launched up. No sweaty hands, no bad estimate of the position of the metal rod, the only thing that could fail him now was things he couldn't fix. Maybe he'd be too weak to hang onto the bar in the first place, maybe that's what the hunger of the past... Nearly two weeks now would do to him. Two weeks, isn't that funny? Not to him. But even then, he spent six days in the second games, this was his fifth day in the... Third games. Oh, it felt so surreal to call this his third games. Eleven days already. Three more and it'd be two whole weeks. His hands reach out, his fingers curling around the metal, his palms pressing onto the cold steel harshly. He doesn't slip, nor doesn't let go on accident, he hangs on, tightly, without problem. About a minute and a half more. What more could happen?
“Good job! Now go down and do what we agreed on!” In-ho's calls from below, smiling faintly. The sight, or maybe the words, hell, even both, make Gi-hun crack a smile himself. There's nothing that could go wrong now. The risks of injury are reduced massively when they jump lower, and that can be achieved by jumping near the middle, like they planned. The guards didn't stop... The previous pair who tried it. Gi-hun tried not to think back to their teammates, ones now lying dead in the coffins, but it was hard. It's okay. He wouldn't grieve over them, because once the other two survivors so far were out of the picture, it would just be him and In-ho. And when that will be the case, he will be the one to die. He won't grieve, not for the strangers with familiar numbers, not for the people he agreed to work with, not for the players he trusted. The dead can't grieve. The dead can't regret.
He lets go of the bar, falling downwards. They've got it in the bag now, there's nothing that could ruin this now. He already planned his next steps. First he'd let In-ho go back up, then he'd step a little closer to the midpoint of the board, wait for In-ho to land, then focus on his own next landing. They'd make it through the remaining time they needed no problem. Gi-hun's smile didn't falter as he sunk lower and lower. One foot hit the pink platform, then the other, but something was wrong. The pain didn't register for too long, his reaction strangely delayed, and his hiss of pain way too loud for what he assumed was a sprained ankle. His foot bent wrong, on the side, and he wavered for a moment, but ultimately didn't fall. He took an unsteady step towards the centre, watching as In-ho landed.
“Gi-hun, you're...” In-ho's voice went quiet without finishing the words. Gi-hun stared downwards as he was back up in the air again. The next landing would be even worse, wouldn't it? The sharp paint on impact was one thing, but the dull, persistent sort of pain deep underneath was only starting. He landed back down with a bit more than a hiss of pain, barely managing to bite back down the cry of pain as the... Definitely worse than just sprained ankle made contact with the floor so roughly. In-ho was sent lower, which must mean he had moved closer to the middle of the board. One minute and... Eleven seconds. They could make it, right? His own breath, slowly turning faster and shallower and the stinging pain that kept persisting told him otherwise.
He was in the air again. Jun-hee. This is what she was dealing with, wasn't she? An ankle injury. A fracture or a bad sprain, he didn't know, he didn't know what happened to her or what happened to him, but here they were. Fifth game, slowly coming to it's conclusion, both of them with impossible odds. Jun-hee had the person she wanted to protect already across the bridge, already safe, and she could step off of that platform without thinking about it too deeply. Her daughter had a chance, and that's all that really mattered, didn't it? She had somebody to protect her, and that someone was Gi-hun. But what about In-ho? If Gi-hun slips and falls, he's destined to die as well. He can't let that happen. As he sinks back downwards towards the platform, he braces for the impact and it's pain, but it's not something he can't hold back. Something escapes his lips, not quite a cry, not quite a hiss, but something that clearly means pain.
“Gi-hun. Stop, I'll figure something out. That looks really bad-” In-ho's words fall on deaf ears. There's no real way to stop the board from sending them back upwards unless they both cooperate. It stings. It hurts worse than having a knife stabbed through the hand. Gi-hun would know. Or maybe he wouldn't, considering just how much all the things he'd endured during the games blur together by now. Maybe it felt worse because it was happening in the very moment. As he's falling downwards again, he grits his teeth, opening his eyes only take a look at the time. Fifty eight seconds. His legs stomp down onto the platform, the foot on the ankle now twisted at an angle it definitely shouldn't be in.
“Gi-hun! Stop doing this! Just let it stop, okay? I don't want to make this hurt because you want me to live this bad!” In-ho yelled, and the second he landed, he stood at the very centre of the board. No... That would mean... Gi-hun stared down at him as he landed on the board one last time, not sending In-ho up an inch, but registering the horrible pain all the same. He's giving up. He's giving up because he thinks Gi-hun couldn't make it through this. He's giving up because he already thinks it's over. One second passes, then another. Then Gi-hun shakes his head, not having the strength to say a single word. Before In-ho can question it, he drags himself up to In-ho with his good leg, pushing the man backwards, gently as to not make him slip, but enough to force him back onto the board. He hears the footsteps of the guards somewhere behind or around him. Then, the second In-ho is standing far enough, he stumbled back and jumps.
The pain feels like the bones in his ankle are being grinded to dust. He can't hold back something that sounds like a yell, a sob and a cry all at once, but he watches as In-ho is up in the air again, like when they'd started. He looks shocked, maybe even scared, probably horrified by Gi-hun's move. But he doesn't care. As In-ho lands back down, he takes a deep breath, at least deep compared to the shallow ones he'd been inhaling for the past few seconds, and braces again. It burns so bad, all the worst sorts of pain, stinging, burning, stabbing, all of it. But he doesn't do anything. In-ho's just standing there, stunned by all this, and doesn't move to try to end this too early again. Gi-hun lands on the board without a sound this time, biting his lip to silence it. It's working.
With every landing comes a sting of pain. He doesn't bother to count, he just glances at the countdown whenever his mind clears enough for it. It just feels like a string of pain and pain over and over again, looping in on itself. He could've sworn he started seeing those ripples in his vision, like a puddle during a rainstorm, distorting things he knows and changing them into things they aren't. When he last glances at the countdown, it says three seconds remaining. As he lands for the last time, hearing the beep announcing that this torture, quite literally, is over, he doesn't even wait for In-ho to land safely after him. Before he's forced up into the air to relive the pain he can only imagine is one of hell's punishments, he scrambles off of the board, falling facefirst into the sand.
Gi-hun would've never thought he'd say he was happy to get a face full of fake sand, a bit of which had a splatter of fake blood on it. For a moment, he just lies there, only moving his head to the side to regain his ability to breathe, still essentially panting every single breath. He hears footsteps in the sand but right now, he could care less, he's... He'd just glad In-ho is alive. In-ho would've given everything up just because he was in pain. That was stupid. In-ho had no reason to care for him in any other way than as a person that helps survive. Hands grab at his shoulders, but he can't quite focus on that right now. Even if deep down he can only guess it's In-ho's hands, right now, his vision is blurry and his leg feels like it's been drained of all its blood.
“...I... I'm fine...” His own voice sounded unnaturally thin and unlike him. Not the loud, confident voice of the man that had spent years yelling the numbers of racehorses, bumping his fists in the air cheering on animals who could care less about his existence. It didn't sound like the man who's been through hell twice, convincing the enemy to not attack with a small trick or talking to an ally with a smile. He was something else right now. Something broken, that's for sure, but what exactly was he anymore? Player 456, the one who keeps coming back, the one who endures pain time and time again? The man who pressed a guard's gun against his forehead, genuinely meaning the words when he dared them to shoot him? Or was he just a shell of even his worst moments?
“No... No you aren't. Come on, don't put pressure on that leg. Are you stupid or something, or just suicidal?” In-ho's last words are uttered very quietly, but Gi-hun doesn't comment on them. He was suicidal, that much he could admit, but only when there wasn't anyone to protect. He had a knife to his throat one day and the next he was carrying a baby across a bridge, praying he doesn't shake the little one too much. One day he's begging the guards to end his life, the next he's hunting down an innocent man for a lie that anyone could've used. One day he's a man betting on a racehorse with his friend, the next, he's standing face to face with a doll, not knowing what he's about to be put through. In-ho pulls him up to one foot, supporting him with both arms as best as he could manage. It was easier to help people when there were two people helping them up.
“...I'm okay...” Gi-hun muttered. His leg felt tingly, the sort you get when you put one leg over the other for too long and the blood flow is restricted. But right now, all it did was shield the sharp stinging pain in his ankle. He didn't disobey In-ho's words, the leg with the bad ankle dragging behind him slightly. Even if he didn't step on it, even if he had In-ho half dragging him out of the room, it still hunt a ton. Not enough to force him to make a sound, but enough to feel and for his face to tense up. They passed through the door, the pair selection area, and onto the seemingly endless staircases they went. Every single stair was a hazard, and it happened more than once that Gi-hun bumped the ankle into it by accident and nearly yelled here and there. Every few seconds In-ho tried to comfort him vaguely, or at least he interpreted it as that.
It must've taken many minutes longer to get down from the staircases than it took for them to get back, because the other two players who played after them had caught up in the meantime. They both kept their distance, staring at Gi-hun as it he were some anomaly that was potentially dangerous. What? All he did was keep surviving when most would've given up. Emphasis on most, some would've done the same, right? In-ho held onto him firmly, not letting him waver a single step, helping him get down the constantly swirling staircases that led everywhere and nowhere. His breath was still uneven, and the constant pain, although dulled by a moment of not hitting it against things, he didn't even want to mention. Finally, they reached the ground floor, to which Gi-hun sighed in relief.
The other two passed by them, and Gi-hun didn't quite catch their numbers. Not that it was too important, seeing as he had some more... Painful things to focus on... When they finally got past the door, the beds were all cleared out except the six for the players currently existing. Strangely enough, they were all pressed by the same wall instead of three on either side. Hm. Strange choice by whoever made the decision, but who cares. Two of the beds were already occupied, the players sitting on them and talking to one another. They turned to the four new arrivals, greetings the other two strangers like friends. Wait. They must've been the group of four Gi-hun saw while they were getting into pairs... Huh. When their eyes landed on him, all their expressions dropped to something between horror and fear.
Gi-hun didn't have time to consider it too much as In-ho dragged him over to the next bed in line, fifth from the door, letting to of him right after. Gi-hun didn't need to be told twice, falling into the bed without hesitation. He was a bit careful regarding his ankle though, keeping it off the bed and untouched. He looked up slowly to see the four other players whispering something between one another, glancing at him. He could care less, though, right now, he needed a moment to breathe and to be left in silence. Not sleep, not yet, too early for that, but at least relax until the guards come around to give them the suits and the grand final dinner. Wasn't that a biblical thing? Something along those lines. He wasn't a Christian, nor big into classical arts, so he didn't know what that one painting was called.
“Gi-hun. Your jacket. They kept it.” In-ho announced walking back to him, carrying the bundle of fabric. He halfway expected it to be spotless and clean, but it wasn't. Still stained with blood of player 100 and all sorts of other grime that clung into it from everything that's happened in the games. As In-ho handed it over to him, he ran his thumb over the cheap fabric, barely caring. It's not like it'll matter soon, when they'll be given the suits for the finalists and their old clothes will be thrown god knows where. He doesn't say that outloud though, just reaching over to his leg. As if he could do anything with the pain. It's not ignorable, not tolerable either, it's just something he grit his teeth over and forced himself to brave through it. No use whining over a... That was not just sprained at this point. He'd be lying to himself if he said it's sprained. This is an ugly fracture.
His eyes rose up to face the wall. The drawings in black against the white tile were all the same as he knew, simple figures playing red light green light. A handful under shapes representing dalgona cookies and what you'd have to cut out out of them. Figures playing tug of war. And marbles too. And then there was the new one. Two figures were on a board, one falling back down onto it, or perhaps only now going up, looking down at the person on the other side, who was standing still. It must've been obscured by beds prior to this. Why didn't he think it this earlier, though? He could've just checked the walls to make sure the next game was glass bridge when he was doubting himself this bad. But would it have changed anything? His ankle might've not gotten messed up, a couple of extra people might've survived here and there, but other than that? They would've died anyways, later on.
The guards come in to announce the results, as it it isn't already obvious. Six players remain. The current price is 45 000 000 000 won. It's still missing the 600 000 000 that'll come from the five soon to be eliminated players and the worth of the survivor. Strange, how these games think a human life is worth only a hundred million won. Money can't buy you another life, it can't buy you true happiness, nor can it save you from this hell. The money falls into the piggy bank above their heads like it's nothing. The other four players momentarily stop their shunned discussion to stare up at it. One of them grins. It's those kind of people that make it this far. Greedy. It's always the greedy ones. Not always, though, now that he considered it. In his first game, Sae-byeok and Sang-woo weren't greedy. They just wanted to survive.
His eyes meet the golden piggy bank, and he knows that soon, his own self will be reduced to nothing but paper to fill it.
Notes:
Is this the new longest chapter? What is happening... Also sorry for the somewhat. Sudden cut-off. Gotta fix my sleep schedule somehow right? No more going to bed at 4 am we gotta fix this!! Needed to stop writing soon. And not make the readers wait for a week for a chapter.
Btw Let Down by Radiohead started playing when I was writing the deaths of 067 and 089 I can't do this anymore. I'll miss all the background players so much man... Five original characters (328, 172, 100, 067, 089) and a handful of extras (the random dead people, numbers gi-hun recognises, ect) to support the dialogue and THEY'RE ALL DEAD NOW 😭 I can't with myself bro this hurts. I can only use the four other finalists shown dead in their beds for a split second, out of which NONE have a confirmed number (it's usually 1 or 2 confirmed digits and an unreadable third 💔)
I'm stuck without energy drinks for two weeks. My mother is home until the FOURTH. OF. SEPTEMBER. I can't drink energy drinks when she's home. How am I supposed to survive. Somebody shoot me in the head please. The clothes in the corner of my room look like a figure again without my monster to keep me too awake to care...
Special shout out to the person who helped me figure out what game to put as the fifth one (who I'm not sure if they want to be mentioned by name so I'll just leave it vague like this!)
Aaaaas per usual much thanks to all kudos and comments!!! If you have any questions please feel free to ask them (I'll either give an actual response, "haha. you'll see :3" or "um i haven't decided yet lol. We'll see!") there's so many things to wonder and some of them might not be answered later down the line, so feel free to ask while they're still fresh!!! I love answering your questions!!
Chapter 23: Their dinner
Notes:
Hello! Before we start I'd like to remind you all that this fic is being written by someone who's attention span is NOT built for rewatching the series for every scene I write and to factcheck the wiki for every sentence I make them say. If anything is inaccurate, um, damn, my bad! Feel free to be mad at me in your head lol.
The finalists are from the wiki, although none of their numbers are clear. I decided for 153 (guy in-ho stabbed last, 53 confirmed), 219 (9 confirmed), 381 (38 confirmed) and as a wildball because there's no other numbers I can grab as a base, 266. Thanks for coming to my tedtalk. Last thing I have to add is that I make things up. "In-ho hates classical music" yeah that's my headcanon. I'll be adding more of these as the fic goes on probably. Feel free to disagree. I'll try not to make it contradict canon of course but no promises.
With that out of the way, enjoy the chapter!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Gi-hun watched as the guards gathered at the front entrance of the room, still feeling that dull hum in his ankle. It hurt less, far less, but there was still something remaining within, something ugly and wrong. Maybe, the first time he landed, it was only sprained. Maybe it wouldn't have gotten this bad had he given up. But here, giving up meant death, and neolttwigi would mean the death of both him and In-ho. He couldn't let that happen. Not when he'd gone this far. Not when he'd sacrificed player 100 for him. Not when his personal victory was within reach, barely a hair away. But it was no longer just that innocent sprain he could walk off. It was ugly. It was swelling. It didn't stop feeling like static spilling underneath his skin.
“Players, we sincerely congratulate and commend you all for successfully making it through the first five games. The six of you are now the finalists and as such, we have prepared a special gift for each of you. Before we reveal the gift, please take a moment to change into the outfits we have brought.” It was the square guard speaking, and slowly, workers holding simple boxes approached each of the six remaining players. He barely lifted up his head for several seconds, watching as the box was set onto the bed instead of in his hands. When he did look up, it was to glance at In-ho, who slowly opened the box that was cradled in his arms. Gi-hun's gaze didn't linger long, slowly straightening up as he reached for his own box. Adorned with the same pink ribbon as the black boxes so many people have been burned within.
Slowly, he took the lid off. He was greeted with the familiar sight, one he'd faced two times already. A sleek black suit, the familiar number 456 sewn onto one side of the chest. What a pretty thing, if it wasn't for the fact it represented the deaths of hundreds. Only a few people would even get the chance to look at this little thing, while the rest would die in unwashed teal streaked in blood and sweat. How unfair was that? His fingers slowly stroked the fabric. High quality, compared to the cheap, uncomfortable tracksuits they were dressed in for the past five days. Or at least, uncomfortable to him, with the way the sleeves felt on his arms, biting, digging into his skin like it was covered in spikes. Maybe he was imagining. What wasn't he imagining, at this point?
The first player out of the four, who's number Gi-hun caught to be 153, headed out of the main room and into the bathroom, to dress into the suits, he'd assume. Once the player dissapeared, he heard the shunned whispers of the other three that stuck together. He could only wonder what they did all throughout the games, how they fared in red light green light, what shape they were handed during dalgona, how lights out went for them. Were they hiding, terrified that someone would stab them from behind with a glass bottle? Or were they the ones rushing onto another person with a yell and a raised weapon? Who was by their side during tug of war, who's team fell over the edge while their hands let go of the rope? Who did they stare in the eyes during marbles, knowing they're the ones who are behind the deaths of their partners?
Player 153 returned, dressed into the tuxedo with a smirk too obvious for someone who's pondering the past and the people they've lost. This isn't someone who cares about who got shot in front of their eyes, possibly even crying out for mercy. This is the expression of someone who wants the money and would kill for it. There's a lot of people like this in this place, they're the ones who get past marbles, but sometimes luck picks them off one by one before that. Not this time though, as the player chuckled as he sat down besides the other three men, one getting up to take his spot. The three exchanged quiet words, gazes landing on Gi-hun. He slowly moved his injured leg behind the other, sitting on the edge of the bed. For a moment, he wondered whether they were plotting against him.
He's seen this look once before, short, subtle, but ravenous, and not in the good way. The hunger only greed and money can induce, looking for a weak spot, looking for fear in his eyes and for allies to recruit against him. The sort of look he received from player 100 and his little group in 2024, ready to kill him and the baby without hesitation. Picking off the weak, one by one, until only their group is left. But what happened when the weakest link had fallen off the first tower and Gi-hun fought back? They disbanded, not caring about who is who's friend and who saved who, going as far as to kick their own teammate to near death just as a peace offering. Player 039, who didn't want to be their sacrificial lamb, the man who would rather die by his own hands than someone else's.
At first, Gi-hun thought it was wrong. Selfish from the start, living selfish, dying selfish. He died, knowing that three people could've lived had he just stayed put. But maybe, he saw the reasoning behind it. He wanted to push back one more time, to fight against the stronger ones, to prove a point, to rebel. Sounds familiar, almost like his rebellion. Despite the different intentions, he and 039 ended the same. Suffering their last moments and taking that last step off the platform. It didn't change anything about what 039 did, him being the reason Gi-hun and player 333 both died. Even then, Gi-hun couldn't see himself getting out of there alive and alone. What would he do? Return to the motel-turned-base, waiting another year just to lose everything again? Or would he just sit there for a day or two, gun in hand, understanding that he couldn't end the games no matter how much he tried?
Necessary evil, In-ho said. Gi-hun hated thinking of this hellhole as something necessary, something that held purpose, something that was defendable, but maybe he was right. First would come his mother's death, then his daughter's departure into who knows where, then his kidney, and his eye. What would his life be without the games? Just as much suffering, just without knowing. Visiting Sang-woo's mother, who would quietly mumble that she hadn't seen her son in years and that her shop, her home, her everything was torn away because her son needed money before he disappeared. Jung-bae would dissapear a couple of years later and never return. Maybe he'd end up the same. He'd end up somewhere on the sidewalk, staring up at the night sky, body angled wrong with every bone and blood spilling out from the back of his head.
“Gi-hun.” In-ho slowly said, making Gi-hun flinch slightly. Was he so lost in thought that he didn't hear the man approach, or was he just naturally a quiet walker? Looking over In-ho's shoulder, he saw the second player come back with the suit on. When he squinted his eyes, he could even read the number. 266. The four were all huddled around two of the beds furthest away, two sitting, two standing, all talking and whispering and shooting glances. They looked like a couple of high school girls gossiping, but he knew better than that. They were plotting, planning without knowing what was ahead. No matter the situation, the knife would turn against him, he already knew. He shot a quick glance down to his foot. It rested awkwardly, tilted to the side, not like it usually did. Ankle fracture, he'd guess. Unfortunate.
“What is it?” Gi-hun replied slowly, eyes lingering on his awkward foot. After a few seconds of hesitation and pondering, he slowly lifted the rim of the tracksuit pants. The area was already bruising, surprisingly fast, given that it hasn't even been an hour. It looked like it was swelling too, and not to mention the dull, persistent sensation of buzzing. He hesitantly moved his foot, biting back a hiss. It was worse than he thought, looking at the ankle for a moment more before letting the pant leg drop back to it's rightful place and lifting up his head to face In-ho. What caught him off guard was the flicker of sadness in his eyes, something solemn, something he hasn't seen this clear yet. Gi-hun's first thought was his wife. He was thinking about her, how the time slowly slipped between his fingers like water. But then In-ho's gaze flicked to his leg. Surely, that's not why he was feeling down?
“...Are you sure you can walk on your own with...that? We may be at a major disadvantage.” In-ho said slowly, staring down at the leg Gi-hun showed a moment ago, before meeting his eyes again. Gi-hun wasn't sure. Especially considering that a small movement had him clenching his teeth with pain. Not that there was much left besides testing it out, though, as Gi-hun slowly stood up, one hand grabbing at the metal headboard of the bed, only standing on his good leg for a moment. His eyes turned to In-ho's concerned expression first, then to the curiously yet ominously staring onlookers that were two beds away. For a moment he hesitated putting weight on it. Pain still hurt. It might sound stupid, but he felt like pain would dull, both in his brain and in his nerves, after he endured so much. But every single flash of pain still registered as if it wasn't felt a hundred times before.
“Gi-hun don't-” Before In-ho's words registered, he had already placed the foot flat on the ground. It stung, but he didn't dare let it show. He slowly let go of the headboard, just standing there, arms awkwardly stretched out as it he was balancing on a tightrope and not standing on solid ground. Then he made the mistake of trying to take a full step with his injured leg holding the weight. Immediately, the ankle buckled, drawing out a small yell from his lungs and making him drop to the ground, barely catching himself with his hands before faceplanting into the floor. First came a wave of shame that felt like he was drenched in lukewarm water. Not cold, not hold, just uncomfortable and embarrassing. He heard a small chuckle come from the group of other players. Not an amused chuckle, but something closer to mockery and the soft of laugh you give when something bad happens to somebody you don't like.
“I'm fine.” Gi-hun snapped quickly, grabbing the edge of the bed and trying to hoist himself up, knowing he only managed to stand back up because In-ho's hands gently held his shoulder and other arm when the shame simmered away like morning dew underneath the sun's first rays, came the doubt. He was here to protect In-ho, but what good is he with an unusable leg, unable to walk on his own without falling over and relying on In-ho? The best he could be is a limping meat shield, and even then, that was barely anything useful. There were four opponents, and only two of them, if you dared to count Gi-hun as a full person. Stupid leg. Stupid bad landing... Stupid... He was stupid wasn't he? He was trying to figure a way ahead, knowing there is none... Unless...
“You aren't, Gi-hun. We can go dress into the clothes they gave us after the fourth person comes back, okay?” In-ho's words barely process, because his mind is already elsewhere. The knife. The knife that's been looming above him, that was the solution, wasn't it? A choice, an opportunity, a chance to turn the tide. But would he take it? Sae-byeok's words always told him not to. Dishonourable, wrong, unfair, unkind, cold, heartless, were all the words that came to mind when trying to describe the idea. It was wrong to stab someone in their sleep while they're powerless. So what good would the knife do him, then? Besides the idea that he holds the steel in his hand, knowing the sharpness of the blade. Why would Il-nam even give it to him anyway? He wasn't special. He was just another survivor who ran out of luck. Finally, the words In-ho said travelled to his brain, and it took embarrassingly long...
“We?” Gi-hun echoed quietly, not daring to face In-ho.
“...Do you not see the way they're looking at you, Gi-hun? They're like sharks in water when they smell blood. Leaving you alone would be a guaranteed disaster.” In-ho said, clearly missing what Gi-hun was getting at. Whatever, maybe it's for the best that he didn't realise how his words sounded... He had a point with that, the four players looked like they were merely waiting for the best moment to strike, fists raised and faces twisted in sick grins. The was just a small issue with that assumption, though. The last time someone tried attacking a player shortly after the fifth game concluded, specifically Gi-hun and Jun-hee's baby, a warning shot was immediately fired and they were reminded that they can't kill eachother right now.
“It's fine. They stop fights whenever it's not a good time. And this isn't a good time either.” Gi-hun said, raising his voice slightly so the other four players would catch it. Well, three, considering one of them was currently dressing outside of the room. Player 153 specifically seemed a bit shocked by the words, mouth noticeably hanging open before he quickly closed it. After a moment, In-ho nodded too, looking over at the players who were noticeably quieter, as if their plan was just shut down. Gi-hun wasn't even sure if they would stop a fight, but he had to believe, right? Even if he just lied, it got the attackers to quiet down, so it was probably fine... Better than risking it, that's for sure.
“You can't walk on your own without falling immediately.” In-ho pointed out, crossing his arms slightly, like a pouty kid. Minus the expression, of course. Gi-hun smiled slightly at the thought, only covering it up with a cough instead. In-ho didn't look convinced, but he didn't seem to have noticed the smile in the first place, so Gi-hun didn't give it much more mind. True, but he'd manage. He could hug the wall on his way to the bathroom.... Except he couldn't, because In-ho's bed was in the way. Well, he could probably limp over there and hug the wall from there on, right? It had to work, otherwise he'd have to rely on In-ho to even go to the bathroom... Not to mention everything that would follow. The last player returned.
“I'll manage. And I'll go first, yeah? See you in a bit.” Gi-hun protested quietly, waving his hand dismissively and standing up as smoothly as he could. His leg immediately hurt again, the pain humming into his bones. He ignored it as he put one hand on the wall and kept his injured foot slightly above the ground. It seemed to work as he set only the very tip of his foot on the floor, just enough to keep his balance combined with the hand on the wall, moving his good leg to take a step towards. Hm, okay, this wasn't working at all. That took several seconds and he barely took a step. He tried to think back to how the hell he made it down the endless staircases mere minutes ago. Maybe around a hour by now, he actually wasn't sure. He concluded it was definitely adrenaline keeping him walking. Now it was gone and so was his independence.
“Hey, no, no, I'm fine.” Gi-hun said the second he felt In-ho's hand on one shoulder and the other on his back, trying to steady him. This was more awkward than he ever thought he could feel in these games, and before he could tell himself not to, he looked over to the other players. They seemed to be enjoying their opponent struggle, the smile of... He read the number 381, well, that guy was grinning like this was the most fun he's had in years. And, who knows, maybe it was, considering that he was in these games. Nobody who ended up here was living a happy life full of smiles. Not even he was before his first games. Sometimes a smile and a laugh slipped, but he was looking over his shoulder every second, scared that someone would be after him. It was a temporary smile. Not a proper one.
“No. Come on, I'll help you to the door. Then I promise to let you be, is that alright?” In-ho said, adjusting his support on Gi-hun, one arm hooked under his arm and the other resting on his shoulder with strange gentleness. Gi-hun tried to not let it get to him, he knew better than to. He didn't want to die craving something he couldn't get, he didn't want to feel when dying like this. Maybe it was too late to think about that though, as his heart beats strangely loud, but it's only perceptible to him. The shushed words coming from the little group of players get louder, but not clearer. The words they say are different. There's still the mockery, but now there's something else too, lingering in the air, something only he can feel.
“Okay.” Gi-hun gave up on protesting. Despite the persistent pain and the danger of every step being wrong enough to make his foot twist and make him fall and yell, In-ho eases it. Not just because he's helping him drag himself to the door, but also because his presence just does something to calm him, even if he doesn't want to show it. Of course, that feeling drains away when he could've sworn he caught a very unkind word, most definitely referring to him, coming from one of the players. The idea roots itself in his mind when he hears the other three laugh and snicker, shoulders dressed in suits stuttering with mockery. He's sure it's mockery, he's sure it's not something good he's being called, and he's certain when he hears In-ho exhale through his nose quietly.
When he reaches the door, In-ho slowly lets go of him, forcing him to grab the door in order to steady himself. A handful of guards were already preparing the tables, it seems, getting the attention of the other four finalists. Which he's thankful for, given that their mocking gazes were already getting to his head. He wasn't the type to think about what others think of him. He couldn't care less who saw him as an idiot who placed horrible bets back in the day. He didn't care about anyone's opinion of him when he played the second time either, focusing on getting everyone out safely. But now, there was this prickling underneath his skin, thin needles trying to break out with every glance he got. He was weak right now. He was injured. In-ho leaves to grab the box containing the suit for him, returning in only a few seconds. The journey took two minutes for him, and a few seconds for In-ho. Pathetic.
“I'll wait for you here.” In-ho said quietly, opening the door for Gi-hun when he was steady enough. For a moment, Gi-hun didn't move, just staring at the door. Does he let In-ho linger around, waiting for him, having to endure the looks of the other players? Would they begin to mumble about him too, now that Gi-hun isn't here? He wasn't sure. He was the easy target here, no? The one who wasn't even limping, rather dragging himself around, the one who was like rusted steel, the corrosion crawling on his skin with every second spent in the games. These people don't even know he's been through this before. They don't know he's been through this twice before. He tries to think back to seeing any of the four before, but his mind blurs together faces and digits. It's pointless.
“You don't have to.” Gi-hun replied, one hand on the wall as he dragged his injured leg behind him, the other holding the box. He didn't wait for In-ho's response, or reaction, instead taking something he could only call a pathetic attempt at a step towards the bathroom. He never expected walking to be a chore, he never expected to struggle to move about. But here he was, a swelling ankle hosting a foot angled too strangely, dragging behind, a stinging pain echoing through his bones with every step. Relief washes over him when he reaches the bathroom, opening the door and taking barely a step in before he willingly collapsed onto the floor with a trembling breath. His leg hitting the ground wrong stung, made the dull pain brighter, like a lamp with new batteries, but he didn't let it make him react. He pulled off his shirt, catching the strange sight of his own ribs showing through the skin.
They didn't do that before. Not before either of his games, at least not so obviously. They were there, hidden under a layer of something healthy and masked perfectly, before his second games have began, only concealed by the attempts to stay afloat in terms of food. Cheap takeout, ordered groceries and junk he forced himself to cook some nights, whatever came under his fingers first during a hungry day. Or just nothing, some days, sitting in front of the cameras, watching the nothing of the motel, stomach growling and eyes closing. He didn't get up to eat something or go to bed those days, either staring at the screens through the night or dozing off in the chair. Hesitantly, he touches his ribs. Sharp, they're there, too noticeable, too starved.
He never let it get this bad. Sometimes he'd forget to eat for a day, once or twice even two, but then he'd stuff his face full of cheap junk and it'd ease his stomach for the day. But now, the ribs showed. He was sure his back was just as, if not worse, spine protruding through the muscle that was left after days motionless before the cameras. Sure, he occasionally went outside, but even then, much of the time was spent in a car, waiting on a call that wouldn't come. A message, saying, boss, we got him, that would never arrive. The day it did, it almost seemed too good to be true. And maybe it was, considering that it ended with a gun pressed to his own head, with a coin flip determining his survival. Strangely enough, he wasn't afraid to pull the trigger. It's be favourable to survive, yes, but there was something else, something that loomed far above, like a silent prayer that he'd die because he was forced into the game.
Those days in the pink motel he'd spent staring down at the guns he'd obtained, wondering if it wouldn't just be better to raise one to his head and shoot. Those were the days that followed him no matter where he'd gone, always shadowing him like a bad dream that felt more like an omen. He knew he had to live, especially after so many people died because of him, so every time, the gun would be set in it's rightful place or used at the makeshift shooting range to clear his mind. There wasn't much for him to cling onto, but there were a lot of things that tethered him to life even if he didn't want them to. Sang-woo's surrender was to keep him alive. He promised himself to see Ga-yeong after he ended the games. A shame he left her with nothing, not even a piece of clothing to remember him by.
He stared down at the box, pulling out the suit he'd wear over the white shirt. It looked well tailored, as it always did, with shiny buttons and sleek fabric. Before he put it on, of course, he had to take the white shirt that was worn under it. With his eyes still on the black suit, he reached over to take the white shirt into his hands, feeling the familiar fabric. The same sort of shirt he'd stepped off the platform with, falling backwards as the shirt stained in blood and ripped where the gash on his hip was. Before he thought it through, he dropped the clothes back in the box, touching lightly at his hip. Ouch. Strange. The gash was still there, far more closed than it should be after only five theoretical days of healing. Had more time somehow passed between his death and... Not being dead? He didn't know. He didn't want to think too deeply about it again.
He took out the suit again, setting it on his lap, and reaching over to the shirt. His fingers froze midway through picking it up, however, staring at the shirt which was becoming far more than just familiar. He slowly took it out, unfolding it, breath almost hitching if it wasn't for the fact he was quiet as it is. It was washed, clean, but nothing can quite wash out the blood staining familiar bits of the shirt. There's sewing, right near the bottom rim of it, and the reddish, stain, faint, just barely more than off-white, shines at the back of the neck. It's his shirt. Not tailored for this version of him, but the one he wore when dying. It was ironed, straightened, but there was a stubborn wrinkle here and there. For a few moments, he just stared. Why was it here? How did it get here? He woke up in the games, didn't he?
He woke up in the player clothes because that's what he was supposed to go through hell with. Not because someone redressed him from his previous clothes. He was in his body, the one that died nearly a decade later, instead of being his 2015 self. He had the scar, that scar, gleaming on his palm, that Sang-woo sunk the knife through in their last game. He stares at the shirt again, an easily explainable feeling of dread washing over him. Why did they have this? Is someone making him go through this intentionally, not just a random chance to change In-ho's story? Il-nam came to mind first, but the bastard was dead. He saw him flatline, you couldn't fake that. He wasn't breathing and his heart wasn't beating when he was there. That was impossible, he couldn't be behind this, right? How would that bastard even drag him back to years ago, from death, no less?
But did it matter anymore? He had a game ahead of him tomorrow, and he had to make sure In-ho made it out alive. Whatever cruel thing decided to put him through this wanted him to do that, he was sure of it. In-ho was the one who he was supposed to save, that was as clear as the sky on a particularly sunny day, but there was a stubborn flicker of doubt in the back of his mind. If In-ho was supposed to be the one saved, why was he the one who needed to do this? Was this ever about In-ho in the first place, or was he too consumed with opinions of this man than to wonder otherwise? The shirt felt strange under his fingers, knowing that it was something that didn't belong in this pocket of time. It was a week old and yet nearly a decade far away. It was stained with his blood, no matter how many times it's been washed out. As he put it on, he felt the strange sense of familiarity connected to it.
These were the same clothes he bled in, the same clothes he fell backwards dressed in. Not just the same cut, woven the same day but bought by somebody else, but a shirt that's been through this once before. How did it get here? He didn't dare question it further. Maybe it was best to die not knowing that detail, for it to be forgotten like the rest of the things he's been through. It could be diluted with water, a droplet of blood being dissolved in the ocean, no longer something to be seen or remembered. Gone between tides, not even a memory, left unnoticed by whoever the bleed belonged to. He pulled the suit on next, noticing that it was strangely, not perfectly fitting as the shirt was. Not that it hung off of his boney frame, but was too short, ill-fitting for some strange reason. As he finished buttoning it up, he looked down at the pants left in the box, then to his ankle. Stupid, unlucky thing, isn't it?
Maybe they could've had a good chance had this not happened. Now, instead of protecting In-ho, he was weighing him down, dragging him deeper under the water that represented this hell. After a few more moments of just thinking, staring down at the plummeting chances, he pulled off the tracksuit pants, and quickly pulled the suit ones on, not letting any sound slip out of his mind because of the sting, because of the fact he had to lift up his legs slightly to worm his way into the pants. When it was finally over, he grabbed onto the sink above him and used his good foot to stand up, leaving the other one still, to drag like it was useless. It wasn't, not yet, but it certainly didn't help more than it complicated things. He turned on the water, taking a look at himself in the mirror. He met his own exhausted eyes.
His cheekbones were still sunken in, maybe even more so than when he last looked at himself. With his injured foot hovering a little bit off the ground and one arm grabbing the sink like it owed him something, he splashed a bit of water on his face. It didn't seem to help, not at all, only made the grime blend into the water. He tried wiping his face clean, but to no avail, all it did was smear the mess of sweat and dust and whatnot else was stuck to his skin. It stuck behind his fingernails like rot, clinging on no matter how much he tried to remove it. He gave up a moment later, grabbing whatever rag was closest to dry his face, unconsciously reaching for the tracksuit pants. Who cares, though, it's not like he has to wear those clothes anymore. As he glanced up, into the mirror, he saw no difference. He was still a ruined man who wanted to save and never did. Gi-hun turned off the water and just stared.
What hope did he and In-ho even have anymore? They were overpowered. If it were squid, like in his first games, they'd probably push through somehow. It'd be three against three, so it was possible. What would happen after, though, once there were three people and no clear winner? Would it become a deathmatch? It could be a good possibility, two against one sounded better. Could he trust his assumption of the next game, though? Not after the bridge spanning over the vast drop, glass platforms gleaming in the light, was replaced with something new, unfamiliar and strange. He lost focus on balancing, his ankle bending slightly and making him yell. Of course, why was he even hoping? Not even the knife would help. He couldn't do it. And In-ho shouldn't do it either. It felt wrong. What if...
What if that knife started it all? Maybe In-ho, in the original timeline of events, was in a similar spot, needing a way to save somebody who would've otherwise died, and having been offered a way to achieve it. Who would he protect though? There was nobody. Gi-hun wasn't there all those years ago, his place probably filled with a stranger who'd lose their name and face, only a number who would soon be announced as eliminated. Maybe this suit was tailored for that man. Did they make over four hundred suits ahead of time? No, they probably made them sometime between these games, and they must've taken the measurements while giving the players their tracksuits and trackers. Speaking of, his hand searched behind his earlobe. But he didn't feel the small plate of metal underneath the thin skin, no, it was empty. He tried the other side. Nothing.
Something was off. It's been off since the start, it's always been wrong, but now it blurred even further. First, the fact he was even alive, breathing, trapped in this hell for a third time. His wounds partly healed, like they'd been hastily treated so they'd be ignorable, then all the familiarity. The clothes he'd died in, only washed and sewn together, the blood never quite gone. No tracker. Something was off about this, unless they had done this on purpose to mess with him. But no, how could they mess with him, they didn't know he wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't here before, not in their eyes, he was just a lucky newcomer. Strange dreams, too real to just be something his head made up, but too happy to be reality. Sang-woo talking to him as if he was right beside him, and not dead. His eyes focused on the mirror. As if the thought summoned the sight of the man.
In the finalist clothes, dry blood covering his neck and partly concealing the gash on one side of it. Face bloody, hair slicked down with rain, and yet his eyes were hauntingly alive. For a moment, he was only standing behind Gi-hun, before moving closer, standing beside him, his reflection in the mirror. And yet, Gi-hun couldn't see him in his peripheral vision at all. He was just a trick of the eyes, a strange idea his mind had made up to fill the silence. Droplets clung to his skin, eyes staring straight ahead, not dead, just absent. Why did he keep appearing, not real, but not quite a dream either. Something in between, something terrifying and uncomfortable, and yet something he wanted to cling to. A nightmare he wanted to repeat.
“...Is this my subconscious again, speaking to me with the face of my best friend, or have I just gone off the rail?” Gi-hun asked into the empty room, not daring to look away from Sang-woo in the mirror. He'd disappear the second his gaze turned away, he was sure of it, that's how visions in the mirror worked. For a few moments, Sang-woo doesn't move, just stands there idly, then his head moves to the side, as if half-heartedly facing Gi-hun without letting his eyes off of something else. The air is still, only his breathing breaking it, and the drip of the faucet rhythmically tapping against the sink. Sang-woo is silent, like a ghost, and maybe that's what he is. If ghosts were real, could they go back to the past to watch things go down, or was he thinking too deeply about a hallucination? Maybe he should stop asking questions. What difference would it even make?
“What difference would that make?” Sang-woo's echo of his own words is strange to his ears.
But it does pose an interesting question. It probably doesn't matter whether he's snapped, seeing and hearing things, and losing his mind, or talking to himself. Either way, not only would it not matter in mere hours, but it'd also wasn't too far apart from one another. In any case, he's talking to the air, to somebody who wasn't there, and if anyone heard, they'd think he's insane. And maybe they had a point, what sort of person talks to themselves, seeing the face of their dead childhood friend in the mirror, hoping for the impossible? He tries searching Sang-woo's expression for something, anything, but it shows nothing. It's as empty as a dead persons eyes, but somehow, even more of a void. Death had this air to it. This isn't even dead. This has never existed in the first place.
“You want to change what happens, even if it's already happened hundreds of times without you there. History repeats, loops, carves deeper into the riverbed. A pebble won't do anything against a current, Gi-hun.” Sang-woo says quietly, looking away when his words are finished. It doesn't make sense to him. This has happened twice, not hundreds of times. Maybe death will lead into another chance, another opportunity to change something for the better. He doubted it, but nothing was impossible, was it? Second chances were second only, but that didn't apply to something like this. This isn't just a second chance, this is the beginning of something else. So what if this happening that "Sang-woo", whoever the voice truly is, keeps talking about, is carving deeper? Nothing is static. The world shifts, like the tide, it goes up and down.
“Luckily, I have plenty of pebbles.” Gi-hun replied, letting the faintest smile crack his expression. He smiles, the gesture tainted with exhaustion and hopelessness, his mirror only showing him his own bared teeth. Sang-woo moves behind him, taking a few steps across the room, disappearing from the mirror but his footsteps still audible. Not outside, not in reality, but somewhere deep in his brain, fabricated yet strangely real. He finally tears his gaze away from the mirror, following to where he heard Sang-woo walk. The form of the other man in distorted, as if shrouded in a distant fog, no longer clear. Like he's slowly fizzling out of existence, blood washed away in rain, only to soak into the sand underneath. Was blood easy to clean out of the sand? Or was it there for aesthetic reasons?
“You don't get it, do you? What's a pebble to a raging river? Nothing. It'll wash away. You'll run out of pebbles sooner than you think, and you won't change a thing in the end. The river will keep running, and you'll be out of rocks to throw.” The first words Sang-woo say's are snapped as he whips around, face muddled up and unrecognisable. He's like several torn up pictures taped back into something that resembles the person it was supposed to be. But it'd never be perfect, no matter how much you tried, no matter how many pieces looked perfect, no matter how many pieces of tape you'd use. You'd forget, their memory would dull, until it was nothing more than a distant feeling you'd find yourself missing late at night. Gi-hun tried to focus more, to see his face clearer, but to no avail.
“...I'm here to change his future. That's what I'm supposed to be doing here, isn't that obvious?” Gi-hun replied, crossing his arms. Luckily there were no cameras here in the bathroom from what he knew, nobody to watch him speak to the air and argue about rocks, rivers, the future and the past. Sang-woo, or the blur of shapes and faint movements that is supposed to be him seems to hesitate, hand half raised. Was it his hand? Gi-hun cleared his throat instinctively, feeling the faint sensation of the gathering mucus. His cold. He thought back to it every once in a while. Why did he have a cold in the first place? In August? It made no sense, it was illogical, it shouldn't have happened.
“... you don't understand anything about the nature of your existence. And I know it's none of your fault. This is bound to happen.” Sang-woo's response is short, quiet, the blur surrounding him clears. Now he's standing there, with his glasses on, the way he looked before the first game started. Gi-hun looked away, just wanting to get back out and do what he needs to do. He takes a step, which is a big mistake, seeing as he nearly falls if it wasn't for the fact he slammed a hand onto the wall on the last second. And he was supposed to live long enough to secure In-ho's survival. He couldn't walk himself, he was hearing his childhood friend's voice and seeing him walk about, and he wasn't even sure what was real and what was his mind's creation anymore.
“Sang-woo. Can you not, please? In-ho needs to make it out, and I can't think of anything to help.” He snapped at the clear figure of Sang-woo, but he can't be mad for long, because he nearly falls over seeing it become somebody else entirely. He's facing himself, the man he was shortly before the first game began. Grinning into the camera, stunned upon seeing his childhood friend there, wiping his scruffy hair away from his eyes while player 101 was threatening Sae-byeok and questioning him. The same him that returned from the game a nobody, covered in blood that wasn't his and bleeding from his heart in the poetic sense of the word. His old self grins at him, not innocent, not mischievous. Knowing. Like he's had this conversation many times before.
“Fate. Fate is the answer to all your problems.” His own voice whispers, his own eyes meeting his, before he blinks and it's gone. Instead of carrying on with everything, he falls to his knees, staring into the floor blankly. He's lost it. He isn't losing it, no, he's long gone already. Things are appearing before his eyes that aren't real, words spoken about fate, fate, it's always about fate? What sort of obsession did whatever was cursing him have with fate. His ankle hurts again, and adjusting the way he's sitting ok the floor doesn't help. In fact, it only makes it worse, as he bites his tongue to hold back a small sob. Luckily, his eyes are far from wet with tears, not stinging at all, and he forces himself up a few minutes later. He must've taken a long time in the bathrooms. Leaning on the wall and limping, hissing in pain and praying he doesn't trip the whole way to the door, he can't imagine he survives long like this in squid.
Fate. What the hell does fate even mean? Like hell things are already written down. That's not how it works. How does his subconscious of all things know that, anyways? Isn't your subconscious supposed to be, I don't know, your own thoughts? Why are they going against him. Before Gi-hun can wonder about it any further, his leg loses balance and he falls to the floor, unable to catch him on time. He lifts his head up, suddenly glad he was still in the hallway and not anywhere close to the other players. The guard on the foot of the staircase gives him a long look but doesn't move from the assigned position, which is probably for the best. Finally, Gi-hun is at the door to the dormitory, and he pushes it open with one arm, grabbing the handle tightly. The first thing he sees, and hears, is In-ho talking to one of the other players, this one being 219.
He doesn't catch a word, only In-ho's glare towards the man and a sharp shake of the head in disagreement and the way both go silent and still upon the sight of him. Player 219 steps back immediately, not in fear or caution, something closer to wanting to look like he wasn't even talking to In-ho. That was strange. What could they have possibly been talking about, then? He didn't know. Frankly, he didn't care too much, since whatever it was, In-ho strongly disagreed with it. When he saw a glimpse of Gi-hun, he reached out his hand for support, not wanting him to fall over. Right now, Gi-hun couldn't even protest against it it, only allow himself to accept the help. Player 219 headed away immediately, pretending that nothing happened, even though something clearly did.
“Do you need help getting to the table?” In-ho's question came shunned, quiet, and Gi-hun would like to imagine it's said softly too. It wasn't though, it was just a simple question, without anything else being represented or meant. Gi-hun takes a look at the table that was already set, the room lit in a brighter gold light, In-ho the only one remaining in player clothes. Fate is the answer to all your problems. How could fate solve the fact he wasn't sure how to save In-ho? How could fate guarantee everyone he cares about doesn't fall victim to the games in this version of reality? He won't be there to do it, so who, then? He can't just hope it all goes well. That's foolish.
“It's fine, I'll walk. You go dress.” Gi-hun said, waving his hand faintly. In-ho hesitates for a few seconds at least, standing there and waiting to make sure Gi-hun wouldn't change his mind. He doesn't, of course, carefully dragging himself to the table despite the sting in his ankle and the persistent pain in the general area. He grits his teeth and powers through, taking a seat. The food is not yet set. They're waiting, waiting for In-ho, who had to get into the finalist suits last. Gi-hun stared at the utensils prepared on the table and the latch of food. Knife, fork, spoon, chopsticks, and a wine glass that gleamed so wonderfully in the light the room was bathed in. In-ho is gone by the time Gi-hun sits down. He stares at the other four players. 153 already has chopsticks in hand, tapping them impatiently against one another. Player...381, that one spins the knife lazily between his fingers, not afraid of the danger of being cut.
In-ho returns a few minutes later, the suit fitting perfectly, the number 132 shines bright against the black fabric, and Gi-hun has to admit he stared for a moment before he looked away. When In-ho takes his seat, left of him on the hexagon shaped arrangement of tables, the guards begin preparing the feast. Rare steak, steaming bowl of rice, plates of so many foods to enjoy. Gi-hun stared down at the meat placed in front of him, then glancing at the dark red liquid within the glass, shining in the light. The four players are feasting as it seems, talking while they chew down on all the food they're offered. In-ho eats in a civilised way, quiet, bite by bite, looking around once a few seconds. Gi-hun signals to him when their eyes meet to not drink the wine. He could explain later, hopefully... It seems that the message got across.
He listens to the conversation between the other four. A segment of their experience in tug of war, pointing out that the other team stood no chance and they laughed at their demise. Adding that half their team might've died in marbles but these four survived and would stick together. One mentions how they killed someone in lights out, voice not carrying a smidge of regret or compassion. Gi-hun's grip on the knife, still unused in his hands, tightened. He's thirsty, but their fancy wine was the last thing he'd drink, he'd even prefer drinking his own blood to letting his guard down over a sip of wine. Reluctantly, he signals over to one of the circling workers, carrying trays of food, wine, anything a person could ask for. One walks over to him in silence, mask angled towards him expectantly. He can't believe he's willingly asking something from them, but he needs to drink something.
“...may I be brought some water, please?” He keeps his voice quiet, not wanting to be heard by the others, not even In-ho. For a moment, the guard doesn't move, just staring straight through him. Maybe it's the mask, maybe it's him, but it looks like the person underneath is shocked, or confused, or something like it. It takes a few more seconds for the guard to stand back up straight and blend in with the other three circling. Gi-hun noticed that In-ho is staring at him with a raised eyebrow, a piece of steak halfway up to his lips. Gi-hun tried to wave it off without it being noticed by the others, who were luckily too full of themselves than to focus on anyone else. The guard brings over a glass of water and bows slightly. Gi-hun nods faintly to show that he's acknowledging it, before taking several gulps of water. It feels calming, for a moment, at least.
The steady clink of cutlery, steel against porcelain and wood against wood, brings him into a sort of calm that he isn't sure how to feel about. The chatter of the four players carries on, the swishing of wine in a glass and it clinking against the table. Gi-hun knows he's hungry, he feels the familiar sensation biting into his innards, wanting something he isn't sure he can take. While the others have already filled themselves to oblivion with alcohol and well made food, asking for seconds or even thirds, his food lay untouched. He slowly raises the knife, watching his hand tremble the slightest bit. He's not afraid, or hesitant, or unsure, just taking the movement slow. The knife sinks into the meat, he slowly cuts it, not breaking his eyes away from his plate. Once a small chunk is separated from the mass, he bites down into it. It tastes normal, almost too normal for the place it was served in.
“Why did that guy even... Do all that? At this point, I would've just let myself get shot instead of whatever he was doing.” One of the players, 153, motioned at Gi-hun with his chopsticks, leaning back in the chair. The other three laugh slightly, one of them muttering something along the lines of, no clue, he's probably insane, between barks of laughter. In-ho glanced at the four for a moment, then over to Gi-hun, mouth closed but eyes obviously searching for a reaction. Gi-hun didn't give any, looking back down to his plate. Something sick swayed in his stomach, not quite disgust, but enough to stop the idea of taking another bite of the food he was served for a few seconds. His hands landed on the knife he was still holding. The same kind of knife he watched Sang-woo stab himself with and the same knife that pierced through his hand, the same knife that inflicted several injuries on the both of them.
“Some people live for themselves, others live for somebody else.” Gi-hun muttered quietly, under his breath, but clearly not quiet enough, since two of the four other players looked at him with suprise that broke past their otherwise mocking and progressively more drunk expressions. He went silent, instead cutting into the steak with no intention of eating it, feeling their gazes burn into him. For a moment, everyone was silent, even the constant clicking and clinking of cutlery stilling, not even a guard seemed to move for a few seconds. Then a whisper came from one of the players, probably passing on the words he heard to one of the others. Shushed words cut through the silence like a whip, making Gi-hun focus even more on the food he was given to ignore them. Soon, the steak was cut into small pieces, perfect for eating them bit by bit, but he wasn't going to. The four players had those grins once more, those that suggested ill intent and plans he'd get to experience first hand.
“Enough.” In-ho's voice broke through the whispers, tapping his knife against the now empty plate, intending to shush the players up. Strangely enough, it worked, even if one of them looked ready to bark back an insult or mock him, no words came from him. Gi-hun slowly forced himself to look up, glancing between In-ho and the four men sitting opposite of him. 153 went back to stuff his face with rice, not looking up at In-ho, maybe because he was intimidated. He had to admit that In-ho was intimidating sometimes, he had this air of... Something that made you shut your mouth. Maybe it was his years of being a policeman, maybe that sort of job just did that to a person's demeanor. Or, who knows, maybe that was just his personality that he softened when talking to someone he genuinely trusted. The other three were silent too, but then the man he saw talk to In-ho previously opened his mouth.
“Our offer is still on, remember? You don't have to stick with that guy. What good is he with a messed up leg, hm?” 219 said with a smile that Gi-hun could've sworn was intended to look friendly, but ended up looking like a predator baring it's teeth at its prey, wanting to trick it into coming closer on its own. The other three didn't seem to be surprised, nodding along quickly, mumbling something quietly in agreement and to support the claim. Was that what the interaction he witnessed earlier was about? Offering In-ho to join them and to tear him apart like wolves tear apart a lamb that wandered too far away from its herd? It wouldn't help In-ho too much if it were squid anyways. They'd get rid of three, and what happens then? Would everyone be against everyone, whoever survives will be the winner? It wouldn't do anything. Alliances wouldn't achieve a thing.
“My answer is the same as before, player 219. No, I will not be joining you.” In-ho replied flatly, picking up a bowl of rice and his chopsticks, no longer looking at the others. It was admirable, almost, how easily he could cut off an interaction without any awkwardness or protests from the other side. 219 shut his mouth and went back to eating without a word, while the other three players join in. Gi-hun sighs quietly, hoping it goes unnoticed by anyone and everyone, taking a sip of his water and finally stabbing a piece of steak with his fork, lifting it up to his mouth and biting into it. He forced himself to swallow the chunk of meat grabbing the bowl of rice and his chopsticks next. He eats a little, knowing it won't matter by tomorrow. Whether he dies fed or not, he'll die in the final game. If only his leg wasn't... Gi-hun shut the thoughts off. Enough pitying himself, this happened and he'll have to live with it tomorrow. It won't matter later.
The final dinner concludes in a few more minutes, plates, cutlery, bowls and glasses of wine pulled off of the table in a few smooth motions. He hears an annoyed huff escape one of the other finalists, clearly not wanting to be deprived of the sweet, sweet alcohol. Gi-hun only didn't drink it because he wasn't certain he could stay up with it in his system, and that was the same reason he signaled for In-ho not to drink it. They'd surely be left with only the knives, allowed to murder eachother freely through the night, and only those vigilant and wide awake would have a chance. And just like he expected, the singular knife remained, placed in front of them. Gi-hun's throat tightened as he watched the sleek piece of cutlery- no, the weapon, lay in front of him. It gleams in the golden light, like it was an ornament, a decoration, not something capable of killing a person with a single well aimed strike to the neck.
And then something different happened, something that wasn't supposed to happen, a change in the events he'd already known. Guards, a circle on their masks, move forward, beside every player, taking the knives away. Gi-hun doesn't even protest, just looking over at the others. In-ho's weapon is taken from his hands, and he could've sworn he heard the man mumble a quiet sorry for taking it in the first place. 153 doesn't even get a chance to grab his weapon when it's taken away from him, giving the worker an annoyed glare but keeping his mouth shut. 219 tries to hold his knife away from the guard, but it still gets taken. 381 gives it away begrudgingly. The last player who still has a weapon, 266, gets it snatched from his hands, not saying a word but his expression alone said enough. Now left without weapons, the players slowly begin standing up, figuring they have nothing left but to go to sleep. Their exhaustion was visible. Gi-hun didn't, couldn't stand up.
On one hand, he was relieved that nobody had weapons, but on the other hand, this wasn't how it was supposed to go down. During his second games, nobody had a weapon either, until he was given that black dagger with golden carvings, one that fit too well into his hands, the one he'd pressed to the throat of played 100, and changed his mind at the last second, something too human burning in his chest, mercy mixed with a feeling of wrongness at the idea of taking a life under the cover of darkness. Sae-byeok's words, it was always her words reminding him that he's kind and that he's never been the sort of person to kill heartlessly. What changed? Sang-woo still died. She would've probably still bled out before the games ended. What would he do alone, with the baby in hand, back in the outside world? His death was probably supposed to happen. Fate, that's what his brain, somewhere underneath everything that suggested otherwise, said.
“Gi-hun. Come on, everyone's heading to bed and they're clearing the table away.” In-ho said quietly, patting his shoulder to get his attention. Gi-hun nods quickly, standing up on one foot, feeling In-ho grab him steadily, enough to make sure he doesn't fall over or hurt his ankle any further. Gi-hun manages to not trip or fall, not even once, sitting down on the bed he picked for himself, ignoring the stares of the other four. In-ho stood beside him for a moment, but he wasn't sure why he'd stay for any longer than he needed to. If anything, he should just say goodnight and leave. But he didn't. He stayed standing there, watching as the workers pull apart the neatly arranged table and clear it away like it was never there. The silence, save for the quiet mumbles the other four players exchanged, was loud.
“...you should go now.” Gi-hun started, but went quiet when In-ho turned to him.
“I'm worried for tomorrow. They're gonna team up against us, and I'm not just gonna join them, even if could've saved me. We have to figure something out, Gi-hun. Let's just think about it, please?” In-ho said quietly, not wanting to be overheard by the other four players. It seems like he was quiet enough to achieve so, though, turning not a single head as he sat down beside the bed, on the probably cold, hard floor. Gi-hun doesn't know what to respond with, because he's just as concerned as the other man is. What is there to say, anyways, when he knows their chances aren't good and that they're nearly out of hope? In-ho should've just gone with the others, not fight against the current that was dragging him down.
“... There's nothing to figure out. We have to just hope.” Gi-hun replied with a small exhale, looking over to the other survivors. Their enemies, the players who would most likely be the cause for their possible, near guaranteed deaths. He didn't know how to feel. All this time, they had hope, he had the hope of saving In-ho from the future of being in charge of these games. In a way, his goal would be reached if they both die here, In-ho couldn't be front man if he dies, could he? But he didn't want him to die, that was the last thing he wanted out of this place. In-ho didn't seem to like his response, a flash of disappointment in his eyes before it disappeared into being empty, something unreadable but clearly not positive.
“Hope?” In-ho echoed, staring straight at Gi-hun, something between disappointment and irritation flickering on his usually calm and composed face. Gi-hun looked away, somewhere into the empty room, somewhere where he didn't have to watch In-ho's reaction. Fate is the answer to all your questions. Don't try to change fate. Fate, it was all about fate, at least that's what this strange part of his brain kept whispering over and over, trying to get him to believe in it. But what is there to believe in? That everything had already been decided for him and couldn't be changed no matter what he tried? That couldn't be it. They just happened to be in a bad situation with no obvious way out, so all they can do instead is hope. Hope, that's different than fate. Hope is his thing. Fate isn't something he believes in.
“Hope. There's nothing more we can do than that. Just go to sleep, I'll stay watch in case they try anything, okay?” Gi-hun sighed, looking back at In-ho, who looked away from him. Something about the avoidance stung at least a little, a tiny needle stuck somewhere deep in his guts, tangled in flesh, veins, muscle and bone. It wasn't the subtle sting under his skin, one that he could claw out if he tried hard enough, no, this couldn't be ripped out of him without removing something important along with it. In-ho shook his head silently, turning back to look at him. Something like determination, but muddled with uncertainty. Hope that's slowly diminishing. A plan broken down by an unforseen circumstance.
“...there's something we can do, we just aren't thinking hard enough. There's always a way forward, there has to be one, no matter how complicated it is. I'm not letting my wife die because I fail to get out of here as the winner.” In-ho's fists clench for a moment, the uncertainty dying and giving away to that sense of purpose only a man who hadn't seen the worst horrors of the games yet could have. His wife. This had always been about In-ho's wife, and Gi-hun kept forgetting it like a fool. Of course, the idea of her existence, the fact she had a life with In-ho, that In-ho loved her, it was never erased from his mind, but sometimes he pretended it wasn't true. Daring to not think about his situation, his goal, the truth of In-ho's current life, it was dangerous. He wanted to risk it and let himself dream just one time. He knew he couldn't afford it.
“In-ho, do you believe in fate?” The words spill out of his mouth sooner than he can think them through and stop them. In-ho is silent for a few moments, the hope of saving his wife gone, replaced by thoughts far too deep than something that could co-exist with a thing normal side by side. The chatter of the other players must've died away, whatever plans they plotted already confirmed or discarded, or maybe, they were just far too in the background now. In-ho hums quietly, head tilted up, towards that piggy bank, which only needs a few more stacks until it's full. It reeks, it makes a good man hurl, but the greedy ones with cold hearts, all they do is smile and point at how much that is and how they wouldn't mind there being more.
“Fate? Can't say I do. I don't think there's anything above us or around us that ties us to decisions and events. We all go through life, and maybe if we had a second chance like you did, we'd change things for the better. That's...that's what you're trying to do, for me, isn't it?” In-ho said quietly, his eyes tearing away from the money. That is what he's trying to do, this is the only thing he's been wanting to do for the last five days. His worldview of there being evil, the masked man, and good, he and the innocent victims of the game, shattered. In-ho was both. In-ho was the man who watched over the games and organised them. In-ho was the man who's fighting for his life and yet still being a good person.
“...I don't believe in fate either. Something in my head just keeps mentioning it like a broken gramophone. Fate this, fate that, like it's the key to everything that's happened. As if it's the reason I died and the reason I survived. It makes no sense.” Gi-hun admitted after a moment, cracking a faint smile, not of joy, but disbelief. The key to everything, but what is everything supposed to be in this sentence? Life and death, the begining of his ties to the game and the end as they are cut off. Fate doesn't just bring back a man who's brains probably lay splattered all over the floor to a new place. God isn't a thing, not in his world, not in his eyes, and yet, there's this feeling of something being behind this. Something physical, not the shift of time and space, someone's hands pulling the strings that stitched his world into a coherent picture. Who could that be? This was too sci-fi to be real.
“Oh. You think your death in... What was the final game you played? You think that happened for a reason, that it wasn't something you could've prevented or changed?” In-ho questioned, curiosity in his eyes. Prevented or changed. His death was something he picked, not only because it was better than the alternative. It was also just the right thing to do. What sort of heartless monster could drop a child off of a pillar and not hesitate for even a second? The father, turns out, who clearly valued money more than the life of his own baby. Was it because he just didn't care about it, ever? Or was it because the choices weighed in his head and he picked wrong later? The situation forced him into the arms of death, and for his own reasons, he didn't mind it all that much. He'd rather die than kill. He died because otherwise, he had to kill.
“...It was a conscious choice. I sacrificed myself because the only other player was defenceless, any in the end, their life was worth more than mine was.” Gi-hun explained, staring blankly. The newborn held gently in his arms, just like how he used to hold Ga-yeong when she was a baby. Set down on the pink platform, barely moving, too tired, maybe hungry than to fight it. He didn't know much about how the memories of newborn babies functioned, but he was almost sure that he'd be forgotten, just as her mother, her father, the games and everything that happened within them. That was for the best. Where would she end up? In an orphanage, just like Cheol was stuck for a year, not knowing what happened to his sister, most likely. Her winnings would fall into her hands once she was older.
“So you died for someone who you knew for only a few days. And you'd do it again. No, you are doing it again. You killed yourself for a stranger.” In-ho concluded with a strange look pointed in Gi-hun's direction. A mixture of respect and disappointed, like he expected such a foolish mistake not to occur, but he also looked like he found it very noble. Gi-hun didn't want to mention the fact the player was a newborn child. Who knows what In-ho would say about it. Maybe it'd remind him of his wife again, and right now, he didn't want to do that to him. Gi-hun almost forgot about his ankle until he adjusted his leg and almost yelled, only biting it down at the last possible second. In-ho blinked in suprise, but didn't say anything.
“... I am doing it again, I'll do it for you. Who knows what the real me is doing, I don't know, but you deserve this way more than I do in any and all universes.” Gi-hun said, not even catching the more poetic undertone of the last sentence until it was already uttered. He sounded stupid saying something so strangely deep and with such a soft tone, too, he was sure. In-ho doesn't seem annoyed or confused at all though, just smiling faintly at the mention of the possibilities they might've been through. Universes, strings on an ornament, leading back to a simple picture of the two of them that would otherwise mean nothing. Here, it had meant everything, tethering the stories concealed within each thread into a single charm that held them all together.
“...Then I guess, in all universes, you must have some sort of complex.” In-ho joked quietly, the small jab meant as nothing more than just a little reminder of Gi-hun's urge to save anyone and everyone who he sees. And look how that's been going for him, everyone he tried to save had died all but In-ho. Hopefully his unlucky streak wouldn't continue, and they'll get through tomorrow fine. It'd not like alliances will matter much when squid begins. It should be the next game, he was almost certain, and neolttwigi was just an unlucky exception. The joke was bad in on itself, and yet, Gi-hun cracked a smile, one that he was certain made him look like his old self. Crinkled eyes, bright smile. There had to be something wrong too, though. There'd be something weighing him down.
“In-ho, try to stay awake, will you? They might not have weapons, but there's nothing bad about staying aware. I'll keep watch too, don't worry, but try to lay down, at least, yeah?” Gi-hun knew the lightened mood from In-ho's very dumb joke wouldn't last long, and he knew he'd probably be the one to end the ease. In-ho stopped chuckling at his jest, nodding faintly and glancing over to where the other four were slowly dozing off. At least one still looked somewhat awake, but even then, looked exhausted. Must be the alcohol in their system, sinking into muscle like knife into butter. In-ho slowly gets up, relatively smoothly. Gi-hun kept forgetting that the man was nine years younger than what he knew him as. With hair far more scruffy, not slicked back. It was like Young-il was a balance between the two extremes.
“Okay, okay. See you in the sixth game, then?” In-ho smiles, as if he'd forgotten the danger they're in.
“See you then.” Gi-hun confirms with a nod, watching as In-ho mumbled what he'd assume is a goodnight before walking off into the darkness. He's left alone, laying in the bed with one leg still hanging off, not curled under the blanket. It's fixed in a few moments, of course, with his injured leg pulled to a suitable place with a bit of struggle and the blanket pulled up to his shoulders. Before he knows it, his eyes feel like they're closing slowly, but he can't confirm or deny without somebody telling him how it looks. A yawn escapes him several more minutes in. He still sees In-ho's sitting figure on the bed next to him. Gi-hun doesn't say a word, instead closing his eyes slightly. He's exhausted, and sleep sounds great, even with the consequence it could bring. He had to keep watch, make sure the other players didn't try anything.
Despite his best efforts, Gi-hun's eyes close and he falls still, only his chest rising with each breath.
Notes:
School starts in four days I am SO not ready. Expect chapters to be less frequent from now on, but don't worry, updates will come eventually and i am NOT abandoning this fic. I'm really nervous because, woah, new teachers (half of whom i had as a substitute like once and don't know besides that), my classmates will be assholes to every living breathing thing in vicinity and i can't sleep at stupid times anymore. Heartbreaking.
As usual, I'd like to thank everyone for their comments and kudos! Keeps me motivated to write the fic !! By the way, oops, my promise of revealing how these four random players fared in the previous games was broken immediately. Don't worry, it'll be revealed eventually. Probably not in the first arc of this fic (which is soon coming to an end, by the way!) but don't worry, if you wanna know, it'll be mentioned at some point later on. I'm sorry it the end to this chapter seems abrupt but I too was falling asleep at an alarming pace and I wanted this out before the next day came around.
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