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Chapter Text

"What good's a bird's eye view when you're in a hunter's crossfire?"

            - 'Stop the Rain' by Tablo & RM.

Gi-hun twisted the gold band on his left hand idly, watching as the boat cut through the crystal-clear waters like a hot knife through butter. It had become something of a habit, he found that it soothed him, a reminder of the tie to the owner of the matching ring who had placed it there 18 months ago. Gi-hun smiled as he remembered the day that In-ho had got down on one knee and asked him to be his.

It had been the spring of 2018, and they had been spending some months in Jinhae, away from the island and the stress of the games. In-ho had woken him before the dawn under the pretence of watching the sunrise, and as much as Gi-hun had grumbled in his half-awake state, he'd secretly loved the idea. Most of the time on the island was spent indoors or outside under the cover of night. Seeing the sun almost became a rare treat during those long, arduous months.

By the time In-ho had ushered Gi-hun out the door, the sun was just peaking above the horizon. In-ho lead them to a spot he'd scouted out a few days before, a path lined with cherry blossoms in full bloom and bordered on one side by ornate, carved railings. The early hour meant that the path was completely empty, and the dawn had cast a delicate golden light over everything it touched. The brisk wind above the trees shook the blossom petals from the trees and they cascaded to the floor in a steady curtain. Their heads and shoulders had been completely covered in a layer of pink, and Gi-hun remembered how they had laughed as they brushed each other off.

They'd come to an arched bridge that connected two paths, and that was when In-ho had grabbed Gi-hun's hand, stopping him in the middle of the bridge. When Gi-hun turned around he saw In-ho already down on one knee, a ring box in hand and a nervous expression etched onto his face. Gi-hun had been stunned but he still remembered every word that In-ho had said to him.

"Gi-hun." He'd said, his voice shaking. "These past few years have been..." He searched for the right word, "...interesting. Through it all you've always been there by my side, resilient and unwavering. You told me once that I had been your anchor, but I want to tell you now that you are mine too. I can't promise that we'll get to be old men sitting in rocking chairs on a porch somewhere yelling at kids for making too much noise. " A smile cracked on his face at the mental image and Gi-hun giggled. "But I’ll try. I'll try every day to give you that life. So," he opened the ring box to reveal a simple silver ring. "Seong Gi-hun, will you marry me?"

The lopsided smile on Gi-hun's face grew bigger at In-ho's question but instead of answering, he rooted around in the inside of his coat feeling for the ring box that he'd stashed there last night. His fingers found it, and he presented the box to In-ho as he got down on one knee too.

In-ho almost lost his balance at the sight of the ring box, and Gi-hun had to reach out to steady him, laughing a little as he did so.

"In-ho." Gi-hun said, his voice barely containing the bubbling excitement within him. "I won't tell you anything corny like 'I remember what you wore on the day we met', or 'it only took me a week to fall in love with you'." His eyes searched In-ho’s; they knew their past all too well. "Instead, I’ll tell you this. I used to think of this life as a practice run, and even when you came along, our circumstances only fuelled those thoughts. I knew for sure that I'd find you sooner in our next life and we'd live in peace. But I think I was wrong. While the path of our life is nothing but thick forest in front of us and mud beneath our feet, there's no one else I'd like to carve out this life with but you. If this life is all we ever get, I'd still feel blessed to have spent it by your side." Gi-hun opened the ring box to reveal a silver ring with small black diamonds inlaid into the band. "Hwang In-ho, will you marry me?"

In-ho's eyes had grown to twice their usual size, flitting continuously between the ring and Gi-hun's face. The edges of his eyes reddened and his mouth opened and closed several times, the words on his tongue refusing to come out in any way that was coherent.

"Y-yes, of course, a million times yes" In-ho eventually stammered out; his face cracking into an enormous grin.

Gi-hun took the ring from the box and placed it onto In-ho's left hand, it fit perfectly. Gi-hun's cheeks burned from how hard he was smiling, and a single tear snuck out of his eye. In-ho admired the ring on his finger, seeing how it caught the light, shining brilliantly for all to see.

In-ho saw Gi-hun watching him, his eyes sparkling with joy. "Wait." In-ho said, rubbing the unfallen tears from his eyes. "You didn't answer."

Gi-hun laughed. "Obviously my answer's yes." He said softly, holding out his hand for In-ho to place the ring on his hand.

In-ho's hands had been shaking when he put the ring on Gi-hun's finger, it had made Gi-hun's heart swell. Gi-hun captured In-ho's face in his hands and kissed him until In-ho's nerves had dissipated and he had relaxed. Gi-hun's knees had started to complain about the position they were still in, so they reluctantly pulled apart and got to their feet. Only to be joined again in an embrace; wrapping their arms around each other so tightly that they looked like one complete body from far away.   

On the 12th of September of the same year, they'd held a small ceremony in the gardens of In-ho's stepmother’s house. Most of the guests had been from In-ho's side of the family, but a few of Gi-hun's old friends had accepted the invitation too. Their relationship had been accepted with open arms by In-ho's stepmother and Jun-ho, but not everyone had been so warm towards them. Every rejected invite had stung but In-ho was always there to remind him that their opinions didn't change anything.

While their union wasn't legally recognised, the rings and vows that they exchanged that day carried the same weight as any other wedding. That night, In-ho held Gi-hun and told him that if a time came when their marriage could be made legal, they would be the first ones at the registry office. Gi-hun had mused that they lived their lives outside of the law anyway, their love for each other was just another thing to add to the ever-growing list.

Before Gi-hun's thoughts could turn to how they consummated their marriage until the early hours of the morning, footsteps on the deck behind him brought him back to the salty smell of the sea, and the motion of the boat under his feet.

"We're ten minutes out." In-ho told him, wrapping his arm around Gi-hun's waist as he did so. "What's on your mind?" He asked with amusement upon seeing the smile on Gi-hun's face and the light blush on his cheeks.

Gi-hun stopped playing with the ring and turned towards In-ho. "Nothing." He said and In-ho's eyebrows arched in disbelief. "Just thinking."

In-ho hummed and didn't push further. He passed Gi-hun his mask that he had brought out with him and slipped his own onto his face. Gi-hun took one last unhindered view of the surroundings then placed the mask onto his face, exhaling hard as he did so.

The boat sped on and before long the island they called home came into view. Gi-hun and In-ho stood upon the bow like two statues, one in grey and one in white. As they closed in towards the lonely isle on the sea, the normal lives that they tried to lead on the mainland shed off them and became replaced by the solid, unfeeling figures of authority that they needed to be.

They rounded the edge of the island into the bay; the boat slowed as the waters grew shallow and In-ho guided Gi-hun to the speedboat that would take them to shore. Once they had arrived on dry land, the boat that had brought them made its hasty retreat to the open waters and back to the mainland. In-ho scanned his mask at the door and when the light lit up green, he cracked the entrance open just enough to allow them passage.

"Oh." Gi-hun said aloud once he got inside. The room that usually stayed empty until the players arrived was instead filled with coffins, each with a pink ribbon tied into a bow on top. "What's this?"

In-ho heaved a sigh. "I forgot about this." He grumbled. Even with the masks, In-ho sensed Gi-hun's confusion by the way he turned his head slowly towards him. "A new detail for this year's games." He explained. "I dare not call it a guilty conscience, but the clients wanted the games to have a larger purpose, something to make them feel like they were doing a good thing."

Gi-hun approached one of the coffins, removed his glove and took the ribbon in his hand. It felt silky and smooth, but the fraying edges alluded to its inexpensiveness. No point spending money on something that'll you burn. Gi-hun thought. "So, ribbons?" He asked In-ho, not following the logic.

"Death is not a punishment; early reincarnation is a gift." In-ho quoted what the clients had said to him at the end of the last games.

Gi-hun's eyebrow twitched and let the ribbon drop from his hand. "Hence the ribbons." Understanding finally settling in.

"Hence the ribbons." In-ho confirmed, coming to stand at Gi-hun's side and running a hand over the top of the coffin. "They must have arrived last night. I'll have them sent to the basement today."

In-ho's phone buzzed in his pocket, startling both of them. The phone signal was so bad here that the only connection they usually had to the outside world was the wired phone in the apartment. In-ho fished the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen, groaning when he saw who was calling. He let the phone ring off, he had no intention of answering it right now.

"Shouldn't you get that?" Gi-hun asked.

In-ho shook his head. "It's only the boss. He can wait." The disdain in his voice clear to hear even through the voice changer.

Gi-hun smirked under his mask. The tension between In-ho and the boss had persisted over the years; their dislike for each other was plain to see. Gi-hun's own relationship with the boss was even more sour, so much so that it bordered on hatred and Gi-hun didn't see a problem with that at all. "Maybe it's someone calling to tell you that he's finally dead." Gi-hun said, hope laced in his voice.

In-ho laughed, pushing his phone back into his pocket. "If he is, I can provide the coffin."

Gi-hun tucked his hand back into the glove and looked around at the rest of the room filled with coffins. "I think we might need all these ones. I suppose we should get to work." He said patting In-ho's chest before walking across the room to the door on the far side.

In-ho's next words died in his throat as he watched Gi-hun saunter across the room. He wasn't entirely sure how it had happened, but despite everything, Gi-hun had settled into this role with surprising ease. Gi-hun had become an expert in building his walls up to keep everything out; the moments where he wavered were so few that In-ho felt like he could be held up by Gi-hun's mere presence alone. In-ho shook his head, dispelling the thoughts in his mind and strode after Gi-hun.

Not all the staff had returned to the island, they wouldn't for a few more months so the route they took to the control room was almost completely vacant except for a handful of square-masked guards. The construction team would be moving in soon to build the framework for this year’s games, so the final decision on what would be played had to be made soon. In-ho had the final say but Gi-hun had a few thoughts that he wished to share.

The control room was deserted when they arrived, with the surfaces covered in a thin layer of dust it looked to have been untouched for a few weeks at least. In-ho held the door open for Gi-hun then dead-bolted the door behind them. With the cameras still off, they slipped off their hoods and discarded their masks, leaving them on the nearest desk by the door. Gi-hun ran his hand through his hair, attempting to push the non-existent hair from his forehead; he tutted at himself, his hair was shorter than before, and he was still getting used it.  

"So," In-ho said, pressing a few buttons on the control panel to light up the screens on the wall. "What's your goal for this year?"

While the clients had their own kind of fun watching the players, Gi-hun had his own agenda. Tucked in the corner of his heart, he still clung desperately to the idea that there was some hope for humanity. Someone somewhere must have what it takes to stick to their principles even in the face of death. He was asking too much, he knew it. Still, he searched. In the past four years that they'd overseen, not once had the group of players chosen to leave, an overwhelming majority had voted to stay and play on every time. It made Gi-hun's brain itch every time they chose money over their own lives.

Gi-hun pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. "How far do you think we can push them before they snap back together like an elastic band?"

"I think the band would break before they allied together." In-ho said, tapping a few buttons on the control panel to change the display on the screens.

"Tsk. Always a glass half empty." Gi-hun grumbled.

In-ho raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Gi-hun. "That is how I take my whiskey after all." Gi-hun rolled his eyes.

On the screen, the first fifty players were laid out in rows and columns; listed next to each player’s picture were their names, ages and debt levels. Gi-hun scanned his eyes over the player's. Like usual, there was a complete mix of characters without any single obvious thing that could bind them together, nothing that he could use to his advantage.

"These are all that have confirmed so far." In-ho said.

Gi-hun hummed, then turned away from the wall of faces staring down at him. He came up to In-ho at the control panel and brought up a list of game options with a single tap of his finger. "Can I?" He asked In-ho.

"Of course." In-ho said, waiting to see how he would organise the game order this time.

"If we bracket the games as usual with 'Red Light, Green Light' first and 'Squid Game' last, that leaves the four in the middle. So, what if we delay the team games and put another individual game second? Putting them in teams too early creates unnatural alliances; they need more time to find their people." Gi-hun looked over at In-ho who was nodding slowly.

In-ho crossed his arms over his chest. "It would have to be 'Dalgona', putting 'Marbles' second would encourage people to turn against each other. You wouldn't be able to drag it back from that."

"Right." Gi-hun agreed. "The third game can then be a team game, how about—"

"Not 'Jump Rope'." In-ho cut in before Gi-hun could suggest it.

Since their takeover, In-ho had banned that particular game. "I wasn't going to suggest that one." Gi-hun said lightly as if he was stating the obvious. "What about 'Tug-of-War'? We've not done that one yet."

"Fine." In-ho agreed, relieved. "That'll be a flash point. Maybe they'll leave after that."

Gi-hun chewed on his bottom lip. "They'll have formed bonds by that point; if they don't leave then, then they won't at all." He mused.

"Let's put 'Marbles' next." In-ho said. "It feels like this would be the right point to push them like you said." He added when Gi-hun furrowed his brows. Gi-hun slowly nodded as he considered the options. During their year, 'Marbles' had brought of the side of him that he wasn't aware of before, and for better or worse, it would do the same for this year's players too. "Then we'll follow up with 'Glass Bridge."

"Any particular reason?" Gi-hun inquired, titling his head.

In-ho looked down and shuffled his feet slightly. "No... Actually, I just like that game." He said bashfully.

Gi-hun tucked his finger under In-ho's chin, encouraging him to lift it away from where he'd tucked it in his chest. Gi-hun reached down to place a light kiss on In-ho's lips. "You don't have to hide that from me." He said releasing In-ho's chin. "All things considered it is an interesting game, and the clients seem to like it so..."

In-ho huffed and finalised the game selection on the control panel all while grumbling something about this place making him lose his mind. Gi-hun, suppressing a fond smile, clasped his hands behind his back and went to retrieve their masks from where they'd been left. He heard the computer switch off behind him followed by swift, sure footsteps. In-ho snuck an arm around Gi-hun and retrieved his mask from Gi-hun's hands.

Gi-hun caught his wrist before he could withdraw it. "It's not your fault." He said quietly.

In-ho shed the weight of the games like a shrugging off a heavy rucksack each time he left the island after the games were finished; picking it back up after so many months away was always the most difficult part for him. Gi-hun knew it would take him a moment to adjust. In-ho nodded curtly then slipped the mask over his face, his shoulders relaxing as he pulled the hood up over his head.

Once Gi-hun had secured his mask, they made their way from the control room to the elevator to their apartment. In-ho swiped his card over the sensor, and they stepped inside. The elevator took them all the way to the top floor where the doors slid open to welcome them home.

Pitch black greeted them and Gi-hun shuffled out of the elevator to find the light switch on the wall. While they stayed on the island, In-ho kept all the lights on in the main areas of the apartment at all times, so coming up to darkness felt a touch unnerving. With one flick of a switch, all the lights in the hall and living room turned on at the same time and Gi-hun let out a breath.

In-ho had already removed his mask, coat and shoes before Gi-hun had finished unbuttoning his own coat. "Want a drink?" In-ho called as he padded down the hallway.

Gi-hun's legs still felt unsteady after the long boat ride, adding alcohol into the mix was probably not the best idea. "Only a small one." He called out, throwing his coat into the closet and following In-ho down the hallway. "Bring it to the bathroom."

Gi-hun heard a surprised hum behind him as he slipped into the bathroom. They rarely took baths together, the tub they had here wasn't exactly big enough, but they could make it work on occasions and today was just the right occasion to give it another go. Gi-hun turned the tap on and prayed the hot water still worked; when small whisps of steam evaporated into the air from the surface of the water, relief flooded through him. He adjusted the temperature so their skin wouldn't scald and left the tub to fill.

In-ho peeped his head around the door a moment later, two small glasses of whiskey in hand. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of Gi-hun stripping and the bath filling. "Is this a new distraction technique?"

"Is it working?" Gi-hun teased, taking one of the glasses and knocking it back without breaking eye contact. "Join me?"

A faint flush crept up the side of In-ho's neck. "Y-yeah sure." He stuttered.

Not needing to be asked twice, In-ho stripped and climbed into the bath; Gi-hun followed him in and settled between In-ho's legs, his back resting against In-ho's chest. They let the warm water sooth them as In-ho washed the salt from the spray of the sea out of Gi-hun's hair. Gi-hun drew lazy patterns over In-ho's knee with the pads of his fingers, concentrating on nothing but In-ho's fingers in his hair, and the occasional brush of In-ho's lips over the mole on the back of his neck. Like this he could easily forget what they were here to do.

A quiet laugh rumbled in Gi-hun's throat. "What?" In-ho mumbled against the skin of Gi-hun's neck.

"I can feel your dick twitch against my back whenever I do this." Gi-hun replied, trailing his fingers lightly up the inside of In-ho's thigh and back down again. "Cute."

In-ho nipped lightly at Gi-hun's neck. "I bet if I reached between your legs, I wouldn't find anything soft either."

"Touché." Gi-hun said, letting his head fall back against In-ho's shoulder. Gi-hun watched as In-ho picked up his glass of whiskey from the side and took a swig, his throat bobbing as he swallowed the alcohol. "Give me some."

In-ho looked down at Gi-hun whose eyes were wide and unblinking as he looked up at him. In-ho took another small sip and placed the glass back on the counter. Cupping Gi-hun's chin in his hand, he tilted Gi-hun's face further towards him. He ran a thumb over Gi-hun's lower lip pulling a gasp from him; and with his lips parted, In-ho seized his opportunity, his mouth was on Gi-hun's in a flash. Whiskey entered Gi-hun's mouth, the familiar flavour notes flooded over his tongue, and he devoured every drop with appreciative moans. A trickle of alcohol escaped from the corner of Gi-hun's mouth; it ran down the side of his cheek and over In-ho's finger where it dripped into the bath water, the golden colour dispersing in an instant.    

They kissed until the whiskey had long gone and the only taste that remained was of each other. But just like reality; the water soon turned cool, their skin started to wrinkle, and it was time to prise themselves apart. That evening In-ho cooked something simple then they retired to bed, finding comfort in each other’s arms beneath the sheets.

A new dawn broke and Gi-hun awoke to the sound of In-ho's voice from outside their bedroom.

"Understood." Gi-hun heard In-ho say, then the noise of a phone being replaced onto the receiver met his ears.

Gi-hun scrunched his face, he didn't usually sleep through the sound of the phone ringing. Its shrill rings had pierced his ear drums so many times, his body would react to the sound before his brain could register what was happening. Gi-hun threw off the covers and slung his legs over the side of the bed. In-ho had left the room in darkness so Gi-hun had to fumble around on the floor in search of the underwear that he'd left there last night. At last, he found them near the foot of the bed; pulling them on, he stumbled towards the door.

The lights in the hallway burned his eyes making him curse as soon as he opened the door. In-ho swivelled around instantly, his lips curving into a small smile at the dazed look on Gi-hun's face; Gi-hun looked soft and fragile like this and that sight was growing increasingly rare.

"What was that about?" Gi-hun asked, his voice gritty from sleep.

"The last of the management arrived last night" In-ho reported. "They reported no issues with the transfer."

"Good." Gi-hun yawned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. "What was the return rate?"

"100%" In-ho said and Gi-hun scoffed. "Now, now. Management staff are the hardest to replace at short notice." In-ho ran his eyes over Gi-hun's sleepy face. "Go sleep some more, I'll handle the intake." He drew level with Gi-hun, left a lingering kiss on his lips then entered the elevator.

The tiredness had left Gi-hun, so he didn't return to bed, instead he chose to investigate what food had been left in the kitchen. The cupboards were almost empty, he'd have to raid the main kitchens to restock before the next supply boat came in. He found a packet of instant ramen, deciding it would have to do he poured boiling water into it and took it with him to get dressed.

An hour later, he stepped into the elevator pulling on his gloves as the doors shut behind him. The elevator came to a stop and opened out into the management area of the compound. Gi-hun assumed In-ho would be in the control room, but his feet took him in the opposite direction towards the central area of staircases where the players would pass through on their way to the games. Even though the corridors were busier today with the return of the staff, Gi-hun passed through without ever breaking stride. Gi-hun was often puzzled by the staff's sudden urge to melt into the walls when they saw him. After badgering In-ho about it for a while, In-ho had finally told him that he could look quite intimidating to those that didn't know him. He didn't see it personally, but it must be true.

The endless sound of footsteps ceased the moment the security door closed behind him. Gi-hun stood on the ground floor looking upwards at the expanse of space that opened up above his head. He could almost smell the new paint and disinfectant that would fill the air in a few weeks.

Last year’s games had been particularly tough, and this area had taken quite the beating, paint had been chipped from the walls and a few rogue blood stains still remained on the steps. Gi-hun was reminded of the fourth game, it had been a rather deadly version of tag and even those who survived received gnarly injuries. The stench of blood and rotting flesh had hung in the air, passing through the ventilation system for days on end. Gi-hun's stomach squeezed at the memory.

The radio in Gi-hun's pocket crackled to life. "Captain?" A familiar voice spoke.

The staff all called In-ho captain, initially he'd hated it but Gi-hun had found it vaguely amusing. Not long after, In-ho had begun to refer to him as captain instead. "See how you like it." In-ho had said, but the joke was on him, Gi-hun loved how it rolled off his tongue every time he called for him. Gi-hun didn't know what the staff referred to him as behind his back, but he usually got some formal version of 'sir' or 'boss' to his face.

Gi-hun dug the device out of his pocket. "I'm here, go ahead." He replied, still scanning the area for imperfections to be fixed.

"The staff brought back some reports on more potential players. Do you want to take a look?" In-ho asked.

"On my way." Gi-hun said before stowing the radio back into his coat pocket.

Gi-hun spun on his heel with a flourish and headed back into the management area. He took two left turns and arrived at the bottom of a flight of stairs, his long legs took him up two steps at a time. Halfway up the stairs, hidden in a recessed doorway, two of the management staff were huddled together whispering. They hadn't noticed Gi-hun pause on the steps to watch them until he lightly cleared his throat. The two jumped apart; and even with the pink suits and masks, Gi-hun thought they looked particularly suspicious, the nervous energy radiated off them in waves.

He tilted his head to one side. "What's going on here?" He asked slowly. "I can't imagine you have time to gossip already, hmm?"

"I— er... N-no, we weren't..." One of them replied, stammering.

Gi-hun sighed, rubbing the front of his mask the same way he'd rub his forehead. "Enough. Just get back to work and don't let me catch you slacking again."

"Yes sir!" The pair of them responded, scarpering off the instant Gi-hun waved them away.

The strange behaviour was quickly forgotten the second Gi-hun walked into the control room. It had been less than 24 hours since he was in here and already the contrast was stark. Today it was a hive of activity; at least a dozen staff members had set to work, nobody spoke but the room was filled with the noise from the shuffling of feet and the tapping of buttons. In-ho stood as a lone figure in the centre. Already going over one of the files, his head was bent forwards over the pages in his hands. Gi-hun's telltale footsteps made In-ho look up and cast a glance over his shoulder. 

"What have we got?" Gi-hun asked.

In-ho handed him the file and he flipped it open. "A North Korean defector." In-ho said. "She escaped with her younger brother."

"Her parents?" Gi-hun asked. The file said that the woman was still young, it was unlikely that her parents made it out with her considering the amount of debt that she'd racked up so far.

"The father is dead. Shot crossing the border. The mother's location is unknown, suspected to be still in the North." In-ho said.

Gi-hun hummed and closed the file, handing it back to In-ho who switched it out for two more.

"Two?" Gi-hun asked curiously. "Why did— oh." Gi-hun stopped short when he opened both files. The two files referred to a man and a woman, a husband and wife. "Seriously?" In-ho nodded. "What's the story?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. A failed family business combined with kids in college." In-ho told him.

"Shouldn't we just take one?" Gi-hun said.

"Ah." In-ho said. "That's where it does get somewhat interesting. They both have debts that they've hidden from each other, so we can't treat them as one."

Gi-hun stuck his tongue in the side of his cheek and hummed thoughtfully. He leaned forwards as a thought crossed his mind, lowering his voice he said, "What would you do if we'd been together before the games, and you found me here too?"

"I'd have killed you myself." In-ho replied without missing a beat.   

Gi-hun scoffed. "I'd like to see you try." He muttered.

In-ho pulled the files from his hand and shoved another one at him. "Here. Look at this one before you say something even more stupid."

Gi-hun chuckled under his breath as he opened the file, but the name at the top of the page soon silenced his laugh. "Cho Sang-woo. Pride of Ssangmun-dong." 

Chapter Text

"Cho Sang— huh?" In-ho, who had flipped open the next file on the desk in front of him, whipped his head around. He was sure that the words 'pride of Ssangmun-dong' was not written anywhere on the page in Gi-hun's hand.

Gi-hun quickly scanned over the page in front of him, only noticing that In-ho was staring at him when he got to the bottom; even then it took a double take for Gi-hun to realise that In-ho wasn't moving his gaze from him. Gi-hun sighed, flipped the file shut and tucked it under his arm. "Not here." He whispered, indicating towards the staff with his head.

In-ho caught on immediately. "I'm heading to the north side, come with me?" He asked, providing them with an excuse to leave so suddenly. He wanted to check on the state of the escape tunnels after the harsh winter anyway.

Gi-hun nodded once. "Sure."

In-ho led them from the control room and back down the stairs that Gi-hun come up from. Gi-hun's mind was reeling, he hardly saw where he was going thanks to the memories of his old friend currently playing out in his mind’s eye. Gi-hun saw the rounded face of a young boy smiling at him from across the playground, he'd won whatever game they'd been playing, and a look of satisfaction had settled across his face. He saw the grumpy face of a teenager, pushing his glasses further up his nose as Gi-hun picked him up from his house at some ridiculously early hour to walk to school. He felt the pride that had swelled in his chest as he watched his friend graduate from Seoul National University at the top of his class.

How had his name ended up in one of these files? Gi-hun couldn't connect the dots.

The smooth surface underfoot turned into rock and gravel, the walls turned to stone and a sheen of water covered every surface. In-ho had led them to an underground pool at the very edge of the management area. The pool connected to the sea by a flooded cave, and it served as one of the main emergency exits. In-ho had sent him on a diving course shortly after their first year running the games, Gi-hun had thought it was overkill but In-ho had insisted.

Alone in the cave and far from any wandering staff, Gi-hun slipped his mask off his face and grabbed the file from under his arm, with his sight unhindered he read the words more carefully. Sang-woo should have had it all; a job that he'd worked so hard for; a decent paycheck and a secure future, but at some point, things had soured. Gi-hun read how he'd gambled it all away on the stock markets, taking his clients’ money and investing it without their knowledge. His debt was in the millions. The name of a business caught his eye, he recognised it as Sang-woo's mother's market stall; used as collateral, somehow it had been caught up in his mess too. Gi-hun's jaw tightened, frustration and anger fought for space within him.

In-ho regarded him steadily, taking off his own mask, he waited for Gi-hun to speak.

"We were childhood friends." Gi-hun said finally, closing the file. "We spent nearly every day together until he went to college, then he spent most of his time holed up in his dorm."

"You've never mentioned him before." In-ho said. He took the file from Gi-hun’s hands and flipped through the pages.  

Gi-hun shrugged. "We lost touch a while ago, right around the time I lost my job actually." His voice dropped to a whisper. "How could I reach out now?"

"Gi-hun, you're allowed a life outside of this place." In-ho reminded him. Gi-hun had told him those exact words after In-ho had grown nervous about seeing Jun-ho again after their first games.

Gi-hun groaned and began to pace. "I know, I know. But... He could always see right through me. He'd know something was up."

In-ho's eyebrows raised briefly, he turned away and pretended to inspect something along the waters edge. "You were that close?" He asked, fighting to keep his voice light.

Gi-hun hummed "Yeah, we—". He stopped mid-sentence and mid-step, noticing In-ho's sudden change in demeanour. His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head to one side. "Are you... jealous?" He sounded amused.

"No." In-ho answered too quickly to be convincing.

Gi-hun bit on the edge of his finger in an attempt to suppress his laugh. So, this is what it feels like? He thought. At the beginning of last summer, In-ho had taken Gi-hun out to a restaurant in the middle of Seoul, however, their evening out ended bluntly when Gi-hun had nearly come to blows with a waiter for hitting on In-ho. In-ho had the biggest grin on his face as ushered Gi-hun out of the restaurant before he could get himself in trouble. Gi-hun didn't know what had annoyed him more; the waiter or the smug look on In-ho's face. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, he understood.

Gi-hun schooled his expression and approached In-ho. He wound his arms around In-ho's chest and brought his chin down to rest on In-ho's shoulder. "Jagiya." He said softly. "Don't be."

Gi-hun could feel In-ho relax in his embrace, his hand came up to rest on Gi-hun's. "You make the call on this one, if you don't want him to be offered a place I'll burn the file."

"Offer it." Gi-hun said after a moment of thought.

"Are you sure?" In-ho asked.

"He dragged his own mother into his mess." Gi-hun exhaled hard and tightened his grip on In-ho. "He doesn't have to say yes to the games, but if he does, so be it. Maybe it's fate."

"Okay." In-ho turned his head to place a kiss on Gi-hun's temple. "Once he confirms, I can't stop it." He warned.  

"I know." Gi-hun cleared his throat, squashing the emotions that threatened to rise back where they belonged. "Now about these tunnels..."

Over the next few hours, Gi-hun joined In-ho in his inspection of the escape tunnels on the north and west side of the island. The tunnels had stood untouched with only minor wear and tear for over a decade, yet every year In-ho insisted on checking them with his own eyes just in case. As Gi-hun silently predicted, all the exits remained perfectly usable, only a small rockfall had partially blocked the mouth of a cave down by the bay; it came as no surprise, it had happened every year so far. While In-ho radioed for someone to come down and clear the rocks, Gi-hun wandered absentmindedly around the cave.

"Satisfied?" Gi-hun asked as In-ho approached him after giving his orders.

"Hm. This old place really does hold up well." In-ho mused. "Let's stop by the armoury on the way back, I need some more bullets."

Gi-hun always felt that the word armoury was a little too fancy for what was essentially a bunch of rudimentary lockers stashed with weaponry. On the island, they had two such places; one for the soldiers and one for the management team. In-ho and Gi-hun had their own gun safe in their apartment but In-ho, who found himself rarely firing his gun, often forgot to refill the supply of bullets when they ran low.

Like everything else in the management areas, this room had been painted a deep purple even the lockers themselves had been painted to match. On each locker was a number corresponding to a particular staff member; and as Gi-hun walked down the length of the room he noticed that all the staff had, predictably, already been in to collect their pistols. Gi-hun always thought these rooms carried a distinct smell, something he couldn't exactly put his finger on; if he had to guess he'd say it was a combination of iron and old leather shoes.

"Remind me to get some more delivered." In-ho said from where he was rooting around in the overflow locker.

"We're low already?" Gi-hun raised his eyebrows. "Are they hoarding them?"

"Fuck knows." In-ho said, changing out the magazine in his pistol and stashing two extras in his pockets. In-ho indicated towards Gi-hun's waist where he kept his own pistol stored away. "You good?"

Gi-hun withdrew his own weapon and cast a cursory glance over the magazine that was still full. "I'm good." He replied. "That reminds me, did you ever find out what the boss called you for yesterday? Because if you don't call him, he'll call me and then..."

In-ho replaced the lock on the locker and cursed under his breath. "No, I didn't. I'll go up and call him now." He cast a glance at Gi-hun. "I quite like your head attached to your shoulders."

Gi-hun knew he pushed his luck sometimes, but he was always careful not to go too far; their lives were still in the hands of these people that he detested. It was no secret that the client’s satisfaction with the games skyrocketed when he and In-ho had taken over. The more he tried to push players together, only for it to inevitably backfire, the more the clients loved the fallout. Gi-hun was sure that this was the main reason that he was still breathing. It was a vicious cycle.

The doors of the elevator closed behind them and Gi-hun's shoulders unconsciously relaxed as he leaned against the wall. His eyes were trained on In-ho's hands as he took off his gloves one finger at a time. The hair on the back of his neck prickled; the memory of the time In-ho pinned him to his office desk wearing nothing except those gloves flashed through his mind. The scene hadn't fully formed in his mind when the ding of the elevator arriving stopped the thoughts in their tracks; he blinked hard a few times and followed In-ho into the apartment.

"Oh right." In-ho said, smoothing his hair back after taking off his mask. "The recruiter was over in Ilsan last night, there should be some more players in the system by now."

"Give me a sec." Gi-hun said slipping his coat from his shoulders. "I'll go check."

While In-ho went into the living room to make his phone call, Gi-hun made a beeline for the office just off the hallway. He flicked on the light switch by the door and trudged over to the desk in the centre of the room. Gi-hun sank heavily into the leather swivel chair and pulled himself up to the desk, his fingers tapping impatiently while he waited for the computer to come to life.

A mental image of the recruiter surfaced in his mind. Gi-hun had only met him once more since he had moved in, and if he didn't know any better, Gi-hun would have sworn the man he met was the evil twin of the one he met all those years ago at the train station. The softness in his eye that would draw you in was long gone, replaced by something much more sinister. No matter how wild and untamed he was in secret, he was still pulling in the numbers so In-ho kept him on the job.

The sudden change in brightness of the screen drew Gi-hun's attention and with his chin propped on one hand, he clicked through to find the list of current players. Sure enough, the count had increased by six. Gi-hun frowned slightly, with two months until the games they really needed those numbers to be a little higher by now. He sat back in his chair and stretched; he decided not to worry just yet, slow starts weren't unusual.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a large, hard cased file sitting casually placed on top of a bookcase. Gi-hun couldn't remember leaving anything out but perhaps he had. Standing from his chair, he went to retrieve it. On the front of the file were the words Squid Game 2007. Volume 3. Gi-hun felt a flicker of recognition. Against the advice of In-ho, Gi-hun had been working his way through the files on all the pervious games. He called it morbid curiosity, but even then, he still had to pace himself, it was a lot to taken in at once.

Gi-hun perched on the edge of the desk and opened the file. He scanned his eyes over the first page then it all came flooding back to him. He vaguely remembered reading that this particular winner had ended their own life two years after winning. A fate that had cut a bit too close and a bit too deep for Gi-hun to keep reading the last time he tried. Now with a fresher mindset, he flipped over the page and kept reading.

As it turned out, 2007 saw the first implementation of the game they now called 'Glass Bridge'. Gi-hun noted with interest that it had been first used as game two, and whoever had organised it had severely miscalculated. Too few glass panels and too many players meant that only ten players had been eliminated in this round. It had been a resounding failure from the perspective of whoever had written these notes.

"Amateurs." Gi-hun scoffed.

As a result, a new special game had been added to the proceedings; the riot. The staff had allowed it to go on all night, only breaking it up to lead the players to the third game. The death toll for that night alone had been significant.

Gi-hun heard heavy footsteps approaching the office door. "You were right, there's six more players." He said when the door sung open, not bothering to look up.

"Seven." In-ho said, leaning against the door frame. "One of the clients wants in." Gi-hun craned his neck to look across at In-ho, bewilderment plastered on his face. In-ho laughed quietly at Gi-hun's frozen form, his own reaction had been pretty similar. He crossed the room and sat down next to Gi-hun on the edge of the desk.

"You're not that funny you know?" Gi-hun said eventually.

"Rude." In-ho said pretending to sound hurt, then his voice turned serious. "I'm not joking though."

"But why?" Gi-hun asked, his eyes had widened in surprise.

In-ho rubbed at his forehead. "Something about wanting to experience the games first hand. I don't know. In all honesty, I don't think it's worth trying to understand these people too much."

Gi-hun pursed his lips, contemplating In-ho's words. "Hm. That's true. Who is it anyway? Mr handsy?" Gi-hun asked flexing his fingers in the air.

A scowl briefly crossed over In-ho's face. "No, unfortunately. It's the one in the owl mask."

"The old guy?" Gi-hun exclaimed, recalling how the one In-ho was referring to walked with a slight hunch, sometimes aided by a walking stick. "Oh, he's definitely dying." He went back to reading the page in front of him.

"Ah." In-ho said. "We can't kill him."

Gi-hun slapped the file closed and placed it on the desk behind him. The bending of the rules irked him. "Does that not defeat the whole point of the games? What if he gets killed by a player anyway?"

"You're right, it does." In-ho said, his features taut with tension. Gi-hun's expression softened, evidently In-ho wasn't happy with this new development either; there was a lot that could go wrong. "He does understand the risk but wants to do it anyway."

Gi-hun laid a hand over In-ho's forearm. "Fine. We'll give him the number 001, that should be easy enough for the guards to remember. He'll have to be pulled out by the end of 'Marbles' though, 'Glass Bridge' is too risky." In-ho nodded and Gi-hun leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek. "It'll be fine. I promise. If something happens to him, then this was his choice not ours." Gi-hun soothed In-ho's unsaid worries; lightening his tone he added, "but right now I’ve got a kitchen to raid."

Gi-hun stood from the edge of the desk and had only taken two steps towards to the door when In-ho caught his wrist, he glanced down in surprise. "I love you." In-ho said quietly with the smallest hint of vulnerability.

Smiling warmly down at him, Gi-hun replied. "I know." 

Just over an hour later Gi-hun arrived back at the apartment, his arms ladened with food. He'd grabbed whatever he could find, mentally adding ingredients to his shopping list alongside the extra ammunition In-ho had asked for. He'd huffed in amusement at the idea that those two extremes coexisted as just another part of his life now. Gi-hun cooked that night, he had a skill for throwing together something from an odd mix of ingredients. They ate sprawled on the sofa in the living room, Gi-hun's legs slung over In-ho's thighs.    

When In-ho left to shower, Gi-hun peeled himself from the sofa and trudged towards the bedroom. His eyes caught sight of a file left on the table by the phone, he opened it to find that it was Sang-woo's file. In-ho must have given his name to the recruiter by now, Gi-hun thought. He sighed and closed the file pushing thoughts of his childhood friend from his mind, he might still never see him cross the threshold of these games. It was in Sang-woo's hands now.  

He hadn't been settled in bed long when he heard the shower switch off. In-ho entered the bedroom with just a towel slung low around his hips, skin faintly glistening from the steam and the occasional bead of water dripped from the hair hung low on his forehead. Gi-hun caught the smell of soap mingled with In-ho's natural scent and it made his mouth water.

Gi-hun rolled on to his side, supporting himself on his elbow. "Come here." He said. In-ho stopped in his tracks midway to the dresser. "And leave the towel."

In-ho's eyebrows quirked, his breath already becoming heavier at the suggestive tone in Gi-hun's voice. He dug his thumbs in the front of the towel and pulled it open, letting it drop in a heap behind him. "As you wish."

Gi-hun grinned, his eyes appreciatively running over his husband’s body. Pulling the sheets back in one quick, smooth motion; In-ho crawled over the bed, his gaze firmly fixed on Gi-hun. When In-ho was in reach, Gi-hun placed his hand on the back of In-ho's head threading his fingers through his hair and pulling him down until their lips connected. In-ho cradled the side of Gi-hun's face, his tongue running over Gi-hun's bottom lip desperately seeking entrance. Gi-hun smirked, he loved how eager In-ho was, but he loved to make him work for it even more.

Thankfully for In-ho, Gi-hun wasn't in the mood to tease him too much today and he yielded at the first desperate groan rumbling in In-ho's throat. The smallest gap was all In-ho needed before he was pushing his tongue into Gi-hun's mouth; the warm slickness making Gi-hun shudder and whine.  

In-ho's body was usually solid and unmovable, but it gave way easily under Gi-hun's touch. Without breaking the kiss, Gi-hun pushed In-ho over on the bed until In-ho's back hit the mattress. Gi-hun trailed his hand down In-ho's chest, over his abdomen and between his legs, wrapping his fingers around In-ho's hardening cock. In-ho groaned beneath him, his cock twitching in Gi-hun's hand. Gi-hun broke the kiss, a trail of spit still connected their lips as Gi-hun looked down at In-ho's eyes, his pupils blown wide with arousal.

Gi-hun released In-ho's length, bringing his hand up to his mouth he collected the spit that connect them and licked a wet stripe up his hand for good measure. In-ho moaned at the sight; the noise soon swallowed by Gi-hun's mouth that found In-hos again. Taking a hold of In-ho's cock again, Gi-hun stroked slowly from base to tip, his grip light and teasing. In time with his strokes, Gi-hun sucked on In-ho's tongue, enjoying how In-ho squirmed and moaned beneath him.

His own cock grew hard and aching in no time, and when he could take it no longer, he ceased his slow torment of In-ho — much to In-ho's protests — and threw his leg of In-ho's hips so that he was straddling him. In-ho eyed Gi-hun's cock leaking pre-cum on his stomach, he brought his hand up to wrap around it only to find himself blocked by Gi-hun.

"Not yet." Gi-hun rasped, grabbing a hold of In-ho's wrist and pushing it back down.

Gi-hun placed a kiss on In-ho's heaving chest as he grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand.

"Let... let me." In-ho said through uneven breaths.

Gi-hun flipped open the bottle and coated his fingers with a generous amount. "Not this time." He smirked.

Gi-hun leaned forwards until their faces were inches apart and reached behind himself. He wanted In-ho to see him as he fucked himself open. In-ho's hands came to lay on Gi-hun's thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh underneath Gi-hun's cheeks. Out of In-ho's sight, Gi-hun circled a finger around his own asshole smearing the lube over his entrance shuddering at the slight chill. In-ho could tell when Gi-hun inserted his first finger; his eyes scrunched at the sudden breach, smoothing back out when pleasure took over.

Soft pants tumbled from Gi-hun's mouth with each steady thrust of his finger, the pants turned into whines when In-ho's fingers dug deeper into his skin. Mouth hanging open, In-ho watched in awe as Gi-hun slipped a second and third finger into his asshole. Laid heavy on his abdomen, In-ho's cock leaked pre-cum leaving a small, sticky pool of fluid behind.

"Gi-hun." In-ho croaked. He was so tightly wound that he felt like he'd explode.

Gi-hun left a soft kiss on In-ho jaw. "Yes?" He asked, kissing his way down In-ho's neck.

In-ho threw his head back into the pillow. "Please... I need... please."

Gi-hun chuckled and sat up straight. Groaning, he removed his fingers with a wet squelch and reached back for In-ho's cock, coating it with the lube left on his fingers. In-ho jerked violently at the contact on his neglected cock, he drew in a few deep breaths to steady himself. Without much warning, Gi-hun lined In-ho's cock up with his hole and sank down, taking his entire length in one go.

Gi-hun threw his head back in pleasure, he enjoyed the burn as his body swallowed In-ho's cock even as it knocked the breath from his lungs.

"Stay still." Gi-hun warned as he began to lift himself from In-ho's cock and sink back down again.

In-ho could only reply with a broken moan, but he obeyed and let Gi-hun do what he wanted. Concentrating on his own pleasure, Gi-hun closed his eyes and set his pace. He rode In-ho long and slow; pleasure shot through his body like sparks from a struck flint, and his whines steadily grew in volume and pitch. In-ho barely blinked his heavy-lidded eyes, not wanting to miss a second of Gi-hun looking this pretty with his back arched, his skin covered in a fine layer of sweat. Gi-hun quickened his pace sending a new jolt of pleasure through him when his cock slapped against In-ho's stomach with each downward thrust.

In-ho's eyes were wet with the effort it took to hold himself back, the pleasure was slowly mounting in his body and his groans grew longer and deeper. Gi-hun rocked his hips searching for that particular spot that could send him over the edge. He yelped when he found it, his head dropped forwards as he aimed for that spot over and over again.

"Cum with me." Gi-hun whispered.  

In-ho gave a nod, his words failing him. Gi-hun imagined In-ho's cock leaking inside of him adding to the slick feeling as In-ho's cock disappeared in and back out of him, his rhythm became sloppy, and In-ho knew he was close. Pleasure overtook Gi-hun's body, his whines fell silent, and his body gently convulsed as his orgasm flowed over him. Cum spurted over In-ho's chest sending In-ho over the edge; his cock spilled inside Gi-hun, painting his insides white.  

Breathing hard covered in sweat and other bodily fluids, Gi-hun collapsed onto In-ho's chest, the last ripples of his orgasm fading away. In-ho wrapped his arms around Gi-hun and placed a kiss on the top of his head. They laid together for a moment catching their breaths, kissing lazily, In-ho's softening cock still inside Gi-hun.

Neck aching, Gi-hun rested his head on In-ho's shoulder, the comforting heat of In-ho's skin on his cheek made his eyes drift close. "Don't sleep, you need to shower." In-ho said gently into Gi-hun's hair.

"If I move there'll be a mess on the bed." Gi-hun mumbled.

"Since you love putting your fingers in your ass, maybe you should try that again." In-ho teased.

"Maybe I will." The mental image that conjured made Gi-hun giggle.

A swift smack came down on Gi-hun's ass cheek; the sharp, satisfying sound had In-ho biting back another moan. Gi-hun gasped and jolted forwards, In-ho's cock slipped from his hole and a dribble of fluid ran between his cheeks and over the underside of his balls. Gi-hun's whole body shuddered at the sensation, a quiet whimper left his lips. Above him, In-ho smiled and pulled his arms tighter around Gi-hun savouring the peaceful bliss that the man in his arms gave him.  

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. It seemed like they never stopped from dawn to dusk. Every detail underwent In-ho's careful scrutiny, and then underwent Gi-hun's. The arrival of the workers saw the construction for the games begin in earnest. The walls were repainted; the loose gritty surfaces were raked over; and new green vines were planted over the staging for 'Marbles'. Even the giant doll that still gave Gi-hun the creeps was checked over, the mechanisms re-oiled. Nothing had been left untouched, everything had to appear brand new, and Gi-hun's eye for detail ran over every nook and cranny even the places that the players wouldn't possibly see.

Players slowly fed into the system day by day, and every morning Gi-hun would take his coffee into the office and look over the new profiles. He'd hold his breath every time, waiting to see if Sang-woo's name would appear on the list. A month after Gi-hun had given his permission for the recruiter to send Sang-woo an invite, it finally happened. He wasn't sure how he would feel, but as he sat back in his chair sipping on his coffee looking at his friends face on the screen, he found a strange calmness settle over him.

Gi-hun didn't realise how long he'd been sat there until In-ho poked his head around the door. "Still here?"

"Hm?" Gi-hun looked up in surprise. "Oh, yeah. Just look." He pointed to the screen. "He said yes."

A flash of understanding crossed In-ho's face as he walked over to take a look at the computer. What Gi-hun didn't know was that In-ho had kept Sang-woo's file back from the recruiter for the last month, just in case there was any hint of regret from Gi-hun. Only when he was sure that Gi-hun's position remained steady did he give Sang-woo's name over to the recruiter. In-ho had only made the call yesterday afternoon, Sang-woo's speedy acceptance had surprised him.     

In-ho's eyes switched back and forth between the screen and Gi-hun, unsure of what to say he squeezed Gi-hun's shoulder. Gi-hun reached up to cover In-ho's hand, slipping his thumb under In-ho's fingers. Their wedding rings clinked softly next to Gi-hun's ear, and a single coil of tension that he was unaware of relaxed and dissipated.

Over the next month, In-ho buried himself in recruiting soldiers for the games. Most of their staff returned year after year, but they could always be guaranteed that there would be a few dropouts. Amongst all three groups, the soldiers had the highest turnover rate. By this point, it had become a yearly occurrence that at least one soldier needed to be permanently silenced. This year was no different. The drunk ramblings of a man barely out of college reached the ears of In-ho's men that had been stationed in the capital. On In-ho's command, the young man was dispatched of with not a trace left behind. Day after day, In-ho would sit at his desk and pour over suitable replacements, sometimes Gi-hun would join him, crawl onto In-ho's knee the best he could and offer his opinion on the candidates.

When Gi-hun could tear himself from In-ho's lap, he set about preparing for the arrival of the clients. Without doubt, their area of the island was the most luxurious. The vibrant, bold colours; soft furnishings; and all the food and alcohol they could ever want only served to compliment the main attraction. Even Gi-hun had to admit that the view of the games they had was impressive. The screen acted more like a window; just being in this room watching the games play out felt more immersive than actually standing in the game halls.

If it wasn't for the clientele that these four walls usually entertained, Gi-hun would have In-ho come down here to watch the start of games instead of in their apartment or the control room. As it was, everywhere Gi-hun looked in this room, all he could see was the crude, self-centred billionaires stretched out over the furniture; their naked servants forming footstools and headrests, silent in their servitude. Gi-hun shivered and shook the imagery from his mind.

Gi-hun strode down the steps in the centre of the room, his hands clasped behind his back. A handful of staff moved silently through the room under Gi-hun's watchful gaze, he'd managed to wrangle a few to help with preparations. New rugs were unrolled, the tables polished, and every piece of glass was inspected for scratches and chips. Gi-hun saw to the alcohol cabinet himself. He inspected every crystal decanter, making a mental note of the ones that needed refilling or replacing.

He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't hear In-ho approach behind him. "How's the spring clean going?" In-ho asked casually.

Beneath Gi-hun's mask, his expression melted from one of concentration into something softer, warmer. "Are you actually asking about the cleaning or are you here to raid the cabinet?"

In-ho held his hands up in front of him. "You caught me." He laughed softly. "Actually, it's neither. The money arrives this afternoon, your presence has been requested."

Gi-hun sighed and replaced the decanter back into the cabinet. "Normally he doesn't care if I’m there or not."  

After In-ho caught Gi-hun squaring up to the client dropping off the cash for the games in their first year, he usually dealt with the money on his own, Gi-hun only came with him if he was feeling in a particularly good mood.

In-ho shrugged. "Search me."

"Is that an invitation?" Gi-hun asked lowering his voice.

In-ho rolled his eyes behind his mask. "Behave." He said turning to leave, "But maybe later." He added over his shoulder.

Gi-hun grinned, biting his tongue to suppress the laugh bubbling in his chest. He watched In-ho retreat up the stairs, his loving stare broken by the sound of shattering glass to his left. The worker that had dropped a vase, fell to their knees collecting the broken pieces of glass with more haste than Gi-hun had ever seen.

Gi-hun strode slowly to stand in front of the kneeling worker, he crouched down with his hand held to his waist where he kept his pistol. "No more mistakes." He said, voice low and menacing. The worker nodded profusely, shaking in their boots. Gi-hun saw that the whole room had come to a standstill waiting to see how this scenario would play out. He kept his pistol tucked out of sight and rose to his feet. "Clean this up and replace it." He ordered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Leaving the worker on the floor, Gi-hun turned on his heel and ascended the stairs.  

A thick blanket of clouds covered the sky, hiding the sun and depriving Gi-hun from feeling the warmth through his clothes. The surface of the sea undulated gently, dulled by the absence of the sun's rays. It seemed as if the world was turning its back on this dirty transaction, whether it was in shame or just simply turning a blind eye was anybody’s guess. Gi-hun watched from beside In-ho as boxes of cash stacked up on the shore, the man that had brought them barked orders to the workers, urging them to get a move on.

In-ho stiffened beside him. He had no love for the workers, but he wouldn't stand for anyone else taking his job, if anyone was going to chastise the workers, it would be him. Gi-hun put a steadying hand on In-ho's elbow and spoke up before In-ho's frustrations spilled out. "Sir, how about we speak inside. We like to limit the noise levels outside, especially during the daytime."

The man turned towards Gi-hun, acting as if he'd forgotten he was stood behind him. His white suit and golden mask made him stick out like a sore thumb, and Gi-hun had to laugh at the notion that he still sought attention as he carried out such nefarious business. "What's the problem? We're in the middle of nowhere."

"The walls of these cliffs echo." He said, gesturing with his finger towards the cliffs. "I won't risk it."

The man studied Gi-hun for a moment. "Fine." He turned and yelled at the workers one last time then disappeared inside.   

Gi-hun glanced at In-ho and saw his shoulders relax. He gave In-ho a tug on his sleeve and they followed the man inside.       

Chapter Text

A moving blanket of pink had taken over inside. Everywhere Gi-hun looked he saw co-ordinated patterns of movement where each worker carried out their roles with enviable efficiency. Gi-hun walked amongst the boxes, flipping their lids to inspect the contents. Each one had been filled to the brim with cash, neatly stacked and bundled together in equal amounts. He heard In-ho exchanging words with the client behind him, he only half listened, he wasn't interested in the peacocking. In-ho was always better at letting that wash over him.

"Such a rare sight." The man in the gold mask said, raising his voice to address Gi-hun.

Gi-hun picked up a bundle of cash, flipped quickly through the notes then dropped it back into the box carelessly. He signalled to the workers to start moving the boxes out of the room then turned slowly on his heel. "You should use fake notes, it's just a prop after all." Gi-hun stated.

"You can't put a fake carrot in front of a donkey and expect it to follow." The man said, the displeasure at Gi-hun's casual speech rolled off him in waves.

Gi-hun walked slowly over to stand at In-ho's side. "So, they're donkeys now?"

"It's a metaphor." The man said. Compared to Gi-hun, his short stature was made all the more obvious and so, consciously or not, he puffed out his chest in an attempt to make himself seem bigger and more important than Gi-hun gave him credit for. "And I wasn't talking about the money. I was talking about you. I don't usually see you outside of the games. Anyone would think he kept you on a leash." His voice was so sickly sweet it made Gi-hun's stomach turn.

Such a remark didn't warrant a reply, and although Gi-hun had plenty forming on the tip of his tongue he swallowed them back down. Beside him, In-ho had tensed again. Gi-hun couldn't be sure if it was from the comment or in anticipation of Gi-hun's reply. "You asked to see me." Gi-hun said calmly, he didn't want to make things more difficult for In-ho.

"To congratulate you. Both of you." He said, skipping straight to the point. "After five years you're still here, it's quite the feat. It's only natural for one to wonder what you're going to do next." His words sounded less congratulatory with every syllable. "The end result is always the same of course, predictable even, but how we get there is fascinating." His piercing, cold eyes visible through the eye holes in his mask, landed on Gi-hun. "Perhaps it's true what they say: there is no great genius without some touch of madness."

Behind his mask Gi-hun gritted his teeth, he hadn't missed the taunting tone in his voice. "I wasn't aware you wanted to commemorate the occasion."

At the same time, In-ho had also spoken. "Would you not prefer to be surprised?"

Humourlessly, the man laughed. "Call it a sneak preview." He directed at In-ho. "We're not betting anymore but it's nice to have one-up on the others regardless." He ignored Gi-hun entirely.

"What—" Gi-hun started speaking until In-ho cut him off. In-ho's hand came to rest on Gi-hun's lower back, his fingers gently curled to caress Gi-hun through his clothes. The gesture serving as both a comfort and a warning.

"I can assure you that the games won't disappoint, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait." In-ho said.

"As you wish." The man said before turning to Gi-hun, his mouth turned up into a sneer. "I'll look forward to see how you manage to pit them against each other this time." The last of the money had been removed from the room, taken away and placed into storage above the dormitory. The boat's captain that had accompanied the client, arrived at his side and tapped on his shoulder; he whispered something that Gi-hun couldn't hear into the man's ear. When he was finished, the man waved him off with a flick of his hand and the captain hastily retreated. "Well, gentlemen, that's my cue to leave." He turned to leave but paused midway. "Congratulations once again. I really did expect you to be ashes by now."

The man strode away without looking back.

"Pleasant as always." Gi-hun grumbled. "I assume he doesn't know about the special player?"

"Apparently not." In-ho said, shifting his hand from Gi-hun's back to his waist once the man had disappeared from sight.

Gi-hun's eyes wandered to the double doors on the far side of the room, through which a long corridor led directly to the dormitory. "It should be nearly ready now, right?"

In-ho hummed. "Should be. Do you want to take a look?"

Gi-hun gave a curt nod, his legs already moving him towards the doors before In-ho could register his response.    

With only a week left until the games began, the final touches were being made to the games. The dormitory received a fresh coat of paint, and the workers diligently added the clues to the games across the walls. For the most part, the bunk beds blocked the clues, and it was often the case that players didn't pick up on them until the last game anyway — if they did at all. In the same way Gi-hun had hope that the players would leave the games once they realised what was at stake; In-ho had hope that one year someone would pick up on the clues early enough to make use of them, and so every year the workers set to work with their paintbrushes under In-ho's command. Like ants, the workers brought in the new mattresses and armfuls of bedding ready to transform this open space into one that would house hundreds of people.

Gi-hun stood expressionless in the doorway watching the dormitory take shape. He only came down here once a year, for the rest of the games he only saw this room through a screen. Horrors had unfolded in front of his eyes in this room, yet it was also the place where he had met In-ho, fallen in love and walked out again with a renewed purpose in life. To say that this room unleashed an untameable storm of emotions within him would be putting it lightly.

"How are the numbers looking?" In-ho asked beside him.

"This morning there was 441 players confirmed." Gi-hun replied.

"Only 14 more to go." In-ho said, more to himself than Gi-hun.

A soft smile formed on Gi-hun's face. It had been years, but In-ho still wouldn't let anyone else take the number 456. He couldn't fault him for it; no matter how much he begged his heart to harden, hearing 'player 132, eliminated' every year still stung. His smile faded quickly when he remembered that he'd have two numbers to haunt him this year, In-ho's and Sang-woo's. Even in his role as host, it felt like he was the one back playing a game, some twisted, reversed version of bingo. Except, this time, it was all of his own making.

The glass piggy bank sat on the floor in the middle of the room basking under its yellow light. Currently empty, Gi-hun wondered where the money representing Sang-woo's life would rest. Would it be the first notes that fluttered down from the ceiling? Somewhere in the middle? The top? Or perhaps it wouldn't be in there at all.

Whenever he tried to imagine Sang-woo's death, his mind drew a blank. He couldn't see past watching him wake up in one of these beds. For the first time in a long while, the future was shrouded in mist. The only thing he could depend on was In-ho taking his hand and leading him forwards one step at a time. As if his thoughts had materialised into reality, Gi-hun felt a warmth engulfing his hand. He looked down to see that In-ho had wrapped his hand around his. This rare moment of public affection warmed his heart far more than his palm.

Over the next few days, it felt like the calm before the storm, the last pieces of the puzzle slotted into place with ease. Hundreds of trolleys, lined up in neat rows, filled the large, cavernous space where the players would be searched and changed. Their uniforms, brand new and clean, were stacked neatly along the walls. Everything had been laid out in perfect order to make the transition as smooth as possible.    

Back upstairs, the VIP area had been transformed into a floral paradise or as Gi-hun called it, an assault on the eyes. Even the air took on a sickly-sweet edge; it left a cloying taste in the back of Gi-hun's throat every time he spent more than five minutes in the room. Gi-hun stood in the centre of the room with one arm over his chest and a remote control in the hand of the other. He pressed a large red button on the remote, and with smooth, quiet movements, the screen in front of him moved upwards and out of the way of the curtained off area behind it. When the screen came to rest up by the ceiling, the curtains parted revealing a large glass window.

Gi-hun walked up to the glass and looked out upon a familiar sight. Designed to look like the inside of a circus tent, the walls were covered with soft fabrics of red and green. Loops of white lights hung across the roof, fanning out from the centre piece. Red carpeted platforms stood at opposite ends of the room; their edges marked with rope barriers. Gi-hun looked down to the ground somewhere far beneath him. The red framework for the bridge sat on the ground surrounded in a handful of pink figures attaching the explosives to the underside of the bridge.

Gi-hun's white clad figure stood by the window, unmoving, until he could no longer feel his own feet; and even then, he stood for a while longer.       

On the other side of the island, In-ho took care of overseeing the return of the soldiers. Their job being what it was — and the kind of person it took to do such a job — meant that In-ho only brought them back as close to the games as possible. Captain Park hadn't let him down, his assurances about the weather held true and the sea remained calm: the boat carrying the last of the staff arrived exactly on time.

In-ho also personally picked the staff that would enter the dormitory and communicate with the players. When word went around, workers scouting for a promotion made themselves the most visible to In-ho, attending to his every command without hesitation especially when Gi-hun wasn't around. Although, their efforts were in vain, In-ho had already made his decision. He chose to pick the staff members that had already done the job before; the ones he knew he could trust.

Before long, all they had left to do was wait for the players to arrive.

As the evenings fell, Gi-hun and In-ho found themselves more attached to each other than usual, not even an inch of air could seperate the pair of them. For comfort, reassurance or to just simply forget; they sank deeper into the pleasures only the other could provide until they drowned with no hope of ever being able to surface.

On morning of the day the players arrived, Gi-hun crawled up from in between In-ho's legs wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He admired the sight of In-ho, eyes half closed, panting and utterly spent beneath him. He left behind the wet spot on the sheets from where he'd rutted against it to reach his own climax and collapsed onto his pillows. In-ho pulled Gi-hun into his side and a soft sigh of contentment left his lips. Caged in In-ho's strong embrace, Gi-hun let his eyes close. There wouldn't be much time for this over the next six days, so he was determined to appreciate every second.        

Gi-hun had just started to doze off when the phone rang. He whined as In-ho moved from beside him, reaching out, he grabbed nothing but thin air; In-ho was already out of his reach. His arm landed heavily back on the bed, and he could have sworn that he heard a low laugh coming from the direction of the doorway.

Gi-hun cracked an eye open when In-ho returned a few moments later, his hand running through his dishevelled hair. "The client is on his way." In-ho said.

"Owl guy?" Gi-hun asked, his voice still rough and hoarse.

In-ho hummed as he pulled on his shirt.

Gi-hun snorted softly. of course that's why we were disturbed, he thought. "Just another reason to hate this idea." Gi-hun mumbled.

In-ho returned to the side of the bed and placed a kiss on Gi-hun's forehead. "How long's your list?" He asked amused.

"Long." Gi-hun said, a hint of a smile forming on his face.

An hour later, on the helipad on the south side of the island, In-ho and Gi-hun stood in front of the client’s main entrance. Shielded by trees and shrubbery, the entrance was almost completely concealed when closed; even the helipad itself was covered in military grade camouflage netting when not in use. Flanked on each side by only two of the management staff, the welcome had been wholly reduced from its usual fanfare.

"We shouldn't be using this in the daylight." Gi-hun said. "Why can't he come by boat?"

"He gets seasick." In-ho said.

Gi-hun folded his arms over his chest and heaved a sigh. "The list just got longer."

Gi-hun heard the swish of the helicopter blades before he saw it. Craning his neck, he looked up to see the sleek, black aircraft fly overhead, circling once before it came into land on the centre of the helipad. The gusts of wind from the blades whipped around them, rustling their clothes and billowing the bottom of their coats.

When the helicopter idled, a man in a black suit and mask pulled open the passenger door and stepped aside. Behind him, an old man in a gold mask approached the door and stepped down onto the tarmac. Some part of Gi-hun had thought that this might be a big joke, but now that this man really was walking towards him wearing the ugliest brown suit Gi-hun had ever seen, he realised that it was, in fact, happening.     

"Welcome to the games sir." In-ho said when the man and his assistant reached them.

"Ah. I've been looking forward to this for months!" The man said. The joy in his voice made Gi-hun's skin crawl. "Shall we?" He added.

"Please." In-ho said, sweeping an arm out to indicate that the man should enter first.

The man knew this island and its layout better than anyone, so it didn't take long before Gi-hun had almost lost sight of him. Moving spritelier than Gi-hun anticipated, the old man led the way through the corridors and into the VIP area. Crossing through the double doors into the main lounge, the man paused at the top of the steps and looked around.

"The wallpaper is a bit dark don't you think?" He said casually before descending the stairs. Gi-hun's eye twitched and his shoulders visibly tensed, raising until they were nearly up by his ears. The staff around him took an unconscious step back while In-ho took a conscious step closer. "No need to accompany me, I know my way."

With his servants at his heels, the old man took a left around the bottom of the steps and disappeared from sight; Gi-hun's eyes followed him the entire way with the intensity of laser beams. The rustling of a uniform broke his fixation. One of the management staff tentatively approached In-ho and conveyed a message that Gi-hun didn't hear. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw In-ho wave the person away and turn his attention back to Gi-hun.

"The last player has just confirmed. All the spots are filled." In-ho told him.

The annoyance Gi-hun felt towards the man in the golden mask ebbed away. He should be familiar with the way the clients would often pick apart his design choices just because they could. He made a mental note to have the whole place painted a brilliant white for next year.

"What time does the boat leave?" Gi-hun asked.

"It's due to depart Moojin port at 2am." In-ho said. "The players should be in place by daybreak."

"What about him?" Gi-hun asked.

"He'll enter the dormitory ten minutes before we wake everybody up." In-ho said.

Gi-hun nodded. Checking his watch, he braced himself for a long day ahead.

The hours ticked by, and before Gi-hun could blink he was stood in the control room, In-ho at the control panel behind him. The screens on the wall displayed the players arriving one after the other; wheeled into the room where the staff searched and changed their clothes. Gi-hun silently watched, both hoping and not hoping to catch a glimpse of Sang-woo.

The phone in their apartment had rung just after 2am, rousing Gi-hun from where he'd dozed off on the sofa, telling them that everybody had been picked up and that they were now en route. In-ho had watched as a flash of emotion crossed Gi-hun's face as he delivered the news. In-ho reached out for Gi-hun, but he didn't see, he had already turned on his heel and disappeared into the bedroom to change.

Realising that it was pointless, the cameras were too far out for him to make out any of the players properly, Gi-hun tore his eyes from the screen and joined In-ho at the control panel. In-ho hooked an arm around Gi-hun's waist, pulling him into his side. "Captain Park gave the all-clear, nothing tailed the boat on it's journey over." In-ho said.     

"Good, that's the last thing we need." Gi-hun said.

In-ho hummed in agreement and pressed a button on the control panel. On the small screen in front of them now displayed the inside of the dormitory. Gi-hun saw the first of the players being transferred into the beds. The staff had several different techniques for getting the players to the top beds; most carried them up the stairs in pairs, one carrying the arms and one carrying the legs, others took a more direct approach and slung the lightest players over their shoulder.

Over the course of an hour, the beds filled with sleeping players. "They look like corpses already." Gi-hun mused.

"They are rather... still." In-ho said. "But nobody has come running so I guess they're still alive." He switched the screen off as the last player was placed in their bed. "Turn the lights off but keep an eye on them." He ordered the staff. Without waiting for a response, In-ho turned away from the screens guiding Gi-hun around with him and made for the exit.

There were only a few hours until they had to be back to start the games, but In-ho insisted on pulling Gi-hun back to bed, not that Gi-hun needed much convincing at all. Wrapped in In-ho's arms, his back pressed to In-ho's chest, Gi-hun fell asleep quicker than he anticipated. The anxiety that he felt about the next few days burned away by the heat radiating off In-ho's skin pressed against his.

He woke with a sudden start. His dreams had been plagued by scenes of his time in the games, all the blood, screams and death played out anew in his minds eye. His heart beat wildly in his chest and a thin film of sweat covered his skin. Gi-hun felt his hands painfully spasm in front of him. They'd reacted to his dream and reached out of their own accord to grab at something, someone falling from his grasp.

Warm palms closed over his hands and thumbs worked over his knuckles, smoothing out his fingers and relaxing his joints. In-ho's lips brushed against the shell of his ear, trailing downwards until he reached under Gi-hun's earlobe where he planted a delicate kiss. The touch shattered the cast fear had formed around his body.

"In-ho." Gi-hun whispered.

"I've got you. You're safe, we're safe." In-ho left another kiss on Gi-hun's jaw under his ear. "Sleep some more."

Gi-hun's racing heart slowed with each breath and his eyelids felt heavy once more, he let them drift close and instead of the nightmares, he dreamt of pink cherry blossoms against a perfect blue sky.   

All too soon Gi-hun woke to a chill on his back. He threw an arm behind him to find the bed empty, the sheets thrown haphazardly across him leaving his back exposed. Gi-hun peeled his eyes open, a sliver of light surrounded the bedroom door and In-ho's deep voice reached him from far away. Gi-hun rolled across the bed and checked his watch left on the nightstand. "7 am." He mumbled to himself.

In-ho opened the bedroom door and padded across the room to sit on the bed beside Gi-hun. "You had a nightmare last night, are you okay?" He asked placing a hand on Gi-hun's cheek.

"I'm okay." Gi-hun said, laying his hand over In-ho's. "We should go."

In-ho studied Gi-hun's sleepy face for a moment, his thumb stroked slowly over Gi-hun's cheek. Sheer grit determination lived within Gi-hun's eyes even when he was half awake; it left In-ho awestruck. In moments like this, In-ho didn't know how he ever had the strength to look away from him. "Get dressed first. You can't go anywhere naked." In-ho teased lightly.

Gi-hun rolled his eyes and batted In-ho's hand away. Clambering out of bed, Gi-hun headed for the bathroom.  

A serious air had taken over the control room. Everyone waited with bated breath to see how the players would react once they were woken up. Year after year, the players reactions were mostly the same: confusion, shock and then excitement. It always played out in that order. Violence was rare; that came much later but Gi-hun could never be entirely confident that a spark might ignite early.

In-ho and Gi-hun entered the control room just as screens cut to the client being escorted into the dormitory accompanied by two workers. Gi-hun watched as the old man was led to a bed in the far corner where he laid down under the blanket, the large smile on his face was unmissable. In-ho gave one last squeeze of Gi-hun's hand before he took up his position at the control panel. Gi-hun took a deep breath and strode with long, slow steps to the front of the diamond shaped floor where the players faces would soon light up the space under his feet.

The workers on the screen gave a signal to one of the cameras, then left the dormitory by a small door at the front of the room. With the client settled and the rest of the players still asleep, In-ho waited until the clock struck the hour then gave his order. "Begin." His deep voice carried through the silent room.

Gi-hun heard the pressing of several buttons to his right and the scene on the screen came to life. Bright fluorescent light switched on without warning illuminating every corner of the dormitory, and a cheerful tune played out over the speakers. Gi-hun's ears still flinched at the sound of the music, at this point he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to hear the music without his body reacting to it.

In the dormitory, the players came back to consciousness one by one. Sitting up in their beds with confusion plastered on their faces, they took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Gi-hun watched closely to see who out of them would take their first steps out of bed first, and who would shrink back and cower under their blankets. He had discovered that those who got to their feet first would be the most impulsive; the fearlessness to walk headfirst into the unknown would eventually be their downfall.

As he expected, the youngsters were the first ones to make their way into the middle of the room. Looking around like lost sheep, a small group of young men gathered in the centre of the room, their chatter inaudible from where Gi-hun stood. Spurred on by seeing the others, the rest of the players slowly left their beds behind until over half of them had gathered together. Those still too nervous or disorientated remained rooted to their beds, their hands balled into fists gripping their blankets.

Gi-hun turned his back on the screens, his heels clacking as he crossed the floor to stand by In-ho, his tense posture relaxing with In-ho's close proximity. In-ho snuck a glance at Gi-hun but said nothing.

A commotion in the dormitory drew their attention. A ring of players surrounded two fighting players, and under closer inspection Gi-hun saw that the fight involved a man and a woman. He frowned, fighting between players this early had never happened before. Unless...

"Do they know each other?" Gi-hun asked In-ho.

"I have no idea." In-ho replied, then pressed a button in front of him turning on the microphones in the dormitory.

"I fed you, put a roof over your head, even taught you my skills, and you stab me in the back?" Said a large, broad man with a tattoo of a snake crawling up his neck and onto his face, the number 101 printed on his back.

"You already took more than what I owe you." The young woman replied. She was only half his size and yet she never backed down. Her fiery spirit carried all the way through the screen and Gi-hun couldn't help but be a little impressed.

In-ho hmphed in surprise. "Sounds like they do." He pressed a few more buttons. "She's the North Korean defector, and he has connections to a gang in Seoul."

"Interesting." Gi-hun said, pondering over how this relationship might affect the games. Gi-hun had little time to turn this over in his mind when the fight quickly turned physical again. "You better send the staff in. It will complicate things if they kill each other before the games start."

Raising his voice, In-ho gave the command. "Proceed."

The large double doors in the dormitory opened and in walked nine staff members, eight workers and one of the management team. Silence fell in the dormitory as the players saw the masked men in pink suits enter, no one seemed to know how to process what they were seeing.

"Isn't nine of them overkill?" Gi-hun asked lightly.

"Maybe, but considering they are ready to kill each other already, no." In-ho answered.

Gi-hun groaned. "This isn't going to end well this time."

"Does it ever?" In-ho said.

Gi-hun looked over at In-ho's imposing figure next to him. "No." He hmphed.

Back in the dormitory, the staff had just finished their introduction, and the players had found their voices. Shouts of "how are we supposed to believe you?" and "how come you're wearing those masks?" came from the thick of the crowd. The staff member In-ho had chosen answered with short, practiced responses. Much like explaining something to a child, the answers gave enough detail to satisfy their curiosity but not too much that it would evoke more questions.

The next words Gi-hun heard sent a chill through his heart. "I don't trust a word you just said." The camera focused on the person that had the courage to not only interrupt the staff, but to also hit back at them. "Enticement, abduction, confinement. After all that illegal activity, you give us all these excuses without even revealing who you are. Give us one good reason why we should trust you."

Gi-hun stood without blinking; he just stared, stared at the man who was now at the centre of everyone's attention. Framed with glasses barely able to hide the bags under his eyes, Gi-hun looked upon a face a little older than he remembered but no less handsome. The face of his childhood friend, his best friend, Cho Sang-woo.

"Captain?" In-ho whispered, sensing something was amiss.

Gi-hun broke out of his daze. "That... that's him." He said, stumbling over his words.    

In-ho looked back at the screen, the face of this mysterious man that had Gi-hun in such a twist of emotions over the past few months burned itself into his mind. It's not that he wished for this man’s demise; but he wished that the unfamiliar sourness that left his back teeth aching would stop, no matter what it took.

The lights in the dormitory had dimmed. A video of the players playing Ddakji with the recruiter was being shown, over which the staff listed off each person’s name and their current debt levels. The crowd, momentarily looking inspired to speak up against the staff after Sang-woo's outburst, settled back into silence. Their shame weighing heavily on their shoulders.

A lone voice spoke from the crowd of players. "Just how much is the prize money?"

For the first time this year, the staff member pressed a button on his remote control and a yellow ring of lights illuminated over the centre of the room and the glass piggy lowered into view. "The prize money will accumulate in that piggy bank after each game. The amount will be revealed to everyone after the first game. Those who do not wish to participate, speak up now."

Players looked around at each other, but nobody stepped forward. Gi-hun was disappointed but not surprised, despite the players apprehension the staff always managed to smooth talk the players into signing on the dotted line. Before the first game could begin, the staff organised the players into several lines and presented them with a participation form. Only low murmurs and the scratching of pens could be heard in the dormitory as each player took turns stepping up to the desk to sign their name.

In-ho stepped off his small podium and stood shoulder to shoulder with Gi-hun. "Do you want to head back now?"

Gi-hun looked down at the floor under his feet debating if he wanted to stay and see Sang-woo's photo show up. He decided he didn't; if Sang-woo perished in the first game, he would never have to see the photo light up and go out again. "Yeah." He said.

In-ho laid a hand on the small of Gi-hun's back. "I'll be there in ten minutes. I just want to make sure the rest of them leave okay."

Gi-hun nodded and as loathed as he was to leave In-ho's side, he turned and left the control room.   

Chapter Text

Gi-hun stepped out of the elevator into the brightly lit apartment, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls in the hallway. He didn't stop to take off his coat, instead, he made a beeline for the alcohol cabinet, dropping his mask on the coffee table on his way past. He grabbed the first bottle of whiskey he saw and poured himself a double measure. With the bottle still in his hand, he drained the glass of its contents and then poured himself another single measure. The burn of the alcohol warmed his insides from his chest right down to the pit of his stomach. This kind of warmth, borrowed from a bottle instead of given by a lover, worked to sooth him in the same way, but it only lasted half as long and always left a bitter edge behind.

Gi-hun poured a half measure into a second glass for In-ho, half smiling as he thought about how In-ho would complain about his portion sizes. Putting the bottle back into the cabinet, Gi-hun took the two glasses to the sofa and set In-ho's down on the coffee table. Swapping the glass for the remote control, he turned on the television. As luck would have it, he'd timed it exactly right; the green doors leading into the arena had just opened and the first players were entering the space.

Gi-hun took a sip of his drink and sat down on the sofa, throwing one leg over the other; his eyes locked onto the screen in front of him. Outside, the sky was crystal clear, there wasn't a cloud in sight and the sun beat down mercilessly on the heads of the players. Gi-hun ran his eyes over the growing crowd of players, observing how most of them had already bunched together in small groups subconsciously seeking safety in numbers.

Gi-hun's ears pricked up at the sound of the elevator doors opening followed by In-ho's heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. "I've already poured you a drink." He said, holding his own glass above his shoulder.

In-ho stopped behind the sofa and looked over at his glass on the table. "Where's the rest?" His disgruntled tone seeped through the voice modulator in his mask.  

"I drank it for you." Gi-hun said tilting his head back to look up at In-ho behind him.

Struck speechless, In-ho could only scoff.

In that moment, the phone behind him started to ring. Gi-hun resumed his upright position and took another swig of whiskey, his smile fading with every ring. In-ho crossed over to the phone in two strides, his hand hesitated over the receiver for half a second before he picked it up. "This is the frontman speaking. Preparations for the first game are complete. You can begin now." He said, then the line went dead.

In-ho replaced the phone and went to take his seat next to Gi-hun on the sofa. He slipped off his mask and set it aside, then picked up the glass of whiskey. Settling back in his seat, he rested a hand on Gi-hun's thigh; the gloves creaking as In-ho's fingers curled around the shape of Gi-hun's leg. Gi-hun glanced across at In-ho's side profile, his jaw remained relaxed, but his eyes had narrowed, focused intently on something on the screen. He followed In-ho's line of sight to the screen where the cameras had focused in on a small group. Sang-woo was amongst the group, but only just, he was stood a few paces away looking around at the arena.

Gi-hun forgot about In-ho's reaction when the cameras cut away again. The green doors slammed shut with a bang behind the players, putting an end to any conversation. Some of the more skittish among the crowd jumped and clutched their chests, others merely looked over their shoulder in surprise. To stop any premature panic, the cheerful voice of a woman introduced the first game.

The first game is 'Red Light, Green Light..."

"Do you think he'll be a runner?" In-ho asked between sips of his drink.

"No." Gi-hun said with certainty. "It's not his style."

In-ho looked over at Gi-hun, whose eyes were glued to the screen and raised an eyebrow.

"Let me repeat..."

Gi-hun spotted a couple of young men at the front of the crowd, the shorter of the two with fluffy dyed blond hair appeared to be bickering with the taller, darker haired man next to him. Neither one of them were listening to the repeated instructions. "Those two look like they'll be fun to watch." He said, pointing them out to In-ho.

"Then let the game begin."

With no further warning, the timer on the wall started counting down from five minutes; and as Gi-hun had been expecting, the man with the blond hair wasted no time and set off at a full sprint. Brimming with confidence in his ability to cross the field first, he ploughed ahead of the rest by a good ten paces. With such a clear space around him, Gi-hun could see how the man staggered to a stop when the doll turned back around; his momentum carrying him forwards causing him to stumble and wobble. A single gunshot boomed through the arena and the man's body dropped heavily to the floor.       

"Or not." Gi-hun said, then downed the rest of his drink.

In-ho drained the last drops from his glass then said, "you spoke too early."

"Shame." Gi-hun sighed.

If it wasn't for the distant sound of the doll's head turning around, Gi-hun would have assumed that the screen had broken. Nobody in the arena had moved a single muscle; their bodies frozen solid as their minds worked to figure out what had just happened. It wasn't until the doll started speaking in her melodic and childlike voice, did the players approach the man on the ground. The first to reach him was the darker haired man Gi-hun had seen at the start line.

Gi-hun watched carefully as the man approached and froze when the doll turned again. Hovering above the body, the man appeared to say something, but what he got in response was far from what he expected. A small puddle of blood spewed from the man's mouth turning the dirt a vivid shade of red that even Gi-hun and In-ho could see from where they were sat.

"Don't do it." Gi-hun mumbled.

But even if the player could have heard him, it was already too late. Trembling like a leaf in autumn, the man backed away from the body and sprinted back towards the green doors. He only made it a few spaces before he was taken out by a second gunshot, his blood and flesh spurting all over the woman in front of him. She reached up the feel her face and shrieked hysterically at the warm blood that came away on her hands.

In-ho's fingertips tug into Gi-hun's thigh as the massacre began, betraying the perfectly calm and unbothered expression he wore on his face. In a room full of people, they'd call him cold and merciless, but Gi-hun would know the internal struggle that he chased away with alcohol and paper-thin ideology. Gi-hun laid a hand on top of In-ho's, his little finger slipping up In-ho's sleeve to rest against the bare skin above In-ho's glove.

Rippling out from the centre, a vast swathe of players retreated in blind panic towards the doors. Shot after shot, the players were sent crashing to the floor, their blood spraying onto the ground in tiny fountains.

Gi-hun winced every time a fleeing playing knocked into one who had remained still. "They kill each other without knowing it."

"Rational thoughts don't exactly exist right now." In-ho reminded him.

Gi-hun thought back to his own games and how he had to fight his own instincts that told him to flee. The single thread of rational thought he did have stretched thin, almost to breaking point. He was forever grateful that it hadn't broken entirely.

In the present, bodies were piling up against the green wooden doors. Players desperately seeking an exit were gunned down as they pounded their fists against the doors that would never open for them again. Trickling streams of blood bled out from the ever-increasing mounds of bodies that subtly twitched as those still alive, died, slowly and painfully. It created a scene of such horror it almost looked fake.

It took over a full minute for the slaughter to stop. Some of those left still alive stood frozen the whole time; while others had evidently moved without being caught, for they were crouching with their hands over their ears. Over the speakers, the voice reiterated the instructions over a silent arena.

The clock still ticked, and the game still continued but nobody dared to move; all except one frail looking old man. From the back of the crowd, he weaved between the players standing still like statues and came to a halt at the front of the players; a wide grin still stuck on his face.

"Nobody reacts like that. What is he doing?" Gi-hun said, disapprovingly.

"They'll just think he's old and senile." In-ho said, loosening his grip of Gi-hun's thigh. "Maybe someone will take pity on him."

Gi-hun wasn't convinced but to his surprise, the players started to move forwards again following the old man who had taken the lead. At the end of this round, only a handful of gunshots added more bodies to the scene.

"See?" In-ho said.

"It's only because he knows he can't die." Gi-hun mused. A beat later, he turned to In-ho, the light of a fleeting idea dancing in his eyes. "Hey, if it's that easy for him, you might as well put me back in there. Maybe I'll be able to convince them to leave from the inside."

In-ho turned his head to look at Gi-hun so fast that Gi-hun thought he saw him wince. "Gi-hun ssi." In-ho said, his voice had turned dark and serious.

Gi-hun's eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights, he could count on one hand the amount of times In-ho had addressed him formally. "Aiya, I was only joking." He hesitated before adding, "but it's true though, you wouldn't let me die."

"Stop talking." In-ho said, turning his eyes back to the screen.

Gi-hun kept his eyes on In-ho's profile, noticing how his jaw had tensed for the first time since the game started. Guilt struck him like a hammer, and he silently cursed his runaway mouth. He snuck his hand under In-ho's loosened grip on his thigh and lifted it away; when In-ho didn't resist or respond, Gi-hun removed the glove and cast it aside. He laced his fingers in between In-ho's and gripped tightly; his other hand raised to cover the back of In-ho's, caging it between both of his. To Gi-hun's relief, a second later, In-ho gripped back just as fiercely. Settling back into the sofa, he turned his attention back to the screens to watch the final minutes of the game.

Since he'd last looked at the screen, the players had continued to thin in number. Gi-hun searched for Sang-woo amongst those still in play, his eyes darting between the players for a glimpse of his number. On the right of the screen, he spotted him crouching behind a player in front. Gi-hun breathed a sigh of relief and dropped his eyes, a tiny smile formed on his face.

When he looked back up, he saw that it wasn't just Sang-woo that had figured out the technique. The small woman from the fight earlier in the dormitory, stood behind the man with the snake tattoo. Her hand on the back of his head held not only his hair but his life too. Gi-hun arched his eyebrow. He'd only seen a few snippets of her, but he could already tell that to underestimate her would be a grave mistake. His assessment of her only solidified further when she yanked the man back, throwing him off balance until he fell to the floor and charged on ahead out of his reach.

The game entered the last minute, and as Gi-hun watched the mad dash to the finish line it felt like time had slowed down. The first players leapt across the finish line and collapsed to the ground, their sweat beading down their foreheads. Those that Gi-hun could already recognise pushed themselves across the line, the intense effort clear to see on their faces. Even the old man, still grinning, crossed the line with flushed cheeks. But with each success came the failures. More shots rained down over the field when those that remained, lost their composure; their bodies dropping three strides from the finish line creating trip hazards that claimed more victims.

Gi-hun leaned forward in his seat, his eyes trained on Sang-woo who had come out of hiding to sprint towards to finish, face scrunched up in effort. Running alongside him, a shorter man with broad shoulders and curly black hair tried to keep up with him, but struggled to match Sang-woo's long stride and eventually fell behind. Watching the two of them struck Gi-hun with a weird sense of déjà vu, he glanced quickly to his right to see In-ho's still tense face glued to the screen.  

His eyes hadn't left the game for long, but when he looked back, he just caught sight of Sang-woo flying over the red line marking the finish with only 20 seconds left to spare. Drumming his fingers on the back on In-ho's hand, he nodded slowly with approval at Sang-woo's effort. Gi-hun watched the last lucky players, exhausted and covered in blood, filter over the line after him. The last player to throw themselves over the line before the buzzer was the man he'd seen beside Sang-woo. He crumpled to the ground in a heap at Sang-woo's feet unable to stand a second longer. Gi-hun squinted, trying to read the number on the man’s back but he couldn't quite make it out.

Finally able to relax, Gi-hun leaned back in his seat listening to the popping of gunshots taking down the stragglers that didn't make it. When the noise ceased, the cameras panned out to show the complete aftermath of the game. From the stacks of bodies up against the doors; to the contorted, broken limbs of the trampled; to the trickling blood from open wounds that had begun to attract the attention of birds, it made for a grisly sight.

Gi-hun heard In-ho shifting beside him then the screen went black. Gi-hun turned his head to see In-ho with the remote control in hand, his eyes downcast. "I'm sorry." Gi-hun said in a small voice. "I was careless."

In-ho looked his way, but he didn't meet Gi-hun's eyes, instead he focused on where their hands were still clasped together. "Your idea is flawed anyway."

Gi-hun was taken aback, he expected In-ho to say a lot of things, but this wasn't one of them. "How so?" He asked anyway.

"If they found out you know about the games, they'd just use you for your knowledge instead. It'd only make them want to stay, not leave. But Gi-hun," In-ho said, then looked up to meet Gi-hun's eyes, "I know you want people to make the right choice, to realise the value of their lives. Just don't do it at the expense of yours."

This time it was Gi-hun who lowered his eyes. In-ho had ended up in this position because of him, even just the idea that he would risk his life on a whim was no way to repay him. "You're right. Forget I said anything."

The smile on In-ho's face didn't quite reach his eyes as he patted the back of Gi-hun's hand and stood up. He rounded the sofa and stood behind it, leaning over the back, he placed a kiss on the top of Gi-hun's head. "Don't drink so much next time." He collected his glove from the floor. "Come on, let's go check out the damage." He added airily.

Pulling himself back from his thoughts, Gi-hun refocused on the job at hand. He stood from the sofa, straightened his clothes and grabbed their masks from the coffee table then headed to the elevator behind In-ho.

Gi-hun stepped into the control room, his eyes instantly drawn to the floor in the centre of the room. Just from a casual look he could see large gaps of dead pixels where at least half of the photos had already gone dark. While In-ho took his place at the podium, Gi-hun wandered casually around the floor, his steps slow as he inspected the photos for the first time.

Crossing from right to left, he first came across number 132. Still lit, the face staring back at him was one of a woman, her loose hair skimmed the top of her shoulders. Gi-hun pressed his lips into a thin line; selfishly, he thought about how he'd lost the chance to avoid hearing this number called out after an elimination. He swallowed thickly and moved on. Passing over the collection of faces and numbers — some he recognised, most he didn't — he eventually ended up standing above the one he was really looking for. Number 218.

Framed by a diamond shaped tile, a serious, solemn face captured in black and white looked back at him. The eyes pierced through the lens as if seeing into Gi-hun's soul, already ready to accuse and condemn. Maybe it was his own conscience coming back to haunt him, but under that stare full of perceived judgement, the weight of his burden felt heavier all of a sudden. Gi-hun thought back to the crimes written on Sang-woo's file and grew agitated. What right did Sang-woo have to judge him when he was crawling around in this hell hole too? Wearing an expression as plain as his mask, Gi-hun turned away to join In-ho.

"How many made it?" Gi-hun asked.

"201." In-ho said.

"Less than half." Gi-hun murmured. "I was right."

Turning his attention to the screens on the wall, on one side Gi-hun saw the Red Light, Green Light arena in the process of being cleared out. There was a constant flow of movement as workers untangled the bodies from the piles, loaded them into coffins and then stacked them onto forklifts to be taken away. With each forklift that left, another took its place to drop off another batch of empty coffins to be filled. When they were finished another set of workers would arrive with jet washers to clean off the blood smeared on the walls and doors.

On the other side, Gi-hun saw the dormitory in semi-darkness with the players huddled at the back amongst the beds. There was a lot less movement on this side of the screens but that was about to change.

"Proceed." In-ho commanded.

With a press of a button, all the screens switched to focus on the dormitory and with the press of a second button, the lights in the dormitory switched on. The players startled at the sudden brightness, and their wide-eyed stare collectively turned towards the opposite end of the dormitory where the doors were opening. Scrambling to their feet, the players pressed themselves further into the beds in an attempt to get away from the staff entering the dormitory.    

"Congratulations for making it through the first game." The staff's congratulatory words contrasted sharply with the presence of the heavily armed guards that stood on his left and right. "Here are the results of the first game." In front of Gi-hun, one of the staff sitting at a desk pressed another button, changing the screen above the door in the dormitory. He watched as the count representing the number of players ticked downwards. "Out of 455 players, 254 players have been eliminated. 201 players have completed the first game."

The atmosphere in the dormitory hung heavy, even those that had appeared full of themselves before the game were now stood silent trying not to draw attention. Gi-hun looked over the players and waited. Waited for the first player to step forward and beg for their lives, he tried to guess who it might be, but before he could, someone stepped forwards.

"Sir! Forgive me. I'll pay off my debts no matter what." A woman, with long hair framing her face, had stepped forwards rubbing her hands together in apology. "I'll pay back at all costs. Please, sir." She said as she got to her knees in front of everyone.

Gi-hun rolled his eyes before he could catch himself. There was always someone that thought they'd been brought here by their creditors. Gi-hun had watched countless people beg for mercy with empty promises of payment, as if that wasn't the very reason why they had found themselves here in the first place. Gi-hun didn't feel pity for any of them, rather, it was the hypocrisy of it all that struck him the most in that moment.

"I have a child..." She continued crying.

Gi-hun furrowed his brow. "Is she saying that for sympathy?"

"Maybe. There's no child on file, but if it's unregistered, it won't be." In-ho said.

Gi-hun sighed and continued to watch the situation in the dormitory unfold.

One after the other, more players joined the woman and got to their knees on the concrete floor; wailing and begging, their voices joined together in a sorrowful symphony.

Looking a little lost at this development, the staff spoke over the cries. "There seems to be a misunderstanding. We're not here to harm you or claim your debts. Let me remind you, we are presenting you with an opportunity."

Players with their foreheads pressed to the floor looked up at the figure in pink, their mumblings for forgiveness grew quiet. Their snivelling faces froze as confusion overtook the fear that they felt.

"An opportunity?" An accusing voice shouted from one side of the room.

Gi-hun sighed and scuffed his foot on the floor. The tedious back and forth between the players and the staff grew boring in its predictability. Predictable. Gi-hun thought, the word surfacing again in his mind. Gi-hun would rather flay his own skin than admit that a client was right, but at this point in the games, it was as if he could recite what they would say word for word. "You killed all those people." "We don't deserve to die." "You call this a game?" The script was the same.

Gi-hun sidled up to In-ho behind the podium until their shoulders touched.

"Patience." In-ho said quietly.

"I didn't say anything." Gi-hun said.

In-ho turned his head to look at Gi-hun. "You didn't have to."

A gunshot made In-ho's head snap back around, and Gi-hun, whose mind had started to tune out the cries of protest, found his attention pulled back to the chaos in the dormitory. A pistol had been fired into the air to quieten the rowdy crowd, and the soldiers had trained their rifles on the players in warning. A simple show of power, but an effective one. The players dropped to the floor, cowering with their hands over their ears.

With the ability to hear himself speak again; the staff continued listing the clauses of the consent form. "Clause two of the consent form: A player who refused to play will be eliminated."

"Clause three of the consent form: the games may be terminated upon a majority vote." A deep voice cut through from the back of the room. "Is that correct?"

Gi-hun quirked an eyebrow as he watched Sang-woo stand from where he was crouched and walk forwards, his chin held high. Gi-hun felt In-ho shift beside him. "Is it always going to be him that speaks up?" In-ho murmured. Gi-hun had to admit, he was surprised too.

Standing tall amongst the players still on the floor, betraying no signs of fear, Sang-woo faced the staff. His voice carried through the room. "Then let us take a vote. If the majority wishes to quit, you'll have to let us go."

The staff's shoulders fell, and his chest caved inwards. He knew as well as anyone that the voting process was often a pointless exercise, but the rules had to be abided by. Meanwhile, Gi-hun scrutinised the reactions of the players. Most had lifted their heads from the floor and were now looking towards Sang-woo like he was their saviour. The thought to request a vote had obviously not occurred to anyone else. Hope had ignited in their eyes but Gi-hun couldn't share the feeling. The prize money hadn't been announced yet, and that was often when the mood shifted again.

"But before we vote," the man in the mask said, "we will now reveal the prize amount from the first game."

The man retrieved a remote control from his pocket and aimed it towards the celling, with one click, the dormitory was plunged into darkness. Like the rising sun that chased away the night, a soft, yellow glow shone down into the dormitory, illuminating the glass piggy that would hold the opportunity to bring their lives a new dawn.

Heads turned upwards; their eyes locked on the glass piggy as a glass tube lowered into its body. Accompanied by the ringing of a slot machine hitting the jackpot, bundles of cash dropped from the tube into the belly of the piggy. The more the money accumulated, the more players stood up. Their necks craned back as they stood unblinking with open mouths; their fear dissolving with every note that fell. By the time the money stopped falling, the glass piggy was half full.   

"The number of players eliminated in the first game, 254. Allocated prize money for each player, 100 million won. Therefore, a current total of 25.4 billion won has been accumulated into the piggy bank." The staff informed the players.

Gi-hun exhaled hard; the eyes on the players had changed from ones of scared hope to ones of amazement, smiles had even formed on some of their faces. It already felt fruitless to hope that these players would turn their backs on such a prize. Gi-hun reached out for In-ho's hand and interlaced their fingers, watching as the staff prepared for the voting to begin.

"Do you remember 'The Matrix'?" In-ho asked suddenly.

"You mean that film you made me watch?" Gi-hun replied, albeit confused as to where In-ho was going with this.

In-ho nodded. "In a way, it's a bit like the choice between the red pill and the blue pill. If they choose to leave, they're choosing to go back to the harsh realities of their lives. If they choose to stay, they can stay protected from whatever awaits them outside, armed with both the hope that they can change their lives, and the knowledge that, win or fail, they never have to face it again."

Gi-hun chewed over In-ho's words in his mind. Hope was a powerful emotion; having either too little or too much could have disastrous consequences, it could make a person reckless. In the end, all Gi-hun said was, "you should have made the buttons blue and red instead of green and red."

In-ho just shook his head and laughed quietly.

Back in the dormitory, the staff had gathered the players on one side of the room and were in the middle of explaining how the voting worked. "Once you finish voting, move to the other side of the white line. The vote will be held in reverse of the number on your chests. Player 453, please cast your vote."

From the front of the crowd, an older woman with long tied-back hair and glasses stepped forward to cast her vote. Gi-hun tensed as he watched her approach the buttons. When she got there, she hesitated, her finger switched back and forth between the two buttons. Undecided, she looked over her shoulder at the glass piggy hanging over the dormitory and the cash within it. A moment later she turned back and laid a confident hand on the circle button.

Surprise crossed Gi-hun's face, he hadn't imagined she would take the lead on the vote to stay, but appearances are often deceiving. He should really know that by now.

In the silent dormitory, a steady stream of players followed suit. For the first half of the players, the vote stayed almost neck and neck, those voting to leave only kept a majority vote of one or two the entire time. Gi-hun hadn't seen a vote this close before; he felt like he was stood upon a knifes edge, not knowing which way he would fall.

"Player 218, please cast your vote."

Sang-woo's face was unreadable as he stood looking at the buttons; and Gi-hun eyed him suspiciously as he appeared to hesitate in his decision. The cogs in Sang-woo's head turned as he considered his choice; but with a resigned look in his eyes, he did something that shocked Gi-hun. Laying a steady hand on the circle button, he voted to continue the games.

Gi-hun drew in a sharp breath and his eyes, filled with disappointment and surprise, followed Sang-woo's back as he joined the rest of the group. Even In-ho jerked his head in surprise. "He wanted the vote but then voted to stay?" In-ho said, puzzled.

"I thought he'd be more level-headed than that." Gi-hun sighed. "But the money is always too tempting."   

Sang-woo's choice meant that the vote to stay overtook the vote to leave for the first time, and the crowd grew unsettled. Next up to vote was the woman who had thrown herself on the floor and cried for her baby; but as she walked up to cast her vote, she appeared calm, and without hesitating, she pressed the circle.

Gi-hun shook his head and his shoulders drooped as he prepared himself for the inevitable domino effect.

"Have you all gone insane? You want this madness to continue?" A tearful cry came from a man still yet to vote.

"So what happens if we leave? Is anything different out there? It's hell out there anyway, fuck." The woman bit back.

Single handedly, the woman had just proved In-ho's theory to be correct; and as the players continued to argue, his point only gained strength. Tensions in the dormitory increased, and soon the war of words became physical. In-ho gave a signal and a second later, one of the soldiers in the dormitory had moved to press their gun into the back of a man who had grabbed hold of another player. Under the aim of a rifle, the man let go immediately and cowered, placing his hands above his head. Others around him squeaked in fear at the sight of the gun and cowered with him, sinking to the floor in instant obedience.

The soldier kept his rifle trained on the man’s head while the staff gave a firm warning. "We will no longer condone any acts that impede this democratic process. Now let us resume the voting."

Gi-hun clung to In-ho's hand, his knuckles as white as his glove, while he watched the rest of the players step up to cast their vote. What he assumed would be a landslide win for the vote to stay, turned out not to be. Barely a handful of votes separated the two sides, and when one overtook the other, it never held the win for long. Gi-hun felt a small spec of hope form in his chest. For the first time, it felt like there was a real possibility of bringing an end to the games early. That was until the vote drew equal with only one player left to vote.

"Fuck." Gi-hun said under his breath. That spec of hope he had snuffed itself out as he realised who the last voter was. "He won’t vote to quit."

"Maybe he will if he found the games harder than he thought." In-ho said, clutching at straws.

Gi-hun swivelled his head to look at In-ho. "He was smiling the whole time."

Feeling eyes burning into the side of his head, In-ho twisted to look at Gi-hun and gave him a small, slow shrug. The corners of Gi-hun's mouth twitched, he appreciated the optimism In-ho had on his behalf.

Turning back to the screen, he saw the old man stood at front of the room, his hand hesitating between the two buttons. Gi-hun watched him carefully with narrowed eyes, every second dragged by as the man took his time making his choice. A choice that Gi-hun already knew the outcome of; he started to turn away from the screens, the vote seemingly a done deal.    

The low hum of the cross button stopped him in his tracks, and his head whipped back around. For a moment he thought his ears must be playing tricks on him but there it was, the count on the screen read '101' on the vote to leave. His jaw went slack, and his eyes widened as he turned to In-ho, waiting for his confirmation that what he was seeing was the truth.

"Gather the workers and prepare the boats, they leave at dusk." In-ho gave his orders to the staff that filed out of the control room in a flurry. Then, turning to Gi-hun, he softened his voice and said, "congratulations captain."

Chapter Text

The setting sun left its mark on the horizon where it met the sea with a blood-red line, encircling the world as far as Gi-hun could see on either side of him. Flatlined, like the heartbeats of the lives that rose in the smoke from the underground furnaces somewhere to his left. Standing by the cliff edge, with the sound of the waves lapping at the rocks far beneath him, he watched on as the boat carried those lucky enough to escape back to the mainland. As silent as the dead, it moved through the water, its passenger’s unconscious and bound ready to be discarded like trash now that they had no more use.

From his pocket, Gi-hun dug out a packet of cigarettes and placed one between his lips before retrieving his lighter and lighting up. The acrid smell conflicted with the scent of the sea carried on the night breeze, mirroring the scene of life and death in front of him.

"They'll return in two weeks." In-ho said beside him, breaking the silence. Gi-hun nodded, his eyes never leaving the boat that grew ever smaller in the distance. "They'll have a choice of course, but—"

"It's fine." Gi-hun cut in. "Let this be their wake-up call but if they come back willingly, let them."

In-ho let his gaze rest on Gi-hun’s profile, remembering the lecture Gi-hun had once given him on the right to make a choice. "Even Sang-woo?"

"Even him." Gi-hun said with an air of resignation. In-ho nodded once, his eyes shifting from Gi-hun to the floor and finally back to the horizon. "What's happening with the old man?" He asked after a beat.

"He's sleeping the sedative off in his room. He'll fly out tomorrow morning." In-ho answered.

Gi-hun exhaled a breath of smoke and flicked ash from the end of his cigarette. "Why do you think he ended the games really?"

"I don't know." In-ho said with a slow shake of his head. "Ask him."

"After the games." Gi-hun said as the boat in the distance sailed around a far-off island and disappeared from view.

Out on that cliff top, In-ho and Gi-hun stood for a while in a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts, until the darkness took hold. The day shifted into night, and the sky above their heads slowly came to life with the light of a thousand stars.

When they returned to their apartment, they had barely crossed the threshold before the phone began to ring. In-ho groaned in annoyance but obediently went to answer it. The clients' reaction to a temporary pause in the games was something that neither of them had been sure about, however, Gi-hun was sure it wouldn't be entirely positive. There was nothing else for it but to wait and see; but at the same time, he was too anxious to stand and hover, so he shrugged off his coat and mask and entered the bathroom.

Stepping under the hot water of the shower, Gi-hun let the sins of the day wash off him and flood down the drain. He ran his fingers over the scar, bumpy and textured beneath his touch, etched into his abdomen that stood out against the rest of his skin. Everything that he'd gained and lost was contained in that white line. A constant reminder of the physical and emotional pain he'd endured to stand where he was today, even if where he stood was lined with a thousand lives. Gi-hun wondered if someone today had been saved from making the decision to sacrifice themselves like he had once done.   

Probably not. He thought. Over the years he'd seen countless alliances break down with remarkable speed; even blossoming friendships, that in any other circumstance would stand the test of time, ended in violence and bloodshed. He'd grown used to it by now, not even the smallest act of kindness between the players moved him, someone always ended up in one of those coffins by nightfall. Sighing, he finished showering, threw a towel over himself and headed back out to the living room.

Gi-hun found In-ho still stood before the phone, the handset already replaced in its usual spot. "What happened?" Gi-hun asked, noticing the deepening crease between In-ho's brows. "Is it that bad?"

In-ho's face smoothed as he caught sight of Gi-hun before him. "No, on the whole, the reaction is positive. One said it was like catching a hare only to release it before ensnaring it again." Gi-hun pressed his lips into a thin line, the visual that gave him was mildly unsettling. "There is something else though." In-ho added.

"What?" Gi-hun asked.

"Someone already went to the police." In-ho said. "No one stopped them in time."

Gi-hun cursed under his breath. "No one believed them, right?"

In-ho shook his head. "Tomorrow, I'll send more workers to the mainland to keep an eye on things. We can't afford to draw more attention."

Gi-hun stepped over to In-ho and wrapped his arms loosely around In-ho's neck. "I'm sorry. You only did this vote because of me, and it's already causing issues." 

In-ho trailed his hands up Gi-hun's side, faintly smiling as goosebumps broke out along Gi-hun's arms. "Stop. It's not your fault."

Gi-hun opened his mouth to protest but found himself unable to form words, In-ho had already covered his mouth with his own. Moving in a slow but deliberate rhythm, In-ho teased out the tension Gi-hun was feeling until he felt soft and pliant beneath his lips. Whatever Gi-hun had been about to say was lost in the heady combination of In-ho's hands on his skin, the taste of him in his mouth and the sound of In-ho's heavy breath filling his ears.

In-ho's hands settled on Gi-hun's slim waist, kneading at the soft flesh that his hands alone could almost completely encircle. Beneath his towel, Gi-hun felt a stirring and with a quick tug on the front of In-ho's shirt, In-ho got the message. Guiding Gi-hun backwards until his back hit the bedroom door with a bang, In-ho fumbled around for the doorhandle to their bedroom, unwilling to break to kiss long enough to look. He found it a second later, and the pair of them fell backwards into the room, neither of them caring enough to close the door before tumbling onto the bed.

Under the painstakingly slow and gentle tenderness In-ho bestowed upon him, Gi-hun slipped deeper into the abyss where nothing other than the two of them mattered. His limbs went to jelly, his mind went quiet, and in the sweat soaked sheets, he drifted into sleep wrapped in the embrace of a pair of strong arms.

As the days went by, it became clear that apart from the initial police report, nobody else had sought to report their experience; perhaps because explaining it in words made it sound so unbelievable that no one would take them seriously. In a way, that was almost their best defence. Gi-hun relaxed quickly, and worries about their discovery disappeared from his mind, but the same couldn't be said for In-ho.

With Jun-ho in the police force, and Gi-hun next to him at the scene of the crime, In-ho felt torn. If anything was to go wrong, he spared no thought for himself, only for the two people that he held most dear who would inevitably be on opposing sides. The 'what ifs' taunted his mind in every waking moment, and they even followed him into his dreams. It was only in the nights when Gi-hun held him in his arms and smoothed away the worries lined on his face with his fingertips, that he felt able to push his thoughts aside.      

Knowing how deep In-ho's worries went, over the next two weeks, Gi-hun kept a close eye on the players movements as best he could through the reports that streamed in on a daily basis. Even though he was powerless to act from where he was, it meant he could at least tell In-ho not to worry so much.

In both the quiet and busy moments, Gi-hun's mind was constantly drifting to think about what choices the players were making right now. He wondered briefly what he would do. After only one game, would he be able to walk away and pretend like it had been a nightmare the way he'd been told to once before? Or when that invite came through his door, would he willingly walk back into the lion’s den? He didn't know.

Whatever decision the players made; he would have to wait until they were rescanned into the game to find out. The invites sent out contained no number to call to confirm their attendance, only instructions to turn up at their designated pick-up points at the specified time and date. He tried to estimate how many of them might return. He guessed at least half would, but when he looked at the games they had lined up, he had to admit that they needed more than that to put on a satisfactory games for the clients. He'd never hear the end of it if all the players died before the final game.

On the night before the players were due to be shipped back to the island, Gi-hun found himself prowling the hallways of the facility. Quietly contemplative, he took the long way back from the VIP area to the apartment, soaking in the calm before the storm. Circling into the management area, he spotted two staff members walking side by side up ahead. He paid them no mind and quickened his pace in order to overtake them until a snippet of their conversation slowed his feet. 

"Did you contact the doctor?" One asked the other.

"He'll be on the boat." The other replied.

Gi-hun's brows scrunched into an expression of mild confusion. All the staff had remained on the island during the break, including the medical staff that they kept in case of emergencies. Even if they hadn't, this wasn't a conversation that he'd expect to hear in a random corridor so close to the resuming of the games. He strained his ears to hear more but at a crossroads in the corridor, the two of them parted ways without another word.

For a moment he considered pulling one of them aside, but he knew the staff only spoke to him using as few words as possible, even if their conversation had been perfectly innocent. Getting answers from them with so little information up his sleeve would be harder than drawing blood from a stone. Instead, he decided to wait it out and see how it unfolded before making a move, and so when he reached the crossroads, he carried on walking forwards towards the apartment.

The warm glow of the chandeliers replaced the harsh lighting of the elevator when Gi-hun stepped inside the apartment. In front of him, at the end of the hallway, he could see In-ho sat on the sofa with his back to him. Dressed casually in his staple tank top, his skin glowed even more golden under the lights and Gi-hun admired how his shoulders flexed every time he raised the glass in his hand.

Hearing Gi-hun behind him, In-ho set down the book he'd been looking over back on the table and waited until he felt Gi-hun prop his chin on his shoulder. "You're late." In-ho said.

"Did I keep you waiting?" Gi-hun asked, amused. He dropped a kiss onto In-ho's collar bone and stood up again.

"A little, but I'll forgive you." In-ho teased.

The lines next to Gi-hun's eyes crinkled as a smile spread across his face. He peeled off his gloves and dropped them next to the phone, then crossed over the room to sink heavily into the sofa. He propped an elbow on the back of the sofa and rested his head against a closed fist. "There was a minor delay, nothing to worry about."

In-ho set his drink down on the table, then brought his hand up to cup Gi-hun's cheek, his thumb brushing over the deepening creases by Gi-hun's temple. Gi-hun couldn't help but be enchanted by the way In-ho's eyes turned soft, appearing as deep and as endless as any ocean. "Are you sure?" In-ho said, his voice dropping to a whisper as fine and delicate as a summer breeze.

"Positive." Gi-hun said, moving to close the gap between their lips but stopped just before they connected, with lowered lashes he smirked against In-ho's lips and waited.

When the warmth of Gi-hun's lips didn't arrive, the breath that caught in In-ho's throat came out in a shaky whisper of his name. "Gi-hun."  

"Hm?" Gi-hun asked teasingly even though he knew exactly what In-ho wanted.

The strain in his voice made Gi-hun's skin prickle and his blood rush south, but still, he pulled back slightly, keeping himself just out of In-ho's reach every time In-ho chased after him. When In-ho had nearly pushed Gi-hun into the arm of the sofa, Gi-hun caught In-ho's chin with his hand, gripping it just hard enough between his thumb and forefinger to keep control. He pushed back gently, and when In-ho complied, he rewarded him with a soft kiss on his lips.

A low, throaty groan of pleasure mixed with relief rumbled in In-ho's throat, and his hand settled on Gi-hun's inner thigh, squeezing the flesh there beneath his clothes. In-ho pushed forwards expecting to deepen the kiss with a swipe of his hot tongue against Gi-hun's lips, but when Gi-hun pulled away again, his groan turned into one of frustration.

Gi-hun drank in the look of desire dripping from In-ho's face and his eyes sparkled with affection. "If you want to use your mouth that badly..." He said, dropping his eyes downwards and back up again.

In-ho's throat bobbed as he swallowed, and his pupils blew wide. He shifted to kneel on the floor, settling between Gi-hun's legs that had parted automatically. From here, he could see the bulge of Gi-hun's growing erection, his heaving chest and his lustful eyes that bore down at him tracking his every move.

In-ho's deft fingers made short work of the button and zipper keeping Gi-hun's cock restrained. With an insistent tug on the waistband, Gi-hun lifted his hips to let In-ho pull off his trousers and underwear in one swift movement, hissing through his teeth as the cool air hit his sensitive tip.

In-ho hungrily eyed Gi-hun's hard, twitching cock and the bead of moisture at its tip that would run down his shaft at any moment. In-ho wrapped his hand around Gi-hun's length and swiped his thumb over the head of his cock, watching as Gi-hun tilted his head back and moaned, breathy and unrestrained. Gi-hun clawed at his shirt to pull it up and out of the way then bucked his hips upwards to thrust his cock further into In-ho's hand.

Although the idea of watching Gi-hun fuck himself to completion in his hand made his cock painfully hard, In-ho wanted to be the one to take him there. So, after freeing his own cock from within his pants and sighing as the release of pressure brought its own kind of pleasure, he grabbed a hold of Gi-hun's thigh to steady him.

In-ho ran his tongue over his lips then bent forwards and took the tip of Gi-hun's cock into his mouth. His tongue flicked up to press into Gi-hun's sensitive spot on underside of the head making Gi-hun's thigh under his hand tremble. His muscles contracted in tandem with In-ho's tongue greedily lapping at the salty precum that made him drool.

Spit dribbling from the corner of In-ho's mouth, ran down the sides of Gi-hun's shaft and over the hand that had a firm grip on the base. The spit slicked the way for In-ho to take more of Gi-hun into his mouth, and as he did, he lifted his eyelashes to see Gi-hun unravelling above him.

A thin sheen of sweat had formed on Gi-hun's flushed chest that was visible above the undone buttons of his shirt, even the thin material did little to disguise the way he twitched every time In-ho hollowed his cheeks and took more of him. His lips were slightly parted, and soft moans tumbled from him with every exhale. His eyes were heavy lidded, but he fought to keep them open to watch how In-ho's lips stretched around him, how his eyes pricked with tears when he sank down to hold his entire length in his mouth.

With the head of Gi-hun's cock buried in the back of his throat, In-ho swallowed, rolling his throat in a way that he knew would push Gi-hun closer to release. Just as expected, Gi-hun jerked wildly beneath him pushing himself impossibly further into In-ho's throat, and In-ho couldn't help but moan in response. His own cock hung, heavy and reddened, between his legs dripping profusely and begging to be touched.

In-ho slipped his hand between Gi-hun's legs and rested a finger on his entrance with just enough pressure to have Gi-hun gasping and squirming, but not enough to breach him. In-ho kept up his rhythm until Gi-hun's moans turned into whines. He threaded his fingers through In-ho's hair tugging at it to tell him he was close, and only then did In-ho ease up. He pulled off Gi-hun's cock with a wet pop, swallowing down the excess spit in his mouth that had yet to trickle down his chin.Before In-ho could eagerly sink back down, Gi-hun tugged at the straps of In-ho's tank top to pull him up above him. In-ho easily followed Gi-hun's lead but soon found the breath knocked out of him when Gi-hun rolled them both over so that Gi-hun was now above In-ho, straddling his hips. In-ho groaned and his back arched when Gi-hun took both their lengths in his hand.

In-ho stared up at him starry eyed and laid a hand over Gi-hun's between them, closing the gap to fully encompass their lengths. Gi-hun tilted forwards and captured In-ho's mouth, pressing his tongue into In-ho's mouth to taste himself in a heated, messy exchange. Gi-hun's hand guided In-ho's in slow, smooth strokes; both holding In-ho back from tipping over the edge too soon, and savouring every ripple of his own pleasure that coursed through his veins.

As his pleasure built, his body took over and his hips began to rock. Thrusting forwards with each stroke of their hands, his cock slipped over In-ho's with an ever increasing pace. Gi-hun's closed eyelids fluttered as he felt his climax building, the coiled tension in his belly winding tighter with every thrust. This kiss broke when their breaths turned harsher and more ragged but a hand on the back of each of their necks kept the closeness, holding firm as if it was the only thing that could ground them to the earth.

The look in each other’s eye was enough to tell the other that they were close. With one look at Gi-hun's blown pupils, In-ho only had to buck his hips and squeeze his fingers around their aching lengths to give him that final push. Gi-hun's face contorted in pleasure, mouth dropping open in a long, drawn-out whine, and his whole body shook when his orgasm took over him.

In-ho glanced down just in time to see a warm threads of white spurting over his top until there was nothing left but a pathetic dribble. The sight of it made him moan uncontrollably, and with Gi-hun's weakening, pathetic whines in his ears, his own orgasm hit with such force he barely had time to register it. His vision blurred and cum burst from his cock, splattering them both and adding to the sticky mess Gi-hun had made.

Still trembling, Gi-hun watched In-ho unfolding beneath him with half-lidded eyes and a gentle curve of a smile on his face. His hand around them stroked slow and firm until every last drop had been spilt and oversensitivity started to take over. With a shudder, he released his grip and wiped his hand on In-ho's already ruined top, then cupped his face to bring it up to face him again.

He planted kisses between In-ho's eyebrows, down his nose and finally on to his abused lips. In-ho's strong arms came up to wrap around Gi-hun's back, holding him close to revel in the tenderness of Gi-hun's touch as he slowly came back to himself.

When their breaths evened and In-ho's clutch relaxed, Gi-hun shifted to curl into In-ho's side. "We should get ready for tomorrow." Gi-hun murmured after a moment.

In-ho lazily blinked at him and kissed his forehead. "Everything's in hand."

Peeling himself from the sofa, he turned back to In-ho and said "come." In-ho arched an eyebrow and looked down at his stained top then back at Gi-hun. "To bed I meant." Gi-hun finished, holding out his hand and rolling his eyes.

In-ho laughed, kicked off the clothes that had pooled at his feet and took Gi-hun's hand, letting himself be pulled from the sofa.

The next day arrived in what felt like a blink of an eye. Gi-hun had only just placed his head on the pillow when he awoke again feeling like time had reversed by two weeks; a feeling that only grew with each minute that passed. The only difference this time was that he wasn't entirely sure who would be rolled off the boats later that night. Thus, he found himself stood barefoot in the kitchen, coffee in hand, already eyeing up the alcohol cabinet in his peripheral vision.

After the year he'd spent in the endless cycle of either being drunk or hungover, he tried to stay away from the stuff now that he had something more precious than his life to lose. Yet, whenever he was here, the draw back to it grew stronger, and while In-ho never challenged him on it, he could see the look of concern he'd give occasionally.

Approaching footsteps broke his train of thought, and a second later In-ho rounded the corner already fully dressed from having just returned from the control room. "Old owl mask is going back in the games. He'll be arriving with the rest of the players later." In-ho said matter-of-factly.

Gi-hun nearly choked on the mouthful of coffee he'd just taken. "What happened to his seasickness?" He spluttered.

"I guess when you're passed out it doesn't matter." In-ho said.

"Masochist." Gi-hun mumbled, taking another swig of his coffee only to splutter it out again at the sight of In-ho's very visible disgusted reaction.   

"Never say that again." In-ho said, turning to leave.

"Sorry." Gi-hun called after him, throwing the dregs of his drink, that he obviously wasn't destined to have, down the drain.

Late into that night, the phone call that they had been waiting for finally arrived. The workers had all successfully picked up players from their designated points, and all the cars had been loaded onto the boat which had left port a short while ago. Most of the cars were either full or only missing one or two players, and when Gi-hun received the news, even without the exact figures, he was hit with a mix of emotions.

Absentmindedly, he spun the ring on his finger around seeing how it caught the light and gleamed under the chandeliers. His thoughts quickly shifting from relief that they still had a games to put on, to exasperation that so many would rather dice with death than find another path.

Resting his head against the back of the sofa and closing his eyes, Sang-woo's face appeared in his mind’s eye unbidden. The reports that he'd received on him had been sparse at best. It had been like he had lived as a ghost for the past two weeks, he hadn't even spared time to visit his mother. His tracker had shown him pacing his apartment frequently but otherwise, his time had been spent rather unremarkably. If he was on that boat, Gi-hun wouldn't pretend to be surprised.

Fragmented memories of the times he and Sang-woo used to play in the park until they were called in by their mothers, swam in his brain. They mixed and blurred with Sang-woo in a green tracksuit, fighting to cross that red line in the sand, until he saw nothing as sleep claimed him.

A few hours later, Gi-hun stood in the centre of the control room staring up at the large screens on the wall, rubbing his stiff neck. He'd woken up still on the sofa with the addition of a blanket that had been placed carefully over him. His heart warmed at the image of In-ho letting him sleep, but his neck had different ideas.

His eyes were still on the dormitory where the players were just waking up and moving around, when one of the management staff came to report the final numbers. "Out of 201 players, 187 have returned. The re-entrance rate is 93%." He said.

"Continue to monitor those who didn't return and keep me posted." In-ho ordered from where he stood at the podium clicking through the players profiles.

"What do we do about their share of the prize money?" Gi-hun asked.

In-ho came down from his podium to stand beside Gi-hun. "It's been added to the piggy bank already. I don't suppose they'll last out there anyway."

"I guess not." Gi-hun said with a sigh.

In the dormitory, the players either loitered in the middle of the room, their tracksuit tops slung over their shoulders, or they clung to the scaffolding of the beds casually and at ease. Compared to the day they left, the atmosphere in there was the complete opposite. Whether it was a product of false hope or a resigned acceptance of their fate, Gi-hun couldn't quite tell.

Small groups had started to form and Gi-hun picked through them to see if a familiar figure stood among them. While he searched, his gaze landed upon some players he recognised. Player 101, and his gang of thugs that followed him round like lost puppies; player 212, who had wailed about leaving her baby behind; and even player 67, who was sitting quietly in the corner looking pensive.

On one side of the room, a man and a woman sat close and detached from the others around them. Gi-hun squinted and realised this must be the husband and wife that had joined the games together. He found himself genuinely surprised that the pair of them had both decided to return together, he wondered if either of them had lied to the other. Did they both promise not to come back only for them to both break that promise? He couldn't imagine how mad In-ho would be at him if that was them, he couldn't imagine how much madder he would be at In-ho either.  

After a few minutes, he found Sang-woo stood in a corner at the back of the room beside the beds next to the man with the black curly hair. Gi-hun had discovered in the past week that this was player 199, Ali Abdul, the man that had run alongside Sang-woo in the first game. The sight of them growing friendly should have been a positive thing, but Gi-hun couldn't ignore the gnawing in his stomach.

The gnawing only worsened when from the bed beside Sang-woo, appeared a thin, grey-haired man with the number 001 on his chest. His frame initially hidden from the cameras by the bunk beds until he shuffled forwards.

"Forgive me if I’m wrong but I didn't expect him to be the type to take pity on the old man." In-ho said, seemingly observing the same patch of players as him.

"You're not wrong." Gi-hun said, frowning.

"If he's planning on using him as cannon fodder, he's barking up the wrong tree." In-ho commented, to which Gi-hun could only agree.

Chapter Text

"Pick one." In-ho said from behind the kitchen counter.

On the countertop, four dalgona cases — one for each shape — were lined up in a neat line. In-ho had produced them from the pockets of his coat when he had returned to the apartment with a smirk upon his face.

Since the next game required time to prepare and an exact count of the number of players for it to go ahead, no games had taken place that day. Therefore, Gi-hun had spent most of his time in the control room in front of a screen watching over the players like a prison guard. In-ho had just managed to convince Gi-hun to return to their apartment after lights out with the promise of a surprise. But, looking at Gi-hun's face right now, he could tell that this surprise might not have been what Gi-hun had expected.    

Blank faced, Gi-hun sat upon a barstool with his elbow on the counter and his chin resting on the palm of his hand. He ran his eyes over the four round cases in front of him, then looked up at In-ho stood opposite him. "How am i supposed to know which one contains which shape, at least we let the players pick their shapes."

"Yes, but you already know the game, you'd just pick the easiest." In-ho countered. "Humour me."

Gi-hun sat up straight from where he was hunched over and picked the case on the far right. "The triangle is the easiest." He said, recalling what he'd read in one of the previous year’s files.

In-ho picked the middle one from those that were left. "I thought it would be the circle."

"Straight lines are best apparently." Gi-hun said.

"What about the star?" In-ho asked, opening case tin to reveal the star shape in the sugar.

Gi-hun laughed lightly and said, "too many narrow points."

In-ho heaved a heavy sigh then eyed Gi-hun's case. "So, what did you pick?"

Gi-hun opened his case and his face immediately fell. "The umbrella. The hardest one."

"Ah, your luck really is quite something captain." In-ho said, grinning wider than a cheshire cat. "You'd have bitten the dust if we had played this game."

Gi-hun's eyes narrowed at In-ho. "Hmm." He grumbled.

Before In-ho had the chance to reply, a commotion on the screen in the living room caught their attention. Head swivelling like meerkats, they saw that the cameras focused on the dormitory had lit up with more movement that just the casual tossing and turning of players in their beds. A small figure stood by the door pounding their hands on the metal, and even the turned down volume of the feed did little to conceal the shrieking of the woman.  

Gi-hun and In-ho looked at each other, the corners of their mouths turned down in confusion. In-ho rounded the kitchen counter to grab the remote from the arm of the sofa and turned up the volume, switching the display from infrared night vision to normal at the same time. Leaving the cases behind him, Gi-hun went to take a closer look at the screens to see who was making such a fuss at this late hour. 

"This room is packed with men. You expect me to piss on the floor?" Gi-hun heard a woman yell.

"Is that player 212?" Gi-hun asked, the darkness in the dormitory making it difficult for him to read the number on the back of her t-shirt.

"I think so." In-ho replied, already looking bored with her yelling.

In the dormitory, the woman continued to make her case. "Shit, you think nature calls only when you allow it?"

The window in the dormitory door closed in her face, cutting off the small ray of light illuminating her face. Gi-hun scratched at his forehead thinking that would be the end of it, but as he was about to turn back to the case of the counter, the woman changed tack.

Squatting down in the middle of the floor, she lowered her tracksuit bottoms and yelled, "Hey, I’m going. Man, it's a pretty crazy waterfall here."

In-ho muttered something under his breath then snatched up the radio sat on the coffee table and issued an order to the staff guarding the dormitory. "Let her go." He snapped.

Not a second later, the door to the dormitory opened and the soldier granted her passage. Fully armed and completely covered head to foot, he should have been intimidating to anyone but instead, this woman held nothing but scorn for him. Biting back with quick retorts in an attempt to put him in his place.

On the far corner of the screen, Gi-hun saw another figure approaching the door with long, determined strides. It wasn't until they pushed themselves in front of player 212, that Gi-hun recognised her as player 67. Gi-hun watched with interest as she stood there unflinching as the other shouted in her face. He considered something for a moment and then retrieved the list of players from a file on the side table.   

"What are you looking for?" In-ho asked.

"Player 67. I want to know her name. I think she could be a contender." He said. Running his eyes down the list, he quickly found player 67. Shifting his eyes to the right of the number he read the name, Kang Sae-Byeok. It doesn't suit her, he thought.

"Don't get attached." In-ho said, his voice void of emotion.

"I won’t." Gi-hun assured, placing the list back into the file after committing the name to memory.

"Come, let's see if we can get these out before they come back." In-ho said.

Gi-hun sat back down on the barstool, "what if they're back in two minutes?" He complained.   

"Then you better hurry up." In-ho said, straight-faced.

Gi-hun shot In-ho a loaded glare, then picked up the needle in the case and made his first mark over the sugar. 

Contrary to his expectations, Gi-hun found himself becoming engrossed in carving out the little sugar shape. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but after a scratching over the top of the umbrella until his fingers started to go numb, the top half separated in a clean line. He breathed a sigh of relief even though he wasn't exactly sure why. He glanced up to see In-ho, brows drawn together in deep concentration, curling his tongue around the needle to warm it before dragging it across the sugar.

Gi-hun snorted in silent amusement. The game still had its hooks in them so deep that it took only a little nudge to shift their mindsets back several years. With a shake of his head, he glanced back over his shoulder to see that the women hadn't yet returned; and so, he turned back to set to work on the jagged edges of the underside of the shape.  

Bit by bit he scraped away at the lines, deepening them granule by granule until beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. To break the shape now would frustrate him beyond measure, and by now he felt like he had a point to prove. Off the tip of his nose, a droplet of sweat fell onto the sugar, melting it with a satisfying crackle. Gi-hun paused mid drag of the needle and an idea suddenly came to him as he watched the sugar turn dark.

Carefully picking up the sugar from the case, he held it up to the light of the chandelier and saw that his sweat had indeed thinned the sugar where it had landed. From this angle, the thinning lines of the shape were almost translucent to the light, framing it like a halo. Bringing it back down in front of him, he experimentally licked twice over the back of the sugar then held it back up to the light. The light that shone through had already grown brighter, and with a grin, Gi-hun dropped the needle back into the case and started to lick at the shape with renewed confidence.

After several enthusiastic licks, Gi-hun heard a sharp snap coming from In-ho's direction. He raised his eyes to see In-ho's case laid on the counter, the star shape inside it had cracked cleanly from one side to the other. Gi-hun looked further up still to meet In-ho's eyes that were burning with a look he was all too familiar with.

"That's cheating." In-ho rasped. 

Amused at the effect he was having on In-ho and how easy it was to captivate him, Gi-hun smirked and ceased his licking to check his progress. He carefully held up the shape in front of him and slowly teased away the bottom of the shape from the rest of the sugar, revealing a perfectly intact umbrella.

"The rules state that the players should extract the shape without breaking it. They don't specify how." Gi-hun stated. The playful light in his eyes dulled when a memory from his childhood snuck its way to the forefront of Gi-hun's mind. "I always used to lose my umbrellas as a kid, so mom would only give me broken ones. Eventually I started to wish I could have one that wasn't broken." He smiled wistfully. 'I guess I do now."

The rims of Gi-hun's eyes reddened dampening the fire sparking in In-ho's belly. In-ho looked down at the cracked star in front of him and pushed it aside. Gi-hun saw the look that crossed his face and tilted his head in an unspoken question.

"When Jun-ho was four, he was scared of the dark, so I stuck glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of his room. I thought it would bring me luck." In-ho said.

Gi-hun caught the hidden meaning, the hidden worries behind his words and the broken shape in front of him. With one last look at the umbrella in his hand, he pushed the sweet into his mouth in one bite. Reaching over the counter, he grasped In-ho's hand and pulled it towards him then brushed a light kiss over his knuckles. "It's just a game." He said softly.

In-ho looked as if he might say something further but movement on the screen behind Gi-hun's head distracted him. His face turning blank and cold had Gi-hun turning around to see the two women walking back into the dormitory. One clung to the other's arm like a limpet, but even with the volume up, Gi-hun couldn't quite make out what they were whispering about. The whispering continued all the way until they reached their beds where they had no choice but to separate, even though one of the women still looked to be resistant to leave the other's side.

Perplexed, Gi-hun looked at In-ho who just shrugged a shoulder at him. "You got the shape out before they came back." He said glancing down at the case on the counter.

Gi-hun looked as if he'd forgotten all about the goal In-ho had set. "So I did." He said finally.

For the next hour, In-ho and Gi-hun stayed up to keep an eye out for any more disturbances; but when everything looked to have settled down, In-ho pulled a yawning Gi-hun to bed.

The next morning, In-ho and Gi-hun entered the control room just as breakfast in the dormitory was being served. On today’s menu was bread and milk, basic, but far more than they had received in their games. The alliances that had started to develop yesterday appeared to have carried over into the morning and players sat in their groups, chatting easily while picking at their bread.

Gi-hun quickly homed in on Sang-woo sat on the steps beside Ali at the back of the dormitory. He wasn't eating; his gaze seemed to be settled on something across the room but Gi-hun couldn't see what from this angle. Sang-woo's attention was pulled back to Ali when he seemed to have asked him a question. Gi-hun assumed it must have been about to food as Sang-woo handed over his unopened packet of bread over to Ali with a hint of a smile.  

"We're ready." In-ho said, appearing at Gi-hun's side.

Gi-hun flexed his fingers then nodded in acknowledgement.

"Begin." In-ho commanded the staff.

Light music interrupted the players finishing their breakfasts, and with a flicker of nerves on their upturned faces, they listened to the announcement.

"The second game will begin shortly. Please follow the instructions from our staff. Let me repeat."

"Do you think there'll be another vote later?" In-ho asked when the players started to leave the dormitory one after the other.

"Unlikely." Gi-hun said. "Since it's an individual game, there won’t be any guilt attached to the survivors. Those that regret their choice to be here will probably be eliminated due to their own mistakes."

In-ho glanced briefly at Gi-hun. "You've given this some thought already." He observed.

"Of course." Gi-hun said lightly, earning him a quiet chuckle from In-ho that was for his ears only.

In contrast to the relaxed and easy atmosphere between the two men in the control room, subdued players wound their way through the maze of corridors and steps designed to distract and disorientate. Until, after half an hour of walking, they eventually came upon a set of double doors that slid open with the press of a button. Led by four soldiers, the players piled into the room, their faces lifting upwards in wonder at what they saw in front of them.

Painted in vibrant shades of red, yellow and green; a giant slide, swing set, and climbing frame took centre stage in the already small room. The walls were a perfect sky blue, with childlike depictions of clouds painted above a colourful fence that extended all the way around the space.

In his childhood, Gi-hun had fond memories of late summer evenings playing dalgona sat on the floor of a playground beside Sang-woo. In those days the candy had been provided by an elderly man with his rickety little stall. The sweet smell of melting sugar would fill Gi-hun's nostrils, and he'd refuse to blink while he watched the man’s quick hands pour the molten liquid into cases then imprint the shape when it started to harden. So, when it came time to design the backdrop that this game would be played in, Gi-hun found himself hit with a large wave of nostalgia when he saw the plans to create an over sized playground.

The players packed together at the far side of the room away from the soldiers, naturally wary of the weapons they carried. Gi-hun saw some of the players were already taking notice of the four doors opposite them. Each one had a shape painted on the front representing the four options that the players could choose from: circle, triangle, umbrella or star. Gi-hun's eyes landed on Sang-woo stood at the front of the crowd. He watched him for a while as the first set of instructions were given to the players.

"Before the second game begins, chose from one of the four shapes and stand in front of it."

The cameras didn't need to be showing a close up of Sang-woo's face for Gi-hun to spot how his head angled downwards in thought. Could it be that the same memories he'd had were running through Sang-woo's mind right now? An eternity seemed to pass before Sang-woo lifted his head again, his eyes bright with recognition.

"I think he knows the game." Gi-hun said. "Clever."

"He's probably not the only one. It's fairly recognisable if you've played it before." In-ho said, his tone more clipped than he intended.

The remaining undercurrents of In-ho's jealousy went unnoticed by Gi-hun who was watching Sang-woo and the other players deliberate between the options. If Sang-woo did in fact know what the game was, he seemed to be holding the information close to his chest, since when the group made their move, each of the three joined different lines. Gi-hun was almost completely convinced that Sang-woo knew more than he let on to the others when he headed directly to the triangle door, leaving Ali to choose the circle, and the old man to choose the star.

Their team had only just formed but, from where Gi-hun stood, it seemed like Sang-woo was already prepared to cast the others out into the cold. Thinking back over Sang-woo's actions in the games so far — even the ones that Gi-hun had thought were noble and born out of consideration for others — he realised that they always had an ulterior motive attached to them: thin the crowd to improve his own chances of winning.

Gi-hun couldn't fault his tactics, but he was smacked with the realisation that his friend was just like any other player. Another cog in the machine that would behave exactly how he was expected to. His actions may be wrapped in pretty packaging, but the intent underneath was just as sour as those that turned ruthless outright.

Gi-hun's shoulders slumped with such exaggeration as he thought over everything that In-ho looked over at him with a slight tilt of his head. Gi-hun straightened his posture with a subtle shake his head as if to say that everything was fine, then turned his thoughts back to the job at hand. In-ho's eyes lingered on him for a while longer, until he had no choice but to look away when the players had all managed to form neat lines in front of the doors.

With a nod from In-ho, the next announcement played into the game arena.

"Decision time is over. We will now reveal the game."

All four doors in front of the players were simultaneously pushed open by the staff to reveal a table filled with small silver cases stacked on top.

"All players, please each take one of the cases in front of you."

One after the other, with a look of apprehension or indifference, each player received a tin and took it to a space at the other side of the room.

"Please open the case and check the contents."

From the smiles of relief, to the closed eyes of the frustrated, to the wide-eyed look of fear, the emotions that spread across each of the players faces told Gi-hun which shape they chose without seeing it.

"The second game is Dalgona. The shape you have chosen is the shape you must extract. The time limit is ten minutes. Cleanly extract the shape in ten minutes and you pass. Let the game begin."

The timer beeped and began its countdown as soon as the announcement finished. The players mobilised in an instant, spreading out across the room and dropping to the floor to either sit or lay themselves down in an effort to get comfortable. Faces of concentration coloured with a touch of nervousness cast their eyes downwards, trying their best to ignore the soldiers prowling around them, and began to scratch away at the sugar.

The control room was silent except for the intermittent press of buttons that changed the camera angles on the screen. Even Gi-hun and In-ho stood without speaking, their gaze flitting between the screens to see how this game would play out.

The first minutes passed uneventfully. Only the sounds of scratching, chipping and snapping of the hardened sugar set to the noise of the ticking clock in the background could be heard. Progress felt slow with each second dragging by, but soon, some of the players managed to free an edge or two of their shapes. Every clean break was met with the shaky exhale of the players breath, and relief flooded their faces; but the momentary celebration couldn't last. Swallowing down their joy, a forced calmness overcame them as they moved on to the next side of the shape.

But, like every game, the quiet did not last forever. At the very top of the slide, a player sat carving out the shape of an umbrella when the sugar split cleanly in two from one side to the other. A nudge from In-ho guided Gi-hun's attention to a screen on the left where the man was seen slowly raising his head towards the soldier stood over him, his face twisted in fear.   

"Wait... Give me one..." Player 369 stammered. "Please. Just one more—"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by the bullet shot into the middle of his forehead. Blood splattered out of the back of his head as his body launched backwards down the metal slide leaving behind a broad streak of red. Screams and shrieks of surprise came from every corner of the room, and the harsh reality of the environment that they had walked back into came rushing back to them at full force.

Distracted by the disturbance, another player cracked their shape without meaning to. It didn't matter how much she begged, the soldier showed no mercy and still shot her through the skull. Just like how a stone thrown into water produces ripples, the effect of the gunshots on the other players was evident. Six more shots were fired in quick succession; their bodies flailing as blood poured from their wounds.

Under Gi-hun and In-ho's feet, pictures of the players went out with a dull chime one after the other. "It's either all or nothing." Gi-hun sighed as more gunshots rang out.

In-ho nodded briefly as the light directly under him went out, darkening the edges of his coat that had appeared to have been tinted silver until now.     

Unlike the first game, the players had nowhere to run, nowhere to burn off the mounting adrenaline, and so shivering players had no choice but to sit beside the bodies of the dead and the pool of red under them. Equal measures of concentration, panic and fear clouded their eyes and formed a sheen of sweat on the players foreheads. Their shaking, clammy hands threatened to slip and crack the corners of their shapes at any moment.

Halfway into the game, Gi-hun caught sight of a man in glasses close his eyes in relief as he held up his unbroken triangle to the soldier hovering over him.   

"Player 111, pass."

The man pulled himself from the floor and walked towards the exit where a soldier was positioned to escort him back to the dormitory. He wore a self-satisfied smirk on his face, which Gi-hun, rather than notice anything odd about the way he carried himself, brushed off as his ego. When he disappeared from sight, Gi-hun cast his expressionless eyes over the rest of the players.

From that point on, in between the shots fired from the guns, more players presented their intact shapes for inspection. Sae-byeok, Ali — who appeared to have not used his needle at all — and numerous other men and women each received a pass, and they thread their way out of the game arena. Those left behind saw the others leave and grew anxious at their lack of progress, eyes flitted to the clock on the wall and Gi-hun could see the stress rising in them by the look on their faces, and how their movements sped up with less and less accuracy.

"Player 218, pass."

 Gi-hun hadn't realised how tightly he'd been holding himself until he heard Sang-woo's number called out. Easily finding the hunched over frame of his friend with a perfect triangle held in his hand, Gi-hun felt his face relax and his fingers uncurl from the tight fists he must have formed some time ago. A twitch of In-ho's fingers against the back of his was the only acknowledgement he gave of Sang-woo's success, but even then, Gi-hun couldn't be sure if it was a conscious action or not. By the time Gi-hun turned his head to look, In-ho was already watching a screen in the opposite direction.  

Gi-hun saw the screen that he was looking at showed the woman that had accompanied Sae-byeok last night, player 212. She crawled up from under the slide and patted one of the soldiers on the shoulder. When he turned towards her, a little startled by her boldness, she held up her star with a large grin on her face.

"Player 212, pass."

Safely through to the next game, she placed entire shape into her mouth and crunched down, all while maintaining eye contact with the soldier as she licked her thumb before walking away.   

The game entered its final minute with almost half the players still working on their shapes. This time it was Gi-hun that grew a little apprehensive. The sound of frantic scratching grew but so did the sound of cracking and chipping. Gunshots fired and echoed around the room at an almost constant rate, leaving less people to walk away and more to be carried. Cowering players covered their broken shapes in an attempt to conceal them, while others presented their whole ones proudly in the bottom of the cases.

More blood spilt and soaked into the ground, the dry, parched surface drinking the liquid as fast as it could flow. The shoes of the successful were dyed red as they ended up being caught at just the right, or wrong, angle when a shot was fired. Broken pieces of sugar flew from the hands of those gunned down as they attempted to stand and beg for another chance.

Faced with their imminent death, tensions rose and as they did, a player who had failed the game made a move that neither In-ho or Gi-hun expected. With a cry, he launched at the soldier who had been hovering above him and stabbed his needle through one of the holes in the mask. The soldier groaned in pain and fell backwards, clawing at his mask in an attempt to remove the needle. As the soldier fell, his gun dropped to the floor at his feet. Upon seeing it unattended, the player grabbed the gun and waved it around at the soldiers with shaking hands.

With the soldier on the floor no longer deemed a threat, he shot at one of the management staff approaching him. The bullet hit its target and lodged itself in the man’s arm with a spurt of blood. Yelping in pain, he grabbed at his arm and staggered backwards. The injury left him distracted and the player was able to grab hold of him, placing him in a headlock with the gun trained at the man's head.

"You see this, assholes, huh?" Player 119 yelled. "Goddammit! What kind of sick game was that? Why do some people get easy shapes while we all get shitty umbrellas, huh? Hey, you assholes, step back right now."

Unimpressed, Gi-hun folded his arms over his chest, pressed his lips together and exhaled heavily through his nose. A small uprising wasn't unusual. They had at least one a year, but it was unusual for a player to take a weapon from one of the staff. He could already sense what would happen to the soldier that had let his guard down, he might go easy on them if no one was hurt but In-ho wouldn't.

Beside him, In-ho's hands had balled into fists, and he cursed under his breath. "Stay here." He said firmly as he turned to leave the control room.

Gi-hun turned away from the screens to watch In-ho leave with a flock of pink behind him. "Are you sure?" He asked.

"Stay." In-ho commanded then disappeared from sight.  

Gi-hun chewed at his lip but did as he was told and turned back to the screens. A semi-circle of soldiers had formed around the player still holding the staff member hostage. Their guns were aimed and ready to fire but nobody dared to pull the trigger for fear of missing the player and hitting their supervisor.

Player 119's eyes grew wild and his hand shook. "I'll shoot! Shoot him right here! Goddammit!"

The rest of the players that had failed the game stood uncomfortably against the wall, presumably wondering what this meant for their fates. But their questions were answered a split second later when a line of soldiers turned their guns on them and opened fire. In a scene that replicated that of the first game, Gi-hun saw bodies drop to the ground in a flail of limbs. Careless in their aim, blood and flesh coated the ground and walls from the multiple deadly wounds inflicted on the players.

The display seemed to have little impact on player 119 who stood resolute in his defiance. If anything, it seemed to drive his desire for answers. Pushing the guard in his hold away, he trained the pistol in his hand at the back of the man's neck.

"Take off your mask. Don't make me shoot." He ordered in a shaky voice.

Gi-hun internally groaned as the man moved to remove his hood. In-ho's strict rule about not showing the players your face meant that this man's life was also about to end if he moved another muscle. But with the threat of a gun, the man didn't stop. Not only did he remove his hood but also his mask which he let drop to the floor.

"Turn around." Player 119 said.

As if it was him being spoken to, Gi-hun spun with a flourish and stepped up to the podium to pre-emptively search for his replacement. With one eye on the small screen in front of him and one on the screen displaying the game arena, he swiped through the list of staff with a slow shake of his head.

Up on the screen, the stoic and blank face of a young man confronted that of a player twice his age. He stood, unfeeling, as the player gasped in shock. "You're just a kid. What did they do to you?"

Gi-hun raised his eyebrows. It was a good question. Neither he nor In-ho agreed with some of the staffing choices that had been made before they took over, but their hands were tied. In truth, over the years they'd both learnt to care less as long as the job was done.

Unable to digest what he saw, player 119 turned the pistol to his own temple and shot himself. His body fell to the floor with a heavy thud, the life gone from his eyes before his head smacked the ground. Staring straight ahead the whole time in an effort to ignore what had just occurred, the young man maintained his cold gaze as if he'd seen such a scene play out a dozen times before.

A dark grey figure caught Gi-hun's eye and stayed his hand. Looking up at the screen with his full attention, he saw In-ho arrive on the scene, his stride purposeful and powerful. The staff parted for him to pass through unhindered, and without waiting for an explanation, he raised the pistol in his left hand and shot the unmasked man between the eyebrows. Gi-hun's eyes never left In-ho's back even as the man's body crumpled to the floor; he was sure In-ho didn't need him at times like this, but his fingers still itched to be by his side regardless.

"Remember." In-ho said, his voice coming through into the control room as clear as if he still stood in the room. "Once they find out who you are, you die." In-ho turned and left the game arena, his pistol still in his hand hanging at his side.

Chapter Text

Gi-hun's fingers thrummed against the side of the podium, the sound spreading through the room loud and clear. Cold to the point of being glacial, Gi-hun stood poised and upright with his face tilted upwards to watch over the players returning to the dormitory. Without In-ho to soften his edges, Gi-hun's presence resembled that of a tiger quietly sharpening its claws overlooking a herd of sleepy buffalo. A cloud of unease had settled over the control room and all the staff within it, nobody dared breathe too loud in case their head was the next one to roll.

The door to the dormitory shut with a clang, marking the end of the steady stream of players that had survived today’s game. In the corner of a screen, Gi-hun saw Sang-woo stood beside Ali who was beaming brightly. He followed their line of sight to see a stooping player with the number 001 on his back making his way over to them, his steps slow and measured; long gone was the nimble old man that Gi-hun knew him as.

Gi-hun's chest rose and fell with a silent sigh. If Sang-woo's life had to end then he, at the very least, hoped it wouldn't be because of a circumstance that had already been rigged.

The continuous drumming of his fingers stilled when the crackle of In-ho's voice came through the radio somewhere in his pocket. "Captain?"   

Without taking his eyes from the screens, he answered In-ho's call. "Go ahead."

"If there's no more trouble, proceed to the next step." In-ho said.

The atmosphere in the dormitory had been surprisingly calm with players either casually strewn across beds, leaning on the bed frames, or stood in loose circles in the middle of the floor chatting easily. Gi-hun's eagle eyes could only spot a few that had retreated back under the blankets of their beds in fear. Interestingly, he didn't know which group he found the most confusing. The ones that seemingly had little care for the death they'd seen, or the ones that shrank back like wilting flowers even after they had freely chosen to return.

"Understood." Gi-hun said, then stuffed the radio back into his pocket. Bringing his eyes down to look at the pink hoods of the staff facing away from him, he raised his voice and issued his command. "Proceed."

The press of a button was immediate; and down in the dormitory, the overly pleasant voice of the announcement brought a halt to every conversation.

"Attention, players. I will now announce the results of the second game."

The lights in the dormitory slowly dimmed while the trill of the counter on the screen rose, captivating every pair of eyes in the room and Gi-hun's too. The yellow hue of the piggy bank lowering replaced the darkness, and as heads tilted upwards the results of the game were read out.

"Out of the 187 players who participated, 79 players were eliminated."

The tube connecting the celling to the piggy bank lowered and even more bundles of cash joined the already impressive amount sitting at the bottom.

"The prize money accumulated in this round is 7.9 billion won. The total prize money accumulated so far is now 34.8 billion won."

The announcement came to an end, the piggy bank returned to its usual resting position and the lights brightened once again. The players, pinned in position by the inescapable voice that translated the news of death and violence into a message of hope and freedom, reanimated with the slow lowering of their eyes and the ghost of a grin on their faces as they looked around.

Keeping the players under his close scrutiny, time passed quickly for Gi-hun. The next time he looked at his watch, he was surprised to see that over an hour had gone by and In-ho had still not returned. Gi-hun's hand felt for the radio in his pocket but before he could grasp it, he heard the door to the control room open behind him followed by the swish of In-ho's arms against his coat as he walked.

Leaving the radio in his pocket, Gi-hun stepped down from the podium to meet In-ho. The tense lines of In-ho's shoulders that would have gone unnoticed by anyone else stood out to Gi-hun like a beacon. He also noticed how they loosened when In-ho's eyes found him.

"I thought you said they'd accept their fate." In-ho said when he drew level with Gi-hun.

"I don't think I said it quite like that." Gi-hun said, falling into step beside In-ho. Shoulder to shoulder, they walked towards the centre of the room. "What happened to the soldier?"

"He won't be seeing another sunrise." In-ho said. Gi-hun couldn't tell if that meant that the man was already next up for the incinerator, or whether In-ho planned to keep him alive to use him for the next few days then despatch of him before he stepped back on the boat. Gi-hun decided not to ask. "Tonight's special game is also going ahead as planned."

The special game. Gi-hun had almost forgotten. Usually, they implemented the special game on day three, and while the players had technically been together for three days in total, the break had thrown Gi-hun off. "They're too calm. I don't know if they'll fall into the trap."

"It doesn't take much to set this group off. Reducing their food will be enough." In-ho looked down at the floor of players faces beneath him. "We could do with a nice round number for the game tomorrow."

Gi-hun's uptight posture melted away into something more akin to what In-ho was used to seeing in the privacy of their home. "You're starting to sound like me." Gi-hun said, cocking his head at In-ho.

In-ho slowly lifted his head and turned his body to face Gi-hun. "Does it bother you?"

"Not at all." Gi-hun said, the smile on his face filtering through to his voice no matter how hard he fought to keep his composure.

The brittle harmony between the players continued into the afternoon and it looked like it would stay that way. That was, until mealtime commenced.

Gi-hun, who had been busy scrawling notes on this year’s games back in the office of their apartment, returned to the control room just as the workers were distributing food in the dormitory. Clasping his hands behind his back, he strolled over the floor of players to join In-ho in the centre of the room. Neither one of them spoke. They just watched and waited to see if In-ho's plan would come to fruition.

In-ho had really meant it when he said he was limiting the players food because all that was on offer was a single egg and water purposefully given in a glass bottle. Ready hands accepted whatever morsel was handed their way, whereas others couldn't hide the displeasure on their faces. Staring down at the bottle and egg in their hands with simmering rage, their faces twisted into a sneer directed at the staff at the other side of the table who remained a picture of faceless indifference.

A disturbance in the line on the right of the screen caught Gi-hun's attention. A group had pushed their way into the middle of the line rather than joining the back, and the harder Gi-hun looked the more he recognised the group of five. Backed by the domineering presence of player 101, those shoved backwards yielded under his sharp stare and unnerving smile. Gi-hun thought nothing of it at first, just another display of someone throwing their weight around, but when the last remaining players arrived at an empty table, Gi-hun realised what had happened.

"Uh, I didn't get anything. Where's the rest?" Gi-hun heard player 271 protest weakly.

"They stole food." Gi-hun muttered.

"Huh?" In-ho said.

"Player 101 and his four followers pushed in and stole another portion of food." Gi-hun said. "But don't they usually move as a six?"

"Do they?" In-ho said sounding disinterested. "I never noticed."

Gi-hun tsked, mildly chiding In-ho's lack of observance.

In the dormitory, player 271 looked to be on the brink of tears as he pleaded his case. Fuelled by his mounting desperation, his tone became increasingly accusatory until one of the staff had obviously had enough and pulled out his pistol. The player froze immediately but someone spoke up in his place. Gi-hun heard the voice of a woman bravely call out across the room.

"Excuse me. It was them." She said, pointing across at the group of five. "They skipped the line and got seconds. I saw it."

Gi-hun, feeling a tiny flicker of something attempt to rekindle in his chest, tilted his head to the side. It was unexpected to see someone speak up for someone else in this way, especially when they had no obvious connection. It caught him off guard.

"Hey, what's the matter everybody? Jeez. You never see a guy eat before, is that it? Shit." Player 101 said. His uneasy laughter at being caught red handed and made the centre of attention grated on Gi-hun's ears.

Incensed, player 271 turned from the staff and stalked across the room towards the one who had stolen from him. Gi-hun wanted nothing more than to put his head in his hands. The man's skinny frame was no match for the other man, there was no way that this confrontation would end well for him. The man must have known it too, but he was driven forwards by the grumbling of his stomach.

"Who do you think you are? That's my food you just ate." Player 271 said.

Casually leaning against a bed, player 101 looked at the man as if he was a bug only worthy of being squashed under his heel. "Ah. So, is this yours? Is your name on it? Cause I don't see anything. I'm sorry." He laughed and took another swig from the bottle.

Driven mad by the taunting, player 271 launched at the bottle with both hands yelling, "Give me that. Give it back, it's mine. Give it back to me!"

Water flew from the bottle in the scuffle that ensued rendering the fight almost pointless, but the battle of wills continued until the crisp sound of glass shattering brought a momentary pause. The last precious drops of water puddled on the floor amongst the shards of glass.

Player 101 turned to the scrawny man trembling with adrenaline. "You little shit, goddamn it." He snarled. "Why'd you break it, you jerk?" His fist connected with the man's face and sent him flying to the floor. "How come a scrawny guy like you is so greedy about food?"

Curled on the floor, the man took kick after kick to his head and chest. Blood poured from his nose and yet the attack didn't stop. Curses, each one more insulting than the last, landed with every strike. On and on it went with no one willing to step in until the man went silent, his groans of pain ceased, and his body went limp.

Whatever threatened to reignite within Gi-hun faded. The smoking embers, doused. A false alarm. Nothing more.

Player 101 turned his back on the man's body and went to inspect the broken bottle, picking up pieces that still had water in them and downing what was left. Nobody made a sound, nobody moved, until Sang-woo ventured out from the corner where he'd been sat. He approached the man on the floor and felt for a pulse.

Sang-woo's face tightened as he looked over his shoulder towards Ali and shook his head. "He's gone." He said plainly. 

A chime underfoot marked the removal of the player's photo from the grid. Gi-hun's head twisted to look over at the blank spot left behind. Today was the first time he'd paid any attention to him, but his death represented a turning point in the games. As soon as In-ho gave the word, the money in the piggy bank would rise and the players would learn that they could kill each other outside of the predefined games.

"Proceed." In-ho said.

The screen in the dormitory changed to represent the new total. It's single trilling note sounded pitiful and a little pathetic compared to typical grand reveal at the end of each game. The bright white lights lowered, giving way to the glow of the piggy bank where notes fell slowly like an afterthought.

Cogs inside the minds of the players started turning, the rigid structure of the games seemed not so rigid anymore. There was another way to win, another way to ensure their survival. Gi-hun didn't even need to be in the room to feel the shift in the air, to see the new way the players looked at each other.

Another button on the desk was pressed and the doors to the dormitory slid open. To the stares of over a hundred pairs of eyes, in walked several staff members carrying a single coffin. They made straight to the body on the floor, placed him inside then carried the coffin out the way they came without a word.

"Early reincarnation might be a gift." Gi-hun said, "but the true gift is the money their lives represent for those that are left behind."

It started slow at first. Conversations between groups began to branch out to others seeking alliances that would see them safely through the night. Then came the shifting of furniture. A handful of players took up leadership positions to organise the formation of blockades made from the bed frames and blankets. They created little nests, lined with mattress and pillows, for protection and they armed themselves with what little weapons they could find.

Gi-hun's hands gripped the back of the sofa as he stood leaning against the back of it watching the dormitory transform into a war zone. The two of them had returned to their apartment to appease their own rumbling stomachs before the special game began after lights out, and Gi-hun had just polished off his second helping much to In-ho's quiet amusement.

In-ho returned from the kitchen, his eyes sweeping from the television to Gi-hun's fixed gaze watching it with remarkable intensity. Gi-hun was aware of In-ho's approaching steps, but it wasn't until a hand clasped the back of his neck and he felt a soft press of lips to the underside of his jaw did he look at him.

"If you keep going, we won't make it back in time." Gi-hun said, his voice dropped low and every feature on his face softened.

"Tempting." In-ho said, arching an eyebrow and giving Gi-hun's neck a gentle squeeze before letting his hand drop to the small of Gi-hun's back. "You were burning a hole in the wall."

"Yeah well, can't take your eyes off them for a second it seems." Gi-hun's eyes wondered back to the screen. "Shouldn't we take the old man out now?"

In-ho shook his head. "It's up to him to survive the night." In-ho snuck another kiss then turned to leave. "Let's go."

Gi-hun placed his expressionless mask back over his face, hiding his deepening smile and faintly flushed cheeks from the rest of the world, and headed for the elevator.

"Lights out in 30 seconds."

The announcement came just as Gi-hun entered the control room a step behind In-ho. Gi-hun turned to the left and strolled around the edges of the grid on the floor, running cursory glances over the small screens on each desk. The staff shifted in their seats with Gi-hun practically breathing down their necks, but their heads remained facing forwards monitoring the movements of the soldiers making their way to their designated spots to await further orders. At the end of his prowl, he caught the last moments of an elevator full of staff disappearing from view when the doors closed on them.

Seeing everything fall into place, he glanced over at In-ho stood watching him in the middle of the room and nodded once.

"3, 2, 1..."

The dormitory lights switched off with a loud click, leaving only the glow from the piggy bank to illuminate the room for a few seconds more until that too was swallowed by darkness. The cameras switched to infrared and for the first few seconds there was no movement in either the dormitory or the control room, except for Gi-hun who moved to be beside In-ho.

In a gradient of colour from red, yellow, green and finally to blue, Gi-hun saw players slither from their beds and creep with silent steps between the bars in search of the targets that they had in mind. Their movements appeared coordinated and Gi-hun observed closely, curious instead of anxious.   

He watched as one player rounded the head of a bed, raised an arm and struck downwards with enough force to pierce flesh and crack bone. A shriek filled the air as the point of the weapon buried itself into the body laid defenceless in their bed. The stabbing continued, viscous in its nature, as a woman screamed and cried until her body lay broken and mutilated in blood-soaked sheets.

The others creeping in the dormitory took this as the signal to attack. Launching from their hiding spots, they stabbed and sliced at those unfortunate enough to become their victims. The darkness hid their ambush as well as their sins, and players brandishing glass bottles and metal bars laid into one another without thought or finesse. With their first kill under their belts, it no longer seemed to matter who the attackers grabbed, as soon as hands grabbed hold of another body, they were locked into a fight that only ended when one had spilt enough blood to dye the mattress red.  

"Do it." In-ho said coldly.

In a move not meant to help but create more confusion. The lights in the dormitory flashed, bathing the room in full, bright light one second then sending it into complete darkness the next. The light revealed scenes of brutal murder previously hidden by the dark, triggering the bloodcurdling screams of those surrounded by the dead and dying. Natural as it was, their screams went against them, and they found themselves as the fresh targets of those sweeping through the dormitory on a rampage.

Gi-hun found it impossible to pick apart the players as the chaos continued especially when the beds began falling one after the other. In the flashes of light, all he could see was blood-stained faces, the glint of glass and the mad waving of metal bars. He thought of Sang-woo trapped in there. Would he fight, or would he hide and wait for it to be over? He knew Sang-woo was smart enough not to get stuck in the middle of the fray on purpose, but he had stuck his head above the parapet enough times to make himself a target.   

Maybe he'd imagined it, the number eight on the edge of a t-shirt stretched across a wide back, but he followed the figure wearing it as they sought to protect someone. The shine of something distinctly not glass in the hands of a pursuer caught his eye making him lose track of the one he was watching. Whether they'd ducked under a bed or hauled themselves over one, he couldn't be sure. The lights flashed too fast, and the players scattered too quickly for him to have any hope of spotting them again.

With bloodlust in their eyes and adrenaline surging in their veins, the fight continued. Blankets were wrapped around necks and over faces in an attempt to strangle and suffocate. Players were brought to the floor and descended on by groups that laid into them with their fists, feet and elbows. Blood splattered across the floor, and a set of bloody handprints painted the doors above the slumped body of a woman with an open wound across her head.

Just when Gi-hun was about to suggest bringing the game to an end, a shaky voice full of fear called out from somewhere up high. "All of you, stop this. I'm... I'm scared. We are all gonna die in here! Everyone, every single one of us is going to die! Please. I'm so scared."

A camera found the old man, whose face had become unintentionally familiar to Gi-hun, stood on one of the remaining top bunk beds trembling from head to toe.

Gi-hun's eyes drooped wearily as he listened to the man’s pleas. "Not so fun now, is it?" He muttered.

In-ho had been watching over proceedings with one eye on Sang-woo and the group that he'd formed when he heard the client calling out for peace. He didn't know if Gi-hun had seen how Sang-woo had been outnumbered and backed into a corner by a group clutching weapons in their hands, but by the way Gi-hun remained cool and collected, he assumed he hadn't.

"End it." In-ho commanded, sneaking a glance at Gi-hun at the same time. He wasn't sure how, or even if, Gi-hun would grieve Sang-woo but by coincidence rather than design, he wouldn't have to find out just yet.

With the push of a lever and the press of a dozen buttons, the lights in the dormitory switched back to their eye piercingly bright setting and the doors opened. A swarm of pink soldiers led by their supervisor entered the room with their guns in hand. Those at the front opened fire into the air, breaking apart the fighting players who jumped apart from each other with their hands over their heads. Faced with armed soldiers, the murderous intent in the players eyes went out like a light. Weapons fell from hands, and cowering players were dragged from their hiding places as the soldiers rounded up the survivors for inspection.

Gi-hun's eyebrows raised at the scene of carnage revealed on screen. It was as if a whirlwind had blown through the dormitory with the amount of destruction left behind from the fight that had barely lasted half an hour. Bodies were strewn in awkward positions across the floor, down steps and half hanging from the bed frames. Players, both alive and dead, were covered in blood smears from either their own injuries or someone else’s. Stained mattresses, blankets and pillows were thrown in various directions far from where they had started. The stench of blood must be overwhelming, and Gi-hun felt the contents of his stomach threaten to rise at the thought.

The floor beneath Gi-hun's feet started to change. Lights went off in quick succession as the soldiers scanned the bodies of the dead before they were taken away in coffins decorated with pink bows. Gi-hun looked down at Sang-woo's face which remained brightly lit even when those surrounding him went dark. He lifted his eyes back to the screen and eventually spotted Sang-woo, alive and unhurt, with his back turned to the camera, a gun between his shoulder blades and Ali by his side. Lights were still turning off under his feet and he wondered momentarily if Sang-woo was responsible for any of them.

The last coffin left the dormitory, and the last player had been searched, leaving nothing else for the soldiers to do but make their slow retreat. Left to their own devices, the players found familiar faces and re-gathered in their groups.

Some of the groups huddling together were noticeably smaller, while others hadn't changed in size at all. In fact, as Gi-hun looked around at the dormitory, he noticed Sang-woo stood out again as the anomaly. He had been joined by more players. Alongside Ali and the old man, who looked rather pale and out of it, Sae-byeok sat at a distance but still close enough to be counted, and a few other men were sat on the fringes of this hastily thrown together team. Gi-hun found himself quite amused by how Sang-woo had managed to attract so many followers despite doing his best to keep himself to himself at the start of the games. 

In spite of what had changed within their groups, they all looked around at the others with wariness, wondering if the next wave of attack would come now that they were alone. Except for one group. Those led by the man with the snake tattoo, who had unknowingly kicked off the special game, looked downcast at best. They looked around with disdain, obviously unhappy about something. Gi-hun's intuition told him that they probably wanted more deaths than they got.

Frowning, he inspected the screen on his left to see just how many players had been lost. "28 players have been eliminated." Gi-hun commented.

"Is that a record? It feels like a record." In-ho said.

Gi-hun raised his eyebrows. "Not quite, but it's up there." He ran the numbers through his mind and his face softened into a sly smirk. "But we do have a nice round number for tomorrow's game."

In-ho folded his arms over his chest and turned to face Gi-hun. "That makes my life easier." He said, speaking as if he was talking about a personal inconvenience rather than the deaths of nearly thirty people.

The door in the corner of the control room opened to allow a soldier passage accompanied by his supervisor. Gi-hun hadn't noticed their approach at first until an outstretched arm appeared in front of him with a pocketknife placed in the centre of the soldiers open hand. "This was found on a player." The soldier said.

Gi-hun cast his eyes down to look at the bloody knife; hesitant to touch it both for fear of dirtying his pristine white gloves, and because the feel of a knife in his hand still sent a chill up his spine. The knife looked substantial, well built and heavy in the hand. From the mess on it, Gi-hun could safely assume that the blade must be razor sharp. "This made it through inspection?" He asked cooly.

The soldier lowered his head. "Yes sir."

Gi-hun looked at the bowed head of the soldier and the man beside him who had remained silent. The soldier seemed to shuffle uncomfortably at Gi-hun's questioning, however, his supervisor did not. Gi-hun's eyes narrowed ever so slightly but before he could say anything, In-ho had taken the knife and told them to leave.

"Incompetents is spreading like a disease." In-ho said bitterly.

Gi-hun pressed his lips together, still watching the door that the two had left by. Thoughts turned over in his mind, but it was like trying to decipher fine details in a blurry photo, he couldn't grasp at anything solid.

In-ho slipped an arm around Gi-hun's waist to pull him towards the control room door. "Come on, nothing else will happen tonight."

Gi-hun, deciding that he was overthinking, melted into In-ho's touch and nodded, allowing himself to be guided away. He threw one last look over his shoulder at the screens. It was just as In-ho had said, the hostile nature of the players had been tempered, and some had even fallen asleep under the watchful eyes of their team.    

Chapter Text

Too few hours later, Gi-hun stood in the centre of the living room with sleep still clouding his eyes nursing a cup of coffee. In the aftermath of the special game, a lull had fallen over the dormitory and what little night they had had left went by without further incident. If anything, the mood had taken a different turn. In-ho had just slipped into bed when he brought news that a man and a woman had been seen entering the same bathroom together. It always surprised him that such a thing didn't happen more frequently. As far as he could recall, it was only the second time it had happened while they had been in charge unless other occurrences had taken place without their knowledge. Gi-hun preferred it that way, if he didn't know, neither did the clients and it gave them less to talk so crudely about.

There was just less than an hour until the players were woken for the next game and right at this moment, even under the full glare of the lights, the majority of them were soundly asleep. Gi-hun's eyes roamed, lazily and without really seeing, over the screens. He wondered what today would bring. Today was the first day they would directly tell the players to kill each other. He imagined some would still hesitate, but he knew others wouldn't. If they were still placing bets, he knew he could make some safe ones.   

A creak of a door and the soft padding of feet behind him let Gi-hun know In-ho was awake. He glanced over to see In-ho disappearing into the kitchen wearing nothing but his underwear and a black tank top. Gi-hun had to laugh at the sharp contrast between the domesticity happening in their apartment, and the fight to live through each hour happening in the dormitory. Taking his cup with him, he followed In-ho into the kitchen.

"How does today's game work?" Gi-hun asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"We'll let them pick their own teams then randomise which team faces which team." In-ho replied, busying himself with making breakfast. "The platform is high; the losers will fall and be eliminated that way. Did you not see the plans?"

"Briefly." Gi-hun said. "I just wondered if the game might actually be too predictable. The strongest looking team will be the obvious winners, won't that make the game kind of... boring."

In-ho paused and looked Gi-hun squarely in the eyes. "You're just mentioning this now?"

"It just crossed my mind." Gi-hun said innocently.

"Well, we better hope for a surprise twist or it'll be off the list for next year." In-ho said, turning back to his breakfast.

Gi-hun hummed in easy agreement, placed his cup on the side and left In-ho to it while he went to get ready for whatever the day had in store.

Adjusting his gloves as he went, Gi-hun stalked into the control room at In-ho's side. Nothing had changed in the dormitory since he'd stopped watching earlier that morning. The sleeping still slept and the anxious still sat wide awake fidgeting with the sleeves on their tracksuits. In-ho didn't step up to the podium today, instead he continued to walk with Gi-hun until they reached the point of the diamond grid nearest the screens.

In-ho checked his watch for a final time then issued his command. "Begin."

Without the dramatic and sudden change of lighting, the players awoke in a considerably gentler manner to the classical notes of The Blue Danube. For a brief moment, the players could forget where they were and Gi-hun knew that had been the case; not just because he had prior experience, but by the way the players stretched their arms. The fluid and relaxed movements that turned rigid at the height of their stretch gave away their innermost thoughts before their sleep addled brains could form sentences.

"Attention, players. The third game will begin momentarily. Please follow the staff's instructions and swiftly make your way towards the game hall. Let me repeat the instructions."

Gi-hun spotted a multitude of faces screwed up with confusion. Yesterday they had been given food before the game even if it had been a pitiful amount, but today they hadn't been offered a single scrap. The slow restriction of their food suddenly became obvious, and it put the players on edge. Half the players wouldn't be returning to the dormitory but not a single one of them considered this as the fear of being starved mounted.

Without a care for the silent worries of the players, the staff ushered the players from the dormitory and sent them on their way to the next game.

"Players, welcome to the third game. For this game, you will play in teams. All players, please divide yourselves into teams of ten people. Your time limit will be ten minutes."

The instructions fed into the bright white room the players found themselves in at the end of their long walk. Long and thin, the room was edged by an open staircase weaving its way to the main floor where the players gathered.

Groups of players took steps back from each other at the announcement, indecision clouded their eyes as they second guessed their choice of teammates without even knowing what they would be facing. The cracks between friendships that had been plastered over after their night of terror—if for no other reason than for the sake of survival—would open like dry earth in a desert. The shock waves that it created would ripple through the room and disrupt even the most focused. Gi-hun had seen it time and time again, but he still found it interesting to see if he was right about any of the connections between the players.

Sang-woo formed a group of four that stood strategizing towards the back of the room. He looked to have taken over the leadership role once again and Ali looked at him doe-eyed, following his every word. Gi-hun felt genuine pity looking at Ali. He'd seen the cold and calculating side of Sang-woo that he kept hidden from the others, not that he blamed him, but Ali's naivety made it hard to watch when Gi-hun knew what was coming up in the next few days.

The group broke apart but just as they did, Sang-woo reached for Ali. The chatter in the room meant that Gi-hun couldn't make out the words he said but he saw both men looking downwards at Ali's hand.

"He's missing two fingers." In-ho told him.

"Oh?" Gi-hun said, brow furrowing.

In-ho hadn't noticed someone missing from a loud-mouthed group of players but could notice such a small detail about Ali? Gi-hun was at a loss. What he didn't know was that In-ho had been keeping tabs on Sang-woo since Gi-hun had first pointed him out weeks ago. And In-ho didn't know whether he was doing it for Gi-hun's sake or to satisfy his own curiosity about the man who supposedly knew Gi-hun so well. His observations also meant that he'd come to know about Ali who remained fixed to Sang-woo's side.

"Still. He's strong." In-ho said. "It's worth keeping him around a bit longer."

"He's biding his time to kill him." Gi-hun said, peeling back the meaning of In-ho's words to state the bitter truth.

Taken aback by Gi-hun's scathing assessment of Sang-woo's motives, it took In-ho a second to form a response. "I suppose." In-ho said finally, unable to refute his words.

Standing out against the white, the red digits of the timer counted down the short minutes that the players had to form and sure up their alliances. They didn't fully know it, but the handshakes and the slapping of shoulders created binding pacts that would see them live or die together. The loose groups started to tighten to prevent their members being poached by others, or to shun those on the edges from even attempting to join.

Gi-hun watched Sang-woo wander aimlessly around the room for a few seconds until his steps turned purposeful in one particular direction. Glancing ahead of where he was walking, Gi-hun saw a man, a little older than Sang-woo with the number 069 on his tracksuit, standing solitary.

Sang-woo flashed an easy smile at the man with threads of silver running through his hair and spoke words than Gi-hun couldn't hear. The man looked nervous and stuttering as he stepped aside to reveal a woman behind him. Sang-woo's smile faded at the sight of her. Unwilling to take the risk of forming an even weaker team than he already perceived himself to have, his invitation for the man to join his team was withdrawn with every step backwards Sang-woo made.

Gi-hun had to hand it to player 69. Sticking by his wife's side made him less desirable and far more vulnerable but he did it anyway. Although, the longing look in the man's eye as he watched Sang-woo walk away made him wonder if he was approaching his limit too. Only time would tell.

Leaving Sang-woo's mission to find another strong player behind, Gi-hun cast his eyes over the rest of the group. A lone figure sat on the steps caught his eye. Standing out like a pencil streak across a piece of perfectly white paper, they seemed at ease with their arms resting on their knees, fiddling with something in their hands. The camera switched its angle and Gi-hun saw that he wasn't the only one with his eye on this peculiar player. Sae-byeok had approached the bottom of the steps and had begun her ascent to the player that he could now see sported the number 240.

Gi-hun settled in to see how this interaction would go but before he got the chance, a commotion broke out at the other side of the room and a clear voice silenced all others.

"Wait!" Player 212 shrieked.

Gi-hun dragged his eyes across to the source of the noise and huffed in frustration. A large ring of players had formed around the two players fighting in the centre of the room, and Gi-hun had a momentary flashback to the first day of the games. From the very start this man had been the centre of most of the conflict. Making enemies seemed to come naturally to him and Gi-hun made a mental note to check out his history later.

"I don't get it. Come on, you're just joking." She continued, pawing at his jacket.

"My team is full. I'm sorry." Player 101 said, fake pity in his eyes. "We've got ten already."

Player 212 got to her knees and continued to beg this man not to abandon her. The rejection had rattled her, and she threw everything she could at him in an attempt to convince him that she was worth keeping around. In a last ditched attempt, she rose from the floor, clasped the side of his face and kissed him. Her advances were still met with coldness, and the man shoved her back down to the floor with a sneer.

"God, this bitch is so pathetic. Just keep your hands off me." He spat.

"Ah, their little love story didn't last long." In-ho said flatly.

"It was them last night?" Gi-hun asked, his interest piquing. When In-ho nodded, Gi-hun continued with a sigh. "It's not love. It's survival. It just backfired."

The last minutes ticked by, and the players sat in little rings in their groups while the last few players vied for space in the strongest looking teams. By this point, Sang-woo had gathered a team of nine. Evenly split with men and women, Sang-woo didn't look best pleased with the people sat around him. He looked even less pleased when player 212 slotted herself into the team, filling the last remaining space. Gi-hun had just noticed that Sae-byeok had successfully recruited the girl with orange highlights in her hair when In-ho leant in close.

"Come with me." He said.

"Where?" Gi-hun asked but his feet were already moving towards the door, guided by In-ho's arm around his waist.

"Since this is a new game for us, we should watch it properly." Was all In-ho said.

In-ho guided Gi-hun out the control room and down a run of corridors, twisting both left and right. Leaving the management area behind, In-ho dipped into a small doorway hidden in a wall pulling Gi-hun in and closing the door behind him with a soft click. The room In-ho had brought Gi-hun to was dark and rectangular; at the narrowest point, if Gi-hun stretched out his arms he could touch both opposing walls with his fingertips. Except, the wall opposite the door was not a wall at all, but a glass window.   

Gi-hun gasped as he saw the view through the window open out in front of him. At eye level stood two giant platforms basking under the light of hundreds of lightbulbs. A rope with evenly spaced shackles laid loosely coiled on top of the left platform; kept out of sight to keep the players in suspense a little longer. The bright yellow paint of its metalwork stood out against the black backdrop of the concrete walls, drawing Gi-hun's eye downwards to the pit below.

Halfway down, Gi-hun saw another platform in front of a giant metal door where the players were already lined up in their teams and sat on the floor. Two walkways joined this platform on either side leading to the elevators that would take the players up to the top platforms in front of him.

"I didn't realise it would be so large." Gi-hun said.

"It's no use if it's not a spectacle." In-ho said, reaching to take off his mask. "There's no cameras in here, get comfortable. Nobody will come in."

Gi-hun faintly nodded then followed In-ho's lead. Pushing off the hood from his head, he unclipped the mask and let it dangle from his fingers at his side. "They'll get a kick out of this one." Gi-hun muttered, referring to the clients watching like hawks from their own plush sofas. "There won't be any blood to dirty their eyes." He added, the words spitting from his mouth like they left a horrible aftertaste behind.

"My, we are feisty today." In-ho said looking over at Gi-hun, bemusement on his face.

Gi-hun rolled his eyes but felt powerless to do anything to stop the corners of his lips turning upwards at the sight of In-ho's expression and gentle teasing. Satisfied that he'd managed to pull his Gi-hun back to the surface, he reached for the radio in his pocket and gave the orders to begin the game.

From somewhere high on the wall behind them, the staff's instructions sounded through the speakers.

"I would now like to welcome you all to the third game. Today's game is Tug-of-War. In order to win, you must pull the rope towards your platform in an attempt to drop your opponents down below. Now, I will draw numbers to decide which two teams will play first."

Staff appeared on the top of the platforms to spread to rope between the two, threading it between a circular central point hanging halfway between the two platforms as they did so.

"First, the team that will play on the left tower."

A gloved hand disappeared into a solid box on the right of the speaker. After a second of rummaging, a ball with the number one was pulled out and shown to the players.

"Team one. Team one, please stand up."

Arguably the strongest looking team, team one stood up headed by player 101. The others still sitting shrunk back in hope that they wouldn't be picked to face this team.

"And now, the team that will play on the right tower."

Another box on the speaker's left was dipped into, and a ball with the number seven was pulled out and held out in front of him.

"Team seven. Team seven, please stand up."

The team that stood comprised mostly of smaller men and two women. An onlooker wouldn't be reprimanded for thinking that team one had a clear path to the win.

The elevators creaked as they descended down to pick up the players making their way down the walkways fronted by a pink figure guiding them along the way. For a fleeting moment in Gi-hun's mind the twenty players were replaced by four, two on each walkway. On one a pair, one taller and one broader, walked side by side towards the elevator. Worry was etched on the face of the taller while the other had successfully veiled their own worries behind an encouraging smile.

In-ho caught sight of the sad but vaguely nostalgic smile on Gi-hun's face. "What?" He asked.

Gi-hun shook his head, chasing away memories of the past and focusing on today's game. "I wonder if we looked as small and fragile as they do."

"Probably." In-ho said.

The first teams stepped out of the elevator, sweat already beading on their foreheads from the intensity of the lights glaring down at them from above. The leather cuffs attached to the rope gave the players pause, their potential cause of death became immediately clear. If anyone imagined that they would be able to let go of the rope before the fall, they lost that last piece of hope. Their escape route had been thoroughly cut off. Player 120 of team seven hesitated, his body already starting to back away from the rope. Sensing trouble, a gloved hand reached out to grip the players wrist, holding him firm as the cuff was padlocked around it with surprising speed.

Once both teams were secured to the rope and ready to play, a flag was raised and waved to the staff member down below holding a starting gun. The gun was raised into the air and fired with a loud bang that echoed off the solid structures in the room.

Team one kicked into action before the echoes of the gunshot had settled. Faces screwed up with intense effort, they heaved on the rope in short, sharp tugs throwing their weight backwards. Team seven had no chance of gaining even an inch of rope, every window of opportunity that might have presented itself was closed and sealed. Their feet on the platform slipped, the grip on their shoes were hardly enough to prevent the pull forwards.

Fierce and panicked cries came from both sides, encouragement and condemnation alike spilled from their mouths. Words turned to grunts of effort or screams of fear as team seven hurtled towards the edge of the platform. Their fate was sealed when the first players feet slid from underneath him, taking down player 120 stood behind him in the process. Hauled along the floor by team one who had victory in their sights, the first two players fell from the platform. Their weight aided team one's efforts and the rest of the team were pulled from the platform by their wrists, forming a smooth curve in the air as they fell.

The screech of steel moving over metal drowned out the screams of the players as a sharp blade dropped towards the rope, cutting through it in one slice. The team hanging over the dark abyss dropped like stone, their garbled shouts ending abruptly when a heavy thud was heard.

"The following players, Player 245, Player 120, Player 37, Player 408, Player 27, Player 273, Player 58, Player 243, Player 327 and Player 241 are eliminated."

Gi-hun and In-ho looked at each other. "Efficient." They said at the same time.

Wisps of misplaced, airy laughter snuck from their lips as their eyes shifted back to the window.

In-ho peered down at his watch. "Less than a minute." He said, pressing his lips together. 

Gi-hun glanced downwards towards the bottom of the pit. There was nothing much to see except the pink uniforms of the staff that seemed to glow in the dim light. He watched them swarm around like ants, collecting the bodies and pressure washing the gore away ready for the next set of fatalities. "Let's reserve judgement. The adrenaline rush of a quick fight might be enough for the fat cats."

In-ho nodded half heartedly as his eyes fell on the next set of players leaving the elevator and stepping onto the platform. "This one should be interesting." He said.

Sang-woo and his team filed two abreast onto the platform, shoulders set and a blank stare of unshakeable determination on their faces. The icy chill billowing from them filtered through the glass and goosebumps raised on Gi-hun's covered arms. Crossing his arms over his chests as an excuse to rub them, Gi-hun looked down the line of players on Sang-woo's team assessing their chances.

Three women and seven men formed his team and one of those men was no more substantial than a stick figure. The old man carried the lives of thousands on his shoulders without buckling, but in a fight of physical strength, he was a laughable opponent. Speaking of opponents, Gi-hun trailed his eyes over to the other platform and exhaled hard at what he saw. Full of men, all of a medium build, the other team had the upper hand straight away. Both teams knew it.

Kneeling front and centre, Sang-woo kept his head up staring down the leader of the opposing team the whole time as the cuffs were padlocked around his wrists. In contrast, those behind him faltered in their expressions as the reality set in and the crisp snap of the padlocks bound their wrists to the rope.

"I hope they've got a plan." Gi-hun said evenly. "Intimidation won't work once the game starts."

As if hearing Gi-hun's comments, once shackled, Sang-woo's team rose and arranged themselves so that they were stood on alternate sides of the rope. Turning to place their feet parallel to each other over the central line, they bent their knees and tucked the rope firmly under their armpits. Down the line, each of their expressions clouded back over as they stared down the malicious smirks of the opposite team.

The long, sweeping movements of the flag bearers arms rippled the orange and black fabric above their heads, and the starting gun was fired directly into the air. Gi-hun was expecting a burst of movement to follow, a copy of the first game that would see this competition end in seconds, but the flag marking the centre point remained steady and neither team made any steps forward or back. What he did see instead made him narrow his eyes and jut his head forwards.

Every player on Sang-woo's team had thrown their weight back until they were almost laid flat on the thigh of the person behind them. Strain was apparent in their faces and necks that bulged with the effort of holding on. Gi-hun was distinctly reminded of seeing a similar pose in The Matrix, he contemplated that perhaps it had been the plan makers source of inspiration. Wherever it had come from, it was working. The team held steady, anchored to the platform and unable to be moved despite every effort from the opposite team.

The other team's smirks vanished when their easy victory began slipping from their fingers. No matter how hard they yanked on the rope or how they pushed back with their feet hoping the extra leg strength would help, Sang-woo's team remained as unmoveable as a brick wall. Panic set in and their rhythm faltered in their desperation. The leader’s feet slipped on the platform, and he inched forwards, slackening the rope just enough for Sang-woo to feel the mistake.

"Pull!" Sang-woo cried.

His team switched gears in an impressive display of teamwork. Rising from their laid-back position, they assumed the more usual position of standing parallel to the rope and pulled. Using short, sharp well-timed pulls, they managed to gain ground. Their progress was slow, and the intense effort showed on their faces, but with every pull the opposite team moved closer and closer to the edge.

Gi-hun and In-ho, not wanting to look away from the action for too long, exchanged a quick glance. Their eyes giving away their feelings of surprise at this turn of events, and the silent betrayal they felt at being impressed by the way players actually worked together.

However, even with the best of plans there was always a flaw. The opposing team’s strength hadn't been drained for long enough and now that it had turned to a head-to-head battle of strength, Sang-woo's team dropped out of favour. The gaps in their ability caught up to them quicker than they expected. When the opposite team regained their composure and pulled back, Sang-woo's team found that they were tugged forwards as if the ground had turned to ice.

Skating towards the edge, an unmissable hysterical shriek of "do something, goddammit!" from the middle of Sang-woo's team had Gi-hun thinking that this was it. They had no plan b, and the twilight seconds of their lives were ticking by running full steam into the endless night that they wouldn't wake from. Gi-hun didn't avert his eyes, he was resolute in his decision to watch Sang-woo fall. He would face up to the cold, harsh reality of his choice to put Sang-woo in the game, and of Sang-woo's choice to return. A fine mist covered his eyes and blurred his sight.

Snatches of a yell broke Gi-hun from his pre-emptive grief. "Take three steps forwards." It said.

Gi-hun blinked to clear his vision, and to his surprise, he saw Sang-woo's team willingly running towards the edge of the platform. For the second time in these few short minutes, he was rendered speechless. Their plan was reckless and risky but as the opposite team fell backwards to land squarely on their backs, Gi-hun saw the intent behind the move.  

At the front, not anticipating the pull from the teams fall, Sang-woo jolted forwards and his leg swung over the edge of the platform. The strength of the rest of his team had been depleted to zero but upon seeing Sang-woo balanced precariously on the edge, they rallied and pulled backwards on the rope.

The opposing team skidded and slid towards the edge on their backs, and while they tried to stand, they were yanked down to their knees again. The edge of the platform beckoned with each sharp pull until the first player tumbled from the edge, pulling the rest of his team off behind him. The curve of the rope sailed through the air with as much grace as it had the first time, opposing the wild screams and sweat-drenched faces of those clinging to it.

The guillotine’s blade dropped, and the rope was severed, dropping ten to their deaths and saving ten for at least another day. Sang-woo's team lay on the platform, chests heaving and staring into the blindingly bright lights above, they didn't move until they were hauled to their feet by the staff.

"Not boring." In-ho said, remembering the conversation they'd had over breakfast this morning.

"Not boring." Gi-hun agreed.

In-ho watched the elevator containing the survivors descend from the platform. "Someone must be watching over him."

"Someone better than me." Gi-hun sighed.

There were two games left and the competition was wide open. Both the strongest and weakest teams had made it through, and it made those still sat below uncomfortable in their position. No one felt safe within their teams anymore and the tension in the air had been pulled taut to breaking point.

Having seen so many others meet their grisly end, none of the teams wished to meet the same fate. Whispers of plans trickled backwards and forwards down the line where they sat in their teams. Paling faces gave curt nods of agreement, not trusting themselves to speak for fear that their carefully crafted front of confidence would crack and let loose the raging storm of fear inside.

The next game saw team three and eight face each other on the platforms. Both teams looked to be equally matched and Gi-hun didn't know who to place as the favourite to win. Not that it mattered. He'd just seen how the underdog team could take the win. Without any personal stakes in this round, Gi-hun felt more relaxed to watch how this game would unfold.

Much like the first game, as soon as the starting gun fired, both teams pulled like oxen on the rope. For the first few seconds, it looked like it might be another even fight to see who would tire first. But the players fighting in team three were just that little bit stronger. Once they got the feet of the opposing team moving, it didn't take long until team eight were approaching the edge. No matter how hard team eight fought back, they had no chance to regain any ground and a few seconds later, they tipped over the edge.

"If the teams were halved, you could make the game last longer." Gi-hun said as the rope was cut clean in two.

"It's something to consider if the clients like it enough." In-ho said.

"We'll find out when they arrive tomorrow, I suppose." Gi-hun said, face turning up in disgust at his own reminder that his part to play in this still had yet to begin.

The last game of the day poked at the few soft spots Gi-hun had left. In the middle of team two stood player 132, the number blazing a hole through the glass. Gi-hun dropped his gaze momentarily, reminding himself that the only one who had carried that number that mattered to him was stood a hair's breadth to his right. Setting his jaw, he lifted his eyes at the sound of the starting gun and prayed for another quick game.

Luck wasn't on Gi-hun's side however, and both teams took the same approach as Sang-woo's team had. Leaning back with their stomachs pushed to the sky, neither side budged a single step. The seconds stretched, and what had originally been a game of strength turned into one of stamina. Gi-hun glanced between the teams looking for the first sign of weakness but found none, the players remained steadier than centuries old boulders rooted in the ground.

Seconds turned into minutes, and after three, the first player's feet began to move. The leader of team two was sweating, his veins were popping at his temples and his clutch on the rope loosened as his fingers went numb. The domino effect was instant; when the leader went, the team behind him followed on one after the other. In another headspace, Gi-hun would have been impressed with how smoothly the players reached the edge.

Without the strength to resist, the players almost allowed themselves to be hauled from the platform. Their attempts to resist were weak and pathetic, and after three and a half minutes, team two fell from the platform. Gi-hun wanted to look away but he couldn't, he stayed staring at the back of player 132's tracksuit as the number was swallowed by darkness.

"The following players—"

The announcement in the viewing room was silenced. Confused as to what had happened, Gi-hun looked towards In-ho to see that he had pressed a small button on the wall behind him.

"We don't need to hear it." In-ho said quietly, knowing how Gi-hun hated that particular announcement but hated it even more if a big deal was made of it.

Gi-hun offered him a small but grateful smile and nodded. It took him a moment watching the survivors make their way down from the platform and out of the room for him to shrug off the surge of complex emotions he felt. A hand on his waist dusted the last of his residual feelings from his mind, and as he reciprocated the touch, he turned to In-ho and said, "all things considered, the game was a success."

"It was." In-ho said. "Let's hope the rest of the day goes as smoothly."

Chapter Text

"What the...?" Gi-hun muttered to himself.

Night had fallen on the island and the lights in the dormitory had switched off an hour ago. The mood in the dormitory appeared surprisingly peaceful, and while the players nominated watchmen to look out for them while they slept, neither Gi-hun or In-ho anticipated more fighting. Since the game ended earlier, the players had been quiet; subdued by the realisation of what they've done. It weighed heavy on their minds and many of them hardly moved from their beds for the rest of the day.

Everybody in there had blood on their hands now. It didn't matter whether it was their first kill or twentieth, they were equals once more. In-ho had always been quietly clever at rebalancing things that way and Gi-hun always thought that he didn't give himself enough credit for it.

Gi-hun had left In-ho making the final plans for the next two games, while he conducted one last sweep of the VIP area in preparation for tomorrow’s arrivals. It was here that he stood, one foot through the door, in one of the private quarters just off the main lounge. The fresh smell of paint burned at his nose hairs as soon as he opened the door, but he felt like his eyes were burning the most. All four walls had been newly covered with explicit imagery. Awash with colour and broad, sweeping brush strokes, the longer he looked the worse it got.

Gi-hun reached for his radio to ask In-ho when this had been commissioned, but as he brought the radio up to his face crackled and distorted words started to come through. Frowning, he realised that the channel must have accidentally changed in his pocket. He went to switch it back but before he turned the dial a few clearer words caught his attention and stayed his hand.

"The doc... escaped... quick..."

His frown deepened and the words jogged a hazy memory in his mind. Whirling around, he left the room and returned to the lounge where he switched on the screen to take a look at the camera feed. In a grainy, flickering image at the top corner, he saw a player coated in blood streak past the camera and disappear, only to reappear on another camera a moment later chased down by a soldier.

"What the fuck?" Gi-hun muttered, watching the increasingly erratic chase play out.

It only took a second for Gi-hun to notice something was also wrong with the feed. In certain areas, the cameras would cut out for a brief moment, then when the image was restored, the people previously captured within it would be gone and the walls would be clean of bloody handprints. Gi-hun's eyebrows that had been knitted together in confusion smoothed out, and a stern expression barely containing his rising anger settled on his face. Taking the stairs two at a time, he strode from the lounge and headed directly for the control room.

This late at night the control room was manned by only half the usual number of staff, so when Gi-hun entered the room, hand on the pistol at his waist, it didn't take him long to find his target. The hunched over posture of a pink figure frantically pushing the buttons in front of him drew Gi-hun to a desk on the left. Pulling out his gun with the safety still purposefully left on, he placed the nozzle of the gun to the back of the man's head.

"Tell me everything and make it quick." Gi-hun said, his tone darker than a winters night.

All eyes had been drawn to Gi-hun and the man sat stiffly in his seat, the usual 'heads forwards at all times' rule had been long forgotten. He wouldn’t have thought twice about reprimanding them on a normal day, but right now, all Gi-hun could focus on was the man in front of him.

Shock gripped the man sat at the desk, and even under pressure from the gun, it took another nudge from Gi-hun's pistol in the back of his head for him to start speaking. The first sounds he made were nothing more than stuttered syllables, but when he found his voice, the man spoke so fast that he tripped over his own words.

"They've been harvesting organs from the eliminated players. The doctor helps in exchange for hints to the next game. That's all they told me, I swear!"

The anger bubbling in Gi-hun's veins made his hand shake and his thumb lingered over the safety switch on the pistol. A flash of movement on the screen in front of the man caught Gi-hun's attention. On it he saw that the escaped doctor had reached the dalgona room and was floundering at reaching a dead end. Gi-hun withdrew the gun, stashed it away and grabbed the radio in his pocket.

Changing the channel back to the one he shared exclusively with In-ho, he spoke with unusual sharpness. "Where are you?"

In-ho responded almost immediately, his voice swimming with concern. "Just leaving the marbles room, why?"

"Take some soldiers with you to the dalgona room. There's a player there helping the staff harvest the organs from the eliminated players." Gi-hun said, turning to leave the control room.

"There's what?" In-ho said, surprise edging its way into his tone.

There wasn't any time to explain to full story even if Gi-hun knew it, so he simply replied with, "I'll explain later, I'll meet you there."

If In-ho said anything more, Gi-hun didn't hear it. His mind was fast connecting the dots and drawing its own conclusions. The conversation he overheard that day in the hallway, the missing player during mealtime, the same player walking in and out of each game with confidence in his step. Another memory appeared in his mind’s eye, one from over a month ago, the whispered conversation between two of the management staff in the alcove of a door that he'd interrupted on their first day back on the island.

He froze in place and turned his head to look back the way he'd come. "That's all they tell me." He recalled. His fingers twitched back to the gun at his waist. Even under threat, he'd still been lied to. He suddenly had half a mind to turn back and lodge a bullet in the man’s brain. Obviously, some here still didn't fear him enough. The other half of him reminded him that In-ho was still expecting him. Luckily for the one still sat at the desk in the control room, that half of him won out. With a frustrated groan, Gi-hun set off again down the corridor.

Gi-hun rounded one last corner to see the backs of pink jumpsuits disappear through the door to the dalgona room ten paces away. The sound of a pistol firing hurried his already quickening steps and upon reaching the door, he saw In-ho stood above an unmasked manager clutching their bleeding wrist.  

"Whether you sell off organs from the dead or devour them, I don't give a damn. However, you've ruined the most crucial element of this place. Equality. Everyone is equal in these games. Players compete in a fair game under the same conditions." In-ho said, bending down to crouch in front of the man on the floor. Gi-hun, all too familiar with this speech, stood by the door silently watching while his anger diffused by the smallest of amounts. "These people suffered from inequality and discrimination out in the world, and we offer them one last chance to fight on equal footing and win. But you have broken that principle."

In-ho got to his feet, aimed his gun at the man's head and shot him in a clean kill. There was a time Gi-hun would have flinched at such a sight, but these days his composure remained as solid as granite. In-ho turned to peer at the player staring right at him as if he'd seen a ghost. Gi-hun anticipated another shot to leave In-ho's pistol but instead he turned to leave and let a soldier take care of him.

Gi-hun saw the exact moment In-ho caught sight of him. His step landed sooner; his stride shortened by the slimmest of margins that was just enough to disrupt his marching rhythm. Gi-hun's eyes tightened at the edges, suddenly unsure of In-ho's mindset.

"Gi—" In-ho began, stopping short when he realised he was about to say Gi-hun's name in front of the staff. Gi-hun's head jerked back a little at In-ho's careless mistake, the crease between his brows deepened further. "Go. Find the rest." He ordered the soldiers gathering behind him.    

The soldiers heeded his order and ran off down the corridor Gi-hun had just come from, leaving them alone by the entrance to the dalgona room.

"Did you know about this?" In-ho asked.

"No." Gi-hun replied. His mind was still trying to piece everything together and so his next words slipped out by complete accident. "Not entirely."

Without further elaboration, In-ho was left connecting his own dots his own way to reach an entirely different conclusion. "What's that supposed to mean?" He snapped.

The dark storm clouds surrounding Gi-hun closed in again at In-ho's accusing tone. "Do you think I'm involved in this?" Gi-hun retorted, unable to stop the fake laughter sneaking passed his lips at the incredulity of the idea. "Does this seem like something I, me, your husband, would do? Are you serious?"

Subjected to the brunt Gi-hun's anger, In-ho shrank back immediately; it was one of the few things left in the world that he was utterly powerless against. The wave of guilt he felt washing over him was nauseating. "You're right, I'm sorry." In-ho said, taking a step back. "I wasn't thinking."

The noise in Gi-hun's head that had been so loud since he first heard those fractured words through the radio, quietened by several decibels at In-ho's apology. He wasn't prepared to let In-ho off the hook so easily, but he did offer a better explanation to keep In-ho's mind from drifting. "I wasn't clear enough. I meant that I've noticed some strange behaviour among the staff. It's a long story, I'll explain properly when we get back."

In-ho pulled at his collar, clearly uncomfortable, but before he could say anything further to win back Gi-hun's favour, the radio in his pocket crackled and a muffled voice came through it. "Captain?"

Both pairs of eyes landed on In-ho's pocket and he reached in the retrieve it. "Go ahead." In-ho said.

"You need to see this. I'll meet you by the kitchens." The voice said.

Glancing back up at each other, not another word needed to be said before they turned and headed off down the corridor side by side. "Tell me now. Make it quick." In-ho said.

The journey to the kitchens was hardly long enough to explain properly but Gi-hun did his best. The isolated incidences that he recounted didn't seem significant on their own, but together they built up a picture that even Gi-hun had been struggling to see until he voiced it. In-ho listened carefully without speaking except for the occasional hum of acknowledgement until a pink figure appeared in the distance, there he stopped just out of earshot and turned to Gi-hun.

"So, you missed your biggest chance to end this because you were too busy wanting me between your thighs?" In-ho said, testing the edges of the dark shroud still covering Gi-hun to see if he was allowed through yet.

Gi-hun choked on the air entering his lungs at In-ho's sudden bluntness. Around a fit of coughs, he replied, "You're an asshole."

Pleased with himself, In-ho grinned behind his mask then turned serious as he contemplated what Gi-hun had told him. "I'll help you, but it's up to you to fix this, okay?"

Gi-hun, still recovering from In-ho's attempt to win him over, sighed and nodded in agreement knowing that there was some truth behind his joke.

"Okay, let's go." In-ho said.

They found themselves being led down a steep, narrow staircase and the air seemed to chill around them as they descended further down. Gi-hun assumed that in days long gone it would have been used as a wine cellar, but the smell already hitting him told him that it was definitely not being used that way anymore. At the bottom a heavy metal door stood ajar, and the smell hit him full force as he stepped through into the small room.

The tang of fresh blood and the souring scent of stale blood, mingled with rotting flesh and the messily dumped innards of bodies, created a stench so strong it had Gi-hun's eyes watering. He blinked away the tears forming in his waterline and looked around in disbelief. The room was both bare but overcrowded at the same time. A plethora of stained surgical instruments littered the small carts along one side of the room; two stacks of coffins, piled three high, lined the other side of the room; and right in the middle was a basic makeshift operating table.    

The most shocking sight to greet them, however, were the three mutilated bodies still seeping blood into the puddles under them. Two had been placed back into their coffins whilst one remained on the operating table with its organs half in and half out. All three had their chest cavities opened and Gi-hun thought that one may be missing its eyes.

Gi-hun's jaw tensed and the brief moment of light In-ho had brought to his mood was shut out again like the dropping of a heavy curtain. Anger and annoyance fizzled under his skin and his fingers curled into fists. A scuffling on the floor drew his attention and his head snapped to the side to see an unmasked soldier laid bleeding from a wound on his side. This entire time he had been pinned by a gun pointing at his chest, but it was Gi-hun's shifting mood that had him trying to squirm away.

"He won’t talk." Said the one holding the gun.

Gi-hun's hand reached up the settle on his pistol. "He will." Fingertips on his elbow made him pause and when he looked over at In-ho, who just shook his head in such a small gesture that only he could see, his empty hand lowered again. "Or he'll be next on the operating table, wide awake, while I take his organs out myself."

Bitter and maniacal laughter came from the floor as the man tried to conceal his fear. "They'll be ruined then. If you're gonna gut me, at least get what I'm worth."

Gi-hun's eyebrow raised and the side of his mouth turned up. He took lazy, slow footsteps over to the man still struggling on the floor and crouched down in front of him. "So, you're selling the organs?" The man's face fell as he realised he'd fallen so easily into Gi-hun's trap. "How? Who else is helping you?"

The soldier turned mute; he said nothing to answer Gi-hun's questions in a vain attempt to remain loyal to his co-conspirators. His eyes burned with contempt and poorly concealed pain as he stared at Gi-hun.

Gi-hun casually looked over the man's wound and the continuous slow dribble of blood spreading over his uniform. "Tell me. You're dying anyway, but I can make your passing quick or I can leave you here to bleed out alone. In my experience, you'll have a few hours. If you're lucky."   

The man's eyes flicked quickly to the wall opposite the door, and Gi-hun followed his line of sight to see a small square opening had been dug out of the wall.

Gi-hun looked back at the paling face in front of him. "Now tell me who recruited you. I want to congratulate them on their poor choice of comrade. Thanks to them I don't have to waste my time. You break so quickly at the smallest threat."

The man's face twisted with anger, and in the next second he spat a mouthful of blood in Gi-hun's direction, leaving droplets of blood splattered over the front of his shoes. Gi-hun wasn't offended by the measly efforts of a dying man, but behind him In-ho had crossed the room and appeared at Gi-hun's shoulder, his pistol already drawn and aimed at the man's head. In-ho hooked a hand under Gi-hun's arm to encourage him to stand and step back. Once he had, In-ho didn't hesitate or waste anymore words, he just shot the man clean between the eyes.

"I still had more to ask." Gi-hun complained, looking down at the bullet hole in the man’s head.

"Find out a different way." In-ho said, irritated. He lowered his pistol and glanced over at the bodies of the players. "Take them away."

The staff leapt into action, and while they took away the first coffin Gi-hun went to take a closer look at the back wall. He picked his way carefully, making sure to avoid the sticky puddles of drying blood on the floor. As he neared the wall, he saw that the hole really was only big enough to pass a coffin through from the shallow tunnel beyond.

Inside, the walls of the tunnel were rough and hastily made but it wasn't new, it looked to have been dug out many years ago. Gi-hun guessed it probably existed before they even arrived as players. He felt the bottom of the tunnel and found it smooth from years of wear. Frowning, he craned his neck up to see that the space above the tunnel was open and extended for quite some distance upwards.

"What's above us right now?" Gi-hun asked.

"The furnaces." In-ho told him. Gi-hun shook his head slowly, quietly contemplating everything that had come to light in the past hour. "What is it?"

"I think I'm lucky to not have ended up down here." Gi-hun said quietly.

He turned away from the tunnel to find In-ho looking at him, his fingers slowly curling at his side. Gi-hun took a step towards him but came to a stop when his foot caught in something on the floor. Looking down, he saw various items of clothing, mostly tracksuit tops and t-shirts but in amongst them was what looked to be the remains of some tracksuit bottoms.

"What did they need to— oh." Gi-hun began, until a thought so detestable crossed his mind that bile rose in his throat. "You don't think...?"

"Don't think." In-ho said, subtle anger creeping into his voice as he reached the same conclusion as Gi-hun.    

The distant sound of a gunshot silenced the two of them and their heads turned upwards. Confusion overtook Gi-hun's anger momentarily. No word had come from the control room about a disturbance in the dormitory, especially not one that would require intervention. The gunshot was wildly out of place but just as Gi-hun was about to speak, a pink soldier came rushing into the room.

"We found another one." He said.

Gi-hun shook the t-shirt caught round his shoe off and crossed the room to where In-ho waited by the door for him before they left to find the next body.

The soldier led them to the cave with the pool of water gently lapping at the stony shoreline. At the water’s edge, the body of an unmasked worker lay bloated by the water. Unlike the last one, this man had already been shot before they arrived, and by the way the wound still looked fresh, it appeared to have happened recently.

A manager took the discarded mask laying on the other side of the cave and scanned it. "It's number 28."

"There's one more." In-ho said suddenly. "The one who killed this one."

"Maybe he already escaped to the sea." The manager said.

In-ho looked over at the diving equipment lined up by the cave wall. "The oxygen tanks are all here. He's still here. Find him."

The staff bowed their heads and left to carry out In-ho's orders.

Gi-hun watched In-ho approach the body and take out a knife from his pocket, the same knife that had been confiscated from the players yesterday. Bending down, In-ho dug the knife into the bullet wound on the man’s head and retrieved the bullet lodged there. He inspected it carefully then Gi-hun saw his whole body slump forwards.

Gi-hun's eyes widened and he crossed the cave in a flash, forgetting that he was still mad at him. "What is it?"

In-ho straightened, turned to face Gi-hun and held the bullet out in front of him. "It's not one of ours. It's a police-issued bullet."

The blood drained from Gi-hun's face. "There's an intruder? How?"

In-ho closed his fingers around the bullet and replied in a voice that shook ever so slightly. "I don't know."

Gi-hun looked over his shoulder at the water leading to the sea beyond, his eyes searching for any clue that might have been missed; but a memory surfaced that stopped him in his tracks, and suddenly it was his turn for his shoulders to drop under the weight of realisation. "Unless someone went to the police station and gave them a lead they didn't know they needed."

"You mean that man over the break?" In-ho asked, and Gi-hun nodded faintly.

Gi-hun instinctively knew where his mind was headed, and he reached out to lay a hand over In-ho's closed fist. "It might not be him." His words didn't have any comforting effect on In-ho and his bowed head gave away how his thoughts were running away with him.

Somewhere high above them, an alarm blared out across the facility and Gi-hun was surprised to hear how far it reached considering how far from the facilities speakers they were.

"Let's go." In-ho said, already turning to head back up to the control room.

Gi-hun sighed as he watched In-ho walk away. "'Let's hope the rest of the day goes smoothly', huh? That's the last time I let you say that." He muttered under his breath.

In-ho reached the control room a few minutes before Gi-hun did, and when he caught up, Gi-hun found In-ho stood scanning the screens, his head moving frantically side to side as he tried to see everywhere all at once. Gi-hun headed straight for him, arriving at his side in half the time it usually took to cross the room, and took his hand in his.

In-ho flinched a little at the touch. "You—"

"I'm still mad at you." Gi-hun interrupted. "But I'm with you."

"I've got blood on my hands." In-ho stressed, worrying about staining Gi-hun's gloves.

The double meaning didn't pass Gi-hun by and instead of letting go, he smiled and gripped tighter. "Found anything?" He asked, ignoring In-ho's concern over his glove.

In-ho didn't get a chance to reply before a manager’s radio crackled to his left and a faint voice said, "Number 29 is gone too."

Gi-hun looked over the screens displaying the hurried search of the staffs’ quarters. In both the areas dedicated to the workers and the soldiers, each staff member had lined up in front of their rooms to be counted and searched. The doors that stood void of an occupant were the ones they had already expected to be empty, except for room 29 in the workers area.

"Find him." The man said, then turned around and cautiously approached In-ho. "He's not on any of the cameras."

Gi-hun studied In-ho carefully, from the way his chin tilted further upwards to take a better look at the screens, to the way his chest rose and fell with his quickening breath, right down to how his hand didn't settle comfortably in his. In-ho was scared; and Gi-hun couldn't help feeling that he was partly responsible, no matter how ridiculous the notion was.

"He has to be in here." In-ho said.

On the other wall, the dormitory was also being subjected to a search. Gi-hun snorted at the idea of an intruder hiding as a player but he knew In-ho wouldn't rest until a thorough search had been completed.

The sudden alarm and bright lights had awoken the players from their sleep, and many had automatically risen from their beds in confusion. In what felt like a repeat of last night, a wall of pink soldiers burst into the dormitory with their weapons raised as they fanned out across the room.  

"All players please line up immediately in the centre."

The announcement did little to move the players, and Gi-hun heard raised voices as the soldiers dragged players from their hiding spots to line them up around the edges of the beds still in disarray. The soldiers took no care in handling the players with respect while they scanned the chips in the players necks. Any that didn't comply quickly enough found a gun shoved in their chests, or multiple pairs of hands restraining their hands and shoving their heads to the side; even the most willing still found their ears pulled harsher than required.

Gi-hun's eyes lowered to rest on a small screen on the desk in front of him, and with each scan, the players profiles popped up one by one. Nothing out of place cropped up in the profiles and as the beeping became tiresome for Gi-hun's ears, he glanced around the room and found himself zoning in on the now empty desk of the manager that he'd threatened earlier.

"Did we check the management staff yet?" Gi-hun asked, even though he was sure of the answer.

"What? Oh. No, not yet." In-ho answered.

Gi-hun thought for a moment then asked, "Where are the bodies?"

"They were sent to the furnaces. Why?" In-ho asked, looking away from the screens when he felt Gi-hun's hand slipping from his.

Gi-hun, already leaving the control room, shouted over his shoulder, "I have an idea."

Marching as fast as his feet could carry him, Gi-hun headed directly for the furnaces. As if the situation with the organ harvesting wasn't complicated enough, the intruder appeared to have been caught up in it too. What had started out as Gi-hun's problem to fix, had quickly become a tangled web of mess that he didn't have the time to unpick thread by thread. If he was to assist In-ho in dealing with the intruder, he had to put an end to the underground operation as quickly as possible by showing those involved exactly what waited for them when they were caught.

"Stop!" Gi-hun yelled, flinging open the doors to the crematorium.

Three managers that had been dealing with the bodies froze as soon as they heard Gi-hun's voice. They flung their arms in the air and stepped back from the bodies without really knowing why.

"Did you burn any?" Gi-hun asked. When the managers shook their heads, Gi-hun relaxed a little. "Good. Don't." He looked around and spied some metal poles sitting off to the side. "Tie them up and hang them over the main staircase. Break their arms if you need to, and their legs if you want."

"But sir—" One of the managers began.

"After what they did, they don't deserve to rest in peace." Gi-hun interrupted, his voice darkening as he remembered the scene. "If you refuse, you'll be the next ones up there. Spread the word."

With that last warning, Gi-hun left and headed back to the control room. 

Chapter Text

Gi-hun pulled up short when he arrived in the control room to find In-ho's usual spot empty. The staff had all resettled into their spots to begin the next game but there was still an unsettled quality about the air. It escaped no one just how shaken their captain had been about the intruder, and as a result, it was made clear just how detrimental this might be to the whole operation if they weren't caught promptly. As it was, it might already be too late.

In the dormitory, Gi-hun saw the players arranged in lines while the staff ransacked the room in search of anyone hiding amongst the wreckage of the beds.

"Have that cleared up while the players are out. Let’s not give anyone anywhere to hide." Gi-hun ordered to no one in particular.

A chorus of 'yes sir' came from all corners of the room but Gi-hun ignored them, instead he stepped up the podium to set up the special announcement that he had in mind to accompany the human chandelier. With quick fingers, he finished his surprise in no time and turned to leave the room, his heels clacking on the floor louder than usual as he stalked off in search of In-ho.

Gi-hun knew where he was likely to have gone, and he was proved right when the elevator opened up into the apartment just as In-ho was hanging up the phone at the end of the hallway. His footsteps made In-ho look up and Gi-hun could see the way he flexed his fingers before letting his hand settle at his side. Neither one said a word until Gi-hun reached the living room and grabbed the remote to turn on the television to display the bodies in the process of being hoisted above the maze of staircases.

"Now this was my idea." Gi-hun said.

In-ho did a double take as his brain caught up to what he was seeing. Five bodies hung over thin air; tied to metal bars by their wrists, their shoulders had been dislocated in the effort it took to arrange them into position. Their disfigured limbs and blood caked faces painted quite the horrifying scene. Gi-hun found it curious that even after he'd given the managers permission to arrange them however they wanted, the other limbs and body parts remained intact. The three he'd left in charge of crafting this human chandelier evidently still held some form of sympathy for their co-workers. 

"You made an example of them." In-ho said, silently impressed at how Gi-hun had come up with such an idea so quickly.

Gi-hun half-heartedly nodded but didn't look at him, his attention was fully fixed on the screen. "I know it's the cheating that bothers you most but the players wavier their rights to their lives, not their bodies. We should still have some integrity."

In-ho lowered his eyes, unable to deny that he hadn't stopped to think about what the staff were doing, let alone condemn them for it. "We should." He said. When Gi-hun didn't give him half a nod in response, he ran a hand across the back of his neck, unable to stand how Gi-hun was still acting cooly towards him now that the immediate need to work as a team had passed for the time being. "For the record I didn't think you were behind it."

"Go on." Gi-hun said, still staring fixatedly at the screen.

"When you stopped responding after you told me about the escaped player, I thought you were avoiding answering me because that you already knew what was happening and had decided not to tell me until things got out of hand." In-ho explained.

Gi-hun sighed and finally spared In-ho a look. "You're not entirely wrong." He said, confessing his earlier thoughts.

"Still, I shouldn't have said it that way. I am sorry. I do know you better than that." In-ho said.

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow and turned so that he was resting a hip on the back of the sofa. "You do?"

"I do. I know that you cross your arms over your chest when things get difficult down there, like you're hiding your heart from seeing the worst in everything. I know that you still reach for my hand out of habit because that's the only comfort we had back then. I know that you secretly like wearing that coat, not because it makes you feel important, but because it hides the bruises I—"

"Alright, alright, you can stop now." Gi-hun complained, suddenly feeling a little flushed. Yet he couldn't stop his heart blooming at the realisation that In-ho saw him so completely, even down to the little details that he hadn't even noticed in himself. He wondered what else In-ho had noticed. Muffled exclaims from through the screen broke the blossoming tenderness and brought Gi-hun right back to the task at hand, whatever In-ho would go on to say would have to wait. "Ah. They've found the newest art installation."

Shuffling through the staircases, the players came upon the grim sight hanging several feet in the air. When everyone had made it through enough to get a good look, the soldiers brought them to a stop. Overhead, the announcement that Gi-hun had organised played over the staircases and through the rest of the facility, including the staffs’ quarters.

"You are witnessing the fates of those who broke the rules of this world for their own benefit and furthermore tainted the pure ideology of this world. Here you are all equal, with equal opportunity and no discrimination. We promise to prevent such misfortunes from happening again. We truly apologize for this tragedy."

"That sounds like something I'd say." In-ho said, throwing Gi-hun a look hidden by his mask.

"I guess you could say I know you too." Gi-hun said, turning to head back towards the elevator. "C'mon, things are about to get interesting."

In-ho raised his eyebrows, drew in a breath and took one last look at the players trudging forwards up the stairs with their heads bowed, then turned to leave after him.

On the way to the control room, Gi-hun learned that the intruder hadn't been found but somehow the boss had caught wind of the disturbance regarding the organ harvesting. He grumbled incoherently to himself at the news that the phone call had been over concerns that the games would be disrupted when the clients arrived later that evening. Gi-hun didn't expect anyone to care about the nature of the incident, but he did expect a little more concern about a potential breach of secrecy surrounding the games.

"We're their scapegoats remember." In-ho pointed out as they reached the control room. "Of course they don't care, because it'll be us that takes the fall. All they care about is losing a source of entertainment."

Gi-hun felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach. The uncertainty over their future was something Gi-hun kept locked in the back of his mind, but sometimes something would crop up that would bring it creeping forwards. Before it took hold and he panicked, he pushed it back to where it belonged and stepped through the door into the control room. In here, at least, he had some sort of control and whatever control he didn't have was placed in In-ho's capable hands.

The control room was lit up under the glare from the screens. The players had reached another bright white room and were currently congregating on the floor in groups of nine or ten. It was only at this point that Gi-hun realised that the game was no longer balanced. After last night, they had been left with an odd number of players, leaving this game with a surplus of one.   

"Someone is going to get a free pass." Gi-hun said.

"Not necessarily." In-ho said. "I don't see anyone teaming up with the old man, it'll be the best chance we have of removing him inconspicuously from the game."

In the rush of events and a sleepless night, it had escaped Gi-hun's mind that the client was to be removed from the games that day. He only vaguely remembered the staff milling around the lounge yesterday preparing for his return. Gi-hun nodded and said no more as the announcement played into the holding room.

"Players, welcome to the fourth game. For this game, you will be playing in teams of two. Please look around and find someone you wish to play with. When two people agree to play together, shake hands to show you have become partners. You will have ten minutes to find your partner."

The players looked around at each other, their eyes automatically seeking those that they wished to partner with. It was only natural that they would team up with someone they trusted, someone that would serve them well in any eventuality. Almost as confirmation of Gi-hun's thoughts, handshakes between a handful of players with firm friendships occurred within the first minute of their selection time.

Other groups took longer to divide up their players, including Sang-woo's. His team from yesterday was still filled with women and an old man, and nobody wished to be the first bad person that rejected someone because of their physical capabilities, so they sat in silence on the stairs looking down at their feet. The first to break the stalemate was player 212 who stood preaching to every man who would spare her a glance. After getting nowhere, she turned her back on the group and left with a look of annoyance written on her face.

With her departure, the rest began dividing up and Gi-hun, who suddenly felt conscious of where he put his arms, held his breath when Sang-woo extended a hand to Ali. Sang-woo spoke a few words and a moment later Ali gripped his hand tight to confirm their partnership. Gi-hun knew this was coming, it wasn't a surprise, but the next hour would strip them back to their truest nature and he did wonder what that would look like for both of them.

Across the room several other pacts were made in succession. Sae-byeok accepted the hand of the girl she had recruited yesterday; player 101 shook hands with one of his closest teammates; and even player 212 shoved her hand in the hand of a man who looked positively afraid of her. Gi-hun even caught sight of the husband and wife clutching hands at the edge of the room where he usually could find them. It was their union that made his breath catch the tiniest amount.

Gi-hun looked over at In-ho and he thanked whatever divine intervention had made In-ho insist they separate at this point in their games. He'd had many nightmares about this game and how In-ho would purposely lose to him, so he had no choice but to watch as he was taken from him. He'd wake with a start and turn to nestle between In-ho's arms with his head on his chest to comfort himself by listening to In-ho's heart pumping strongly in his chest.

"Captain?" In-ho asked when he noticed Gi-hun had been looking his way for a while.

Gi-hun blinked and looked away. "I'm fine." He managed.

In-ho didn't challenge him, he only brought his hand across to touch the back of Gi-hun's and extended his fingers to loosely thread them between Gi-hun's, not quite holding them but there was just enough contact to ground him.

"The time for finding a partner is now over."

Just as In-ho had said, when everyone sat in their pairs, the only odd one out was the old man sitting with his knees tucked up to his chest in a small alcove. Nervous glances flicked his way, but nobody lingered. Without saying it, everyone assumed that this was the end of the road for the old man. Even his old teammates cast their eyes to the floor to avoid any of the rising guilt that they might have. Gi-hun snorted softly, torn over how he should feel about the obvious abandonment of the old man who only appeared weak and fragile to them.

"Is he joining the others tonight?" Gi-hun asked.

"Unlikely." In-ho said. "He'll probably need to recuperate first."

Gi-hun would be lying if he said he wasn't relieved at the idea. He still remembered his conversation with In-ho as they looked over the cliffs. Initially he thought he might grow less interested in the man’s motives for joining the games, but that hadn't been the case. However, with everything going on, he hadn't had the time to organise his thoughts. Besides, one less person to pander to could only be a bonus.

A door at the far side of the white room opened and a flood of orange light spilled out over the floor. The players knew well enough what it meant by now and even without the announcement they made their way towards the door leaving the old man behind. When the doors closed behind the last player, Gi-hun kept an eye on the old man as he sprang up from where he was sat, dusted himself off and led the way out the room via a small door on the opposite wall flanked by a soldier on either side.

"I suppose it's a good thing he didn't die." Gi-hun said. "It's not like we need the hassle."

In-ho didn't respond but Gi-hun heard his quiet grumble of agreement.

A group of soldiers awaited the players as they gathered in the game hall, but few paid attention to them, instead they had their heads raised taking in the sight unfolding in front of them. Gi-hun didn't blame them, the cruelty of the game aside, the set that the game took place in was arguably one of the most eye catching in his opinion.

In this small room, an old neighbourhood had been constructed down to the most intricate details. From the fronts of houses, the walled yards, to the drooping overhead cables, all lit up under street lamps with ambient lighting to replicate the setting sun; it was as if the players had been transported back to the outside world, back to their childhood homes.

The soldiers beckoned the players forwards in their pairs, and without a word, they were led off to their own spots to begin the game. There was a calmness over the game hall, no one imagined the twist that was about to be revealed and as a consequence most pairs had their heads together, plotting the demise of the others. Gi-hun could see the quiet confidence in the way they walked and their subtle smiles as they thought they had it all worked out. He waited with bated breath as the announcement that would turn everything upside down was read out over the speakers.

"Players, please take one bag each from the staff member before you. There should be a set of ten marbles in each bag. Please check to confirm the number."

Little drawstring bags were handed over, and the players upturned the contents of their bag into their palms to count out the number of marbles. Smug smirks appeared on faces as the players formulated their own ideas as to what the game would entail.

"In this game, using your set of ten marbles, you will play the game of your choice with your partner. The player who manages to take all ten marbles from their partner wins."

With only a few words the entire mood in the game hall had switched on its head. Smiles dropped off faces faster than they appeared when the meaning behind the announcement sunk in. Blank and unseeing gazes stared down at the marbles in their hands before they looked back at their partner with shock, fear and confusion in every line on their face. Although, as Gi-hun suspected, there were some that turned to their partner with a line in the sand already drawn. A friend became an enemy at the flip of a coin and without any hesitation.

Marbles was one of the crueller games that they had at their disposal, but if Gi-hun wanted the players to wake up to the realities of what they were doing, then he had no choice but to force them to confront their own morals in the harshest possible way. In all the other years, this game had only reinforced the idea in him that people were only one opportunity away from unleashing the worst of their nature. Alone, he would have abandoned all hope in trying to find some good in people through this game, but his love for In-ho and the goodness he found in him subconsciously gave him a reason to keep trying.

"You will have thirty minutes for this game. Your time starts now."

The screens on the wall captured every angle in the room and as Gi-hun ran his eyes over them, he could see some players launch straight into their games while others stood and looked at their partners with pure helplessness in their eyes. He saw holes dug into the soft flooring, targets lined up against walls and hunched shoulders of players sat deciding what to do. There was either a hive of activity or nothing at all.

Gi-hun found Sang-woo and Ali in a garden stood face to face. With a quiet press of a button, the camera angle switched to allow him a closer look. Ali had his head down not wanting to look at the man in front of him, and Gi-hun thought that even Sang-woo looked at Ali with sadness hidden behind the tense, determined line of his jaw. It took several words from Sang-woo for Ali to lift his head and look at him. When he did, he already resembled that of a broken man with his stooped posture, downturned mouth, and unshed tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Gi-hun, unable to keep watching Ali's emotional turmoil for fear that the wave of pity might return, looked across the screens and found himself drawn to another pair having trouble. Sae-byeok and player 240 had settled into silence with one slumped against the wall and the other sprawled over stone steps. Neither one looked at the other and from this angle, Gi-hun thought that Sae-byeok might have her eyes closed. A decision seemed to have crossed player 240's face and she sat forwards to try to engage Sae-byeok in conversation, but her efforts fell flat, and the other woman appeared to snap at her in response.

"'Odd or Even' seems to be the game for this year." In-ho commented.

Looking around the rest of the players, it certainly seemed to be the case. Player 101 and his partner were crouched with their fists held out in front of them; player 69 and his wife were also holding palms of marbles out towards one another; even Sang-woo and Ali had settled down to play a game. A few pairings did choose a different path, most notably player 212 who was explaining a game with the use of large hand gestures to her partner who had nothing but confusion on his face.  

The back and forth nature of the games that they chose to play made it difficult for Gi-hun to guess who might come out on top. Not that it mattered at this point, everything would change the moment the losing side felt their approaching death creep closer. But with over half the time left, no one had reached the point of desperation where they tried to switch up their games in an effort to change their luck. Although, Gi-hun felt that it might be coming sooner rather than later.

Looking back at Sang-woo, sweat had formed a light sheen on his brow and the way he shuffled where he was sat gave away the panic rising within. Ali's hand was almost overflowing with marbles, catching Gi-hun by surprise. Odds and Evens required strategy as well as luck, and he found it hard to believe that Sang-woo had forgotten all the tactics he knew.

"Is he losing on purpose?" In-ho asked.

"He looks too uncomfortable for that." Gi-hun said.

Right on cue, Sang-woo grabbed at Ali's collar and pulled him to his feet, yelling in his face. In-ho knew Gi-hun would be curious to know the full picture of what was happening, so he pressed a few buttons on his control panel to unmute the camera attached to the soldier’s chest.

"You jerk! You pretended to not know how this works! You said you haven't done this before! How did you do it, huh? Spill it!" Sang-woo yelled with his hands tightly fisted into Ali's tracksuit.

Gi-hun understood the flare of temper but it still surprised him to see an outburst like this from him. He'd never been one for violence in the past, but when pushed by Gi-hun's little test, it was almost an inevitability and Gi-hun really didn't have the right to be surprised.

The backs of Ali's knees dug into the brick wall framing the garden they were playing in, and with nowhere else to go, Ali was caged by Sang-woo bearing down at him as his anger rose unchecked. It was only the clicking of a gun loading that made him stop. Violence had been banned in this game and the pistol trained on Sang-woo's temple served as a reminder of the rules. The sparks of anger in Sang-woo's eyes fizzled out and he loosened his grip on Ali.

Shame seemed to weigh on him and he turned his face downwards, unable to bring himself to look Ali in the eye. Ali's eyes welled with tears as he looked away from Sang-woo who stood hunched over still gripping his clothes, chest heaving with sobs that broke through and overwhelmed him. Neither one moved or spoke, only a single tear ran down Ali's cheek as he waited for the man clinging to him to compose himself. Watching them struggle with their fate, Gi-hun's throat felt unnaturally tight to the point where he had to look away again.

Across the room, the various games were reaching their critical points and some pairs looked like they were close to deciding a winner. The loosing half grew more obvious with each passing minute; their drawstring bags looked lighter, and their faces paled while their partners grins grew wider. Faced with loosing, some players grew resigned while others lashed out and demanded a change of game in the hopes of changing their luck just as Gi-hun predicted.

In-ho had allowed the soldiers to grant the players permission to change their games as long as it remained inside the rules, few as there might be. With only one marble left, player 101 was among those asking for a change, and although his partner disagreed, the soldier’s word was final. Gi-hun saw a large smirk adorn the face of player 101 as he dug a hole into the sand with renewed enthusiasm. His partner grew even more disgruntled when player 101 decided that they should restart their game with an equal distribution of marbles, but eventually, he conceded.

"They'll run out of time if they keep restarting." Gi-hun said.

"He's the type to allow them both to be killed rather than admit defeat, but at least they started." In-ho said, indicating to where Sae-byeok and her partner were sat.

On makeshift stone steps, Sae-byeok and player 240 sat with their marbles still securely tucked away in their bags while what looked to be an almost one-sided conversation took place. Gi-hun couldn't immediately figure out what their game plan was but since a refusal to play was grounds for elimination, he guessed that that couldn't be it.

The emotions on the faces of the two women couldn't be more different. Sae-byeok looked pained, quietly heartbroken at the idea that her newly found companionship would be shattered. Player 240 looked at Sae-byeok with sadness in her eyes but otherwise appeared at peace with what awaited them. It was this look at made Gi-hun curious. He couldn't be sure of her thoughts, but her expression felt vaguely familiar.

The other players became more and more insignificant to Gi-hun as he watched the two women slowly open up to one another. It took a full minute more for Sae-byeok to look over her shoulder at something the woman behind her had said, and Gi-hun's curiosity spiked further. Leaning over, he unmuted the camera focused on them.

"Mojito?"

"Like the movie. Lee Byung-hun's in it."

Gi-hun snorted softly and he felt In-ho sigh beside him. He'd once teased In-ho and told him he looked similar to the movie star, but In-ho had only grumbled and said that he didn't see it.

The way they were using this time to talk so trivially turned on a light in Gi-hun's mind. "I think I know what’s happening." Gi-hun whispered to himself, but In-ho caught it.

"What?" In-ho asked.

Gi-hun didn't reply straight away, but his fingers curled in an attempt to hold In-ho's hand tighter despite the awkward placement. "Something I might have done." He said vaguely.

In-ho didn't press and Gi-hun settled on watching the women bond despite the circumstances until he felt a gentle nudge against his ribs. Half expecting an imminent elimination, his eyes flitted between the screens to find the tell-tale signs of dawning comprehension on a players face but when his eyes found that little garden where Sang-woo had been stood, he froze.

With his head bowed, shoulders shuddering and the streaks of tears on his face glistening under the lights, Sang-woo had knelt in the sand in front of Ali. Fat tears slid down Ali's face as Sang-woo muttered his apologies from the floor, and even more fell as he shook his head and refused to accept Sang-woo's excuses. Desperation struck the heart of Sang-woo and he shuffled forwards and encased Ali's hands in his. Bringing his wide, tear-filled eyes up to meet Ali's, he begged and pleaded with him to remember the times they'd spent fighting side by side.

The glowing timer on the wall entered it's last ten minutes and Gi-hun saw Sang-woo eyeing it up before his tears stopped flowing in the blink of an eye. Running a hand across his face, he changed his approach. Sang-woo let go of Ali's hands and flopped backwards to sit on the ground. With his eyes downcast, he offered Ali a lifeline.

"There's a way we can both win this." Sang-woo said gently.

Gi-hun's eyebrows drew together and his eyes narrowed to pinpricks.

Ali slumped to the floor in front of Sang-woo, his legs unable to keep him upright under the weight of his emotions. "How?"

"I think there are gonna be teams out there who can't decide the winner either." Sang-woo continued then launched into an explanation that made sense on the surface, but Gi-hun could see the uncertainty in the way Ali looked at him. "Then we'll play as a team, just like we planned from the start."

"That's not how—" Gi-hun started but his words were lost to the sound of a firing gun.

"Player 414, eliminated."

Conveniently for Sang-woo, the first casualty claimed by the game was a man on the other side of the wall from him and Ali. Fresh tears sprang to his eyes and his face contorted in pain at the thought that he could be the next one sliding down a wall, smearing blood on its bricks.

"Is that what you want? Do you want them to do that to me?" Sang-woo choked out through his tears.

While not directed at him, Sang-woo's words bordered on emotional manipulation and it left a sour taste in Gi-hun's mouth. His fingers felt slightly fuzzy as blood rushed to his head and throbbed at his temples.

"You really think there’s a way for us to still win this?" Ali said. His voice was small and fragile, but he was willing to put his trust in Sang-woo once more.

"Mn." Sang-woo nodded, his hand resting on Ali's knee. "Hear me out and see what you think."

Gunshots from around the hall and the chiming of players photos going out under Gi-hun's feet made it difficult to hear the full extent of Sang-woo's plan. He almost didn't want to hear regardless, he knew Sang-woo was stalling for time, but he didn't know what his true plan was.

So caught up in what Sang-woo was doing, Gi-hun didn't notice In-ho slip his fingers from between his until he grabbed a proper hold of his hand again. In-ho could sense that Sang-woo's actions had stirred up something in Gi-hun, and if it was going to cast an even darker shadow across his perception of humanity, then In-ho wouldn't let him fumble around in the dark alone.

Gi-hun relaxed his hand in In-ho's hold but as he did, he felt In-ho tense instead. In a turn of events they didn't see coming, Ali had willingly handed over the bag of marbles to Sang-woo. But instead of handing the bag to the guard, he placed it on the floor and covered it with his tracksuit top. He didn't stop there either. Sang-woo whipped off his t-shirt and tore it into strips for reasons only to known to him at this point.

"Is that a requirement?" In-ho grumbled.

Despite his frustrations, Gi-hun still managed an amused quirk of his mouth at In-ho's comment. If there was anyone In-ho should be worrying about at this moment, it should be Ali, who was staring wide eyed at Sang-woo with tears still in his eyes. All of their questions were answered quickly when Sang-woo fashioned a rope from his shirt, tied the bag of marbles to it, and hung it around Ali's neck.    

"I guess it was." Gi-hun answered.

With the marbles secured, Ali left Sang-woo behind in the garden watching his disappearing back with a complicated expression.

"Player 70, eliminated."

Gi-hun hadn't been paying close attention to the rest of the games but when he heard this number, it made him startle. Two streets over, a man knelt over the body of a dead woman bleeding from the bullet wound in her head. His whole body shook from grief and the force of his tears flooding down his face; his fingers buried themselves into the soft sand and his knuckles turned white from the strength of his grip.

Just in front of him, the wife's picture darkened and disappeared while her husband’s still shone brightly next to the now empty space. Gi-hun closed his eyes briefly, unable to understand how a husband had allowed his wife to die before him. He glanced over at In-ho who looked back at him, and he wondered if his expression under the mask matched his own or had his mind gone back to the day he'd been knelt in the sand.

A disturbance pulled him from his wandering thoughts and when he looked up, he saw a player trying to make an escape. The man scattered and jumped through several pairs in his blind panic to find an exit. He must have known his search was fruitless, but he ran anyway. In-ho quickly gave the command for another soldier to step in and take him out, so when he rounded the next corner, he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. In one quick pull of a trigger, the man dropped heavily. His life ended before he even hit the ground.

"Player 278, eliminated."

"Player 101, pass."

"Of course." Gi-hun drawled.

The next announcement came almost instantaneously and Gi-hun almost laughed at how apt it felt.

"Player 212, pass."

"She continues to haunt him." In-ho said.

Nodding, Gi-hun ran his eyes over the players left still playing, wondering which would be the next to finish when he saw Sae-byeok and her partner finally stand. Pushing thoughts of everyone else away for the moment, he watched closely to see what they would do with only three minutes left on the clock.

Leaving the safety of their steps behind, they found themselves a deserted alley with a solid wall at one end. The soldier had positioned himself behind the women so Gi-hun couldn't see their faces but Sae-byeok had traces of nervousness in the way her hands were balled tightly into fists. However, player 240 displayed a sense of calm, her fingers trembled slightly but her shoulders were down and relaxed.

"Whoever throws one over there and makes the shot closest to the wall, wins." Player 240 said.

Sae-byeok nodded and kept her eyes facing forwards. "It's Sae-byeok. My name. Kang Sae-byeok." She said out of the blue.

The other woman smiled, warm and genuine. "Sae-byeok." She said, testing how it felt to say her name. "Pretty."

Sae-byeok looked over, not expecting the compliment and not showing any outwards reaction to it. "Any you?"

"Ji-yeong."

"Your family name?"

Ji-yeong looked away from Sae-byeok with vague sadness in her eyes. "I don't have one. That's it."

"Who should go first then?" Sae-byeok asked, not pressing further.

"It should be you, since your number is lower." Ji-yeong said, stepping backwards to give Sae-byeok physical space but no room to argue.

Sae-byeok moved into position and threw her marble at the wall where it rolled to a stop just short of hitting the bricks. Sighing, she stepped aside for Ji-yeong to take her place. Ji-yeong smiled at her and crouched down to get ready to throw but just as she was about to throw, she hesitated. Gi-hun watched as she rose up again and held the marble by her side where she just let it drop from her fingers to land at her feet.

The implications of her actions struck a chord in Gi-hun that had been untouched for years.

"That's what you would do?" In-ho asked softly.

It was all in his head, but Gi-hun felt the ache of his scar on his stomach. "I already did."

But today wasn't about him and when he re-focused, he saw Sae-byeok in a fit of fear-laced anger pinning Ji-yeong to the wall.

"What you said... making sure that I won. Is this what you meant?" Sae-byeok asked as she gripped her hands into Ji-yeong's clothes, her voice hoarse with the tears forming in a lump in her throat. "You think I’ll be thankful you did this, huh? Take another throw."

"And I still wouldn't be able to win." Ji-yeong said with the faintest hint of a smile on her face, one of relief. "Just let me go out in style."

"Ji-yeong, that's bullshit!" Sae-byeok yelled, her eyes filling with tears and spilling down her cheeks. "Take another throw!"

Ji-yeong studied her face, appreciating that for the first time in a long time, someone care about her. "I have nothing. You have something, someone to live for. I don't. There should be a reason to go back out there and no matter how hard I think, I don't have one. Just... don't die in here, yeah? Go meet your mother and go get your brother."

Gi-hun's throat burned. Ji-yeong's words crashed into him like a tidal wave that he wasn't prepared for. Fragments of his and In-ho's final game came back to him in a hazy mess of memories but by the way her words felt like they were cutting slices over his heart, he knew that what he'd said back then was hauntingly similar to Ji-yeong's speech.

Tears fell down the women's faces, and even Gi-hun felt a sting in the corner of his eye as he watched two women compete in a battle of wills that would last decades if it wasn't for the timer counting down the final minute. He dropped his gaze to the floor, but he didn't get a moment to gather himself before a cry from a familiar voice forced him to look back up.

"Hyung, where are you?" Ali cried alone in an empty garden; Sang-woo was long gone and nowhere to be seen.

Hyung? Gi-hun thought. When did that happen?

His eyes darted across the screens as he tried to locate Sang-woo, only to find him leaving the room escorted by a soldier. His footsteps faltered at Ali's distressed call, but he didn't look back, he only pressed forwards. Ali wandered from the garden with his repeated shouts of 'hyung', desperately searching for Sang-woo until a soldier blocked his way, a hand upon the pistol at his waist.

There was a heavy, foreboding weight on Gi-hun's chest as he watched Ali clutch at the bag around his neck. Slowly he poured the contents into his hand to find that the marbles had been replaced by stones. Fresh tears streamed down Ali's face as he realised he'd been betrayed by the person he trusted most.

He turned around to see Sang-woo's back in the distance and around the lump in his throat, he choked out a final, "Hyung."

Gi-hun's eyes also bore into Sang-woo's back as a gunshot fired and ended Ali's life. Sang-woo flinched at the noise but he still didn't turn. Bitterness flooded Gi-hun's mouth. There was no room in Gi-hun's mind yet for him to get past the initial thought that Sang-woo had tricked Ali in the worst way, taken the cowards way out and refused to stare into the reality of what he'd done, disrupting Gi-hun's whole ideology around the game. The pit of his stomach burned, the acid roiled and left a sour taste behind in the back of his throat.

"Player 218, pass."

"Player 199, eliminated."

In-ho didn't make any moves to seek out what Gi-hun was thinking. It was hardly the time. Instead, he kept his hand firmly around Gi-hun's, hoping the contact and his presence was enough for him to lean on for the time being.

The games inherent nature meant that there was no time to rest; the death just kept coming. Across the room, a soldier had had to peel Sae-byeok from Ji-yeong and push her unwillingly towards the exit. The difference in the two situations couldn’t be clearer to Gi-hun and he felt like his head would explode with the conflicting emotions fighting for dominance within him.

Tears streamed down both their faces and Sae-byeok could barely walk in a straight line under the weight of her heartbreak. Her steps were heavy as she trudged forwards like every step forward required the most intense effort. Behind her Ji-yeong watched her leaving with a smile on her face under the salty stream of tears. She didn't even flinch when the soldier unsheathed his pistol from the holder to aim at her, she just swallowed down her tears and called out to Sae-byeok.

"Hey! Thank you for playing with me."

The gun fired and Ji-yeong fell to the ground with a thud. Sae-byeok jumped at the noise, and as she tried keep moving, a fresh wave of tears streamed from her eyes and she hunched over, unable to see clearly where she was going.   

"Player 67, pass."

"Player 240, eliminated."

Gi-hun closed his eyes just as the timer reached zero, and a round of shots echoed around the game hall as the losing players in each pair were eliminated. The quiet chimes of players photos disappearing from the floor rang in his ears while he tried to digest everything that had transpired.

He didn't open them again until someone appeared at his side with a message. "Sir, the VIPs are on their way."

Gi-hun sighed, waved away the messenger then turned to In-ho and said, "I need a drink."

Chapter Text

Gi-hun's thoughts were a mess. He dug through the alcohol cabinet for the strongest whiskey they had and a glass. He briefly considered drinking from the bottle, but he knew In-ho would have a heart attack. Not bothering to measure properly, Gi-hun just poured until the glass felt weighty in his hand then downed the entire thing. In their time here he'd seen betrayal and he'd seen sacrifice, but never like this, and never at the same time. He'd found the goodness in humanity that he'd been searching for, but it had been dyed with the blood of deceit. It was a cruel give and take and he didn't know where to place himself.

The phone on the side began to ring and Gi-hun heard In-ho cross the room behind him to answer it. The person on the other end spoke for a while then he heard In-ho respond in his perfect English. "I'm glad to hear you enjoyed the game."

Gi-hun rolled his eyes then stared down at the glass in his hand. Fuck. He thought. He'd forgotten that most of the clients hadn't bothered to learn Korean and that he'd have to speak English later. Over the years he'd gained a pretty good grasp of the language, but with alcohol in the mix, his words might get lost somewhere along the way. Right now he was glad that the clients were allergic to intellectual conversation and that their overly cruel comments didn't usually take much time to translate in his mind.

His fingers itched for a cigarette, and he wondered if he'd have the time for one before the helicopter carrying the clients landed. Feeling around in his coat, he searched for the packet that he usually had on him but found the pockets empty. He poured himself a second glass then headed to the office where he knew there would be a spare. In-ho was still on the phone, so he passed by quietly, stopping to pick up his mask from the side table as he did.

Down the hallway he reached the office door and noticed that it was slightly ajar, he frowned but assumed that In-ho must have forgotten to close it this morning. It wasn't until he opened the door and stepped through that he noticed a file had been left in disarray on his desk. This particular file was the one that he'd been keeping on this year’s games, so it wasn't strange to find it there but usually he had it stacked neatly on the edge of the desk.

Alarm bells started to ring in his head, and he called out to In-ho who had just hung up the phone. "Did you come in here?"

"No. Why?" In-ho asked.

"The intruder." Gi-hun replied.

His long strides carried him to the desk in no time and he blanched at seeing the page laid crumpled on the top. Gi-hun picked up the page and looked over the notes that he'd been making on yesterdays tug-of-war. They weren't complete yet but there was enough on the page for an outsider to know that whoever made it was cold and calculating, freely able to comment on the deaths of forty people without a shred of hesitation.

In-ho reached Gi-hun and looked over the paper in his hands, each breath of his sounded heavier than the last and his sense of unease bled through the words he said next. "Did you put the phone back the other way around?"

His answer was made clear when Gi-hun placed his mask back on his face before he spoke again. "No." He said flatly.

In-ho retrieved his pistol from his waist, checked the bullets in the magazine then made for the door. He had only made it two steps into the hallway before Gi-hun heard In-ho's radio beeping, stopping him in his tracks.

In-ho pulled the radio not-so-gently from his pocket and answered it with impatience. "What is it?"

"Captain, we've found a body on the northern coast of the island."

In-ho slowly turned back to face Gi-hun who saw his fingers tighten around the radio at the news. His own fingers loosened on the page still in his hand, and it slipped free from his grasp to soundlessly float back towards the desk.

"I'm on my way." In-ho said, then pocketed the radio back in his coat. "Stay here."

"In—" Gi-hun started, the pitch of his voice raised in his confusion and worry.

"If the players want to leave tonight, I’ll need you to handle it until I get back. We still have a job to do." In-ho said. Gi-hun—visibly preparing to insist—deflated, understanding that what In-ho said was right and nodded. "I'll be back before the clients arrive. I promise." With that, In-ho headed for the elevator and left Gi-hun behind.

Gi-hun turned his attention back to the desk and the papers laid scattered there. He hastily straightened them back up, noticing that thankfully nothing was missing, then retrieved the packet of cigarettes from the desk draw that he'd originally come for. He considered having one now but with the intruder still potentially lurking in the shadows, he decided against it for now and stuffed them into his coat pocket. His fingers caught on his pistol and for a second, he hesitated, then retrieved the weapon and held it at his side as he went back to the living room.

The dormitory was quiet when he switched on the television; the players were eating and quietly stewing in their own beds. He saw the dormitory had been cleaned up and he silently thanked the universe that something had gone his way today, even if it was something as small as a command being obeyed. Having found himself suddenly surrounded by calmness, Gi-hun started pacing the room, his mind too active for his body not to give it some sort of outlet.

He inspected every corner in the living room but nothing else looked amiss, so he swept quickly through the rest of the rooms but came up empty handed. Gi-hun guessed that the intruder must have been carefully covering his tracks until he came across that piece of paper, it must have unsettled him enough to become sloppy and leave the phone the wrong way around as a sign of his presence. He still wasn't sure how the intruder had managed to get in or out, but he assured himself that there was no one here now.

Returning to the living room, the escape hatch in the corner of the room suddenly caught his eye. Gi-hun recalled the rogue gunshot from earlier and a thought struck him harder than a sledgehammer. He crossed the room and opened the false cabinet door to see that it was just as he suspected, the lock on the hatch had been destroyed. Cursing under his breath, he shut the door again and started to pace once more. His feet took him on several laps of the room until a voice spoke up from inside the dormitory.  

"Let's end this. I can't do it anymore."

Gi-hun recognised the man straight away as the husband that had let his wife die. He stopped in his tracks behind the sofa and propped his hands the back of it, he closed his fingers tighter around the pistol still sitting comfortably in his grasp.

"We can stop if the majority just agrees. If just nine of us agree, we can get out of here. Doesn't anyone wish to leave? If you wish to leave with me, please stand up."

None of the other players moved. They each stayed in their own beds watching the man while trying their best to avoid eye contact. Gi-hun expected that at least one other player would be on the man’s side, but he saw that his pleas were falling on deaf ears—leaving was far from anyone’s mind.

Stood in the middle of the dormitory, player 69 screamed in frustration and grief. "How can you call yourselves human? You really want to continue with this insanity? Because of that money?! You just killed the person you were closest to in this place because of that money."

"And if you leave? You think your wife will come back to life?" Sang-woo asked, his voice cut cleanly through the man's wailing. "You think you'll be forgiven for killing her? If this is so painful, why did you come back alive?" He approached the man with purpose and gripped him by his tracksuit in the hope of shaking some sense into him. "You should have died instead of her."

Seeing Sang-woo stand up to player 69 wasn't something that surprised Gi-hun, he'd been the most outspoken of all of them since the start. The words he said weren't something Gi-hun could refute—In-ho had told him enough times, albeit a lot more gently—but with the betrayal of Ali still not sitting well in his mind, he wasn't ready to hear him be the voice of reason. He dropped his gaze from the screen and stared down at the floor.

Sang-woo continued in a manner somewhat gentler than before. "That's not just the cost of your wife. It's the cost of everyone who died here. You want to just leave that behind? You want to leave and start from rock bottom? Only to live our shitty lives with all this shitty guilt in our hearts?" Gi-hun heard the heavy thud of the man falling to the floor. "Are you all ready to live like that? If you can, then go ahead and stand up! Get up and leave this place!"

Gi-hun reached across and pressed the mute button on the remote. He'd heard enough. Any more and he might find himself agreeing, laying waste to all his efforts over the past five years to push back against a system that tried to keep them caged. The cigarettes pressed against his side like a temptation, one that he couldn't say no to anymore. He slung off his mask, replaced his pistol and brought the packet out from inside his coat. Walking into the kitchen, he lit up and leant back against the counter; his mind quietening with the rush of nicotine.

His perception of humanity had been burned at the edges years ago and it had been fraying ever since. Thread by thread it had been pulled apart, growing smaller with each passing year. Ji-yeong's sacrifice had added extra stitches to the fabric of his beliefs but it was like filling a leaking container with a drip of water, it would never be enough to repair the damage the games had caused. What was left was fragile, precious and reserved for In-ho and the extended family he'd found through him.

Maybe it was the mingling of alcohol and cigarettes in his system but when he looked over at the dormitory, he felt apathy rise and spread through his veins. It smothered every emotion—both the good and bad—with ease. "Fine." He said, exhaling the last stream of smoke from his lungs and stubbing out the cigarette in the small ashtray on the counter. "Stay."

Several minutes later, Gi-hun found himself back in front of the alcohol cabinet but just as his hand reached for the bottle, the elevator doors opened and in walked In-ho. He spun round, anxious to hear whose body had been found and he prayed it hadn't been Jun-ho's. In-ho had yet to speak but Gi-hun saw how he still held himself with poise, and he held onto hope that the body was someone else’s. In-ho still didn't speak as he approached but Gi-hun did notice something small and black in In-ho's hand that he held out to him.

Gi-hun took it from In-ho and noticed immediately that on the front was the South Korean police emblem. Gingerly, he opened the ID and almost dropped it. Inside there was a face and a name that he knew all too well. Hwang Jun-ho. "Is he..." Gi-hun said, not wanting to say the word 'dead'.

"He's alive." In-ho said tightly. Gi-hun breathed a sigh of relief so strong that his legs nearly went from under him. "The body wasn't his, but the ID was in the pocket." His voice wavered and cracked with worry. "We need to find him."

Gi-hun wished to do nothing more than take off In-ho's mask and smooth away the lines of worry that he knew had to be on his face, but he stopped himself. "We will. He's not in here anymore but I know how he got in."

"How?" In-ho asked. Gi-hun explained how he'd searched the apartment and how he had discovered the broken lock on the escape hatch. In-ho went over to investigate himself but found nothing more to add. "So, he was probably in here this morning."

Gi-hun nodded, grateful that their masks had stayed on for their conversation. To add to their growing number of problems, the phone on the side pierced the air with its ringing. Gi-hun stomach churned, he already knew what the message would be. In-ho rose from where he was still crouched and answered the phone. He didn't say anything before he hung up again and turned to Gi-hun.

"The clients have arrived." In-ho said.

Gi-hun inwardly groaned and located his mask, but he hesitated before he put it on. "Oh. Whose body did they find?"

"A worker. The one that was missing during the search, but he's been dead a lot longer than a few hours." In-ho told him. Gi-hun's eyebrows knit together but he didn't comment. "What about the players? Did they want to vote?"

Gi-hun placed the mask over his face and answered with an air of detachment. "No."

It was only a word, but the change in the way Gi-hun spoke of the players caught In-ho's attention; the lingering smell of smoke that wafted from Gi-hun's coat when he turned to leave for the elevator reinforced his suspicions of Gi-hun's shifting mindset. Watching Gi-hun with his square set shoulders walk away from him, he wondered if this would be the year that Gi-hun failed to leave the games behind him when they left the island. 

Across the other side of the facility, Gi-hun walked over plush carpet a step ahead of In-ho as they headed down to the guest entrance. The distant and receding hum of the helicopter was quickly overshadowed by the growing laughter of six men strolling down the corridor without a care in the world. Their suits, watches and lavish gold masks exuded wealth and status that would have people falling over themselves to cater for them in every other circumstance, but for Gi-hun, he valued the plants decorating the walls higher.

Gi-hun felt In-ho's hand rest on his lower back as the two groups converged outside the doors to the VIP's lounge. "Welcome." Gi-hun said.

The beady blue eyes of the man behind a mask in the shape of a panther ran slowly over Gi-hun's figure. "It's good to be back." He purred, then shifted his eyes to look over the rest of the group. "But there's one of us missing, did he come early? It's not like him to miss out on the first night."

"A personal matter has prevented him from joining this year. He sends his apologies." Gi-hun said, unconcerned by the man's gaze on him. The same couldn't be said for In-ho though, and Gi-hun felt him tense beside him.   

The idea that someone would miss such an event seemed to surprise the man, but he didn't let it show for too long. "Well, all the more alcohol for the rest of us! Talking of which..." He trailed off, craning his neck to look around the door frame into the lounge beyond.

"It's not like the old bastard drank much." Laughed a man from behind a deer mask, who pushed forwards to be the first to enter the lounge. "But we won't have to watch our language."

Gi-hun rolled his eyes and took a step back to encourage the men into the room. They filed past Gi-hun and the silent In-ho without another look in their direction. He heard something that sounded like praise for the new decor as they entered, but above all he heard shouts of orders directed at the staff brought in to serve. The only one to stop was the man sporting a lion mask. Gi-hun's jaw tightened, seeing this man once a year was already more than enough, to see him twice felt like extra punishment.

"I have to hand it to you; you've done it again. The games this year have been quite spectacular, especially the new game, I couldn't call any of the winners in the end." He said. "The contest in Korea has been the best."

"Did the donkeys perform well enough for you?" Gi-hun asked bluntly.

The man snorted. "Still on that, are we?"  

From inside the room, a tall man, hidden behind a mask shaped like a ram's head with a glass of champagne already in his hand, yelled over to them with boredom in his voice. "Are you fighting already? Come, tell us what the next game is. I'm dying to know."

Gi-hun's mask prevented his glare from having any effect, but he poured every last drop of annoyance into it anyway before the pressure of In-ho's hand on his back encouraged him to walk away into the room. "As much as I’d like to, I'd hate to ruin the surprise for everyone." Gi-hun said. "But I can assure you that it won't disappoint."

The mask hid his expression, but he tilted his glass towards Gi-hun in appreciation. "Well, that's why we came all this way. The screens we have at home are plenty big enough, trust me, but there's nothing like seeing it in person."

With In-ho's hand still attached to Gi-hun's back, they descended the stairs into the main space of the room while the clients fell into excited chatter around them. Gi-hun tuned them out as best he could, his opinion of the players might have fallen through the floor, but he still couldn't—wouldn't—bring himself to view the games as casual entertainment. Words buzzed around him like a mosquito he couldn't squash until a shout too loud to ignore came from somewhere above him on the stairs.

"No, don't do it, you idiot! You asshole!" The panther-masked man shouted. Gi-hun whipped his head around and saw that he was pointing towards the screen that was currently displaying the dormitory. "Fucking loser!"

Gi-hun felt In-ho's fingers curl against his back, and when he looked back at the screen he knew why. Player 69 had made himself a noose from a bedsheet and was in the process of placing it over his head. The loss of his wife had become too much, and instead of letting the game take him out, he was taking matters into his own hands.

Gi-hun watched with a calmness he didn't expect. If he put himself into player 69's empty shoes, he couldn't say that he didn't understand—that he wouldn't do the same. He would admit it now, Sang-woo had been right—his wife should have been the one to return instead of him.

In-ho guided Gi-hun from the stairs and round the corner towards the entrance to the guests’ suites. He didn't speak, but when he looked over at him, Gi-hun could tell what he must be thinking. "I'm okay." Gi-hun whispered in reassurance.

"...because 69's such a beautiful number." The man pouted.

The antlers on the deer mask shook with the wearer's head. "You'll have to choose another one." He said.

It had taken the clients less than thirty minutes to start with the distasteful jokes; Gi-hun already couldn't wait for them to leave. "Why don't you all get some rest in your rooms? We'll come and get you when everything's ready." Gi-hun said.

"I'm looking forward to it." The lion-masked man said, then led the rest off down the corridor leaving Gi-hun and In-ho behind.

Alone with only a handful of staff scuttling along the shadows by the wall, Gi-hun turned his attention back to the screen and the man hanging from the bed frame. "He was the only one that wanted to quit."

"The only?" In-ho sounded surprised. "Well... I suppose he did... quit."

Gi-hun hummed, thread an arm around In-ho's waist and with a shared look they headed back to their apartment to get some rest of their own.

The soft mattress and cool sheets beckoned Gi-hun's tired and aching body. They'd been awake for the over 36 hours at this point and he couldn't help but think that that wasn't helping his mental state. Crawling under the sheets, he took in In-ho's weary face resting on the pillow. Between the two of them, In-ho had been dealt the worst hand today and guilt crept up on him again; guilt that he hadn't been strong enough to put himself aside when In-ho needed him.

He slid a hand under In-ho's head and encouraged him over to settle into his chest. In-ho came willingly and Gi-hun felt his heavy exhale when his head hit his chest and his arms wrapped around him. Gi-hun ran his fingers lightly through In-ho's hair from his scalp to the delicate curl at the tips, admiring the way the warm lamplight brought out the brown tones so strongly. Laid in Gi-hun's arms, In-ho went out like a light and Gi-hun gazed down at him with a hint of sadness mixed in to the undying warmth of his adoration.

He laid there letting the heat of In-ho's skin on his bring peace to his thoughts until his eyelids grew heavy. He bent his head forwards to inhale the comforting scent of In-ho's hair before leaving a kiss on the top of his head and whispering into his hair, "I'm sorry."

The next morning Gi-hun woke with In-ho still sleeping on his chest, from his position it looked like he hadn't moved a single muscle overnight. He wished he could let him sleep more but with one glance over at the clock beside the bed he knew that wasn't possible. Gi-hun stroked over In-ho's hair to gently coax him from his dreams. It didn't take long for In-ho to stir, and his arms instinctively tightened around Gi-hun as he reluctantly came to.

"Morning." Gi-hun said.

In-ho lifted his head to prop his chin against Gi-hun's chest so that he could look at him. "Morning." He blinked the sleep from his eyes and scanned Gi-hun's face.

"What?" Gi-hun asked gently.

In-ho rubbed at his eye then said carefully, "Yesterday... the players..."

Combing his fingers through In-ho's hair, Gi-hun said, "Think that leaving would be a waste."

In-ho hummed, dropped a kiss on Gi-hun's bare chest then looked back up into his eyes. "They're not wrong."

"That's the problem." Gi-hun breathed a small sigh. "Forget it, we've bigger issues."

In-ho's eyes took on a faraway look as he reluctantly pulled himself from Gi-hun's arms. "Technically yes, but it's not a competition." He frowned at his choice of words, "at least it's not between us. You matter too." In-ho threw off the sheets and climbed out of bed. "As for Jun-ho, we'll find him today."

Gi-hun clung to the sheets, suddenly feeling cold without In-ho's body heat, and watched him gather up his clothes for the day. In-ho wouldn't show it, but Gi-hun knew he was struggling, and he hoped that for his sake that Jun-ho was found safe and well, sooner rather than later. Stopping his thoughts before they went too far, he took a deep breath and braced himself for the inevitable chill then threw off the sheets with a slight shiver.

Half an hour later, Gi-hun was stood in the living room pulling on his gloves whilst eyeing the still dark dormitory. If he squinted, he could see the hanging body of player 69 still swaying from the bed frames. He would probably miss the reaction of the others when they woke up to discover they had put another life in the grave. Would they even care, or would they shrug it off as just one less opponent to compete against? He realised with some surprise that he didn't care which way their emotions fell. Indifference still had its blanket over him, and he found it far too comfortable to take off. 

"Today's your favourite game." Gi-hun teased as In-ho brought his mask over to him.

In-ho scoffed and rolled his eyes, not giving Gi-hun the satisfaction of a reply. Gi-hun chuckled, cupped In-ho's face in his hands and bent down to kiss him. It had only been days but it felt like years, and the sighs as their lips met each other was instant. Though the flames of desire had been stoked with the lightest brushing of lips and the teasing swipe of a tongue, the kiss remained slow and unhurried as though time would wait for them.

A nip of In-ho's teeth on Gi-hun's lip had him pulling away. "If you do that, I'm gonna need a bigger coat." Gi-hun said, his voice a touch huskier than normal.

Amused, In-ho glanced down to beneath Gi-hun's waist. "And you call me sensitive?"

Gi-hun stole another kiss then placed his mask over his face to hide the shade of pink colouring his cheeks. "You are."

The corner of In-ho's mouth lifted into a half smile, making the unevenness of his lips that Gi-hun adored so much all the more prominent. It dropped off again when his eyes flitted to the screen. "I'll have to head to the control room first to sort that out, but I'll be with you soon. If he tries anything—"

"He never has, and he won't." Gi-hun cut him off. "If he did, I'd break his wrists so you could cut his hands off easier."

In-ho grumbled something about not just stopping with his hands while he fumbled around putting his mask on, then together they headed towards the elevator.

They parted ways when they stepped out of the elevator. In-ho strode off with purpose in the direction of the control room and Gi-hun strolled towards the VIP area, his long stride carrying him closer faster than he would have liked. The corridors he walked down were empty save for the soldiers assigned to their posts, not even a worker crossed his path. Gi-hun appreciated the quiet, and he longed for it when he stepped into the VIP area and was hit by a hive of activity.

The staff in here had shed their pink jumpsuits and were dressed in smart, black fitted suits on the request of the clients, even their masks had been replaced with ones in the shape of a leaf to reveal their sharp jawlines. Their shiny shoes moved soundlessly over the carpet as they hurried around carrying trays of wine glasses and plates of food. Gi-hun noticed that the clients must already be up and about due to the sheer number of empty glasses funnelling out of the lounge doors.

His suspicions were confirmed when he reached the doors and saw that the clients were already reclined on their sofas, dressed in their silk robes and smoking cigars. It wasn't even 9am yet and Gi-hun could tell that the men were already on their way to being intoxicated by the way they shouted loudly across at each other from their spots. He listened for a moment, picking up that their conversation had turned to who would become panther-mask's favourite to win now that player 69 was out.

Gi-hun heaved a sigh then walked through the doors, unable to delay anymore. His entrance was noticed immediately, and glasses went up in the air in a drunken welcome. "Ay! There he is! What time do you call this? Are we interrupting something?" The panther-masked man roared with laughter.

Gi-hun's skin crawled at the insinuation but he was careful not to show any outwards signs of his repulsion as he descended the stairs, his back ramrod straight with his arms held loose at his sides. "Gentlemen, you've started early."

"He's still pissed that he's lost his favourite." The deer-masked man laughed, pointing to the other sofa across the room.

"Fuck you." The other grumbled, then tried to save face by adding, "I knew he was weak when he first came in."

"You better tell us what the next game is. He needs a distraction." The man with the ram mask chimed in after collecting yet another wine glass from a passing servant.

Gi-hun reached the front of the room and shot a look over to a servant waiting against a wall. This distance and the masks should have made it difficult to communicate without words, but the staff had become so in tune with Gi-hun's voiceless commands over the years that a single look was all it took. The servant ducked through a small door and re-emerged wheeling a cloth covered table.

Gi-hun spun on the spot to face his waiting audience and stepped behind the small control panel beside the heavy curtain still concealing the window. "Talking of favourites, it's time to bring one back."

The men shuffled forwards to the edge of their seats, their eyes locked onto the covered table that had been parked in the centre of the room. Whispers of the names of games from previous years floated around the room, but they fell silent and whoops of joy replaced them when a servant pulled the cloth away to reveal a miniature version of the glass bridge. Complete with glass pawn chess pieces to represent the players, the new replica allowed the clients to follow the game close up, and it was already going down a storm.

The panther-masked man kicked up his feet onto the back of a man bent over to serve as his footstool, rested his head back against the ample chest of a woman and took a large gulp of wine. "Now that's what I'm talking about!"

At the front of the room, the screen displaying the players pictures changed to a live feed of the players themselves entering into a white room. The clients' faces split into unnerving smiles and their hands rubbed together in excitement while they settled back into the sofas. Meanwhile, the door at the top of the stairs burst open and In-ho's dark figure entered the room mostly unnoticed by the men who had their eyes glued to the screen. Gi-hun, however, already felt more at ease just by having him in the room.

"Ah, I thought we were starting without you." The lion-masked man said as In-ho walked by him.

In-ho politely bowed his head in the man's direction. "Sorry to keep you waiting, there was some final preparations that required my attention."

"No bother, no bother." The man said, waving him off.

In-ho joined Gi-hun at his side, standing only half a step behind him and no further. "Any trouble?" He said under his breath so only Gi-hun could hear.

"No. Any reaction?" Gi-hun asked, referring to how the players took last night’s suicide.

"Mixed." In-ho said simply.

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow but he didn't ask any further questions, he already had a good idea of what the dormitory looked like this morning. He coughed lightly and raised his voice to address the men in the room who were growing noisier with each new player that came into view. "Gentlemen, the selection process for the game is about to begin."

With a look towards In-ho, who gave him a subtle nod, Gi-hun pressed a button and began the game.

Chapter Text

"Welcome to the fifth game. Before we begin the game, please choose one of the mannequins that you see presented before you. Once you've chosen, take the corresponding vest. They are numbered from 1 through 18. Let me repeat."

Down a short flight of steps in front of the players were eighteen mannequins, each with a pink numbered bib on them. Like those mannequins, the players didn't move an inch at the announcement, it was only their eyes that trailed over the bibs while their minds tried to work out what the best plan of action was. Gi-hun recognised the nervousness and indecision paralysing the group by the way fingers curled to play with the hems of tracksuit tops; by the way throats bobbed following a hard swallow; and by way they shifted their weight from foot to foot.

At the end of the repeated instructions the players still hadn't moved, but the men in the room had plenty to say already.    

"Gentlemen, this may be the deciding moment." The lion-masked man said, sitting forwards on his sofa.

"The order in which they compete matters the most. Let's see if they figure it out." The ram-masked man said.

From behind him, a voice called out to the other side of the room. "Did you finally decide on a favourite?"

The panther-masked man took a drag of his cigar and thought for a second before answering the obvious teasing. "96."

"What's your reason?"

"Well, if I can't do 69, I'll try 96."

Laughter and heavy sighs broke out through the room in equal measure, but the loudest sigh of them all came from In-ho. Gi-hun could almost imagine the way his shoulders dropped under the force of it, but the clients were too distracted to notice how they were being judged.

Sudden movement on the screen pulled the attention of the men back from the childish jokes to the matter at hand. Noises of surprise and excitement came from every sofa, and even Gi-hun found himself watching the players carefully.

Player 244 broke away from the others, and with all eyes on him, he headed straight for the number in his sights. His expression was serious as he stopped in front of the mannequin wearing the number 06. With his hands grasping either side of the vest, he appeared to say something before removing it from the mannequin and moving off to the side.

His decision spurred the others on to make their own choices, and over half the group tripped over themselves to get down the steps first to pick the number they secretly wanted.  

The usual suspects that had been on Gi-hun's radar since the beginning wasted no time in pushing and shoving their way to the front. They had no issues with grabbing others and throwing them to the side if they looked twice at a number they had their eye on. The scuffle had Gi-hun feeling a little mystified; none of them knew what the game was but they were still prepared to fight over something without knowing what it represented. But what made Gi-hun raise an eyebrow; the clients loved. They sat back in their seats sipping on their drinks and giggling at the fights breaking out on the screen.

The first rush of players left the screen in a flurry of green and pink, leaving the mannequins in the middle empty of bibs. "They always take the middle numbers first," observed the ram-masked man.

"Animal instinct." The lion-masked man said, throwing a smug glance over to Gi-hun. "When faced with danger, seek refuge in the middle of the herd."

Gi-hun twisted his head to face the man with a deliberate slowness that raised hairs on the back of necks. The mask concealed his narrowed eyes and bitten cheek, but the slight tilt of his head left no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was displeased at best. The man, used to Gi-hun's scorn, merely raised a glass towards him and laughed at his own accidental triumph.

"There's only the front or back left." The deer-masked man chimed in. "I'm not sure which one I'd choose."

Gi-hun cleared his throat and swallowed down the bitterness working its way into his next words before he spoke again. "Would you like me to give them a hint?"

"Sure." The man said offhandedly.

Gi-hun pressed a few buttons on the control panel and the next announcement came over the speakers in the white room where the remaining players were stuck deliberating between the numbers.

"Your attention please, the numbers you see on the mannequins correspond to the order in which you will be playing."

Players that had already chosen their numbers pulled at their vests to take another look at their numbers. Smiles formed on the faces of those that felt like they had chosen well, whereas others sighed and tugged fruitlessly at their bibs in frustration. Gi-hun saw both reactions from where he stood, and while some were appropriate responses, he allowed himself a little snort at those celebrating whilst wearing the lower numbers.   

This extra piece of information mobilised the lingering players into making their decision, and while one half made straight for the smaller numbers, the others made their way to the larger ones. Gi-hun spotted Sang-woo head towards the larger numbers, pause and contemplate his choice for a moment before grabbing bib number 17. Next to him, Sae-byeok grabbed bib 18. Her face was emotionless as she threw on her bib, obviously yesterday was still weighing heavily on her mind. Their correct choice almost guaranteed them safe passage across the bridge, but there was nothing but blank emptiness in Gi-hun's eyes.

"Where are you going?!" The panther-masked man yelled from across the room.

His shouts were so loud that both Gi-hun and In-ho looked first towards him then back over at the screen where the reason behind his yelling became clear. Player 96 had trudged over to the bib with the number 1 on it. He stood there wringing his hands and staring at the bib as if it would tell him the right answer.

"We should put a time limit on this part next time." Gi-hun whispered back to In-ho.

"Agreed." In-ho said, checking his watch.    

Player 96 looked down the line of mannequins to see the others snatching up the other numbers until only the one in front of him remained. He didn't seem put off by having his choice taken from him, instead he reached towards the bib with sure hands and placed it over his head.

"You piece of shit!" The panther-masked man roared, reaching for a shot of something stronger than wine and knocking it back.

Laughter erupted from the men, and insincere condolences rang out as if the life on the line was the one belonging to the man behind the golden mask swigging scotch in a silk robe. Gi-hun sighed and pressed a few buttons on his control panel, thinking all the while that this game would be much more enjoyable if viewed from the quiet of the control room. The screen at the front of the room raised out of the way and the heavy curtain drew back to reveal the game hall.

"Now, the game will begin." Gi-hun said.

Beyond the glass, the bridge stretched across from one side of the room to the other at a height comfortable enough for the men to view it at eye-level from where they sat. Warm white lights ran the length of the bridge, round the two platforms at either side and across the slightly domed roof. Spotlights attached to the roof roamed over the walls, attracting the eye to the vibrant colours from the circus tent decor. A massive chandelier above the centre of the bridge added the extra flourish and finishing touch to the scene. Its sole purpose: provide the clients with an eye-catching, expensive view that they were used to.

The players streamed onto the platform on the right-hand side of the window. Gi-hun saw confident steps become hesitant when the players saw what lay in front of them. No one dared get too close to the edge, so they came to a halt three steps back from the platform's edge.

"Do you know the pattern?" Gi-hun asked In-ho quietly.

In-ho took a step forward to stand next to him. "No. It's in the file but I didn't get the chance to look. All I know is that they put in 20 tiles on each side."

Gi-hun hummed. He knew that the workers must have had to do a last-minute switch around after last night's elimination.

"Begin the game once the doors close." In-ho added.

Right on cue, the last player stepped onto the platform and the doors swung firmly shut behind them. Gi-hun looked over at the men still speculating and theorising what might happen, and on deciding that they wouldn't care enough to pay attention to the instructions even if they could understand them, he went ahead and pressed the button to start the announcement for the players' benefit without calling for their attention.

"Players, welcome to the fifth game. The fifth game is Glass Stepping Stones. Each stepping stone is made of one of two types of glass, tempered glass and normal glass. Tempered glass can withstand the weight of two players, but normal glass will shatter under the weight of just one person. Players, you will decide which one of the two tiles is made of tempered glass and step on those as you pass through 20 pairs of tiles. If you cross safely to the other side, you pass. The time limit is 18 minutes."

Nervous energy and a healthy dose of fear settled over the players. Palms turned sweaty, knees shook and those closest to the edge peered over into the abys below and gulped hard. Player 96 took off his shoes and took small steps towards the edge where he lingered, the sweat on his face dripped profusely while his eyes darted between the two tiles. His hesitation stretched on and on to the point where Gi-hun started to wonder what they'd do if no one made it across.

Meanwhile, over the other side of the lounge, the panther-masked man set his own sights on a waiter stood quietly off to the side. He'd been drinking constantly for hours, and his brain might as well be pickling in the alcohol by now, but he still wanted more. 

"Hey, you." He called, crooking his finger towards the waiter.

Gi-hun's eyes slid across the room, only vaguely interested in what was happening. That was until his gaze landed upon the waiter in question already making his way over to the man with a crystal bottle filled with scotch in his hand. For reasons Gi-hun wasn't sure of, an uncomfortable feeling overcame him as he studied the waiter. His upright posture, broad shoulders and jaw line all felt a bit too familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place the how or why.

The man reached out and placed a hand on the waiter’s forearm and Gi-hun flinched. "I don't want to keep calling you back. Sit."

"I have other guests to serve, sir." The waiter replied.

The voice echoed in Gi-hun's ears and recognition hit him all at once. Jun-ho. His eyes flared wide, his breathing spiked, and he reached to grab In-ho's arm in a vise grip. In-ho's arm was tense under his hand, but he wasn't sure if it was because he'd drawn the same conclusion as him about the waiter’s identity, or whether he was just angry at the man's actions regardless.

"I'm keeping this one with me. Does anyone object?" The panther-masked man asked the rest of the men.

A chorus of "Not at all", "As you please" and "He's all yours" came from the other sofas, but all of them fell away to silence when Gi-hun's raised voice overshadowed them.

"I do." Gi-hun said. He heard In-ho's breath catch in his throat at Gi-hun's interjection, but he ignored him, his focus remained on the man who had whipped his own head around to stare down the one who would dare speak against him. "The staff have their duties, please do not disturb them."

"I think you'll find that I can do as I wish." The man's lip curled into a sneer. "Don't forget your place."

In-ho drew in a breath but Gi-hun spoke again before he could try diffuse the situation. "My apologies," he said with forced politeness, "but the event works best when the staff remain in their posts. You wouldn't want your experience compromised if there's a gap in proceedings."        

"You—" The man began, his voice shaking with barely contained anger.

The deer-masked man heaved an audible sigh and cut him off. "Let the boy go, you're ruining my experience with your bickering."

The hand on Jun-ho's arm released, and while the panther-masked man grumbled insults under his breath and settled back against the sofa without looking again at the companion he'd lost, Jun-ho scurried back into the safety of the shadows near the wall.

Gi-hun released his grip on In-ho's arm and spoke under his breath. "Follow him if he leaves this room."

In-ho nodded curtly, not taking his eyes off the shadowy figure that he was watching like a hawk. His tendency to freeze in situations where the end wasn't clear cut hadn't improved much over the years; it often took a little push from Gi-hun to get him to move one way or the other. Gi-hun threw one last piercing look at the client who had fixed his attention back on the bridge, then he himself looked towards the window and the game happening beyond.

Gi-hun watched intently and the rest of the room quietened and stilled as they waited to see how the game would develop.

Two minutes had almost elapsed since the start of the game and player 96 had yet to move. The other players around him started to grow agitated, and while most kept their true feelings to themselves—choosing instead to reassure and encourage—the more brazen had reached the end of their patience. Player 101 pushed his way through from the back and whispered into his ear with a twisted and cruel expression. Whatever threat he'd made had worked because player 96 launched, almost immediately, onto the left tile.

To the relief of the man and the rest of the players, the glass held up under his weight. Muted celebrations came from those due to step onto the bridge next, especially from the woman lined up to go next. Gi-hun didn't know if her attempts to calm the man was actually for his benefit or for her own. To the side of him, a staff member moved the first glass chess piece onto the miniature bridge, the crisp clack from the moving piece was the only sound that could be heard in the room.

Player 96, encouraged by his beginners' luck, took less time to decide on his next move and launched straight forwards. This time, when his feet touched the glass, it cracked and fractured beneath him. A distant wail came through the glass as the player dropped to the ground surrounded by sharp shards that glistened in the light. The chess piece was moved in tandem with the player's movements only to be flicked casually to the ground when he fell.

"Oh, no." The lion-masked man said emotionlessly.

The next player on the bridge had the number 308 printed on her back, and Gi-hun frowned upon seeing that the first pane of glass stayed empty as she moved to the second tile on the right. He knew that without a chain of players on the bridge the pattern would be easily lost, and the death toll would increase beyond what it should. Nevertheless, the bridge remained empty as she took her leap of faith back to the left. She landed squarely in the middle, but the tile under her gave way and she fell with the look of panic on her face.

The third player took to the bridge with a tremble in his fingers. He crossed to the third correct tile and stopped, torn between which choice to make next. Gi-hun saw the man making characters, or rather, numbers in the air with his finger and Gi-hun tilted his head with interest. Interest that sharply waned when the man didn't move again for several seconds, provoking the others behind him to yell encouragements tinged with desperation.

Gi-hun had just taken the opportunity to glance down at the timer in front of him when gasps from inside the room had his eyes flitting back to the bridge. For once the gasps felt somewhat warranted because the man on the bridge had set off at a run, aimlessly and carelessly leaping from tile to tile. Gi-hun's eyebrow arched ever higher the further across the bridge the man successfully got. It was highly reckless, but faced with the alternative, there was little reason to choose the slower way.

The player guessed right three times, twice forwards on the right then a leap to the left. His run of luck ended quickly when the glass shattered under him after he leapt directly forwards again. With a low scream, his body dropped heavily and out of sight of the clients; but from Gi-hun's position next to the window, he could see further down to where the player landed in a heap surrounded by a growing puddle of crimson red.

Up on the platform, the rest of the players flinched back at the sudden fall that ended the burst of action that none of them would have the guts to follow the example of. They staggered back to their feet, and under the glowing red numbers of the timer, the fourth player stepped onto the bridge. It seemed that the players had caught on to their initial mistake because the fifth player followed hot on his heels, not wanting to lose sight of where he went.

Others filled in the spaces behind and the chain took shape, but on the fifth tile away from the platform proceedings ground to a halt again. A man, with hair curled at the tips from his sweat, looked lost as to which tile was the next correct one. He took a moment to look between the two identical pieces of glass before he turned around to ask for help from those behind him. Various arms and fingers pointing in both directions only caused greater confusion. The man's body visibly trembled with his shaky breaths, and at one point, Gi-hun thought he was more likely to lose balance than guess wrongly.

Eventually, the player's sights focused on the older woman behind him with broad grey streaks running through her hair. It was her pointed finger that guided the man's next move to the next tile on the left. Gi-hun minutely shook his head, recalling that the correct tile was actually the one on the right. Even if he wanted to help, he couldn't, and as the man's feet connected with the tile it shattered out from under him.

"Number five fucked up." Commented the ram-masked man, laughing.

"Another fall from grace," drawled another.

Determined that the left tile had to be the right one eventually, the woman tried heading to that side again. But her own memory betrayed her again. She fell through the bridge, her small body dropping to the ground and breaking apart on impact. The ram-masked man cheered a bit too loudly at her downfall for Gi-hun's liking and his outburst made him tut under his breath.

The new leader of the group took over, but there was hardly anything leadership-worthy about him in Gi-hun's eyes. In fact, it looked like they were about to see their first proper refusal. The player with thinning hair and the number 244 on his back, sat down on the tile with his hands clasped and his head bent forwards.

"He was so determined to get that number," Gi-hun muttered.

"That was before he knew the game," In-ho reminded him.

Gi-hun resisted the urge to rest an elbow on the podium and prop his chin on his hand. "Still..." He sighed.

Tempers frayed behind the praying man as his refusal to move became clear, and to add an extra level of stress to those waiting behind, player 101 bore down on the two players between himself and player 244. It was unclear what they feared more, the ticking timer or the huge bulk of a man who had no issues killing with his bare hands.

Whichever it was, the seventh player on the bridge moved up to stand on the same glass piece as player 244 and hauled him up to his feet. The two men engaged in a tussle that only lasted seconds before the interfering player lost his balance and fell from the bridge, smashing through the tile directly in front of them. Saved by divine intervention, player 244's face cracked into an unsettling smile.

There's always one. Gi-hun thought.

The man didn't have much time to rejoice in his luck, because when he crossed to the next tile player 407 followed close behind and shoved him forwards off the tile and onto the next before he got the chance to refuse again. The glass shattered under him and the way forward was paved at the expense of his life.

Player 407 took his turn at the front, and with the glare of player 101 on his back, he broke the string of hesitations. He moved back to the right side and took another leap straight forwards with success. The glass remained strong under his feet, but instead of his confidence growing his nerves shone through worse than before. Sweat dripped down his face, his hands trembled, and his knees shook while he compared the two tiles.

With how closely he was inspecting the panes, Gi-hun wondered if he was trying to convince himself that he knew how to tell the difference between them. Nobody in the previous years had managed it, he wasn't entirely sure if it was even possible in this environment. He ran his eyes along the rest of the bridge to see the 12 remaining players still stood there. Taking this many through to the last game would be carnage; the clients would love it, but Gi-hun would prefer to cut the numbers down some more yet.

"If he does know, turn the lights off. It's to do with the refraction of the light in the glass," In-ho said like he was somehow able to read his thoughts, "but he's not looking properly, I wouldn't worry."

"How do you know so much about glass?" Gi-hun asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

"I got bored," In-ho said.

A small smile spread on Gi-hun's face when he imagined In-ho spending hours on his phone researching glass making. A sharp crash cleared the image from his brain and when he refocused on the bridge, he saw player 407 flailing in the air as he fell from the left tile. Gi-hun quirked an eyebrow and pressed his lips together into a thin line until his cheeks puffed a little. The potential problem had resolved itself before he had to step in.

As quickly as one situation ended, another started; and while Sang-woo stepping onto the bridge for the first time had momentarily distracted him from the developing situation at the front, Gi-hun's attention was quickly brought back when player 101 yelled loud enough for Gi-hun to hear him through the glass.

"Hey, you fucking assholes! I'm not taking another step! If you want to go, you can go first!"

The eight correct guesses that stood between him and the safety of the platform was a risk that he found far too high to take, but his pride wasn't so high that it stopped him from making a scene. Unfortunately for the others, his great bulk wasn't as moveable as the leaner players even if anyone had the nerve to take him on. If he truly refused to move, there was nothing anyone would be able to do about it. Out of everybody, he might be the only one capable of twisting the game rules to suit himself.

The opening and closing of a door at the far side of the room drew Gi-hun's eye. He quickly searched the sofas and the waiters in the room to see who might have left only to discover the shadow of Jun-ho was gone. In-ho mobilised immediately but before he took a second step, he looked back over his shoulder to Gi-hun.

"If they—" In-ho started.

"Go." Gi-hun hissed.

He knew In-ho was concerned about leaving him alone with the clients for an uncertain period of time, but while these people were degenerates, he knew how to handle them. Or perhaps, that's exactly what worried In-ho.

In-ho nodded once then took off across the room, ignoring the scattered comments about his leaving as he went. Gi-hun watched him leave with a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. It didn't matter if In-ho locked Jun-ho up for the remainder of the games or sent him away on the speedboat, neither option was going to be an easy one. Whatever In-ho chose would pale to what came after anyway, who knew how Jun-ho would respond to what he had seen?

A glass chess piece fell to the floor while Gi-hun was ruminating. He looked over to the miniature bridge where the ninth piece had been knocked to the ground without having disturbed any of the tiles. What a waste. Gi-hun thought.

On the bridge the players were still at an impasse, but this time it felt different. Player 212 stood face to face with player 101; her hair was dishevelled and there were dark circles under her eyes but there were no signs of submission anywhere in her body language. She looked up at the man that had tossed her away when she was no longer useful and cocked her head to the side. Gi-hun saw a flicker of nervousness cross player 101's face, but the woman just laughed and spat back something that made him laugh in return, a desperate act on his part to save face no doubt.

In line with her wildcard antics, player 212 crossed onto his tile and placed herself on the edge in front of him. Gi-hun tilted his own head to the side and the men muttered back and forth to each other while they watched such a suicidal move play out. Player 212 stood on the edge with the man behind her breathing down her neck until she made her move. But instead of forwards, she turned back towards player 101, locked her arms around his waist and spoke with a wild look in her eyes.        

Gi-hun wished he could hear what was being said because player 101 looked as if he might burst into tears at her words. He struggled violently in her hold, but her grip was strong, too strong for him to shake her off. In the struggle, she inched them towards the edge and threw her weight backwards, pulling them both from the tile and into the one behind which smashed upon impact. Locked in an unloving embrace, the two fell to their deaths together.

"Oh." The lion-masked man said, taking the binoculars from his eyes. "Now there's a poetic ending for those two."

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," the ram-masked man said.

There was now less than a minute per player left on the timer and the game had no choice but to speed up. The unspoken urgency came to the surface in quick decisions that ultimately led to the players dropping like flies, figuratively and literally. A run of three players landing on the right side when they should have gone left had glass shards raining down through the air, catching the light in a beautiful rainbow as they dropped. The next player took his chance and went left, but the bridge still claimed his life as the pattern switched at the cruellest point.   

Glass chess pieces littered the floor in front of the window. Each one displayed signs of damage; either their corners had been chipped, their numbers had been scratched, or in one case, one of the pawns had its top broken clean off, rendering it useless for future years. The floor on the other side of the window matched the carpet in a horrifying mirror image. A line of bodies with blood pooling under cracked skulls and limbs that had snapped into unnatural positions, told of a sequence of events that had ended in violent bloodshed.

Gi-hun's wish for less players to make it through to the final game had come true. There were three players still left on the bridge; Sae-byeok, Sang-woo, and an elderly man with long hair pushed back from his face. The man at the front sank slowly to his knees and lowered his head until it was almost touching the glass itself. He looked between the two tiles for a few seconds then leapt with confidence to the left. The glass held up under him and a smile of relief broke out on his face. On the next tile he repeated the process of inspection then leapt soundly to the right where he landed safely on the tempered glass.

Gi-hun frowned and the crease between his eyebrows deepened. He tapped at the screen on his control panel to bring up the players file and saw that under the employment section was the comment 'long-term work experience in glass manufacturing'.

"Can he really tell the difference?" The lion-masked man asked.

"I think so," someone answered him.

Gi-hun cleared his throat and informed the men of his findings. "According to his file, he once had a job as a glass manufacturer."

"That was in the report?" The lion-masked man laughed. "How did I miss that?"

"Well, that's no fun," the deer-masked man spoke up.

"Yup, he's definitely seeing something the others aren't," commented another.

Gi-hun thought back to what In-ho had said, it's to do with the refraction of the light in the glass. "I think he might be examining the refraction of the light." He said, then remembered In-ho's advice. "Let me adjust the settings."

Gi-hun pressed a few more buttons on his control panel and turned off all the lights on the left side of the game hall.

"It seems to have done the trick." The lion-masked man said, nodding his approval.

Without the light to help him, the man was left to make his choice like the game rules dictated. There was only a minute left in the game and Gi-hun could see Sang-woo stood restlessly on the tile behind, his hands balling into fists. His number had granted him a comfortable position, but the ticking timer wouldn't give him the same sense of security. He was so close to the end that he could almost touch it, but he had one obstacle left.

Gi-hun barely blinked as the game entered the last 20 seconds. The man at the front was still kneeling on the glass, waving a hand behind him in what Gi-hun guessed was a gesture to wait a moment. But Sang-woo couldn't wait. He crossed over to the same tile, hauled the man up to his feet, and pushed. The man fell forwards and crashed through the tile on the right to the darkness beneath. His body hadn't finished falling before Sang-woo crossed to the correct tile and stepped up onto the platform with Sae-byeok following close behind.

The timer hit zero and its buzzing echoed around the room only to be drowned out by a loud bang. Sang-woo and Sae-byeok turned around just in time to see the bridge exploding in a wave, one tile at a time. The remaining glass panes shattered; its pieces thrown up into the air in a cloud of tiny shards. The metal work took a hit all of its own too. Its frame warped and groaned under the forces of the explosives. Strips of metal broke away and fell to the ground, surely slicing into the bodies laid beneath.

Cheers of delight surrounded Gi-hun, but he took none of it in. His eyes were on Sang-woo's back as he fled the scene, his hands and face already cut by the flying glass shards. There was no trickery or excuse of self-defence for Sang-woo to hide behind this time. The game had sunk its claws into the worst in him and dragged it to the surface where it could no longer be hidden. Rationally, Gi-hun thought he should feel guilty for driving his friend to such extremes, but since Sang-woo was no longer shying away from how his desire to reach the top meant treading over the lives of others, it was only a twisted sense of satisfaction he felt.

"It is a shame we won't get to see those fancy ribbons on the coffins this time." The panther-masked man chimed up for the first time in a while. "Whose idea was that anyway? It's a nice touch."

"Are you going soft?" The ram-masked man scoffed. "You want to give them all a funeral too?"

"Oh, I don't mean for them." He said, gesturing towards the window. "I meant for me. It brightens the place up."

The men fell into a bout of drunken laughter, and Gi-hun glanced down to the floor outside the window where workers were placing the bodies inside coffins. "The ribbons were my partner's idea, and you can still see them if you wish." Gi-hun said.

Amused laughter turned into nervous chuckles at Gi-hun's offer for them to step up to the window and take in the aftermath of the slaughter down below. They waved his suggestion off and threw back another drink.

"He was always the smart one." The lion-masked man slurred.

While Gi-hun agreed, he didn't wish to say so out loud to these men. Instead, he made his excuse to leave. "Gentlemen, please excuse me while I make preparations for tomorrow. Please enjoy tonight’s feast."  

Gi-hun had quickly become an unimportant figure to the men since the game ended. They drank, ate the food offered on silver platters and talked amongst themselves about the game they'd just witnessed. None of them paid any more attention to him and with discussion likely to turn to tomorrow’s game soon enough, Gi-hun left by the same door In-ho had before it did.

He walked down the corridors in search of In-ho, hoping that he hadn't got too far, and that Jun-ho had been caught quickly. But the more he walked, the more he came up empty handed. There wasn't even a shuffling of staff that would suggest that something had happened. The radio in his pocket remained silent but the gnawing in his stomach came back stronger than before. Without any lead on where they could be, the only thing Gi-hun could do was keep everything else on track.

The smell of food greeted him as he rounded a corner. The kitchen designated for the guests was situated at the end of this corridor, but instead of going in he took a left and entered the dining room. The big, square room would have been bland and boring if it wasn't for the hexagon shaped structure in the middle. Made of mahogany wood and stained glass, it provided an intimate dining experience for the clients, but it only reminded Gi-hun of a bird cage.

The doors were propped wide open, and workers were in the middle of setting up for this evening. His presence seemed to surprise the staff who paused briefly in the middle of what they were doing only to resume when his stare landed upon them. Gi-hun stood in the doorway and dragged his eyes over the table with eight place settings already laid out on it.

"Take two away. Only the six guests will dine in here tonight." Gi-hun said. It wasn't as if either he or In-ho could eat anyway, all they usually did was listen to the clients dehumanise the players more and more with every hour that passed.

Around him, staff rushed in and began taking care of re-arranging the table without needing to be told twice. Gi-hun hummed his approval and left, striding away again back the way he came. Purposefully diverting around the lounge where the clients were still laughing and joking far too loudly, Gi-hun eventually left the VIP area and hurried down to the main doors leading into the dormitory.

Outside the doors, long tables covered in white cloth and large bouquets of colourful flowers were sat waiting to be assembled inside for the finalists' meal. The flowers were beautiful, but their scents were overwhelming in this small space, Gi-hun lightly cleared his throat and tried not to sneeze as he looked over them. The display was almost perfect, but his eyes landed on an imperfection hidden just left of the middle. He reached over and plucked the dead head of a rose from the bouquet, its petals already crispy at the edges and flaking away in his hand.

It felt poetic and he almost put it back. Almost. A manager appeared out of thin air before him, bowing slightly with two outstretched hands. Gi-hun sighed and dumped the rose into their hands then said, "Take the knives away after the meal. Give them back before the game tomorrow."

"Yes sir." The manager said, scurrying off with the rose in his hand.

Two pairs of feet behind him made him turn around. Behind him were two workers carrying a black box each, each box had a pink bow over the top corner to match the coffins. Gi-hun reached out to one of the boxes and lifted the lid. He already knew what was inside but seeing the black suit with the number 218 on the left side of the jacket was still something of a surprise. Sang-woo was never meant to make it this far, but this suit was tangible, undeniable proof that he'd defied the odds stacked against him.

Gi-hun replaced the lid and opened the second box. Inside was an identical suit but it had the number 067 on it instead. His intuition about Sae-byeok had been right. Right from the first game when she stood her ground against player 101, to the grit determination that took her through the days and nights that followed, to how she wanted to refuse Ji-yeong's sacrifice even though it benefitted her. Sae-byeok was a worthy winner in her own right, but up against Sang-woo, she was at a disadvantage in the physical fight that tomorrow’s game ultimately demanded.

"Give them whatever food they want." Gi-hun ordered, replacing the lid on the second box.

The staff nodded and Gi-hun took off with only one place in mind.

It had been two hours since In-ho left in pursuit of Jun-ho, and it had been radio silence ever since. So, when the elevator doors opened to the apartment and Gi-hun saw In-ho's coat dumped on the floor, it came as quite the shock. He stopped and picked up the coat to hang it in its usual place, but when his gloves came away with red on them Gi-hun's heart seized.

A pained groan came from the bathroom down the hall and Gi-hun half ran towards the sound, shedding his mask, coat and gloves as he went—throwing them haphazardly to the ground. Bursting into the bathroom, he came to a sudden stop when he was met with the sight of In-ho bleeding over the sink.

Pain and shock had coated In-ho's skin in a thin film of sweat, his whole body was trembling, and through the mirror, Gi-hun could see that his eyes were red-rimmed from tears and empty like he wasn't seeing anything around him properly. However, Gi-hun's eyes snapped like a magnet to the knife in his hand that he was using to dig into a wound on his shoulder. His shaking hands mistakenly sliced at fresh flesh causing new trickles of blood to stream down his arm, and each time it happened, pain would leave its traces on his face and a faint groan would leave his lips.

Blood roared in Gi-hun's ears, his heart raced and his skin prickled. He had seen injuries ten times worse than this a hundred times over, but this was the first time he'd seen In-ho injured like this. Vomit rose in the back of his throat, but he pushed it back down and moved to In-ho's side. In-ho startled and flinched away from Gi-hun's hand that had come to rest on the back of his shoulder. The pair of them stared at each other in surprise but the agonising look of pain beneath the shock in In-ho's eyes had tears prickling at Gi-hun's own.

"In-ho." Gi-hun said with as much calm and warmth as he could muster. "It's me."

Recognition slowly crept over In-ho and he started to breathe again. His breaths were heavy, harsh and uneven and he still twitched when Gi-hun laid his hand back on his shoulder, but he didn't move away this time. In-ho was still staring wide-eyed at him but Gi-hun dropped his eyes to the wound. On closer inspection, he could see that it was a bullet wound and the bullet was still lodged inside. His mind raced, he had so many questions, but In-ho was in no state to answer him right now.

In-ho's sudden movements had caused the knife to cut him again, and it was obvious that he wasn't getting anywhere. Gi-hun's aversion to blades had followed him for years before he took one upon himself, but now as he reached out to take the knife from In-ho's hand, he remained as steady as if the fear had never taken root in him.  

Gi-hun's hand might have been still but his voice betrayed his effort to overcome his fears, it shook when he tried to coax the knife from In-ho's hand. "Let me."

"Gi-hun." In-ho spoke for the first time, his voice hoarse and unsure.

"Let me." Gi-hun said more firmly. "You're making it worse."

In-ho reluctantly allowed Gi-hun to take the knife from his shaking hand that moved to find purchase on the edge of the skin once it was empty. Gi-hun eyed the tip of the knife, not altogether sure how to do this but faced with the alternative of leaving In-ho to mutilate himself further, he drew in a breath and set to work.  

The tip of the knife found the bullet soon enough but, in his nervousness, he pressed too hard, and In-ho winced. Gi-hun muttered his apologies and felt carefully for the edge of the bullet where it met soft flesh. He worked the knife around the bullet, loosening it from where it had become embedded in In-ho's shoulder. From what Gi-hun could feel, it looked to have avoided the bone, and thankfully for the both of them, it came free with minute or two of precise persuasion.

The bullet clattered noisily into the sink along with fresh drops of blood. In-ho gasped, his chest heaving with the breath that he'd been fighting to keep even for Gi-hun's sake. His head dropped forwards and his chin tucked itself into his chest while sweat trickled down his forehead. Gi-hun hastily dropped the knife into the sink with the bullet and grabbed a towel from the rack to hold firmly against In-ho's shoulder. He could feel sweat build on the back of his own neck but instead of wiping it away, he ran a hand over In-ho's forehead, pushing back the hairs that had stuck themselves to his skin there.  

"It's done." Gi-hun said, dropping a kiss onto his shoulder. "It'll scar though, you should get it seen to properly."

"No. It's what I deserve." In-ho rasped.

Gi-hun blinked hard. "What? Why?"

In-ho gripped the sink tighter until his knuckles went white. "I shot him."

"W...what?" Gi-hun asked, his brain not comprehending the words In-ho had just said.

Tears welled in In-ho's eyes and his whole body trembled anew at the memories flashing through his mind’s eye. Gi-hun saw the struggle In-ho was facing, and instead of pushing, he wrapped an arm around In-ho's waist while keeping the other on his shoulder and turned him around to guide him out of the bathroom. He brought him to the sofa in the living room where he made him sit.

"Here, hold this." Gi-hun said, grabbing one of In-ho's hands to replace his own on the towel. In-ho willingly obliged while Gi-hun went to grab tissues from the kitchen and one of his own t-shirts from the bedroom. He came back and positioned himself on the sofa beside In-ho. "We don't have any bandages so this will have to do for now."

Gi-hun tore his t-shirt into a long strip, stacked the tissues into a thick pad then took the towel carefully from In-ho's hands. He quickly swapped it for the tissues and secured it tightly with the t-shirt. It was rustic and poorly done for someone that should be an expert at dealing with wounds by now, but it held up and Gi-hun felt satisfied that it would do until he could raid the medical room later. Left to In-ho, Gi-hun was sure that he would have left it without anything at all.

Gi-hun gathered In-ho's hands in his, and together, they sat in silence until In-ho was ready to speak.     

"He ran when he saw me." In-ho began. "I followed him but he's quick and must have learnt the shortcuts. He was already gone with one of the diving tanks when I reached the cave. I took a team out on the boat to chase him down, and we caught up to him on the next island over. He was cornered on a cliff, and he lashed out." In-ho glanced down to his shoulder.

His explanation was short on detail, but it painted enough of a picture for Gi-hun at this moment.

"And you shot back?" Gi-hun asked.

In-ho nodded. "He fell into the sea, so I called captain Park to find him, but I’ve not heard anything yet."

Gi-hun pressed his lips together and looked over to the phone that laid eerily silent on the side. He got up and went to fetch the radio from In-ho's coat that hung by the elevator. Coated in dried blood, Gi-hun moved to bring it back to the sofa but first he tried reaching captain Park again.

"Captain Park? Can you hear me?" Gi-hun almost whispered down the radio.

A few seconds later, a response came back. "Loud and clear."

"Did you find the detective yet?" Gi-hun asked tentatively.

"Ah, you've called just in time. I've just dragged him out of the water." Captain Park said.

Gi-hun's heart lurched against his ribcage. "Is he alive?"

"Barely." Captain Park told him.

"Get him to hospital, the best one you can find." Gi-hun snapped. "If he dies, so do you."

Chapter Text

"Copy that," Captain Park said.

Gi-hun scowled. The eyeroll he could hear in his words were almost louder than the words themselves. His hand dropped heavily to his side, effectively ending the conversation before he lost his temper. Gi-hun strode back down the hallway, finding that In-ho had risen from the sofa and was making his way over to the alcohol cabinet.

"Absolutely not." Gi-hun said firmly, taking the bottle of whiskey from In-ho's hand. "It'll thin your blood, and you are not bleeding out here."

In-ho reached for the bottle again and plucked it from Gi-hun's hand. Though, instead of pouring himself a glass, he set the bottle back in the cabinet. He didn't say a word as he took hold of Gi-hun's hand, bent his head forwards and kissed his palm. The same palm that had held the knife so tightly that imprints from its edges were still visible on his skin. "I don't think it works quite like that." He said, not meeting Gi-hun's eyes.

In-ho's mind must feel as sluggish as trying to wade through a swamp right now, but the way in which he still wanted to make sure Gi-hun was okay made Gi-hun's heart beat just that bit faster.

"Let's not find out." Gi-hun said, dropping into a softer tone of voice. He saw the faintest pick up of In-ho's lips at his words—there were a thousand things In-ho could say in response, but he kept quiet. Gi-hun took In-ho by the elbow on his uninjured arm and guided him back to sit on the sofa. He sought for the right words to say regarding Jun-ho's condition, but there was nothing for it except raw honesty. "Jun-ho's been found. He's alive but it's not looking great."

In-ho snapped his eyes up to Gi-hun's. They were a complex mix of relief, pain and guilt but there was nothing Gi-hun could say, In-ho would have to come to terms with what had happened in his own time. Gi-hun could only stand next to him and hold him up when­—and if—it got too much to bear. In-ho finally nodded in acknowledgement of the news.

Another question popped into Gi-hun's mind, one that he was sure he knew the answer to, but he had to ask anyway. "You didn't... He didn't see your face, right?" He asked.

In-ho's face scrunched slightly as if the question confused him. "No." He said quietly, shaking his head.

The confirmation came as a bigger relief than Gi-hun expected, he felt the tightness in his back slip away allowing him to sink more comfortably into the sofa beneath him. He nodded and pressed on. "Tomorrow night," Gi-hun began, "take a separate car back to the mainland and go straight to the hospital. They'll already be trying to call you in a few hours. I'll take the winner back alone."

In-ho blinked back the newly forming tears from his eyes, he seemed to come alert at the word 'winner'. "Oh right." He said, coughing to clear his throat, his eyes roaming over the blank screen in front of them. "The game. How did it go? And the guests, they'll be expecting us."

Gi-hun reached across to grab the remote and switched on the screen. The dormitory appeared before them in four separate squares, each one displaying a different angle in which they could observe everything that transpired inside the room.

Workers were busy setting up for the finalists' meal; finalists who were currently nowhere in sight. If Gi-hun looked close enough, he could see the discarded boxes that the suits arrived in beside each bed which had been positioned directly opposite each other. He assumed that they must be changing, and that the staff had taken the opportunity to prepare everything while they were gone.

"I dealt with the guests; they won't be expecting us. As for the game, only two made it. Sang-woo and Sae-byeok. And," Gi-hun said, throwing the remote onto the sofa next to him, "he killed someone."

In-ho raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. "Who?"

"An actual glass maker," Gi-hun laughed dryly. "He used him as a test subject on the last tile."

"Sounds familiar," In-ho muttered.

Gi-hun hummed, his eyes glazing over as he remembered In-ho doing the same thing to protect him. While he was comparing their year in the games to now, Gi-hun noted how in both times they'd ended up in a bathroom together, except the time spent in them had been wildly different.

He blinked when movement—or rather the lack of—caught his attention on the screen. The last bouquet had been meticulously placed on the table that formed the bottom of a triangle shape constructed from the three long tables that he'd seen earlier. Much like the set up that they had had, the bottom table was laden with flowers; overflowing to the point that the tablecloth underneath could barely be seen. The two tables forming the sides had been more sparsely dressed. With several silver plates, multiple sets of cutlery and at least two glasses; a place setting for one had been set out in the middle of each table.

The doors to the dormitory slid shut, and a petal caught in the draft came loose from its stem and fluttered to the floor. For a few minutes, there was silence both in the dormitory and the apartment where Gi-hun and In-ho sat. Eventually, it was broken by the return of Sang-woo and Sae-byeok dressed in their suits. Their steps slowed when they spotted the tables that hadn't been there when they returned from the game earlier. Gi-hun saw them share a glance before they parted and took their seats on opposite tables.

"It seems unfair to have a woman go up against a man." Gi-hun thought aloud.

"I told you not to become attached," In-ho said.

"I just said it was unfair. Are you not all about fairness?"

"If we look too closely at the things that help us sleep at night, the whole thing will come crumbling down." In-ho shifted slightly so that he could look more squarely at Gi-hun, wincing at the pain shooting through his shoulder as he did. "I think you've discovered that."

Under In-ho's watchful gaze, Gi-hun dropped his head to look at his hands where his fingers were already fiddling with the gold band on his left hand. His lips pressed into a thin line as he organised the thoughts that had been drifting freely in his mind over the past few weeks. Eventually, he shook his head slowly and spoke with certainty.

"No." Gi-hun said. "I always knew that it was futile to expect things to go differently each year. How can it? If the games mirror life away from this cursed place, then nothing will change because the world isn't changing. Even Sang-woo," he laughed bitterly, "I thought he might be different, that he might be the same person I once knew, but even he fell victim to the harshness of life. I used to have hope that—given the choice—people would choose life, but now, I think the last of the hope I had is as good as the ash in the bottom of the cremation furnaces. It might be wrong to say, but it feels like a weight has been lifted. I'll sleep fine."

When Gi-hun was finished, he risked a look over at In-ho who had been watching him with nothing but the softest of gazes. Gi-hun caught In-ho's slow blink and slight nod of his head when he grunted his agreement and understanding from somewhere low in his throat. He smiled weakly and reached for In-ho's outstretch hand that he'd offered up to him with the quirk of an eyebrow. With their hands clasped between them, Gi-hun relaxed into the sofa, thankful that complete acceptance of the other came so easily and often without the need for words.

On the other side of the screen, the mood couldn't have been more different.

Sang-woo sat straight in his seat trying to look unfazed as best he could, but Gi-hun saw how his shoulders were high and full of tension while his hands wrung together on his lap. The exact direction of his eyes was unknown, but from how exaggerated his head movements were, it was clear that he was trying his best to avoid looking directly across the table at Sae-byeok.

The effort was almost unnecessary since Sae-byeok sat slumped in her chair, her head tilted downwards to look directly at her lap. She spared few glances upwards, and when she did, she ignored Sang-woo completely. Her attention was taken by the workers circling the tables with jugs of lemon water, wine, and something else that she couldn't immediately identify but the smell was strong enough for her to reject it without tasting it first.

The food followed soon after. Plate upon plate of exquisitely presented dishes were laid out in front of each of them. The meal took on a distinctly western theme, but each plate served up something different to cater for whatever they might be craving. From an assortment of cheeses; to an overflowing fruit bowl; to flaky, delicate fish; to a steak as large as the plate, it was just as much of a treat for their eyes as it was for their stomachs.

Despite knowing how much of a temptation it was to dive straight in, it came as no surprise to Gi-hun when neither one of them touched the food. Players quickly learnt to be wary of the staffs’ intentions and often refused the food, believing it to be poisoned. Gi-hun saw a manager step up to the head of the table, he didn't have to turn the sound on to know that he was easing their worries in an attempt to persuade them to eat.

Sang-woo and Sae-byeok finally made eye contact over the tables, and while it was fleeting, it was enough for them to agree to cast their suspicions aside and start eating. Their first bite was still cautious, but it was the first scrap of decent food they'd had in days, so their instincts took over and they began devouring the food in front of them.

The softness of the candlelight and the music that Gi-hun knew was surely playing, set a tone that was in complete contrast to the state of frenzy in which the two players ate.    

The plates had been half cleared by the time Gi-hun felt his own hunger set in—a surprise since stress often robbed him of his appetite. He pulled his hand from In-ho's, squeezed his thigh, and left for the kitchen. He wasn't even sure what he wanted, but after some deliberating as he searched the cupboards and the fridge, he settled on re-heating the bulgogi from the night before. Gi-hun didn't expect anything to happen over the course of the meal, but he kept an ear out for any disruptions anyway while he prepared two bowls and brought them back to the sofa.

"Here." Gi-hun said gently, carefully placing the bowl into In-ho's hands; mindful of his shoulder restricting his movements. "You need to eat too."

In-ho willingly took the bowl that warmed his fingers as he held it. He took a hold of the spoon and stirred the contents, mixing the thin strips of beef with the bed of rice in the bottom of the bowl. Gi-hun still hovered at his side, unmoving until In-ho took his first mouthful of food. Only then did Gi-hun retake his seat on the sofa and start eating.

The feast in the dormitory ended before Gi-hun and In-ho had finished their meals, and as Gi-hun scraped the last grains of rice from his bowl, workers entered the dormitory to clear away what little food had been left. Others arrived behind them to whip away the cutlery, remove the glasses, and extinguish the candles. Sang-woo and Sae-byeok took that as their cue, and they left the table holding their now stuffed stomachs with one hand. They retreated back to their own beds at opposite sides of the room without a word. 

"No knives?" In-ho asked.

"No knives." Gi-hun confirmed. "Not until tomorrow."

Gi-hun expected a follow-up comment to come but In-ho stayed quiet, he respected Gi-hun's judgement and let the special treatment slide just this once. When he was sure In-ho didn't have anything to add, Gi-hun dumped his bowl on the coffee table and left for the bedroom. Given his injury, he assumed that laying down might be an issue for In-ho, so he re-arranged the pillows on In-ho's side of the bed in a fashion that meant he could rest propped upright. Gi-hun was so immersed in his task that he didn't hear In-ho approaching until he heard a tongue clicking from the doorway.

"You should have let me," In-ho chided.

"Don't be stubborn, even if you think you don't deserve it." Gi-hun said, smoothing out the wrinkles from the top pillow.

In-ho huffed but didn't argue; and the next thing Gi-hun felt was an arm around his waist and a pair of lips on his neck. The embrace was brief, gone before he could lean into it, but Gi-hun felt the gratitude within it regardless. In-ho stepped out from behind Gi-hun and lowered himself into bed, sinking back carefully into the wall of pillows that Gi-hun was holding steady. When In-ho was suitably positioned, Gi-hun re-checked his bandage and pulled the sheets across him before leaving to clean up with a promise that he wouldn't take long.

At that, In-ho did grumble a little as he watched him leave, but exhaustion weakened his protests. Gi-hun headed back to the living room, suppressing a smile while he gathered up the bowls and took them to the kitchen. He gave them a quick rinse, then headed into the bathroom to clean the bloodstains from the sink and the floor—ignoring how the sight of so much of In-ho's blood made his head feel light.

Lastly, he returned to the hallway to pick up his coat and gloves that were still in a heap on the floor. He hung them back by the elevator, frowning slightly at the creases in his coat. He was chewing on the inside of his mouth as he thought about the need to steam them out when the phone rang at the end of the hall. Gi-hun's head whipped around to look at the screen, but since all was quiet the caller mustn't be calling to inform them of unrest in the dormitory. He marched towards the phone, hoping that it was the news he'd been waiting for and not that the clients had an issue.

"Speaking." Gi-hun said as he picked up the phone.

"He's at a hospital. Alive." Captain Park informed him.

Relief flooded his system making his head feel light for an entirely different reason. "Understood." He said, putting the phone down.

He headed back to the bedroom as quickly as his legs would carry him, eager to tell In-ho the news. But when he pushed open the door he found In-ho already asleep, snoring quietly in the way he usually did when he was upset. Gi-hun felt the eagerness fizzle away into the floor beneath his feet. Deciding that the news could wait until In-ho woke up, he closed the bedroom door, stripped down to his underwear and climbed under the sheets to rest his head on In-ho's stomach. He slung an arm across In-ho's hips, and just like his earlier decree, he fell asleep before he felt the second exhale of In-ho's breath under his head.  

The next morning, Gi-hun awoke still glued to In-ho's side with fingers running through his hair. He shifted backwards slightly so that he could peer up at In-ho's face, a face that looked back at him with heavy bags under his eyes from a night of broken sleep. In-ho blinked quickly at Gi-hun's movements, clearing the low, pinched together eyebrows and the extra wrinkles around his nose that betrayed the pain that he was feeling underneath from his expression. He needn't have bothered, Gi-hun—observant as ever, especially when it came to In-ho—caught it anyway.

Gi-hun's eyes flicked to In-ho's shoulder and saw that blood had started to seep through the bandage. "Wait here." He said, dragging himself out of bed.

In-ho would have protested but one look at Gi-hun's face told him that it was pointless; he stayed where he was, watching Gi-hun dress by the low light of the corner lamp.

The elevator doors shut behind Gi-hun before his thoughts caught up with him and he remembered the phone call last night. He considered going back, but since he wasn't planning to be gone long, he slipped his mask on his face and pressed the button to go down.

He noticed the extra stares from the staff when he stalked down the corridors towards the medical room. Gi-hun ignored them, if the air around him felt thicker and more oppressive than before then it would only work in his favour. He burst into the empty room and gathered up way more than he needed from the various cupboards and draws. He left again in a flurry, leaving the door wide open behind him. The game today might be happening at a later hour than previous days, but he still didn't fancy hanging around down here.

Gi-hun returned to the apartment ten minutes after he left it, slinging his mask off as soon as he stepped across the threshold. He found In-ho still propped up in bed looking as if he hadn't dared move a muscle.

"You listened." Gi-hun said, dumping the contents of his pockets on the bottom of the bed.

"I didn't dare not." In-ho said, looking over the various packets emerging from Gi-hun's coat. "I'm not sure if this makes you good in a crisis or not."

Gi-hun pressed his lips together, not all together sure himself either. He shrugged off his coat and removed his gloves and climbed back on the bed next to In-ho, encouraging him to sit forwards a little.

"Next time don't get shot." Gi-hun said, working to untie the strips of fabric from around In-ho's shoulder. 

Pain painted a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but In-ho fought to keep himself still. "Could have been worse." In-ho said through gritted teeth as Gi-hun peeled off the tissue from his wound.

Gi-hun shot him a quick, pointed look that put across his feelings well enough without words. The playful light dancing in In-ho's eyes—a deflection from the pain he was feeling within—died when the last piece of tissue unstuck itself from his wound, exposing the hole in his shoulder to the air. The wound itself looked a mess, but Gi-hun was relieved to find there was no signs of infection. He quickly re-dressed the shoulder with what he'd brought, helped along by In-ho's instructions of what to use.

"Jun-ho made it to the hospital last night." Gi-hun said, tying off the bandage and leaning back to check his work. "Captain Park called but you were already asleep." In-ho sank back into the pillows, relief flooded his face but Gi-hun still spied a line of tension along his jaw. "I meant it last night, go to him later."

Thoughts crossed In-ho's face as clear as day but with a heavy, resigned exhale of breath, he nodded sharply. "We've still got to make it through today first." He said, locking his eyes onto Gi-hun.

Gi-hun held In-ho's gaze, finding that it was his turn to breathe a weary sigh of resignation and nod.

The viewing room for today’s game was situated at the very top of the island, at the furthest point of the VIP area. Above their heads, the ceiling was only a few feet beneath the surface where birds nested in the bushes during springtime. The room itself resembled a whiskey lounge, only colder. Large leather sofas surrounded a fake fireplace, and a dark patterned rug had been spread out to cover most of the stone floor. The same black stone ran up the walls, its surface smooth and reflective—void of personality or individual taste. A glass chandelier hung in the centre, its impressive design should have been the focal point of the room, but it was overshadowed by a large window that stretched across the far wall.

Beyond the window, the 'red light, green light' arena opened up before them. From their high up position, they could see the entire arena beneath, with Young-hee at one end surrounded in shadowy darkness, and the large green doors, now firmly closed, at the other. Gi-hun stood by the window peering down at the squares, circles and triangles that made up the layout for the final game. His hand raised automatically and came to rest on his side, the scar underneath felt like it was tingling in response to the sight.

Footsteps behind him had him yanking his hand away, but when In-ho appeared alone at his side he stalled in his hasty attempt to pack away those old memories. Gi-hun glanced over at In-ho who stood silent, staring down at the floor of the arena. He often forgot In-ho's memories of that day were much more vivid than his own. Gi-hun reached to give In-ho's hand a quick squeeze. They never knew what to say to each other at this point in the games so, more often than not, they didn't speak of it.

"They're on their way," In-ho said.

Gi-hun checked his watch, the clients would be arriving any moment. "Did they take the knives?"

In-ho nodded. "Willingly."

It was a pointless question. They always took the knives. Why wouldn't they?

More footsteps entered the room behind them, and Gi-hun turned to see the six men arriving in a much more subdued mood than yesterday. If there was anything positive to say about day six of the games, it was that the clients were always all the quieter and easier to handle. Each nursed splitting headaches that went along with their hangovers meaning that their laughter and out-of-pocket comments would be absent today.

The man in the panther mask seemed to be feeling the worst. He collapsed down on one of the sofas as soon as he arrived, his fingertips pressed to his temple. "Call me over when it starts," he said.

Others grunted at him as they left him behind to gather at the window. Stationed in a line with Gi-hun and In-ho on the far left, the seven of them waited in near silence for the two players to enter the arena.

Ominous grey clouds gathered overhead to block out the midday sun when the doors directly beneath the window opened, heralding the arrival of the finalists. Gi-hun cast his eyes upwards to the skies above, wondering if rain might be imminent. The decision to have the roof open during the last game was an easy one. When not every player would walk out of here alive, the least they could do was let whoever was with them see the sun one last time. But of course, that meant bad weather could ruin their plans.

"It's time." The lion-masked man said over his shoulder. "Get over here."

The panther-masked man wiped the parts of his face he could reach, staggered to his feet and joined them at the window. Gi-hun was relieved when he chose to stand at the opposite end of the line to him, especially since the man had grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass on the way over. With everyone in place, and the players walking towards the perimeter lines of the squid, Gi-hun introduced the last game.

"Welcome to the sixth game," Gi-hun said. "Squid Game."

On the last syllable, Gi-hun allowed himself to look down properly at the two figures beneath. Side by side, Sang-woo and Sae-byeok walked forwards with a knife grasped tightly in their hands. They had yet to split off into their positions, leaving Gi-hun to guess at who had won the coin flip and what position they might have chosen. It was hard to believe that Sae-byeok would know what this game was given her past; the instructions that would be read out would only explain the very basics, it made Gi-hun curious to see if Sang-woo would let her take the more straightforward role of defence.

The faint murmur of the announcement came through the window but Gi-hun heard the words with as much clarity as if the speaker was right next to his ear.

"Welcome players to the final game. Squid Game. Let me explain the rules of Squid Game. One, the attacker must enter the squid-shaped court, run past the defence, and then tap the area inside the squid's head with their foot to secure the win. Two, the defender must block the attacker's advance and force them outside of the court's bounds in order to win. Three, if a situation arises in which either player is unable to continue playing the game, the last one standing will be the winner."

Two pairs of feet, one considerably smaller than the other, crossed that white line in the dirt. Their strides and pace matching almost perfectly the entire way to the centre of the main square that made up the body of the squid. They only broke apart to turn toe to toe. A look passed between them. One of understanding that their camaraderie had broken and that they were now opponents.

Sang-woo broke the stare first. A cloud of shame surrounded him, he had the upper hand, and he knew it. Sae-byeok held steady. The fierce look from day one was still there, deep in her eyes. She drilled her glare through Sang-woo's skull when he refused to look at her. A fight may ensue, but she wanted him to know that she wouldn't go down so easily.  

Gi-hun's curiosity was satisfied soon enough when Sang-woo retreated. He headed away from Sae-byeok to the circle that represented the head of the squid. Gi-hun's breath of approval was heavy and loud in the quiet room, so much so that even In-ho threw him a glance. A glance that was short lived since the sudden pitter-patter of rain on the window had everyone's heads turning upwards. The clouds had darkened, and the heavens had opened. Fat raindrops that looked suspiciously like tears, landed on the window and ran down into the frame.

On Gi-hun's right, a deep voice spoke a line in Mandarin. He didn't know what it meant but the flow of words sounded pleasant and poetic to his ears. He could ask what it meant but someone else’s curiosity beat him to it.

"Sounds beautiful. What does it mean?"

"Good rain knows the best time to fall."

The interpretations of that line felt endless, but the rhythmic pounding of rain on the glass felt soothing and just noisy enough to dampen the thoughts in Gi-hun's mind. The rain might not aid the players down in the thick of it, but for himself, it certainly was falling at the best time.

Sang-woo's feet dragged on the surface. Days of death had worn him down, and for the first time he looked exhausted. His lips moved, appearing to be almost trembling, but in his head, he was counting the steps from the centre of the squid to what would be the finish line. He crossed the line into the circle and looked back from where he'd come, he doubled the steps in his mind and almost laughed. Once he'd pushed through the boundary at the far side, only twenty steps stood between him and the most money he'd ever seen in his life. Twenty steps and a fearless woman armed with a knife.

Sang-woo heaved a sigh, rolled his shoulders then picked up a leg so that he balanced on one foot. He honoured the unsaid rule and leapt from the circle, hopping on one foot around the perimeter of the squid. Sae-byeok watched him, eyes narrowed in confusion. She stood in place, hand tightening around the knife as she watched Sang-woo progress around the edge of the squid just out of reach.

Sang-woo kept his head down, eyes lowered to the ground to watch his step. The next time he took in anything other than the ground directly in front of his foot was when he stepped into the circle representing the midpoint between the body and the head. He looked directly at Sae-byeok who widened her stance and lowered her body, the knife outstretched in front of her face. Still, she didn't advance. She saw the lines forming the squid’s neck and knew not to cross them.

Her eyes quickly flicked to the centre where there was a gap in between the shapes—a break in the path where they could meet if they wanted to. The side of Sang-woo's mouth tugged up into a hollow smile, and there was a sense of arrogance in the way he put his best foot forwards to cross the squid's neck. He didn't even hesitate when he reached the gap. He crossed over with the same ease that he set out with, knowing that Sae-byeok was rooted to her spot.

Sang-woo strolled around the outside of the squid once more, then came to a stop at the bottom of the squid's body. The rain had soaked his suit, and a chill had crept up onto his back, but he brushed the discomfort off. He told himself that in just a few steps he would never need to experience such things again.

He crossed the line.

The rain lashed down onto Sae-byeok's back, soaking the material through to her skin. If she felt the cold, she didn't show it. Her stance remained solid, unyielding. The ground beneath her feet had been churned into a mud that resembled sticky clay. It caked her shoes and made her steps sluggish, but the hinderances barely registered. Sang-woo had stepped into her domain and she wasn't about to let him through.

Sang-woo should have been aware of Sae-byeok's strengths. She was quick, nimble and had impressive aim; so, when she disappeared from in front of him in a whirl of black and white to end up behind him, it shouldn't have been a shock. It should have been even less of a shock to feel searing pain radiating down his arm. He looked down at the slash in his suit jacket, already feeling hot liquid running down his arm that was definitely not the rain.

The movement was so sudden that Gi-hun's jaw dropped. It dropped further when Sang-woo shrugged off his jacket, revealing the spreading patch of red on his shirt where the knife had cut through both layers of clothes and into his skin.

Sang-woo staggered backwards away from Sae-byeok. The confidence drained from his face quicker than the rain dripped from the ends of his hair. He clutched at his arm, flinching at the fresh wave of pain. He clenched his jaw, eyes fixed on the woman with his blood staining the edge of her knife as he wrapped the jacket round both his hands and pulled it tight. Sang-woo launched forwards, aiming for the knife in Sae-byeok's hand but she was ready for his strike.

Ducking down, she slipped underneath Sang-woo's grasp. She wrapped her arms around his thighs, and on one she sliced across the back of his leg above his knee. Sang-woo cried out in pain, his hand flying to the cut as if it would stem the bleeding. Anger entered his eyes, and with fistfuls of her suit jacket, he wrenched Sae-byeok from where she was clinging on to him. He slung her aside and she landed heavily and winded, not knowing whether to gasp for breath or throw up first.

Sang-woo looked down at Sae-byeok—curled up, soaked through, and covered in mud—with lifeless eyes. He threw his suit jacket down before her and turned his back, heading towards the squid's head. He made it a total of two steps before a sharp line of pain brought him to his knees.

Sae-byeok had mustered the last of her strength, and with her knife in hand, she'd crawled forwards and slashed at Sang-woo's leg. She caught him just above his heel; not deep enough to sever the tendon but deep enough to bring him down, nonetheless. Sae-byeok pushed herself forwards, eyes set on the strip of skin above Sang-woo's collar. If she could plant the blade of her knife there, Sang-woo would bleed out at her feet.

The mud's suction releasing alerted Sang-woo to movement at his back. He twisted the knife around in his hand and struck out behind him. He had no idea where he was aiming, and so when the blade hit resistance, slowing its journey but not stopping it, he was caught by surprise.

He twisted himself around, only to be met with Sae-byeok's startled eyes an arm’s length away from his face. The hilt of the knife was still in his hand, but he couldn't see the blade anymore. It had sunk itself entirely into the side of Sae-byeok's neck. Blood trickled down the side of her neck and from the corner of her mouth. Sang-woo retracted his hand in horror, but it was too late. Sae-byeok's eyelids drooped and she gagged, throwing up fresh blood onto the front of Sang-woo's shirt.

Her body sagged forwards, toppling onto the chest of her killer. The blood that didn't leave her went to her lungs and her breaths turned wet with blood. She wheezed, her body trembling faintly as her life slipped from her. A soldier approached the pair tangled on the floor but his job was rendered obsolete. Sae-byeok drew in one last raspy breath then went silent. Her body relaxed more than it had done in a long time; she was peaceful in death.

"Player 67, eliminated. Player 218, wins. The game is now over."

Gi-hun wanted to look away. He wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn't. Ever since Sang-woo stepped over that line, he had blinked so infrequently that his eyes now felt dry. Now as he watched Sae-byeok's blood dilute into the puddles of rainwater, he still couldn't look away. Sang-woo had lived, but for a moment it was almost as if he wasn't meant to.

"Well, that wraps things up for another year." The lion-masked man said, breaking the silence.

"It's been a pleasure gentlemen, as always." The dear-masked man said.

One after another, the men left the window. Easy chatter resumed as glasses and bottles of alcohol were grabbed from the shelves before they reclined into the sofas. Not even the winner of the games could hold their attention for more than a few seconds. Sang-woo's existence left the men’s minds as soon as he stopped serving as their entertainment. Gi-hun would bet anything that their discussion was already turning towards next year and the dates that they had free in their schedules.

In-ho reached for his radio and spoke quietly to the staff down below lining the edge of the arena. "Take the body away and treat the winner's injuries. Have him ready to leave tonight."

Gi-hun stared blankly as a coffin was brought forth. The staff took hold of Sae-byeok's body and moved her from Sang-woo who had taken to lying flat on his back, chest heaving as the rain on his face threatened to drown him. Sae-byeok was laid in the coffin with more care than Gi-hun expected and was taken from the arena. At dusk, a wisp of smoke would funnel into the air to mark the end of her existence in this life.     

Behind the coffin, a manager arrived with a small gas tank and a face mask. Sang-woo had no strength to resist the mask or the overwhelming need to sleep when he inhaled the gas. The pink figure stood when he was satisfied that Sang-woo was unconscious and motioned for others to bring in the stretcher. Sang-woo was rolled onto the stretcher made of basic green canvas, and with one worker at each corner, he was taken out the other side of the arena.

The doors to the arena slammed shut leaving the space empty of life, only the white lines and pools of blood remained. The rain on the window eased from its heavy lashing to a drizzle then it ceased altogether. Cracks appeared in the clouds above and sun beams filtered through to dapple the muddy surface down below. A rainstorm so perfectly timed that Gi-hun couldn't help but admire nature’s ability to set a scene.

A few hours later, Gi-hun sat at the desk in the apartment, pen in hand. In the file in front of him, he wrote in Sang-woo's name under the section titled 'Winner(s)'. He looked down at the name for a while then closed the file, threw the pen down on top of it and slid it across the desk. Gi-hun sat back in his chair and ran his hands over his face, there was still a few loose ends to tie up but the worst of it was over, normalcy didn't feel so far out of reach. Or it didn't until he remembered Jun-ho. Gi-hun groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, he guessed that it would be too much to hope that he'd lost his memories of this place after the fall.

In-ho's footsteps entering the office had Gi-hun prying his eyes open. He blinked in surprise when he saw In-ho holding his phone in one hand. Their phones were useless here and often spent the months tucked in draws, but now they were leaving it stood to reason that In-ho had dug his out again. In-ho approached the desk and placed a small black envelope in front of Gi-hun.

"The credit card." In-ho said.

Gi-hun took the envelope and looked inside to see a gold credit card. "How is he?" He asked.

"His injuries aren’t serious, he'll recover. That leg might cause him a few issues though, she managed to nick his tendon but it's not like he can't afford the healthcare to fix it now." In-ho said.

Gi-hun hummed and threw the card back on the desk. He checked the time on his watch. "The guests are due to leave in an hour, but what are we doing about the old guy? He's been in bed for two days. Is he still breathing?"

"Unfortunately. He's leaving in a few days, so if you wanted to speak to him..." In-ho trailed off.

Gi-hun heaved a sigh. "Give me a day or two, let's sort this out first." He said, gesturing vaguely around the room. In-ho nodded and made to leave but Gi-hun pulled him back with a sudden question. "What do you usually say when they ask 'why?'?"

"The bare minimum. Turn the conversation back to their win. They're always too disorientated to ask that many questions anyway." In-ho paused. "I can still take him back if you want—"

"No." Gi-hun said. "Go to the hospital. I'll bring a change of clothes and join you later."

"It's not like they'll let me in at that hour anyway." In-ho grumbled.

Gi-hun's gaze turned soft. It was easy to assume In-ho's avoidance meant that he didn't care, but Gi-hun knew that wasn't the case. In-ho cared too much and that made him nervous. Gi-hun stood, rounded the desk, and threw his arms around In-ho to pull him into a hug. "Then sit in the waiting room," he mumbled into In-ho's hair, "just show up for him."      

Late into the night, hours after the clients had departed the island, Gi-hun and In-ho parted ways on the deck of the boat.

Gi-hun threw a small bag to the driver and stretched his hand towards the handle of the limousine parked right in the centre of the deck, only to be stopped by In-ho's hand on his wrist.

"Don't take your mask off when you speak to him. He'll recognise your voice." In-ho warned.

Gi-hun took his hand away from the handle and placed it as best he could on the side of In-ho's neck. "I won't." He reassured, letting his thumb slip upwards and around the side of his hood to rest against the small strip of skin between the top of his collar and the bottom of his mask. 

In-ho took hold of Gi-hun's forearm and pushed it gently away. "Behave." He said, throwing a look towards the tinted windows of the limousine—behind which Sang-woo must be sat—then left for the smaller car parked behind.

Gi-hun grinned behind his mask, then pulled open the door to the limousine and slipped inside.

Sang-woo had already been bundled into the car before Gi-hun got there, and when Gi-hun saw his unconscious body slumped against the seat, the grin on his face melted away. The silk around his eyes obscured most of his face but Gi-hun would recognise it anywhere despite the battered and bruised state that it was currently in. To be so close to him without a camera or pane of glass between them was a shock to his system. He could reach out and touch him if he wanted, he could feel the warmth in his cheeks or the pulse at his neck but to do so would break the mental distance he'd put between them.

Gi-hun moved to the furthest corner seat of the car, pushed his hood down and removed his mask. They had a long journey ahead and Sang-woo wouldn't wake for a few more hours so he might as well get comfortable.

Gi-hun was on his third glass of champagne when the city lights of Seoul appeared in the distance. His fingers tightened on the glass in his hand. The hustle and bustle of life away from the island was overwhelming in the first few days back. The lights were always too bright, the sounds were always too loud, and the crowds were always too thick. He wasn't even back properly yet; he still had to go back to the island and settle things before returning to society. Gi-hun sighed. He yearned for their little house in the countryside where he and In-ho taught themselves to be human again.

Sang-woo shuffled in his seat pulling Gi-hun's eyes back from the city skyline to the other man inside the car. Gi-hun sat patiently and downed the last of his drink while Sang-woo came to. It didn't take long for the drugs to wear off once they started, and soon enough, Sang-woo was trying to pull his hands free from where they were tied behind his back.

"What...?" Sang-woo asked, his voice hoarse from his dry throat. "Where am I?"

Gi-hun placed his mask over his face, regretful that they couldn't have a conversation without boundaries even though he knew this way was best for both of them. "Relax. You'll tear your stitches."

Sang-woo froze. He was used to the distortion of the staff's voices but Gi-hun's sounded different and Sang-woo noticed immediately. "Who are you?" He asked, his voice was edged with an anger that Gi-hun didn't expect.

"Someone that provided you with a second chance." Gi-hun said, keeping his voice even and controlled.

"Second chance?" Sang-woo started to ask, pausing as the car shook slightly as it drove over a grate in the road. At that point he became acutely aware that he was in a moving vehicle. "Where are you taking me? Is this another test?"

"Test?" Gi-hun repeated, his eyebrows knitting together.

"That’s what you’ve been doing isn’t it? Testing us to see who survives? You can call it an 'opportunity' all you want but we both know that’s bullshit." Sang-woo hit back.

Gi-hun's brows furrowed, he could have sworn that In-ho had told him that they don't usually ask many questions.

"No." Gi-hun said, rolling the stem of the champagne glass between his fingers and thumb. The thought of the games being a test wasn't altogether wrong, but it wasn't its intended purpose. "It’s far simpler than that. You are pawns in a game and you, unexpectedly, just happened to play well. Congratulations on your win, by the way."

Sang-woo strained against his restraints and the corners of his mouth turned down. "You’re crazier than I thought. You kill us for sport?!"

Gi-hun sighed. "'Sport' is a strong word. Would any of you have survived in the world anyway?"

"That wasn’t for you to decide." Sang-woo said through gritted teeth.

"Oh? Of course. It’s only you that can trade on peoples' futures, right?" Gi-hun said slowly, letting every word land with a weight that Sang-woo couldn't defend himself against. "And I didn’t, you came back of your own accord."

Sang-woo didn't reply straight away. He slumped forwards in his seat so that the next time he spoke it was like he was addressing the floor. "I had nothing left to lose." He whispered.

"Except your life." Gi-hun stated.

A small laugh shook Sang-woo's shoulders, a laugh that was totally devoid of humour and Gi-hun could almost hear the tears pricking at his eyes. "I would have taken that too."

Gi-hun was rendered speechless. To hear that Sang-woo considered taking his own life was like having a bucket of ice water thrown over him. In his hand, the glass cracked. Gi-hun looked down to see a tiny line running upwards and away from the tip of his thumb. He swallowed and forced his voice to remain composed and emotionless. "And leave your mother to clean up your mess? What a stand-up son."

"Don’t speak about her!" Sang-woo spat. The mention of his mother had brought him back to life. He raised his head and looked towards the corner of the car where Gi-hun's voice drifted from. "You can hardly lecture me. I bet you poison everyone around you, do they even know what a monster you are?!"

Gi-hun gritted his teeth and set the glass down on the seat beside him before he shattered it. Sure, what right did he have to speak about Sang-woo's mother? The woman who had only been gentle and kind to him. The woman who encouraged him to view her house like his own, a space of safety and comfort and family. The woman who made sure that he never went hungry—both as a kid and as an adult. The woman who didn't even know that her livelihood was in jeopardy. What right did he have? Frustration bubbled in his chest before he even started on the remark about In-ho.

Gi-hun was quiet so long that Sang-woo grew bold. "What's wrong? Did I hit a nerve?"

He had. He'd hit the rawest nerve. The coolness that Gi-hun had been clinging to fell through his fingers, anger bit at the edge of his words. "The person closest to me would tell you to forget everything, imagine it was just a dream, but I won’t. I hope you remember everyone you trampled on to be sat here so that you don’t make a mess of your life again."

"The deaths on my hands are on yours too. You did this. But I guess you don’t care, like you said, they wouldn’t have survived in the world so maybe I did them a kindness." Sang-woo said.

The city lights were almost bearing down on the car now. They had just turned onto the bridge that would take them into the heart of the city, signalling that it was time to wrap up their conversation.

"Player 218, I sincerely hope you’ll live a good life," Gi-hun said.

Sang-woo sat back into the seat, realising that he wasn't going to get a further rise out of the mysterious figure in the car with him. "Spare me your false sincerity, I doubt you have the capacity to care."

Gi-hun studied Sang-woo for a moment, then pressed a button beside him without a word. A hissing noise filled the car and white smoke billowed from the vents in the roof, clouding his vision. Sang-woo coughed as it filled his nostrils and he tried to speak, to protest, but the drugs worked faster. His words slurred and his body slumped heavily against the seat as he lost consciousness, his head lolling against the headrest.

Seconds later, Gi-hun pressed another button to open all the windows around them. Smoke streamed from the car up into the night sky, clearing the air from around Gi-hun and a passed out Sang-woo in a matter of moments. Gi-hun closed the windows again once every last tendril of smoke had left the car despite how nice the cool summer air felt flowing through the vehicle.   

Dipping his hand into his coat pocket, he pulled out the black envelope with the gold credit card inside. He held it between his fingers and reached over to Sang-woo to tuck the envelope inside his jacket pocket, conveniently placing it beside the packet of cigarettes stashed there. He withdrew his hand as quickly as possible and resettled himself in the corner by the window.

Gi-hun's mind had just started to drift when a buzzing startled him. He reached for his phone that hadn't made a noise in months and stared at it. He had turned it on as he left the island but hadn't looked at it properly yet. Notifications filled the small screen from top to bottom, and Gi-hun quickly scrolled to see if any were from In-ho. He didn't have to look too hard since the latest message came from him, telling him he'd arrived at the hospital followed by the address. He sent a quick reply back and scrolled further until he came upon a message from a name he hadn't heard in a long time. Jung-bae.

Gi-hun took off his mask and quickly scanned the message.

"Gi-hun-ah! Did you fall off the Earth? Call me when you're around, let's go out for a drink. I'll buy."

Gi-hun sighed and pressed the 'delete' button. He'd had enough of lying to his friends for one day.