C  H A P T E R T W E N T Y - F O U R :
"But he was a proud man... too proud."
_______________________________________

    Yi-Seo wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep. One moment, she had been resting in Sang-woo's arms, the warmth of his embrace keeping the chill away, and the next, a faint muffled noise stirred her awake.

Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim lighting. The dormitory was still eerily silent, save for the occasional sound of people shifting in their sleep. But something felt off.

She listened closely.

There. Soft murmuring, hushed and frantic.

Carefully, she tried to move, but Sang-woo's arms tightened around her, his grip unconsciously firm even in sleep. She glanced at his face—relaxed for once, free of the tension he always carried.

She hesitated, then gently pried his arms away, slipping out of his grasp without waking him.

Following the sound, she found Gi-hun kneeling beside the old man—Player 001. The old man was shivering, his face flushed with fever. Gi-hun was whispering softly, trying to calm him, but worry was evident in his expression.

Yi-Seo crouched down beside them, assessing the situation.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

Gi-hun looked up, relief flashing across his face at the sight of her. "He's burning up. I don't have anymore water to make the fever go down."

Yi-Seo immediately reached for the small water bottle tucked in her jacket pocket. It was all she had left, but without hesitation, she handed it to Gi-hun. "Here."

Gi-hun blinked. "Are you sure? What about you—"

"I'll manage," she cut in. "He needs it more."

Gi-hun hesitated for only a second before nodding in gratitude. He carefully helped the old man, grabbing a cloth he made out of a blanket and placed water on it.

Yi-Seo turned, spotting Sae-byeok kneeling a few feet away, watching the scene quietly. Without a word, she got up and walked over to the group.

"Here," Sae-byeok whispered, offering her the remaining bit of her other water bottle.

Gi-hun stared at her for a moment before finally taking the bottle. "Thanks."

Sae-byeok simply nodded before walking back to the front of the fort.

"Get some rest," Yi-Seo told Gi-hun. "I'll stay with him."

Gi-hun hesitated, but seeing the determination in her eyes, he nodded. "Alright. I'll keep watch with Sae-byeok."

With that, Yi-Seo settled down beside the old man as Gi-hun moved away, quietly taking a seat beside Sae-byeok near the bunks.

A moment of silence passed before the old man let out a soft chuckle.

"You remind me of someone," he murmured, his voice weak but steady.

Yi-Seo turned to him. "You've told me that before."

He nodded, his gaze distant, as if lost in a memory. "An old friend of mine. He always talked about his family. Two daughters, he had. He never shut up about them."

Yi-Seo's breath hitched slightly.

The old man smiled faintly. "He was a good man. Hardworking. Did everything for his family." His expression grew wistful. "We were young back then... reckless. Thought we had all the time in the world."

Yi-Seo swallowed. "What happened to him?"

The old man exhaled through his nose. "Life happened. We grew apart. He got married, had his daughters... I took a different path." He paused. "I wonder if they're doing alright."

Yi-Seo's fingers curled slightly against the concrete floor. "I'm sure they are," she murmured.

The old man turned to look at her then, his tired eyes studying her carefully. For a fleeting moment, it felt like he recognized something in her—but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

"You're a kind girl," he said instead. "The world needs more people like you."

Yi-Seo let out a quiet chuckle. "Not sure about that."

The old man smiled, closing his eyes briefly. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

She looked at him for a long moment before nodding. "You too."

He hummed in response, his breathing evening out slightly.

Yi-Seo remained by his side. And for the first time in a long while, she felt something strange settle in her chest.

Something like familiarity.

Yi-Seo watched the old man as his breathing slowed, his body still trembling from fever. The dim, flickering light above them cast shadows over his face, deepening the lines of age and exhaustion. She wasn't sure why, but something about his words lingered in her mind.

An old friend. Two daughters.

Her heart felt heavy, though she couldn't quite explain why.

Just as she thought he had drifted into sleep, his voice, faint but steady, broke the silence again.

"You know," he murmured, "I met him again... after so many years."

Yi-Seo turned to him. His eyes were still closed, but his expression was distant, as if he was lost in a memory he had buried long ago.

"I never thought I'd see him again," the old man continued. "Life has a funny way of bringing people back together... but not always for the better."

Yi-Seo swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "What happened?"

The old man exhaled softly. "When I saw him again, he wasn't the same man I once knew. He looked... tired. Worn down by life. He had lost everything—his business, his savings. Debt swallowed him whole." His voice tightened slightly. "He was desperate."

Yi-Seo's grip on her knees tightened. "And you... helped him?"

"I tried," the old man said, his eyes still closed. "I had the means. I offered to clear his debt, told him to start fresh. But he was a proud man... too proud." A soft, bitter chuckle escaped his lips. "He wouldn't take my money. Said he didn't want to be in anyone's debt—not even an old friend."

Yi-Seo felt something in her chest clench.

The old man continued, his voice quieter now. "He told me he just needed time. That he would fix things himself." He let out a long, slow breath. "But some debts can't be repaid so easily."

A heavy silence stretched between them. Yi-Seo could feel her pulse in her ears.

The way he spoke—the weight in his words—it felt too close to home.

"Your friend..." she said carefully, her voice barely above a whisper. "What was his name?"

The old man didn't answer right away. His lips parted slightly, as if he was searching through the fog of his memory. But then, his face twitched, and a deep sadness flickered across his features.

"...I can't remember," he admitted, shaking his head slightly. "Funny, isn't it? I remember his voice, his laugh... I remember the way he always talked about his daughters like they were his whole world. But his name..." He exhaled sharply. "It's gone."

Yi-Seo's breath caught in her throat.

Two daughters. A proud man swallowed by debt.

Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as a thought—no, a realization—began to take root.

"...Did he make it?" she asked, her voice barely holding steady.

The old man was silent for a long moment before shaking his head. "I don't know what happened to him."

The weight of that single word sank deep into her chest.

She felt something in her throat tighten, but she forced herself to breathe, to push it down. "And his daughters?"

The old man smiled faintly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'd like to think they found their way."

Yi-Seo didn't speak.

Because suddenly, she wasn't sure if she wanted to ask anything else.

The air between them grew heavier, thick with unspoken truths neither of them fully understood.

The old man sighed. "Life doesn't wait for anyone," he murmured. "One moment, you have everything. The next, you're wondering where it all went."

Yi-Seo swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Yeah," she whispered. "I know."

For a long while, they sat there in silence.

And as the old man's breathing slowed, Yi-Seo found herself staring at the ceiling, feeling like she had just brushed against something far more personal than she had ever expected.

Something that, deep down, she wasn't ready to face.

Words from the author:
Oh I'm so ready for this . 😛