C  H  A  P  T  E  R   T  H  I  R  T  Y :
"Maybe loving and trusting you was my worst mistake ."
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Yi-Seo walked back into the game room, her legs barely carrying her. Her breaths were shallow, her vision blurred by the tears that hadn't fully dried. The old man's words echoed in her head, a cruel reminder of everything she had tried to suppress.

As soon as she stepped inside, Gi-hun spotted her from across the room. His eyes widened in concern at her slow, unsteady movements and the unmistakable redness around her swollen eyes. Without hesitation, he rushed toward her.

"Yi-Seo?" His voice was soft but urgent. "What happened?"

She lifted her gaze, barely registering his face before her knees buckled. Gi-hun caught her just in time, stumbling slightly as he supported her weight. His arms wrapped around her instinctively.

"Hey, hey, I got you," he whispered, gently guiding her to sit down in their usual spot. The room was eerily silent, the weight of what had just transpired still heavy in the air.

Gi-hun hesitated for a moment before pulling her into a hug. He felt her trembling against him, her breathing uneven. "You're safe now. It's over," he assured her, even though they both knew safety was an illusion here.

For a long moment, Yi-Seo didn't respond. Then, in a barely audible voice, she muttered, "He... he lied to me."

Gi-hun pulled back slightly, searching her face. "Who?"

She swallowed hard, her chest tightening painfully. "The old man. He made me believe I was his friend. He made me care. And then... he tricked me. He knew all along." Her voice wavered, and her fingers curled into her lap as the weight of betrayal crushed her.

Gi-hun looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I should've known," she choked out. "I should've known people like me don't get kindness here."

Her breaths started coming in quick, shallow gasps. Her vision blurred again, the walls of the room pressing in on her. It was happening again—her chest felt tight, her hands shook, and her ears rang with a deafening silence.

Gi-hun immediately recognized the signs. "Yi-Seo, look at me," he said, gripping her shoulders gently. "Breathe with me, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth." He exaggerated the motions, trying to ground her. "You're not alone. Just breathe."

She tried, but the panic had already taken hold. She gripped his wrist tightly, her nails digging into his skin as she struggled for control.

That's when Sang-woo walked in.

His eyes flicked between the two of them—Yi-Seo's trembling form, Gi-hun's hands on her shoulders, the raw distress on her face. His expression hardened.

"What's going on?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy air.

Gi-hun glanced up, his brows furrowing. "She—"

But before he could finish, Yi-Seo turned slightly, locking eyes with Sang-woo. For a split second, something flickered in her gaze—hurt, vulnerability, something he couldn't quite name.

Gi-hun felt it before he saw it—the way Yi-Seo's body tensed in his arms, how her breathing hitched at the sight of Sang-woo. Her trembling worsened, and before either of them could say anything, a broken sob tore from her throat.

Sang-woo's expression, at first unreadable, shifted ever so slightly. His brows furrowed, lips parting as if he wanted to say something—but no words came.

Gi-hun turned back to Yi-Seo, squeezing her hands gently. "Yi-Seo, you're safe," he repeated. "Just focus on me, okay? One breath at a time."

But Yi-Seo wasn't hearing him anymore. Her mind had already slipped back to the marble game, to the old man's piercing words. "That's why I can't let you have the same fate as him."

The betrayal burned. It wasn't just the old man. It was everything—her life, her career, the people who once trusted her, and now, even here in this godforsaken game, she had been foolish enough to hope.

Gi-hun shifted, setting his hand against her back in slow, soothing circles. "Yi-Seo, talk to me."

Her breathing was erratic, shallow gasps between her shaking sobs. It felt like her chest was caving in. "I... I trusted him," she whispered, voice hoarse. "I thought—he made me think he—" She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut as fresh tears spilled.

Sang-woo took a slow step forward, his hands clenched at his sides. "Who are you talking about?" His voice was quieter now, a contrast to the sharpness from before.

Yi-Seo turned to him, and for the first time, there was anger beneath her grief. "It doesn't matter," she said bitterly, though her voice still wavered. "It's over. Just like everything else in my life."

Gi-hun frowned. "Don't say that."

She shook her head, pressing the heels of her palms against her temples. "You don't get it. He made me feel like—like I had someone in this place. And in the end, it was just another trick. Just another game."

Sang-woo's jaw tightened. Something about the way she spoke, the rawness of her pain, made his chest feel uncomfortably tight. He wasn't used to seeing Yi-Seo like this—weak. She had always been composed, always pushing forward, even when everything seemed against her.

He took another step closer. "Yi-Seo—"

She shot him a look. "Don't."

That single word stopped him in his tracks.

Gi-hun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I don't know what he said to you, but whatever it was, it's not your fault. This place—it messes with people. You cared. That's not a bad thing."

Yi-Seo let out a humorless laugh. "It is when it gets you killed."

A heavy silence fell over them.

Sang-woo looked away for a moment, his fingers curling into his palm before he finally spoke. "Did you win?" His voice was low, unreadable.

Yi-Seo flinched at the question. Her stomach turned. She had won. She had survived. But at what cost?

She didn't answer.

Gi-hun glared at Sang-woo. "Seriously?"

Sang-woo met his gaze, expression darkening. "We're all here because we won. And we'll have to keep winning if we want to make it out of this alive." His tone was cold, distant—but there was something else lurking beneath it, something even he might not have understood.

Yi-Seo wiped at her face, her breathing still uneven. "I don't need a lecture from you."

He took another step closer, his eyes dark and sharp. "You don't need a lecture from me?" he repeated, voice low, edged with something dangerous. "Then what do you need, Yi-Seo? Someone to coddle you? Tell you that everything's going to be fine?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Grow up."

Yi-Seo's jaw tightened. "Screw you, Sang-woo."

"Why? Because I'm telling you the truth?" His voice was like ice. "Because I'm not feeding you some comforting lie like Gi-hun? News flash, Yi-Seo—caring about people in this place will get you killed. You should know that by now."

Her hands curled into fists. "I do know that," she snapped. "But you don't get to stand there and act like you're above it all. Like you're not just as scared as the rest of us."

Sang-woo let out a sharp laugh. "Scared? You think I have the luxury of being scared?" He took another step toward her, close enough that she could see the exhaustion lining his face, the weight of everything pressing down on him. "I'm doing what I have to do to survive. Something you should have figured out by now, considering how far you've fallen."

Yi-Seo froze.

Something inside her cracked.

She stared at him, the words cutting deeper than they should have. Considering how far you've fallen.

All the years of struggle, of clawing her way back from ruin, of fighting to rebuild her life—he had just tossed it in her face like it was nothing.

Her vision blurred with fury.

Before she could think, before she could stop herself, her palm met his cheek with a sharp, echoing smack.

The room fell silent.

Sang-woo didn't move for a moment. His face was turned slightly to the side, a red mark blooming across his skin.

Gi-hun's eyes widened. "Yi-Seo—"

She was breathing heavily, her hands shaking. "Go to hell," she whispered.

Sang-woo slowly turned his head back to her, something unreadable flashing through his gaze—anger, hurt, something deeper. He took a step closer, his voice lower this time, more deliberate. "At least I know where I'm going. What about you?"

Gi-hun quickly stepped between them, placing a hand on Sang-woo's chest. "That's enough."

Sang-woo's eyes snapped to him. "Move."

"No."

For a moment, Sang-woo just stared at him. Then he laughed—bitter, hollow. "Of course. Of course, you're getting involved. That's all you ever do, isn't it? Meddle in things you don't understand."

Gi-hun frowned. "I understand plenty. I understand that you're saying things just to hurt her, and that's not who you are, Sang-woo."

"You don't know a damn thing about me."

"I know enough," Gi-hun shot back. "I know you're angry, but don't take it out on her just because you can't deal with your own guilt."

Sang-woo's expression twisted, something snapping in his gaze. "And what about you, huh? You think you're some kind of hero?" He stepped closer, voice sharp and condescending. "You walk around acting like you care, like you actually give a damn about people, but where was all that kindness when it actually mattered? Where was it when your own daughter needed you?"

Gi-hun stiffened, his face paling.

Yi-Seo's chest tightened.

Sang-woo wasn't stopping. "You can't save everyone, Gi-hun. Hell, you can't even save yourself. You're just a loser who got lucky."

"Shut up," Yi-Seo snapped, stepping in front of Gi-hun.

Sang-woo's gaze flicked to her. "Why? Does the truth hurt?"

"No, but you sure as hell do," she shot back. "You think being cruel makes you strong? It doesn't. It just makes you a coward!"

Sang-woo's jaw clenched. "I don't need a lecture from you either."

"And I don't need to listen to you pretend you don't care when it's so obvious that you do," Yi-Seo spat. "You're mad, aren't you? Not just at me. At him." She gestured to Gi-hun. "Because no matter how much you hate him, he's still a better man than you."

Sang-woo's expression darkened.

The air between them was heavy, charged with something unspoken, something neither of them dared to name.

But Yi-Seo saw it—the flicker of something else in Sang-woo's gaze, beneath the anger, beneath the resentment.

Jealousy.

Her stomach twisted.

Sang-woo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't look at her, didn't look at Gi-hun.

For the first time, he looked like he wanted to say something real—but he didn't.

Instead, he just muttered, "Forget it."

Sang-woo turned to walk away, but Yi-Seo wasn't done.

"That's right, run away," she called after him, voice laced with venom. "That's all you ever do, isn't it?"

Sang-woo froze. His shoulders tensed, but he didn't turn around.

Yi-Seo took a step closer, her anger boiling over. "You talk so much about survival, about doing what you have to do, but at the end of the day, you're just a coward who couldn't face his own failures. That's why you're here, isn't it?" Her voice dropped, sharp and unforgiving. "You ruined everything, and instead of owning up to it, you let everyone believe you're still that perfect son. Still overseas, still 'successful.' But we both know the truth, don't we, Sang-woo?"

His hands curled into fists.

Yi-Seo pressed on, her voice like a knife cutting through him. "Your mom still thinks you're away on some business trip, doesn't she? Still waiting for her golden boy to come home." She let out a bitter laugh. "God, if only she knew. If only she knew what you've become."

That did it.

Sang-woo spun around, eyes blazing. "Don't you dare bring her into this!"

"Why not?" Yi-Seo shot back. "You already dragged her into this the moment you gambled away everything she ever worked for! You think I've fallen far? At least I didn't take my family down with me."

Sang-woo's breath was ragged, his entire body trembling with barely restrained rage. "Shut your mouth."

"Why? Because it's the damn truth?" Yi-Seo's eyes were cold. "She believes in you. She still believes in you. But you're here, playing this sick game, pretending you're better than the rest of us when really, you're just a selfish, pathetic excuse for a son."

Sang-woo's jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. "You think you're any better?" he shot back, voice lower, more dangerous. "You're here too, Yi-Seo. You lost everything, just like me. But at least I know what I am. You're still pretending you're not just as desperate as the rest of us."

Yi-Seo let out a humorless laugh. "Desperate? No. But I made mistakes. I lost my reputation, my career, but at least I didn't destroy the one person who ever truly loved me. At least I didn't betray her."

Sang-woo flinched, just for a second.

Yi-Seo saw it.

And she knew, deep down, that she had hit him where it hurt most.

Sang-woo took a step toward her, his voice quiet but seething. "You don't know anything about me."

Yi-Seo met his glare head-on. "I know you're going to break your mother's heart, and you won't even be there to pick up the pieces."

Sang-woo's breath caught for a split second, something flickering in his eyes—pain—before it was masked again. He opened his mouth, about to retaliate, but then Yi-Seo spoke again.

"Maybe loving and trusting you was my worst mistake. I don't even know who you are anymore."

words from the author:

The official fallout of the trio 🥲

They were clocking each other left to right 😭