C  H  A  P  T  E  R   T  H  I  R  T  Y - O N E :
""You should've died instead of her!"
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The first snowfall of the season blanketed the city in a soft, pristine white. Outside, the wind howled against the windows, but inside their warm home, the air was thick with the comforting aroma of Hee-Jin's gamja-tang, the rich, simmering pork and potato stew filling every corner of the house.

The heater hummed in the background as Yi-Seo curled up on the couch, a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her law textbooks were sprawled open in front of her, but her attention was elsewhere. Across the room, Hwa-Young had latched onto their father's back, her arms looped around his shoulders as she kicked her legs excitedly.

"Appa, faster! You're supposed to be my mighty steed!" Hwa-Young demanded, her voice brimming with laughter.

Seok-Do groaned, swaying dramatically under her weight. "Ow, my back! I think I'm too old for this. Yi-Seo, switch with me."

Yi-Seo smirked, tightening the blanket around herself. "Oh, no way. I have a bright future ahead of me. I can't risk a spinal injury carrying this little menace."

"Yah! Who are you calling a menace?" Hwa-Young pouted, loosening her grip just enough for Seok-Do to finally escape. She flopped onto the couch beside Yi-Seo, stealing a corner of her blanket. "You're just scared you'll drop me!"

"Exactly," Yi-Seo said, rolling her eyes playfully. "And I don't want to be sued by my own family."

From the kitchen, Hee-Jin let out a laugh as she stirred the steaming pot on the stove. "You're all too noisy. If you're not going to help with dinner, at least don't destroy the house."

Seok-Do stretched, sighing dramatically. "Ah, honey, you wound me. Do you think I would let our home fall apart?"

"Hm." Hee-Jin crossed her arms, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Last week, you tried to fix the sink and almost flooded the kitchen."

Hwa-Young clapped her hands, giggling. "That was so funny! You panicked and slipped on the water, and mama had to save the day."

Seok-Do clutched his chest. "I was testing its durability. All good engineers do that."

"Appa, you work in finance," Yi-Seo pointed out, sipping from a mug of hot tea.

"Exactly. I finance the tools for the real engineers."

The whole room erupted into laughter, their warmth contrasting the chill outside.

A little while later, they gathered around the small dining table, steam rising from their bowls as they dug into the gamja-tang. The rich broth, tender potatoes, and perfectly seasoned pork warmed them from the inside out. Outside the window, the snow continued to fall, turning the city into a winter wonderland.

Hwa-Young, ever the dreamer, suddenly declared, "I want to be an astronaut! I'll fly to the moon and send you all pictures."

Seok-Do grinned as he lifted a spoonful of broth to his lips. "Sounds amazing. Just don't forget about us little people when you're famous."

"I could never forget my family," Hwa-Young said sincerely, reaching for Yi-Seo's hand. "And you, Unnie, you're going to be the best lawyer in all of Korea, right?"

Yi-Seo felt a lump in her throat at her sister's unwavering belief in her. She squeezed Hwa-Young's hand. "Of course. And when you go to space, I'll make sure no one tries to take credit for your moonwalking skills."

Hee-Jin smiled warmly, resting her chin on her hand. "Promise me, no matter where life takes you, you'll always come back home, okay?"

A comfortable silence settled over them as they each took in her words. Then, one by one, they nodded.

"Promise," Hwa-Young said softly.

"Promise," Yi-Seo echoed.

Seok-Do reached over, placing a hand over theirs. "No matter how far we go, we'll always find our way back to each other."

Tears formed in Yi-Seo's eyes as she looked at the baked potato that was in her hand.

It was cold now, hard and unappetizing, but she couldn't bring herself to take a bite. Her fingers trembled around it, her chest tightening as the familiar scent of roasted potatoes took her somewhere else—somewhere warm, somewhere safe. She could almost hear her mother's laughter, see the steam rising from the table on a snowy evening, Hwa-Young's small hands reaching for an extra helping.

Her breath hitched as she swallowed back a sob. She had no way of knowing if her mother was still alive, if she was being taken care of, if she was warm, if she was waiting for her to come home. Guilt clawed at her insides. She had been the one to look after her, the one to make sure there was food on the table, medicine on the nightstand. Now she wasn't there.

And Hwa-Young...

She hadn't seen her little sister in what felt like an eternity. What was she doing right now? Was she okay? Had she asked about her? Had she given up on her? Yi-Seo squeezed her eyes shut, but it only made the thoughts worse.

She's probably scared... Alone... Yi-Seo promised her. She promised she'd always come back.

A shudder ran through her body as she forced herself to take a bite, chewing mechanically. It tasted like nothing. Her throat was dry, her stomach turning at the thought of food, but she forced herself to swallow. She had to stay strong. She had to survive.

But then came another thought—one she had been trying to suppress ever since she learned the truth.

Her father.

The man she had once adored, once trusted, once believed was good.

Her hands clenched into fists, the potato crumbling slightly in her grasp. How could she not have seen it? The lies, the exhaustion, the night her father left. He had left them—left her. And now she was here, standing in his footsteps, facing the same inevitable fate.

Is this where I end too?

Her breathing grew uneven, panic clawing at her throat. The games were merciless. She had seen people beg, plead, cry for their lives, only to be cut down without a second thought. Would she be next? Would she disappear, just like him?

Would Hwa-Young grow up without her, just like she had grown up without him?

Yi-Seo sucked in a sharp breath, forcing the panic down. She couldn't think like that. Not now.

You're not him. You are not him.

But no matter how many times she told herself that, the fear lingered, curling around her chest like a vice.

She was running out of time.

She had to make it out.

She had to go home.

But deep down, a voice whispered—

What if you don't?

Sang-Woo sat in silence, staring at nothing.

His hands were clenched together, his nails digging into his palms, but he couldn't feel the pain. He couldn't feel anything but the heavy, suffocating weight in his chest.

He had thought that winning—surviving—would make things easier. But the deeper he got into this nightmare, the heavier the burden became.

He had done terrible things. He knew that.

But it wasn't just Gi-Hun. It wasn't just the strangers he had deceived, manipulated, left behind without a second thought.

It was her.

Yi-Seo.

He exhaled sharply, pressing a hand against his forehead. He had seen the look in her eyes, the exhaustion, the pain. She was breaking. And maybe, just maybe, a part of that was his fault.

He had once been someone she trusted, someone she had believed in. He had been the person she turned to when the world seemed too cruel to bear. But where had he been when she needed him?

He had left.

Just like her father.

His stomach twisted at the thought. He didn't know the full story, but he had seen the shift in her—had seen the way her hands shook, the way her eyes darted to the ground, the way her resolve cracked just a little more after she learned the truth.

He had hurt her too. In ways he had never even considered before.

And for the first time in a long time, he wondered—

Does she hate me?

Would she ever be able to look at him again without seeing a monster?

Would he even survive long enough to find out?

Because if there was one thing he had learned, it was that the games took everything from you.

And maybe, just maybe—

He had already lost her.

Their thoughts were interrupted once player 69 got up from his bed and spoke up.

"Let's end this. I can't do this anymore." He sobbed as he looked down. "We can stop is the majority just agrees. If nine of us agree, we can get out of here."

Yi-Seo's heart ached as she listened to Player 69's desperate plea. His voice cracked under the weight of his sorrow, his entire body trembling as he begged for a way out. She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the fabric of her pants tightly, her nails digging into her skin.

This isn't right. This was never supposed to happen.

She had known that survival in this game would require sacrifice, but what haunted her most was how it stripped people of their humanity. How it turned good, desperate people into something else—something monstrous.

"Doesn't anyone want to leave?" He questioned as he looked around the room. "If you wish to leave with me, please stand up."

No one stood up which caused him to break down again.

"How could you call yourselves human?" He yelled. "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?" Sang-woo got up, walking towards the man."If this is so painful, why did you come back alive?" He gripped him by the collar.

Yi-Seo got up from her bed and sat beside Gi-hun, as she saw how his hands clenched into tight fists as he watched the scene unfold. His breath was unsteady, his chest rising and falling with each sharp intake of air. The man standing before them—the man who once studied late into the night, who once walked alongside them with dreams and ambition—was no longer someone he recognized.

Then came Sang-woo's voice, cold and cutting like a blade against fragile skin.

"You think your wife will come back to life? You think you'll be forgiven for killing her?"

Gi-hun stiffened beside her. This isn't him. This isn't Sang-woo.

He had always known Sang-woo to be pragmatic, calculative, and sometimes ruthless when it came to getting what he wanted—but this was different. This wasn't the friend he grew up with. This was a man who was unraveling at the seams, drowning in his own desperation and fear.

Sang-woo continued his tirade, his voice rising in intensity, his words laced with cruelty.

"You should've died instead of her!"

Yi-Seo's breath hitched.

She had seen many things in her life—lies, betrayals, tragedies—but never had she seen Sang-woo so utterly devoid of mercy. Her chest tightened painfully. This was beyond just survival. He was losing himself, piece by piece, with every move he made.

Gi-hun clenched his jaw, unable to take his eyes off Sang-woo. A sick feeling churned in his stomach. Had this place twisted him so much? Or had this cruelty always been inside of him, waiting for the right moment to surface?

"That's ..." he pointed to the piggy bank, "not just the cost of your wife. It's the cost of everyone who died here."

"No." Player 69 cried.

"You want to just leave that behind? You want to leave and start from rock bottom? Only to live a shitty life, with all of this shitty guilt in our hearts?"

Silence fell over the room as Player 69 collapsed into sobs. Sang-woo let him go and stepped back, his breathing heavy, his hands trembling. His eyes flickered around the room, searching for something—perhaps validation, perhaps justification for his actions. But all he found were horrified faces.

"Are you all ready to live ikr that?" He asked. "If you can, then go ahead and stand up!"

Player 69 sobbed continuously.

"Get up and leave this place!" Sang-woo took a deep breath before going back to his original spot.

As he was walking, his gaze landed on Yi-Seo and Gi-hun.

Yi-Seo didn't look away. Despite the fear, despite the heartbreak, she held his gaze with an expression that spoke of disappointment, sadness... and something that almost resembled grief.

Sang-woo's chest tightened. He looked down, shame flickering across his features for the briefest of moments. He had always prided himself on being the smartest, the most capable—but right now, standing in front of them, he had never felt smaller.

Still, something compelled him to look back at Yi-Seo. Just once.

His dark, tired eyes met hers, and for a split second, he hoped to see something, anything, that would tell him she still understood him. That she didn't hate him. That she still saw him beneath the man he had become.

But before she could say anything, before he could allow himself to see the full weight of her disappointment, he looked away.

He turned his back to them and walked away, leaving behind nothing but silence and the suffocating heaviness of what he had just done.

words from the author:

It's honestly crazy to see how people's ego can destroy them as a human beings.