C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - T H R E E :
"It's just a game of luck, isn't it?"
_________________________________________

The suffocating silence of the room was broken only by the fervent prayers of one player, his voice raw with desperation as he clung to faith in a place that had long since abandoned it. The dim lighting overhead flickered weakly, casting elongated shadows on the walls.

Yi-Seo and Gi-hun sat side by side on his bed, shoulders barely brushing. The silence between them was not awkward, nor was it forced—it was simply there, a quiet understanding between two people who had already seen too much. Sleep refused to come, but neither of them seemed to mind.

After a while, Yi-Seo exhaled softly and rested her head against Gi-hun's shoulder. He tensed for a moment, surprised by the rare display of vulnerability, but soon relaxed, allowing the quiet moment to stretch between them.

Gi-hun was the first to break the silence. "You okay?" His voice was gentle, laced with concern. "After... everything?"

Yi-Seo hesitated, eyes staring into nothing. "I think I'm alright. For now, at least." Her voice was steady, but there was something distant about it, as if she were still piecing herself together. "Maybe I just needed to face the truth."

Gi-hun turned his head slightly to glance at her. "And what truth is that?"

Yi-Seo let out a humorless chuckle. "That people change. Or maybe they don't, and I was just blind to it all along."

Gi-hun frowned, sensing the weight behind her words but choosing not to press further. Instead, he sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Yeah... life has a way of doing that."

For a moment, they sat in silence again, the distant echoes of the room filling the gaps in their conversation. Then, Yi-Seo turned to look at him.

"What about you?" she asked, her voice softer now. "How are you holding up? How's life been treating you?"

Gi-hun let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Life, huh?" He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Well you know the basics. Lost my job. Got divorced. Can't afford to see my daughter as much as I want. My mom's sick, but I barely have enough money to take care of her. And my daughter..." His voice trailed off, something bitter creeping in.

"I ruined her birthday. Not just any birthday, but the last one before she moved to America."

Yi-Seo listened intently, not interrupting, just letting him speak.

"I wanted to buy her something nice, you know?" he continued, his tone heavy with guilt. "I had it all planned out—a fancy meal, a proper present... but I lost all my money gambling. Ended up getting her a damn gun-shaped lighter from a claw machine instead." He let out a breathless laugh, but there was no humor in it. "Can you believe that? That's the kind of father I am."

Yi-Seo didn't flinch at his self-deprecation. Instead, she gave a small, understanding nod. "You messed up," she said simply. "But that doesn't mean it's over."

Gi-hun scoffed. "Feels like it is."

"It's not." Yi-Seo turned to face him fully. "You still have time. You can still fix things."

Gi-hun looked at her, his eyes searching. "How?"

"Go to America," she said, her voice steady. "See your daughter. Make amends with your ex-wife. Do what you can before it's too late."

He blinked, as if the thought had never truly occurred to him. "You think it's that simple?"

"No," Yi-Seo admitted. "But I think it's worth trying. Your daughter... she deserves a father who fights for her."

Gi-hun let out a slow exhale, the weight of her words settling deep within him. He wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that he still had time.

Then, just as the silence was about to stretch again, Gi-hun whispered—just loud enough for someone else to hear.

"Do you think you'll ever forgive Sang-woo?"

The name cut through the air like a blade.

Yi-Seo stiffened slightly but didn't lift her head from his shoulder. She sighed, her breath warm against his sleeve. "I don't know," she answered, her voice devoid of emotion.

Across the room, Sang-woo pretended not to hear. He turned away, facing the wall, but his fingers curled into the thin blanket beneath him.

Eventually, Yi-Seo pulled away from Gi-hun and murmured, "I should try to sleep."

Gi-hun nodded, watching as she made her way back to her bed. But just as she settled under her thin covers, footsteps approached.

She didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Sang-woo stood by her bedside, hesitating for just a moment before lowering himself to sit beside her. "Can we talk?" he asked, his voice quiet.

Yi-Seo gave a nonchalant shrug. "If you want."

Sang-woo took a deep breath, sitting beside her, and rubbing his hands together. "I... I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Yi-Seo didn't react, didn't even look at him.

"I know that probably means nothing to you now," he continued, his voice strained. "I've done a lot of things... things I can't take back. But I never wanted to hurt you."

At that, Yi-Seo finally turned her head. "Didn't you?"

Sang-woo flinched. "Not like this." He exhaled shakily. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I wouldn't if I were you. But I just... I needed to say it. I needed you to know."

Yi-Seo studied him for a long moment. His eyes, once sharp and calculating, now carried a weight she had never seen before.

"You betrayed me," she said quietly, yet the words carried enough force to make Sang-woo's shoulders sag.

"I know," he whispered. "And I hate myself for it."

Yi-Seo let out a slow breath, turning her gaze to the ceiling. "I don't know if I can forgive you, Sang-woo."

A silence settled between them, heavier than before.

"I understand," he finally said. "I just... I just wanted you to hear it from me."

Yi-Seo closed her eyes. "I heard you."

Sang-woo nodded, staring down at his hands. He had come looking for absolution, but deep down, he had known he wouldn't find it here.

Still, a part of him held onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, time would change things.

As Sang-woo stood up and walked away, Yi-Seo let out a slow breath, her gaze following his retreating figure for a moment before she turned onto her side, staring at the dull ceiling.

She wasn't sure how to feel. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to feel anything.

Just as she was about to close her eyes, a familiar voice broke the quiet.

"Hey, attorney!"

Yi-Seo's eyelids twitched. She sighed, already bracing herself for whatever nonsense was about to come out of Mi-nyeo's mouth. She turned her head to find the older woman crouched beside her bed, grinning like she had just stumbled upon some juicy gossip.

"What?" Yi-Seo asked flatly.

Mi-nyeo scooted closer, dropping her voice to a dramatic whisper. "So... are you two getting back together or what?"

Yi-Seo blinked once, twice—then let out an exasperated sigh. "Mi-nyeo."

"What? I'm just asking!" Mi-nyeo smirked. "I mean, he looked real sorry. The whole 'I hate myself for it' thing? Very tragic. Ten out of ten on the apology scale."

Yi-Seo rolled her eyes. "Yeah? And what about the betrayal scale?"

Mi-nyeo hummed, tapping her chin. "Mmm... yeah, he's up there. Definitely a nine out of ten."

"Exactly."

Mi-nyeo tilted her head, then sighed. "Look, I don't know what the hell went down between you two before this mess, and honestly, I don't care. But from where I'm sitting, the guy's trying."

Yi-Seo scoffed. "And?"

"And," Mi-nyeo drawled, flicking Yi-Seo's forehead lightly, "you could at least try to be a little understanding."

Yi-Seo gave her an unimpressed look. "You literally just said you don't know what happened."

Mi-nyeo shrugged. "Yeah, but I do know that this place messes with people. Some for the better, some for the worse. And your little finance bro?" She jerked her chin in Sang-woo's direction. "He's struggling. Doesn't mean you gotta forgive him right away, but..." She paused, then sighed dramatically. "I don't know. Maybe don't write him off completely."

Yi-Seo frowned, considering Mi-nyeo's words. "You really think this place changes people?"

Mi-nyeo let out a laugh, dry and sharp. "Oh, honey, this place doesn't just change you. It tears you down to your worst and makes you decide whether you wanna build something out of the wreckage or let yourself rot in it."

Yi-Seo remained silent.

Mi-nyeo sighed, shaking her head. "Look, I get it. You're mad, you're hurt. You should be. But if there's even a sliver of you that still gives a damn, don't let this place turn that into hate. It's a waste of energy."

Yi-Seo pursed her lips. "You sound like you know from experience."

Mi-nyeo smirked. "Maybe."

A beat of silence passed before Mi-nyeo nudged Yi-Seo's arm. "But, hey, if you do decide to forgive him, make him grovel a little first. You know, for the drama."

Yi-Seo huffed out something between a chuckle and a sigh. "I'll think about it."

Mi-nyeo grinned, patting her shoulder. "Good girl." Then, just as quickly, she stood up and stretched. "Alright, I'm gonna try to get some beauty sleep before we all die tomorrow."

Yi-Seo shook her head as Mi-nyeo walked off, but there was something lighter about her expression now.

Maybe Mi-nyeo was right.

Maybe she'd think about it.

—-

    A loud buzz filled the dormitory as the fluorescent lights flickered on. Yi-Seo stirred, her body feeling weak and tired. Around her, the other players groggily sat up, their faces gaunt from exhaustion and fear. But something was different this time. The metal doors slid open smoothly, and a group of guards entered, carrying a black box wrapped neatly with a pink bow.

Yi-Seo narrowed her eyes as they walked towards the corner of the room. The atmosphere felt heavier than usual. The players murmured among themselves, some exchanging uneasy glances. A few flinched when the now-familiar robotic voice echoed through the speakers.

"Player 067, eliminated."

Yi-Seo's breath hitched. She turned her head sharply toward the bunk where Player 67 had slept the night before. He grabbed a blanket and hung himself.

Her hands clenched into fists. He had taken his own life.

A wave of guilt threatened to crash over her, but she pushed it back. It wasn't her fault. She wasn't responsible for him. Yet, the thought lingered—she had been awake last night. If she had noticed something off, if she had just looked his way, maybe she could have stopped him.

A mechanical whirring sound snapped her out of it. Above them, the piggy bank hanging from the ceiling clanked as it filled with more money. A cruel reminder that his death only made the prize even larger.

"The fifth game will begun momentarily. All players, follow staff's instructions and proceed to the game hall."

The players moved as one, their steps dragging, their silence speaking louder than any words. Yi-Seo followed them through the now all-too-familiar white corridors. Her heart pounded, a deep unease settling into her bones.

The doors open to reveal a room unlike any they had seen before. Mannequins stood in a line, each one wearing a vest with a number printed on it. They were arranged in perfect order from 1 to 16.

Yi-Seo's stomach twisted.

"Welcome to the fifth game. Before we begin the game, please choose one of the mannequin's numbered from 1 through 16."

A wave of hesitation swept through the players. Whispers filled the space as they tried to decipher what the game would be. Was it better to be first or last? No one knew.

Yi-Seo took a step forward, scanning the numbers. Some were already being taken. The stronger players rushed for the middle, while the more timid ones hesitated at the ends.

She eyed the numbers, debating. If the game went in numerical order, being first could be deadly. If it went in reverse, the last person might have no chance at all.

"What number are you picking?" Sang-woo whispered.

"Attention, please." The robot voice interrupted. "The numbers before you are the order in which you'll be playing. Please choose carefully."

Yi-Seo gulped and looked at Sang-woo before her finger pointing to number 15.

Her gut told her to take it.

With a deep breath, she grabbed the vest and slipped it on.

It was time to play.

—

    The room was massive—far bigger than any of the previous game arenas but similar to the Tug-of-War set up. Towering white walls stretched high into a ceiling so dark it seemed endless, swallowing the light in its void. A row of industrial spotlights hung above, their harsh beams cutting through the dim atmosphere. Their cold, white glow illuminated the game setup ahead: two parallel rows of glass panels stretching across an enormous drop. The bridge extended into the distance, leading to a barely visible platform on the other side.

A deep abyss loomed below. Shadows pooled at the bottom, making it impossible to see how far down it went. But Yi-Seo didn't need to know. One look, and her stomach twisted—if someone fell, there was no surviving that drop.

"Players, welcome to the fifth game. The fifth game is Glass Stepping Stones." The monitor spine up.

The lights flickered slightly, casting long, sharp shadows of the players onto the walls. The eerie quiet was only broken by the faint hum of electricity buzzing through the overhead lamps.

"Each stepping stone is made of one of two types of glass, tempered glass and normal glass."

"Tempered glass can even withstand the weight of two players. But normal glass will shatter just with 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 18 pairs of titles."

The robot paused before speaking again.

"If you safely cross to the other side, you pass."

A few gasps filled the space. Yi-Seo swallowed hard, her hands clammy.

She bit her lip, trying to steady her breathing, but the reality of the game sank in fast. It was a guessing game. A game of luck. There was no skill to this, no strategy—just the cruel will of chance.

Next to her, Sang-Woo exhaled sharply. His gaze was fixed on the bridge, his sharp eyes calculating.

"This is bad," he muttered, crossing his arms. "It's just a game of luck, isn't it?"

Yi-Seo nodded stiffly, unable to respond. She was too focused on the sheer impossibility of the challenge ahead.

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Fifteen... Not a bad choice."

She let out a humorless breath. "Not good either."

The two stood in silence for a moment, watching as the first player hesitantly stepped forward. The air was thick with tension, suffocating in its stillness.

The robot's voice chimed again.

"The game will now begin. You have 16 minutes."

A loud buzzer rang, signaling the countdown.

Yi-Seo's hands curled into fists at her sides. The first player hesitated, staring down at the bridge with wide, panicked eyes.

Then, with a deep breath, he took two steps.

Then suddenly, the sound of glass shattering filled the room.

A scream followed.

Yi-Seo flinched, instinctively taking a step back. Her breath hitched as the player disappeared into the abyss, swallowed by the darkness below.

A heavy silence followed, only broken by the ticking timer overhead.

Beside her, Sang-Woo exhaled sharply through his nose. "Looks like we're going to have to depend on everyone else to make it across first."

Yi-Seo swallowed. She hated that he was right.

This game was nothing but survival. And survival meant letting others fall first.

words from the author :

Hey guys , it's been FOREVER ! 😭I

I finally feel better so hopefully I can update more and complete this book. 😢💔