C H A P T E R T H I R T Y - S E V E N  :
"Mrs... I want to go home."
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The dim glow of the lighted candle in the middle of the room casted shadows. The air in the dormitory was thick with tension, as though the walls themselves held their breath. Five players remained, each positioned in different corners of the vast, sterile room, their backs pressed against the cold metal walls, knives gripped tightly in trembling hands.

Player 17, a wiry man with sharp eyes and a nervous demeanor, shifted his weight, subtly glancing around as if calculating his next move. Yi-Seo, crouched near the far wall, took note of his movements. Her grip on her own knife tightened. She wasn't about to let her guard down—not now, not after coming this far. The hunger and exhaustion gnawed at her, but survival demanded her focus.

Then, in the quiet, she noticed Gi-hun moving. Slowly, cautiously, he approached Sae-byeok, who sat near her bed, her back stiff against the wall. Yi-Seo furrowed her brows. Something about the way Gi-hun carried himself—hesitant, careful—stirred her curiosity. Then she remembered. Sae-byeok's injury. The brutal glass explosion from the last game had left her wounded, and Yi-Seo had been too preoccupied with her own survival to properly check on her.

After a few moments of deliberation, Yi-Seo silently got up and made her way toward them. Gi-hun glanced at her but did not object to her presence, and when she met Sae-byeok's weary gaze, there was no resistance either. She knelt beside them, resting her hands on her thighs as she listened in on their conversation.

"Hey... You okay?" Gi-hun asked softly.

Sae-byeok, pale and visibly weakened, merely gave a small nod. "I'm fine."

Gi-hun didn't look convinced. He hesitated, then slowly reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of bread. "Here. You should eat something."

Sae-byeok stared at it for a moment before shaking her head. "I'm not hungry."

Yi-Seo frowned slightly. She had seen enough injuries to know that if Sae-byeok didn't eat, she wouldn't last much longer. But she said nothing, only watching as Gi-hun set the bread down beside her.

"You have someone waiting for you, right?" Gi-hun continued, his voice thick with emotion. "A little brother?"

Sae-byeok's lips parted slightly, her expression shifting. "Yeah... In an orphanage. I promised him I'd come back."

Yi-Seo's heart ached at that. She thought of her own sister, Hwa-Young, and the silent promise she had made to return to her, no matter what.

"You will," Yi-Seo said quietly, surprising both of them. She offered Sae-byeok a small but determined look. "You'll make it back to him."

Sae-byeok didn't respond, only offering a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Yi-Seo stiffened instinctively, and so did Gi-hun. Sae-byeok, too weak to react as quickly, merely lifted her gaze.

Sang-woo stood before them, his hands at his sides, making no move for his weapon. His usually sharp expression was unreadable, his eyes dim with something Yi-Seo couldn't quite place.

"I come in peace," he said simply, voice void of its usual authority.

Gi-hun didn't look convinced. Neither did Sae-byeok. Yi-Seo, despite the wariness in her heart, studied him carefully. She knew Sang-woo well enough to tell when he was being sincere—and this time, he was.

After a long pause, Gi-hun exhaled sharply. "Then sit."

Sang-woo did, crossing his legs as he leaned against the foot of the nearest bed. The four of them sat in a loose circle, exhaustion and hunger settling in their bones.

For a while, there was silence. Then, surprisingly, it was Sang-woo who spoke first.

"When did we end up here?"

Yi-Seo exhaled, running a tired hand over her face. "The moment we decided that surviving mattered more than living."

Gi-hun scoffed bitterly. "You make it sound like we had a choice."

Sang-woo's jaw tightened. "We did. We just didn't like our options."

Yi-Seo's gaze flickered to the floor. "We used to be normal people."

Gi-hun chuckled humorlessly. "No, we used to pretend we were normal people. Deep down, we were always just... desperate."

"I wanted to be something," Sang-woo admitted, staring at his hands. "I wanted my mother to be proud. I wanted people to look at me and think, 'There goes someone important.'"

Yi-Seo swallowed the lump in her throat. "And now?"

Sang-woo's eyes darkened. "Now, I just want to go home."

Gi-hun sighed. "Yeah... Me too."

A beat of silence passed between them.

Yi-Seo, her voice softer now, asked, "Do you think we could've been happy? If life had been different?"

Sang-woo didn't answer right away. Then, almost reluctantly, he nodded. "Maybe. If we had made different choices. If we weren't so..." He trailed off, unable to finish.

Gi-hun exhaled sharply. "If we weren't so messed up?"

Sang-woo gave a weak smirk. "Yeah."

Yi-Seo bit her lip. "I wish we had more time."

No one responded.

Because they all knew—there was no time left.

Gi-hun suddenly tensed, his eyes widening in horror as he looked toward Sae-byeok. "Sae-byeok?"

Yi-Seo immediately snapped her attention to her, and her stomach dropped. Sae-byeok's head was tilted to the side, her eyes half-lidded, unfocused. Her breathing was shallow, her body unnervingly still.

Panic surged through Yi-Seo as she scrambled closer, shaking Sae-byeok's shoulders. "Hey, stay with me!"

Gi-hun's hands trembled as he reached forward, trying to rouse her. "Sae-byeok!"

Sang-woo had risen to his feet, his face unreadable as he watched.

Yi-Seo pressed her hands against Sae-byeok's side, feeling the wet warmth of blood soak her fingers. The wound had worsened. The damage was too severe.

Sae-byeok stirred faintly, her lips moving, but no sound came out. Yi-Seo leaned closer.

"Mrs... I want to go home."

Yi-Seo's heart shattered.

"I know," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I know, just—just hold on, okay?"

Sae-byeok let out a faint hum, barely audible.

"Make a promise," she murmured weakly.

Yi-Seo swallowed back the sob threatening to escape. "Anything. Just tell me."

Sae-byeok's eyes fluttered. "Take care of my brother."

Tears blurred Yi-Seo's vision. "I will. I promise."

A small, peaceful smile graced Sae-byeok's lips.

Then, the light faded from her eyes.

Gi-hun let out a choked sob. Yi-Seo, unable to hold back her grief, pressed her forehead against Sae-byeok's, her body trembling.

The room was unbearably still.

Sae-byeok was gone.

——

    The night dragged on in a suffocating silence.

Sae-byeok's body had been taken away hours ago, but the weight of her absence pressed down on the three players like a crushing force. Sleep was impossible. No one spoke. No one moved.

Yi-Seo sat against the cold wall, her knees drawn to her chest, staring at the dark stain left behind on the mattress where Sae-byeok had taken her final breath.

It wasn't just her death that haunted them—it was the cruel reminder that they were at the end. The final game was waiting for them.

Across the room, Gi-hun sat with his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking every now and then as he fought off quiet sobs. Sang-woo, as always, was unreadable, his face devoid of emotion as he leaned back against the wall.

None of them had the energy to argue or plan or even prepare for what was coming next.

They were simply... waiting.

Waiting for the inevitable.

The guards came at dawn.

The clanking of their boots against the metal floor jolted Yi-Seo awake from the light, restless sleep she had finally succumbed to. Gi-hun stirred, his face pale and drawn. Sang-woo pushed himself up from his spot, stretching his stiff limbs.

The air was thick with something unspoken.

Fear. Dread. Acceptance.

There was no announcement this time, no explanation needed. They knew what this meant.

The final game was here.

As they were led down the colorful hallways, the reality of it all sank in. There were only four of them left now. Just last night, there had been five. Before that, six. And before that, far more than they could count.

Now, only four remained.

And soon, even that number would be reduced.

The moment they stepped into the final arena, the atmosphere changed.

Gone were the brightly colored, surreal playgrounds of the past games. Instead, they were led into what felt like the mouth of the earth itself—a cavernous, rocky expanse that stretched into the shadows. The ground beneath them was uneven stone, damp and rough against their bare feet. The dim lighting flickered along the cave walls, casting eerie, shifting shadows.

It was a stark contrast to the artificial, manufactured nightmare they had endured before. This felt... primal. Ancient. Like something that had existed long before them and would continue long after they were gone.

In the center of the cavern stood a single, round stone table. Upon it lay a single, tarnished coin.

The guard's voice echoed through the cavern.

"Welcome to the final game. Before we begin, there will be a coin toss to decided offense and defense. But first, we will split you into teams."

Yi-Seo exchanged a glance with Gi-hun, her stomach tightening.

Sang-woo turned to Player 17, his expression unreadable.

The guards gave them no time to hesitate.

"You will be split into two teams of two. Player 456 and Player 436. Player 218 and Player 17."

A sinking feeling settled in Yi-Seo's gut.

Something about this didn't feel right.

The guard gestured to the coin. "One team must choose triangle. The other, square. The winning team will determine the matchups."

Sang-woo and Player 17 stepped forward.

"Triangle." Gi-hun spoke up.

The guard's hands hovered over the coin, he flipped it high into the air. It spun, catching the dim light before landing on the table with a dull clink.

Triangle.

"Please choose either offense or defense."

"Offense." Yi-Seo said confidently.

The guard nodded before speaking again.

"Player 435 and Player 17 will go against each other."

Yi-Seo inhaled sharply, feeling Gi-hun tense beside her.

"Which means..." Sang-woo continued, "you and I will play." He looked at Gi-hun.

The decision was final.

There was no use arguing.

The guards moved forward, the doors opening.

The moment Yi-Seo walked out, she exhaled; feeling the light breeze. She then looked around, seeing this is the place where it all began.

"The sixth and final game is Squid Game."

Yi-Seo tensed.

The guard then began to explain the rules. But as always, there were always twists.

The guards that were behind, moved forward, separating them into their respective game zones.

The final game was about to begin.

Their performance would determine their fate.

Words from the author:
Oh.