The pink hallways were a dizzying maze of pastel hues, their bright cheerfulness betraying the grim reality that awaited.

Y/n walked close to Gi-hun, their steps synchronized by some unspoken agreement as though clinging to the last semblance of solidarity in a world that already felt warped beyond recognition.

The narrow stairways wound upward like veins leading to the heart of something sinister, the disorienting curves and sharp corners making her stomach churn.

The players around them chatted, some even laughed, their carefree demeanor a sharp contrast to the unease settling in Y/n's chest. Their ignorance of the truth—of the carnage they were about to face—made her jaw tighten.

How could they not feel it?

The air was too heavy, like walking into a storm you couldn't see but knew was coming.

"The first game will begin momentarily," the voice over the loudspeaker boomed, startling Y/n from her thoughts. It echoed off the walls, sounding almost chipper, as if mocking them. "After having your picture taken, follow the staff's instructions and proceed to the game site."

Y/n stole a glance at Gi-hun. He was frowning, his brow furrowed deeply. She didn't know him that well yet, but his presence was oddly grounding. He seemed just as uneasy as she felt, and for some reason, that made her feel a little less alone.

They shuffled forward in the line, the crowd narrowing as they reached the camera station. The metallic clicking of the camera shutter was an eerie rhythm, each sound punctuating the line of players who grinned, waved, or posed as if this were some kind of cheerful event.

Gi-hun stepped up next, hesitating before reluctantly looking at the camera.

Y/n followed, her feet feeling heavier with each step. When the camera's robotic voice prompted, "Smile," she simply stared into the lens, her expression blank and eyes distant.

What was there to smile about?

Her gaze lingered a moment longer before she turned sharply on her heel and walked away.

__________

In-ho paced the dimly lit room, his boots clicking against the polished floor as faint glimmers of light illuminated the faces of the players beneath his feet. Each photograph was sharp and vivid, glowing briefly before fading back into the digital surface.

The room was suffocatingly quiet, save for the soft hum of the display system and the relentless pounding of his thoughts.

When Player 256's picture lit up, his steps faltered. Y/n.

He moved toward her image with slow deliberation, his dark eyes narrowing as he stared down at her face. The picture was almost haunting, her expression blank, as if her body was here but her mind was far away.

In-ho sighed, the weight of his breath heavy with a turmoil he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge until now.

What was he going to do about her?

Y/n wasn't supposed to be here. Her presence was an anomaly in the carefully calibrated machine of the games, a wrench he hadn't accounted for. But he'd felt forced—trapped—into bringing her in. It was necessary to protect the secret of the games, to keep Jun-ho at bay. Yet now, standing over her photo, that justification felt paper-thin.

His pacing resumed, faster this time, his gloved hands clasped behind his back. The shadows in the room seemed to grow darker, mirroring the storm of conflict brewing in his mind.

How could he reconcile this?

Y/n wasn't just another player; she was Jun-ho's heart. The thought of her death—by his hand, no less—made his stomach twist.

Would that be the breaking point for his brother? For himself?

He thought back to years ago, to simpler days when they were all younger, unburdened by betrayal and blood. In-ho could still hear the echo of Jun-ho's laughter, Y/n's teasing, and Ha-kun's steadfast promises. They'd made a pact then, naïve and hopeful, to protect one another no matter what. But that was before the games, before everything had unraveled.

Now, he was the Frontman. The arbiter of life and death in this twisted spectacle. Protecting her while keeping the games running smoothly felt like an impossible contradiction.

Could he even do it? Would he even try?

His footsteps slowed, and he stopped before her glowing photo once again. In-ho's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

Was he truly so far gone that he would sacrifice her just to maintain order? Was his role here worth the betrayal of everything he once stood for?

He exhaled sharply, his breath fogging the cold visor of his mask. No, he decided. He would find a way. Somehow. He had to.

But how? The question gnawed at him, relentless and merciless. For now, all he could do was watch. Monitor her every move. The games demanded blood, but maybe, just maybe, he could tip the scales in her favor.

Even as he tried to convince himself, the doubt lingered, a shadow that wouldn't be cast aside. Could he spare Y/n and still keep the games intact? Or would he be forced to make the ultimate choice between his duty and his soul?

___________

The air in the pink stairwells felt heavy, a strange juxtaposition to the bright, surreal colors that swirled around them. The players climbed in single file, their shoes echoing dully against the concrete steps.

Y/n stuck close to Gi-hun, her hand brushing the railing as her eyes darted around nervously.

"Gi-hun!"

The voice came suddenly, sharp and familiar, causing Gi-hun to halt mid-step. Y/n turned just as Player 390 jogged toward them, his expression a mixture of disbelief and something rawer—relief, maybe.

"Jung-bae," Gi-hun muttered, his voice tinged with sadness.

"Fuck, you were alive this whole time?" Jung-bae blurted, his shock evident as he clapped a hand on Gi-hun's shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" Gi-hun asked, his tone laced with concern and guilt.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" Jung-bae shot back, his tone accusatory, though his eyes softened slightly. "No one's heard from you in three years. I heard your mom passed away. I had to find out from my wife! What kind of friend are you? Were you going to cut me out because I didn't lend you money?"

"Keep moving! Don't block the way!" a player behind them yelled, brushing past impatiently.

"It's not like that," Gi-hun said quietly, avoiding Jung-bae's gaze. His hand twitched at his side, and he glanced at Y/n as if searching for reassurance. "It's a long story."

Jung-bae noticed the girl for the first time, giving her a polite nod, though his confusion was evident. "Right. I can imagine, seeing as you're here. Still, you should've told me about your mom. You know how much she liked me."

Gi-hun's jaw tightened. "Why are you here, Jung-bae? What about your wife?"

"We got divorced," Jung-bae admitted. Y/n's lips pressed into a sympathetic line as she studied the man's downcast eyes.

"Divorced?" Gi-hun asked, his tone incredulous. "What about your kid?"

"She's with my wife," Jung-bae said simply, his voice flat.

Gi-hun's face darkened. "Why? I thought you two were doing okay. Did you—" He paused, his voice dropping lower. "Did you have an affair?"

Jung-bae scoffed bitterly. "Yeah, right. Like I could pull one," he muttered, forcing a laugh. "Let's not talk about it here, man. When we get out, let's grab a drink and talk."

Gi-hun's expression softened momentarily, but then he straightened, his shoulders rigid. "Jung-bae, whatever happens, stay close to us," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Jung-bae raised an eyebrow. "Stay close? You've gotten melodramatic in your old age."

"Just do as I say!" Gi-hun snapped, grabbing Jung-bae's shoulders. His eyes darted to Y/n, then back to his friend. "You both stay behind me. Got it?"

Y/n nodded solemnly, the gravity of his words sinking in, though Jung-bae chuckled uneasily.

"Fine, man. I will," Jung-bae said, casting a sidelong glance at Y/n. He tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Is he always like this?"

Y/n remained silent, her expression unreadable, which only seemed to unnerve Jung-bae further.

"Like this? Like follow the leader?" Jung-bae joked, shaking his head as they climbed the stairs behind Gi-hun. "By the way, this is insane. What is this place?"

Y/n glanced at him, then forward to Gi-hun, whose back remained straight, unwavering despite the weight he clearly carried.

She didn't answer, but her silence said more than words ever could. This wasn't the time for explanations.

The three of them stepped into the vast, sunlit arena, their footsteps echoing faintly across the artificial grass. The air was thick with a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. A towering doll loomed at the far end of the field, its oversized head turned toward them with lifeless, glassy eyes that somehow felt like they were watching every move.

"Damn," Jung-bae muttered under his breath, his eyes wide as they scanned the surreal surroundings.

"Welcome to the first game," came a smooth, female voice over the PA system, cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.

Gi-hun, Y/n, and Jung-bae stopped along with the other players, the sheer magnitude of the moment settling over them.

"My legs! That was a lot of stairs," Jung-bae grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned toward Y/n. "You'd think they'd invest in elevators with all that money."

"All players, please wait a moment on the field. Let me repeat. All players, please wait a moment on the field," the voice announced, clear and impersonal.

The murmurs of curiosity among the players grew louder.

"The first game is Red Light, Green Light," the PA system continued.

"Red Light, Green Light?" someone echoed incredulously.

"It's a kids' game!" another voice piped up, tinged with disbelief.

Player 007 turned sharply toward his mother, gesturing in frustration. "See? We're playing games, not gambling. I told you!"

"Red Light, Green Light? The kids' game?" Jung-bae asked, looking between Gi-hun and Y/n, his brows raised. "What the hell is this?"

Gi-hun didn't respond. He was staring at the ground, his face tight with concentration. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his hand rose toward his mouth.

Jung-bae frowned, watching in growing confusion as Gi-hun's fingers disappeared between his lips.

"Gi-hun, what are you doing?" Jung-bae asked.

Gi-hun pulled something out with a sharp exhale, squinting at the small, bloodied tooth in his palm. His expression shifted quickly from confusion to panic.

"Is that... your dental implant?" Jung-bae asked, recoiling slightly.

"I'm fucked," Gi-hun muttered under his breath, his voice trembling as he glanced at Y/n.

Y/n's stomach twisted at his words. Her heartbeat quickened, and for a moment, the chatter around her faded into a dull hum. If the tracker in Gi-hun's implant was gone, what did that mean for her? Her mind raced, her thoughts tangling like the threads of an unraveling spool.

Jun-ho.

His face flashed in her mind—his determined eyes, his quiet promises that they would always protect each other. She bit her lip, her hands trembling at her sides. Without the tracker, Jun-ho had no way of finding her. No way of knowing what was happening inside this twisted arena.

A wave of fear surged through her chest, sharp and suffocating. She glanced toward the towering doll at the front of the field, its unblinking gaze a stark reminder of the uncertainty that lay ahead.

Was Jun-ho searching for her now? How long would it take before he realized she was lost to him, just another pawn in a game they couldn't control?

Y/n tightened her fists, swallowing back the lump in her throat. She couldn't afford to break down now—not here. But as the surreal scene unfolded before her, she couldn't shake the growing sense of dread.

_________

Woo-seok trudged across the creaking wooden dock, the salty tang of the ocean sharp in the air. The fisherman sat at the edge, his weathered hands deftly threading bait onto his hook. His straw hat cast a shadow over his face, but he looked up warily as Woo-seok approached, flashing his badge with quiet authority.

But Woo-seok's eyes were already scanning the contents of the man's bucket. Among the wriggling fish, there it was—the small, black tracker gleaming under the sunlight, tangled in a wad of fishing line. Woo-seok's stomach sank as he reached for it, holding the device up like a cursed relic.

"Detective Hwang," he said into his radio, his voice tinged with defeat. "We're screwed. They're onto us. They put the GPS tracker on someone else."

Jun-ho sat in the cramped cabin of the fishing boat, the static of Woo-seok's words crackling through the receiver.

His hand gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white as the weight of those words settled over him. The tracker—the one lead he had to Y/n—was nothing but bait.

For a moment, the world around him seemed to blur. The steady rhythm of the waves, the faint creak of the boat—all of it faded into an unbearable silence.

He pressed his palms against his face, breathing deeply to quell the panic clawing at his chest.

His mind betrayed him, conjuring images of Y/n. Her laughter, her warm smile, the way she'd roll her eyes at his overprotectiveness. The thought of her out there—scared, alone, and in danger—was a knife twisting in his heart.

But Y/n wasn't weak. She was sharp, brave, and resourceful. She had always been the one to outwit him, the one to climb higher and faster when they were kids. If anyone could survive this, it was her.

Jun-ho clung to that belief with a desperation that felt like drowning. But belief wasn't enough.

"I'll find her," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the crashing waves outside. His jaw tightened, his resolve hardening with each passing second.

If it meant infiltrating every layer of this twisted organization, he would do it.

If it meant exposing every secret and risking his badge, his career, and his life, he wouldn't hesitate.

And if it meant facing his brother, In-ho, the man who had betrayed their family's bond for this blood-soaked empire, Jun-ho knew he wouldn't hold back.

A flicker of pain crossed his face at the thought of In-ho, the brother who had once sworn to protect Y/n alongside him. How far had they fallen that In-ho was now the orchestrator of the horrors that threatened her life? If it came to it—if In-ho stood in the way of saving Y/n—Jun-ho would do what needed to be done.

He wouldn't stop. Not now. Not ever.

_______

The frontman stood at the observation window, his piercing gaze fixed on the field below. The players milled around, their expressions ranging from curious to carefree, unaware of the grim reality about to unfold. Behind his black mask, In-ho's face was stoic, but his mind swirled with conflicting thoughts. The sound of footsteps behind him broke his reverie.

A black-suited officer approached, stopping a respectful distance away. "We are ready to start the game," he announced.

In-ho exhaled deeply, the weight of his position pressing down on him like an iron shackle. For a brief moment, his mind drifted to Jun-ho and Y/n. Could he justify their suffering to maintain the facade of control?

"Start," he muttered, his voice cold and distant.

The officer bowed slightly and turned, leaving In-ho alone once more to watch the chaos he had sanctioned.

Back on the playing field, Gi-hun, Y/n, and Jung-bae stood amidst the crowd, their heads craning to take in the massive open space. A towering doll loomed at the far end, its unsettlingly oversized eyes facing away from them.

Murmurs rippled through the players as they speculated about the nature of the game.

"Damn," Jung-bae muttered under his breath, glancing at the doll. "This is seriously creepy."

The crackling PA system interrupted their thoughts.

"Welcome to the first game," the voice announced. "The game is Red Light, Green Light. Cross the finish line without being caught in five minutes. If you do, you pass."

Before anyone could react, Gi-hun stepped forward, pushing past players with frantic urgency. Waving his arms, he shouted, "Everyone! Everyone, listen up! Pay attention!"

His loud voice silenced the chatter. All eyes turned to him, including Y/n's, who arched an eyebrow, intrigued by his sudden outburst.

"Listen carefully!" Gi-hun shouted. "This is not just a game! If you lose the game, you die!"

A wave of confusion and scoffing swept through the players.

"What is he saying?" Jung-bae chuckled nervously, looking at Y/n.

"Hey, what are you talking about?" another player called out, incredulous. "We're going to die playing Red Light, Green Light?"

"Yes, that's right!" Gi-hun yelled back, desperation lacing his voice. "If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They'll shoot you from somewhere!"

"Drunk," a player muttered, shaking his head.

"That guy's lost it," Jung-bae whispered to Y/n, trying to mask his own unease.

The crowd's skepticism grew. A purple-haired player who had introduced himself as Thanos laughed loudly. "This guy sounds like my old man, talking about bugs in his head. Seriously, devices in the doll? What a nutcase!"

"Do not be alarmed or panic!" Gi-hun insisted, his voice rising above the scoffing laughter. "No matter what happens, do not panic and start running!"

"Let the game begin," came the mechanical announcement.

The doll suddenly spun its head toward the players, its painted eyes now wide open. A chilling song began to play, marking the start of the game.

Y/n swallowed hard, a cold shiver running down her spine. She looked at Gi-hun, who stood firm, his determination radiating despite the players' ridicule.

The massive doll at the far end of the field turned its head with a mechanical whirr, its wide, lifeless eyes scanning the players. The haunting tune it began to sing filled the air.

"Green light, red light."

The players hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Y/n stood close to Gi-hun and Jung-bae, her heart pounding.

When the doll turned its head away, Gi-hun made a break for it, and Y/n followed suit, staying just behind him. She skidded to a halt when the doll sang, freezing in place. Her breaths were shallow, every muscle in her body tense with fear.

Gi-hun turned his head slightly, covering his mouth with his hand. "Freeze!" he shouted.

Everyone froze.

The doll scanned the field, but no alarms sounded. Satisfied, it whirled back around, giving the signal to move again.

"Well done! You just need to stay calm like this!" Gi-hun yelled as the group began running once more, the doll's song resuming.

"Green light, red light."

They froze again.

The tension was unbearable. Y/n's knees felt weak, but she forced herself to stay still. Gi-hun's voice broke the silence. "We just have to move and stop at the right time! Then we can all win. We can survive together!"

Jung-bae, running beside Y/n, gave her a baffled look. "What's with him?"

The doll's head spun back, singing the eerie tune.

"Green light, red light."

"Freeze!" Gi-hun yelled, and Y/n skidded to a halt, her shoes scraping against the dirt.

Her chest heaved as she tried to calm her breathing.

"Don't move and stay still! Just relax!" Gi-hun instructed.

"Cut it out. It's you that's scaring me!" Jung-bae yelled back, his voice trembling.

"Speak with your mouth covered. It's dangerous!" Gi-hun snapped.

The doll sang again.

"Green light, red light."

Gi-hun stopped suddenly, not moving even when the doll signaled for another green light.

Y/n's heart dropped. "Why aren't you moving?" she hissed, her voice filled with worry.

"Freeze!" Gi-hun yelled as the doll sang its next "red light."

The tension mounted.

Y/n could feel sweat trickling down her back as she stared at Gi-hun. "Are you crazy?" she asked sharply when he still didn't move on the next green light.

Jung-bae looked like he wanted to say something, but Gi-hun silenced him.

"I said cover your mouth!" he barked.

The doll sang again, its voice robotic and chilling.

"Green light, red light."

"Follow me!" Gi-hun yelled before the next freeze.

The players behind them muttered nervously.

"Nobody move!" Gi-hun commanded.

"Is he high or what?" someone whispered.

"Nope. No one acts like that when they're high," Thanos replied.

"You've been high?"

A low buzzing sound drew Y/n's attention. Her eyes darted around.

"What's that?" player 196 whispered.

Thanos leaned closer. "He knows you're a flower," he said cryptically. "There's a bee on you."

"A bee?" player 196 yelped, her body twitching involuntarily.

The buzzing stopped as the sound of a gunshot ripped through the air.

Bang!

A body thudded to the ground.

"Player 196, eliminated," the cold voice on the PA announced.

Y/n couldn't move but she was about to shake.

Gi-hun began yelling again, "Nobody move! You must not move!"

The reality of the game sank in like a lead weight in Y/n's chest. Every movement, every breath was a gamble with their lives.

The doll sang once more, its cheerful melody now laced with terror.

"Green light, red light."

The chaos was palpable as the mechanical doll loomed over the playing field, its lifeless eyes scanning for even the slightest movement.

Gi-hun, standing just ahead of Y/n and Jung-bae, held up his hand as the doll sang its chilling tune.

"Green light, red light."

"Jung-bae, no matter what happens, don't move," Gi-hun said firmly, his voice like steel.

"But—" Jung-bae began, the panic in his tone evident.

"Do not move!" Gi-hun barked, his eyes narrowing.

A player next to Y/n flinched and Y/n's stomach twisted. Her instincts screamed at her to grab him, to hold him still, but she knew any movement would be fatal.

"Stay still!" Gi-hun commanded, his voice urgent.

A scream pierced the air as the player couldn't hold his nerve. His sudden movement triggered a deafening gunshot. Blood sprayed as his body crumpled to the ground.

Y/n gasped, her voice cracking, but Gi-hun grabbed her arm as they both stepped a few feet forward on the green light, his grip firm but protective.

"No! Don't move!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The doll scanned again, and more players flinched, breaking the deadly stillness. Gunshots rang out, one after another. Screams filled the air as bodies fell like dominoes.

"If you run, you'll die! You will all die if you move!" Gi-hun shouted, his voice booming like a lifeline to the terrified crowd.

Y/n felt tears pricking her eyes as she stayed crouched behind Gi-hun. He turned his head slightly to meet her gaze. "Stay close to me, Y/n. You're going to make it"

Her chest tightened at his words.

"Green light, red light," the doll sang again, its eerie tone juxtaposed with the horror surrounding them.

"We've got to move!" Gi-hun whispered harshly, urging her forward.

Y/n's legs felt like lead, but she stayed directly behind him, moving when he moved, stopping when he stopped.

"That doll is a motion detector!" Gi-hun explained, keeping his voice steady. "But it can't see motion that's blocked. Get behind someone bigger than you, like you're playing Follow the Leader!"

She nodded, tears streaming down her face, her heart thudding like a drum.

"Green light, red light."

"Get behind me," Gi-hun instructed, shifting his position to shield her.

The doll scanned again, and Gi-hun's words resonated with the remaining players. One by one, they followed his lead, forming lines, each person hiding behind the other.

"Green light, red light."

Gi-hun looked over his shoulder. "We're running out of time, Y/n. Stay with me!"

The timer ticked down, its ominous beeping pushing everyone closer to the edge of panic.

A voice echoed over the PA system, calm and cold.

"You can move forward while the tagger shouts, 'Green light, red light.' If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated."

Y/n clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.

The doll turned again.

"Green light, red light."

Y/n and Gi-hun moved together, their strides measured. A gunshot echoed behind them, and Y/n flinched, but Gi-hun grabbed her hand.

"Focus on me!" he said firmly. "Don't look back."

Her breaths came in ragged bursts as the finish line grew closer.

The tension on the field was suffocating, as every breath felt like it could be their last. Gi-hun stood steadfast in front of Y/n, his protective stance unwavering as the doll's mechanical voice rang out once again.

"Green light, red light..."

Gi-hun's voice broke through the fearful silence. "Do not move."

Y/n stayed perfectly still behind him, heart racing, eyes wide with terror. She had never experienced anything like this before—the stakes so high, the fear so real.

The doll's mechanical head twitched as it surveyed the players, its eyes like cold lasers, scanning for even the smallest movement. The stillness was deafening.

Suddenly, a voice pierced the air.

"What the hell?" Player 216 muttered, his voice rising in panic as his legs shifted.

The next sound was a loud pop, followed by a chilling scream.

"Freeze!" Gi-hun shouted, his voice booming through the tension. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she clung to his side.

The doll's voice echoed again.

"Green light, red light."

Y/n swallowed hard, staying as still as possible. Behind them, there were groans and weak calls for help as more players faltered.

"Please help me," one of them begged. Y/n could hear the desperation in the voice, but she knew better than to look. Any movement, any distraction, could cost them everything.

The doll's cold, mechanical voice resounded once more.

"Green light, red light."

This time, the tension in the air was thick enough to choke. Players' breathing was heavy, ragged, as if they were all holding their breath.

The doll's whirring filled the silence, and the timer began to beep, signaling the end was near.

Y/n felt her stomach twist. She could feel the time running out, and she wasn't sure if they'd make it to the end. Every step was a risk, every breath felt like it could be their last.

The timer beeped louder. She could hear the panicked gasps of players trying to rush forward, but Gi-hun held them in place.

With one final burst of courage, Y/n followed Gi-hun's lead, her legs burning as they sprinted forward. The doll's final scan passed over them, and the cold, lifeless announcement echoed through the field.

"Green light, red light."

They crossed the line just as the timer ran out, collapsing onto the ground. Y/n's chest heaved as relief and terror coursed through her veins. Gi-hun knelt beside her, his hand on her shoulder.

"You're safe now," he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I told you, I won't let anything happen to you."

Tears streamed down her face as she nodded.

_________

As the remaining players walked back toward the main room, the tension was unbearable. Their steps were slow, each footfall echoing in the eerie silence that had descended on them after the chaos of the first game.

Y/n kept close to Gi-hun, the oppressive weight of the events still clinging to her like a heavy fog. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and terror, trying to make sense of the game they were trapped in and the strange, haunting doll that had turned so many lives into dust.

"What the hell is that creepy doll?" Jung-bae muttered under his breath, his voice laced with disbelief. "It shoots people with its eyes."

Y/n's mind flashed back to the gunshot, the way the bodies fell to the ground, lifeless, without a second thought. Her stomach churned at the thought.

"It's not the doll,"Gi-hun said, his voice shaky with fear. "There are shooters."

"How do you know so much?" Jung-bae pressed, his suspicion growing. "Have you really been here before?"

Before the other player could answer, the sharp sound of an alarm cut through the air, the harsh buzzing sending a jolt through the group. The players exchanged fearful glances, anxiety growing in the tight space.

Y/n's heart raced, and she instinctively stepped closer to Gi-hun, her mind racing. The air was thick with murmurs of confusion and dread.

The masked manager's voice crackled as he stepped in chillingly calm, as though none of the horrors they had just witnessed mattered. "Congratulations for making it through the first game."

A metallic trilling sound echoed, and the tension escalated even further.

"Here are the results of the first game," the manager continued, the coldness in their voice sending a shiver down Y/n's spine.

"Out of 456 players, 91 players have been eliminated. Three hundred sixty-five players have completed the first game."

The words hit Y/n like a punch to the gut. 91 eliminated. She could hardly comprehend it. That could have been her. It could have been any of them. She looked at the faces around her—people she had barely exchanged words with, but who now seemed like fellow prisoners in this nightmare.

As the reality of their situation set in, players began to panic.

A voice rang out from the crowd, pleading for mercy. "Sir! Please don't kill us! Please don't kill us. I beg you!"

"I'm sorry! Please forgive me!" another voice cried, desperation in every word.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest. She wanted to scream, to beg for mercy herself, but she couldn't. The fear had rendered her mute, unable to voice the terror that gripped her.

The masked manager's voice continued, seemingly unfazed by the desperation around them.

"We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity."

The words were cold, clinical, like they were talking about an experiment rather than human lives.

Gi-hun's voice cut through the atmosphere, sharp and unwavering. "Clause three of the consent form. 'The games may be terminated upon a majority vote.' Correct?"

The silence was deafening as the players processed his words. The truth—the only way they could escape this nightmare—was right in front of them. The vote.

"That is correct," the masked manager replied, their voice unfazed by the rising tension in the room.

"Then let us take a vote right now."

The relief that washed over the players was palpable. They all wanted to go home, to escape this death trap. Y/n held her breath, her chest tightening as the masked manager continued.

"But first, let me announce the prize amount that's been accumulated."

A low rumble filled the air as the ceiling groaned, and the digital trilling began once more. The sound was almost soothing in its mechanical perfection. But the words that followed froze Y/n's blood.

"The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91. Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated."

Y/n's eyes widened as the figures were announced. She barely heard the rest of the conversation. 9.1 billion won. The number loomed over them, a sickening reminder of the value placed on their lives.

"If you quit the games now," the manager continued, "the 365 of you can equally divide the 9.1 billion won and leave with your share."

The murmur of disbelief swept through the players like a tidal wave. A share of 24.9 million each.

But the hope was fleeting.

Jeongdae's voice rang out, filled with frustration. "How much is that?"

The manager's cold answer sliced through the murmurs.

"Each person's share would be 24,931,500 won."

A chorus of curses and angry outbursts followed, but it was quickly stifled by the next words, the harsh reality that everyone had already known: The prize was not the point. The prize was just the bait.

Gi-hun's voice was steady but filled with the weight of the moment. "The rule is that a hundred million won will be accumulated for each eliminated player. If you choose to play the next game and more players get eliminated, the prize amount will increase accordingly."

Y/n felt the shift in the air, a subtle but unmistakable change as players began to consider their options. Continue or quit? It was a choice between death and survival, between the slim chance of making it out alive and the tempting but hollow promise of money.

The masked manager's voice grew quieter, more clinical. "If you survive until the end, you'll equally divide the 45.6 billion won."

The murmurs grew louder, some players whispering in disbelief, others speaking of the impossible task ahead. Y/n's mind was a swirl of fear and uncertainty.

"45.6 billion?" one of the players asked, awe in their voice. "So we can take a vote again and decide to leave after the next game?"

The manager's voice was eerily calm. "As promised in the consent form, you can take a vote after each game and decide to leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as the words were laid bare. The price of survival was more than just money. It was their lives.

The final words rang out: "Now, let's begin the vote. If you wish to continue the games, press the O button. If you wish to end them, press the X button."

Y/n swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she felt the weight of the decision settle on her chest. She wanted to leave. She wanted to walk away from this nightmare.

The vote was about to begin, but Y/n already knew: There were no easy answers. Only survival.

A/N

ok so that was long af. 

in-ho entry coming up....