The players stood in a disjointed line, their hollowed faces and trembling hands betraying exhaustion and fear as they clutched the steel tins provided for their meal.

Y/n was among them, her expression steely yet lost in thought, her focus orbiting one man in particular—In-ho, the very shadow of betrayal from her past. She kept her distance, her sharp eyes darting to him every so often. Even when her food was finally handed to her, the tin felt heavier than it should have, as if it carried the weight of her simmering fury.

Y/n moved to sit with Gi-hun and Jung-bae, her gaze never leaving In-ho's silhouette as he maneuvered through the crowd. His movements were calculated, his composure too perfect. She clenched her jaw.

"Oh!" Jung-bae exclaimed, prying open his tin with a grin. "Just like my mom used to make. What's in yours? Aren't you going to eat?" His cheerful tone faltered when he noticed Y/n simply holding her closed tin, her eyes dark and unyielding as they locked onto In-ho.

"Look, you've got to eat," Gi-hun urged softly, though his own food lay untouched as his darting eyes monitored the room's energy.

"You know what they say: 'Eat up, even on your deathbed,'" Jung-bae added, his attempt at humor landing flat. "Just do your thinking while you eat, or afterward. Here." He reached over, opening Y/n's tin with a flourish.

Y/n glared at him, her fierce expression cutting through his lighthearted persistence like a knife.

"Forget it, then," he sighed, raising his hands in mock surrender.

The air between them grew still, the tension palpable as Gi-hun and Jung-bae ate in silence. Y/n's fingers idly traced the rim of her tin, her thoughts spiraling back to In-ho.

She scanned the room but had lost track of him for a moment.

Her heartbeat quickened, frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior. When she spotted him again, her gaze narrowed. He was looking directly at her.

In-ho began walking toward their group, each step deliberate, as if he were testing her patience, daring her to act. Y/n's jaw tightened, and her shoulders squared. She didn't flinch under his stare.

"This might be for the best," Jung-bae was saying, his voice oblivious to the silent battle unfolding before him. "I don't know about you, but that 20 million wouldn't even cover my interest. If we play just one more game—"

"Jung-bae," Gi-hun interrupted, his voice tense. "Last time I was here, someone said the exact same thing. And in the end, that person died here."

Y/n's eyes burned with intensity, her glare sharpening with each step In-ho took. By the time he reached their table, she looked ready to snap.

"Help us, then, sir," In-ho said smoothly, his gaze flicking to Gi-hun. "You've played these games. I pressed the O button because of you. Honestly, I was scared. I wanted to quit and leave. But you made me think maybe I could play just one more game."

Y/n's lips curled into a slight, derisive smirk. She knew he was lying. Every word out of his mouth was a calculated move, a performance for the other players. She turned her head slightly toward Gi-hun, about to expose In-ho's true identity, but stopped short as players began to gather around.

"Me too," someone said.

"Same here," another echoed.

"Yes," a third added.

Gi-hun's presence was becoming a beacon of hope for them, and In-ho was exploiting it. Y/n's hand clenched into a fist on her lap as she locked eyes with In-ho. He held her gaze this time, his expression unreadable, but the unspoken challenge was clear.

It was a silent dare: Reveal me, and I'll make sure you regret it. The power In-ho wielded over this place could crush her in an instant, and they both knew it. But Y/n wasn't backing down. Her glare was a fiery promise: Try me, and I'll rip the mask off your lies. One glimpse of the truth, and these players will tear you apart.

"So that means we should all just pick the triangle," Y/n said coolly, her words sharp and precise, her gaze still locked on In-ho. "Everyone could probably pass the round."

"Hush now!" Player 100 interjected, his voice slicing through the tension. "If all 365 of us survive, the prize money won't go up at all. Then we'll have risked our lives again for nothing."

"That's true," another man said.

"He's right."

"Listen," Player 100 continued. "We should probably keep this information to ourselves. What do you say?"

"Let's do that," someone agreed.

"We can't do that," Gi-hun said firmly, his voice rising above the murmurs. His gaze flicked between Y/n and In-ho, sensing an undercurrent he couldn't yet place.

"I'm telling you this to save everyone's lives. If it's confirmed that the next game is Dalgona, I'm going to tell everyone what I know."

The crowd began to disperse, muttering in hushed tones about triangles and survival strategies.

Y/n remained seated, her piercing eyes still locked onto In-ho, who lingered just long enough to flash her a cold, knowing smirk before turning back to Gi-hun.

__________

As the crowd of players dispersed, the tension in the air lingered, leaving only In-ho, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, and Y/n in their corner of the room. Y/n's sharp gaze was still locked on In-ho, her expression fierce and unrelenting.

Gi-hun, sensing the unspoken hostility, placed a hand on Y/n's shoulder, gently pulling her attention away.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, his eyes flickering to her untouched tin of food.

Y/n hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her mind was a storm of conflict. She wanted to expose In-ho, to lay bare his identity and the weight of his actions. But then, she remembered Jun-ho.

His whispered plea: "Don't tell anyone who he is, not yet."

She had promised him, a promise she hadn't even broken for her father or Ha-kun.

Could she break it now? Could she sacrifice that promise, that trust, just because she couldn't suppress her anger? And yet, the sight of In-ho sitting there, so brazen, ignited a fire within her.

"It's because of me," In-ho's voice cut through her turmoil.

Y/n's head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing.

"We know each other," In-ho added, his gaze steady on her.

"What?" Gi-hun asked, startled.

"I'm her brother's best friend," In-ho said simply.

Y/n's voice was ice. "Was. He was my brother's best friend."

In-ho sighed, lowering his gaze to the floor. "I left without a trace. I know you and Ha-kun never forgave me for that. I don't expect you to. But back then, I thought it was the only way... to survive."

Gi-hun frowned, confused. While the story seemed sad, it didn't fully explain the venom in Y/n's glare. He could tell there was more, something deeper that she wasn't saying, but he couldn't quite piece it together.

In-ho leaned back, letting the silence stretch before speaking again. "May I ask you something?"

Gi-hun nodded hesitantly.

"Why did you come back to this place?" In-ho's voice was low, almost curious. "You said you won and made it out. Then you must have received 45.6 billion won."

"Did you spend it all? Bet on horses again?" Jung-bae asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Gi-hun shook his head, his voice somber. "That money doesn't belong to me. It's blood money for the people who died here. The same goes for the money up there."

In-ho tilted his head, his tone shifting. "You don't have to think of it that way. It's not like you killed those people. And saving that money won't bring them back to life."

Y/n's fist clenched, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. "If you had pressed the X, everyone here would've made it out alive."

"That's right," In-ho admitted, his eyes meeting hers. "I was the last to press the O button. But there were 182 more people who wanted to stay."

"And 182 who wanted to leave," Y/n snapped back.

In-ho shrugged slightly, his calm demeanor infuriating. "Let's say I pressed X and we all left. Would everyone have been happy? Do you think if they ran into me later, they'd thank me for saving their lives and tell me they're happy now?"

"All right," Jung-bae interjected, trying to ease the rising tension. "There's no point in placing blame now. You know the saying, a widow understands a widower best. Let's just focus on tomorrow's game, okay? He's won all these games before. If we stick together, we'll have nothing to worry about."

Y/n's gaze remained locked with In-ho's, a silent war waging between them. Her unspoken challenge was clear: Show a hint of your true self, and I'll make sure everyone here knows exactly who you are.

In-ho's eyes narrowed slightly, his lips curling into the faintest smirk as if daring her to follow through.

"He's right, sirs and ma'am," Player 388 chimed in, stepping closer to the group with an enthusiastic nod. "We have to stick together. I'll be with you all the way."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, glancing at the newcomer standing a little too close for comfort.

"Who are you?" she asked, her tone questioning but not unkind.

Jung-bae mirrored her skepticism. "Yeah, who are you?"

Player 388 hesitated, taking a nervous step back from Y/n before puffing up his chest slightly.

"My good sir," he began, clearing his throat, "I'm Daeho. Kang Daeho."

"Oh, Mr. Daeho," Jung-bae repeated with a slight nod, his tone dry but polite.

"Yes."

Gi-hun squinted at him. "Have we met?"

Daeho chuckled awkwardly, his eyes darting between the group members. "Earlier, during the game, Mr. 456 here was like, 'Freeze!' And I—well, I became your fan," he said, pointing at Gi-hun with an admiring grin. "I'd like to get to know you all better, sirs and ma'am. Please give me the chance! That whole 'Freeze!' moment was just so cool!"

Gi-hun blinked in surprise, unsure how to respond.

"Hang on," Jung-bae interjected, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes, sir?" Daeho responded promptly, straightening his posture.

"You were in the Marines?" Jung-bae asked, his tone suddenly sharper.

"Yes, why?"

"Class number?"

For a moment, Daeho froze, then let out a nervous chuckle.

"You're laughing?" Jung-bae's glare growing more intense.

Daeho quickly straightened up and saluted, his voice firm. "Victory at all costs! I was in Class 1140, sir!"

"At ease!" Jung-bae said with a grin. "Daeho. I knew there was something about you."

"Sir!" Daeho barked, his energy unwavering.

"Class 746 here," Jung-bae revealed, his demeanor softening slightly. "Let's make a good team."

"I won't let you down, sir!" Daeho said enthusiastically, saluting again.

"You're full of spirit," In-ho chuckled, his voice carrying a rare hint of amusement.

"Yes, sir!" Daeho responded eagerly, his salute sharp as ever.

Y/n exchanged a glance with Gi-hun, a bemused smile playing at the corners of her lips. For a moment, the heavy tension in the room lightened, though she couldn't shake the feeling that Daeho's enthusiasm was as much a mask as anything else in this place.

_____________

The dining hall echoed with the clinking of utensils, muted whispers, and the heavy weight of despair, a fragile silence punctuated only by the occasional shifting of chairs.

Amid this, Namgyu leaned toward Player 333, Myung-gi, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade.

"Enjoying your food?" Namgyu sneered, his grin twisted with malice.

Myung-gi kept his eyes on his plate. "I couldn't eat."

Namgyu's smile faded into a venomous glare. "After seeing everyone get shot dead, you still have a damn appetite?"

Myung-gi's fingers tightened around his spoon. "That crypto ruined my life too," he muttered, bitterness leaking into his tone.

Namgyu laughed coldly, the sound sharp and grating. "That's why I'm here—to make money. You think you're the only one suffering?"

The sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps silenced even the faint whispers. Thanos, loomed behind Namgyu, crossing his arms.

"That's right," Thanos rumbled, his voice dripping with menace. "You'd better make a lot of money. Because of that damn coin, I lost over 500 million won—the money I earned busting my ass rapping."

Namgyu smirked. "I lost 300 million."

Thanos leaned closer to Myung-gi, his presence suffocating. "You'd better win these games and make a load of money to pay us back."

Myung-gi's glare was defiant, his voice firm despite the odds. "I get it. Can you go away now? I'm trying to eat."

"You little shit," Namgyu snarled. "Eating like a fucking pig. Give it back."

Myung-gi met his gaze, unwavering. "No."

Thanos grinned, a dark, chilling expression. "You want to eat this so badly? Then Thanos will feed you."

With a brutal shove, Thanos smashed a handful of food into Myung-gi's face, laughter rolling from his throat. Myung-gi struggled as Namgyu joined in, their cruel chuckles echoing through the hall.

"Good, isn't it?" Thanos mocked.

"Motherfucker," Myung-gi spat, trembling with fury.

"Son of a bitch," Namgyu snapped.

"You asshole," Myung-gi growled.

Thanos stepped forward, towering over him. "Knock it off."

The air crackled with tension as the three men shouted, their voices rising above the murmurs.

Suddenly, the clash of voices was sliced clean by a sharp, authoritative tone. "Boys."

The word hung in the air like a knife. All heads turned toward the source—In-ho. His stance was composed, his expression a study in fierce elegance, his dark eyes gleaming with quiet fury.

"What are you doing in the middle of mealtime?" he asked, his voice smooth but edged with danger.

The room fell silent, save for the soft creak of chairs as players leaned in to watch.

In-ho stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate, commanding attention with every step.

"No fights during mealtime. There are elders present. Mind your manners."

He turned his gaze to Namgyu and Thanos, a faint smirk curling his lips as he added, "And two against one? Aren't you embarrassed?"

Namgyu bristled, his confidence faltering under In-ho's piercing stare. "You're lecturing me when you ended up in this shithole too?"

Thanos smirk deepened, his tone lowering to a lethal softness. "Save the lecture for your own damn kids."

"What did you just say?" In-ho snapped, lunging forward. Like a striking cobra, he moved. With a single fluid motion, he twisted Namgyu's arm, forcing him to the ground with a pained cry.

Thanos roared, charging forward, but In-ho sidestepped effortlessly, delivering a precise kick to Thanos's ribs that sent him sprawling.

"Boys," In-ho said, his voice a dangerous purr as he adjusted his sleeves. "Be grateful and eat what you're given."

Thanos gasped, clutching his side. "I'm sorry. Please... Let me go."

The room erupted in whispers.

"Great! You're the man!" a woman cheered.

"Nice!" another added.

"Is he an ex-Marine too?" someone murmured, awe dripping from their voice.

In-ho didn't respond. His sharp gaze swept over the room, silencing any remaining murmurs. Then, with an air of unshakable composure, he turned and walked away, his steps measured and confident.

Behind him, a stunned silence settled over the hall, the players too awed to do anything but stare.

________

The darkened room felt heavier than ever, with only the faintest flicker of moonlight filtering through the barred windows. The distant hum of the arena's machinery underscored the oppressive silence. Most players had already resigned themselves to uneasy sleep, but a low murmur drew Y/n's attention from the corner where she sat.

In-ho's voice broke through the stillness, soft but deliberate. "Excuse me. If you're still up, can we have a little talk?"

Gi-hun turned his head toward the sound, his body shifting slightly in the dim light. "Sure."

Y/n sat nearby, her knees tucked tightly into her chest, her chin resting on them. She watched as In-ho leaned forward, his hands clasped together, elbows resting on his knees. His posture was uncharacteristically vulnerable, his usual sharpness softened into something almost hesitant.

"I think I was out of line before," In-ho began glancing at Y/n, his voice measured but thick with the weight of unspoken guilt. "I'd like to apologize. I'm sorry."

Gi-hun's expression was unreadable in the shadows, but his tone carried a quiet understanding. "No, that's okay."

"I was out of line," In-ho admitted, his gaze fixed on the ground. He exhaled slowly, the sound almost imperceptible in the quiet room. "My wife is very sick. She has acute cirrhosis. She needs a liver transplant."

Y/n hugged her knees tighter, her eyes flitting between the two men. In-ho's words carried a weight that seemed to fill the room, pressing against her chest.

"But when she was going through the tests," In-ho continued, his voice cracking slightly, "we found out she was pregnant." He paused, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips.

"The doctor suggested a termination, but she won't listen. Says she'll give birth even if it kills her. You see, my wife is stubborn. I've never been able to change her mind about anything."

Y/n shifted slightly, her heart aching as she imagined the woman he spoke of, her strength and determination etched into every word. She unfolded her legs and slid under the thin, scratchy covers, resting her head against the wall.

In-ho's voice dipped lower, almost trembling. "We were struggling to find a donor, and her condition was getting worse. I borrowed as much money as I could, but it still wasn't enough. I was desperate. Then one of my oldest vendors heard about my situation and offered to help. So I borrowed money from them." He hesitated, his jaw tightening.

"But people saw it as a bribe, and I got fired from my job," he said bitterly. "I had devoted my entire youth to it. These games were my last hope."

Gi-hun nodded slowly, his own pain reflected in his eyes as he listened. "I get it," he said, his voice steady.

"I know what you were trying to say, Mr. 456. What that money represents. But I... I really need that money, even if it's blood money. I need that money... to save my wife and our child."

A deep silence followed his confession, the weight of his words settling over the three of them like a suffocating blanket.

Y/n scoffed under the covers, her mind swirling with thoughts of sacrifice, desperation, and the fragile line they all walked.

The night hung thick and oppressive, a smothering shroud of darkness that seemed to weigh on every breath, every sound. The only noise that broke the stillness was the restless rustling of bodies shifting against stiff mattresses. Y

Y/n's breaths came shallow, almost as if afraid to disturb the fragile veil of quiet in the room.

Even after their conversation dissolved into silence and Gi-hun's soft snores whispered of uneasy rest, she remained wide awake. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light creeping through the cracks of the room, just enough to sketch out In-ho's silhouette.

He sat at the edge of his bunk, unmoving, his head turned ever so slightly. She felt it—the weight of his gaze pinning her, probing at her.

She tossed onto her side with deliberate force, hoping the motion would shake him from his silent watch. But it didn't. Her heart pounded erratically, her mind a cacophony of anger, unease, and a creeping dread she couldn't shake.

"Can't sleep?" His voice cut through the darkness, soft yet sharp enough to startle her.

She froze, then forced herself to mutter, "What do you want?" Her tone was sharp, biting, but the quiver beneath it betrayed her unease.

A pause. "Do you want to talk?" His voice was too soft, too measured, as if treading dangerous ground.

Her head snapped toward him, her eyes narrowing as disbelief flared in her chest. She sat up abruptly, glaring down at him. "Talk? Talk? After everything you've done? How the hell can you even—"

"Get up." In-ho's voice cut her off, quiet but firm, his calm demeanor infuriating in its precision. He moved closer, his figure still shrouded in the dim light, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

She flinched under the contact, her pulse spiking. "What are you—"

"Get. Up." The words came slower this time, laced with a quiet force that brooked no argument.

His grip tightened, and despite the boiling resistance in her chest, Y/n swung her legs over the edge of the bunk, standing stiffly. He led the way through the maze of sleeping bodies, his footsteps nearly silent. She followed reluctantly, her unease growing with every step.

"Where are we going?" she hissed, her voice cutting through the quiet.

"The bathroom," he said, the lie so casual.

The guards did not resist.

They passed the bathroom without pause, and her stomach twisted. In-ho turned toward a locked door further down the hall, swiping a keycard with a mechanical beep that made her flinch.

The door creaked open, revealing a room bathed in sterile light. The cold gleam of metal and the hum of monitors filled the air, making her blood run cold.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as recognition struck. The office. The same one she and Jun-ho had infiltrated three years ago, searching for truths that never came.

"This is..." Her voice was a thin whisper, her words trailing off as memories of that night crashed into her, jagged and unrelenting.

In-ho gestured toward the couch in the center of the room, his expression unreadable. "Sit."

Y/n's feet rooted to the floor, every instinct screaming at her to run. "Why are we here?"

In-ho lingered by the door, his shadow stretching across the room like a predator's stalking frame. His composure cracked just slightly, enough for her to catch a glint of something darker in his eyes.

"You've always been good at digging," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "But maybe this time, you'll find the truth you've been looking for."

His words hung in the air, a sinister promise that wrapped around her throat and tightened.

Y/n's heart thundered as she stood frozen, the cold weight of the room pressing down on her. Whatever he wanted, whatever he intended—this was far from over.

A/N

im gonna be honest idk where im going with this....