Chapter Text
"I am going to kill you now and there is nothing you can do. And just like the timers on your sick games you will know you are in your last moments and you will fear it. I don't know what your spiritual beliefs are. I can't imagine they are pleasant. But I am certain killing you is only the beginning of the karmic justice coming your way. So when you die and you end up in the lowest pit of hell and the devil himself approaches you and asks what you did to deserve ending up here, I want you to tell him about me. I want you to tell him about Gi-hun. And I want you to tell him about everyone that suffered because of you. And know that whatever waits for you will still not be enough."
Jung-bae had gotten one thing wrong in his final words to In-ho in that dormitory. In-ho did not fear the prospect of his imminent death. The quick and uncontrolled actions of the rebellion, including In-ho shooting his own soldiers, created a tension in his chest, his adrenaline in overdrive. The turn of the other players, once inconspicuous and unimportant, only worsened the panic he was experiencing. However, once it became clear that the game was over and In-ho had been found out, every worry within him crumbled into debris that fell to his kneecaps, weighing him down in front of the gun pointed his way. He was not afraid, nor stressed, nor saddened by his time being cut short. Soon, he would be gone and his soul evaporated into nothingness. All that was to follow would no longer be his problem.
He wasn't afraid, but he was confused. The last hour before his death went fast. Gi-hun and Jung-bae had suggested a rebellion, not entirely unpredictable to In-ho who had been watching Gi-hun closely ever since gaining his trust and allyship on the first day. His plans had been obvious, even explicitly stated, and In-ho thought it an ironic joke. Gi-hun was right that the VIPs would surely get a kick out of him reentering the games. It had been what In-ho had wanted for a long time and when the opportunity presented itself to plant Si-woo in Gi-hun's subway search routes in order to give him a location to meet, In-ho knew it was time to make his move.
The games kept close tabs on all of its winners, regular reports sent out to the VIPs about how the winners were wasting their money, proving them the scum they always were and always would be. In comparison, all of the VIPs were fascinated by Gi-hun who, for the years following his win, had barely used a cent. A former gambling addict with a history of getting in over his head and wasting opportunities, his frugality was incredibly out of character. While still acting in many ways disappointingly, he was a precarious outlier. In-ho needed him to lose, or better yet, to become the winner the VIPs had in mind.
Russian Roulette hadn't been part of the original plan In-ho had given Si-woo, but he supposed he had always been a bit of a wild card. Technically, he hadn't exactly been given the instruction not to kill Gi-hun, only to present him with a choice to give up or pursue his dismantling of the games. Gi-hun was always a naturally lucky son-of-a-bitch and even In-ho with his rejection of such things as luck had a hard time not believing that. So, Gi-hun had survived and Si-woo had not. Regardless, the plan was in motion.
Gi-hun was back in the games. The VIPs were engaged in a way In-ho had never seen and he was one step closer to eliminating a liability. He had Yeong-gil taking care of Jun-ho and the mercenaries. All In-ho had to do was enter the games as a player in order to monitor Gi-hun and, when he could, gently guide him to losing the faith he miraculously still held.
In-ho only went through with the plot for rebellion, even though it would've been an inconvenient and possibly risky setback, because of the final detail Gi-hun had suggested. Their rebels hide during the special game in order to preserve themselves, and in doing so, sacrifice the others in the room to the wolves that were the "O" voters. It was a glimmer of Gi-hun compromising his morals as a means to an end, an end that In-ho would manage to prevent and therefore twisting those compromised morals into another wasted opportunity of Gi-hun's own making. If things went to plan, which as far as In-ho could tell was heavily weighted in his favor, Gi-hun would be kept alive as a reminder of the failure of faith and the consequences of rebelling against the centuries old undefeated elite. He would know he had failed and he would also understand he never could've won.
However, something entirely unexpected happened. Even with In-ho's large amount of resources, his fast thinking and composure, he was defeated, found out by a few randoms in the mix of players. Jung-bae had explained his, Hyun-ju, and Yong-sik's plot resulting from information gathered in a previous lifetime. Now, apparently, they had been resurrected with the tools to expose him and had planned to do so, murdering him as revenge for even more evils In-ho had no memory of.
Even though In-ho couldn't understand how Jung-bae and the others had found him out, he didn't believe his story of resurrection. There was nothing after you died. Nothing. Resurrection wasn't possible and even if it was, it certainly wouldn't be wasted on the petty goal of killing In-ho. What was the fucking point of that? Things wouldn't change. Not really. The world would always be cruel and meaningless and the people within a curse upon it.
In-ho was not scared to die and be nothing, even if he was confused about the events that led to his death. Truthfully, he was relieved. At least if he was nothing he would no longer be part of the curse.
But then, if nothing existed after death, how come after the bullet pierced his brain dead center he was seeing light?
Nearly immediately following In-ho's death he awoke, the pain radiating at the front of his skull quickly dissipating. He froze in place, taking in the surroundings that he was quickly realizing were familiar. He was in a large open room. The walls were blindingly white, in harsh contrast to the dark gray stairs leading out and upwards. As far as In-ho could tell, this was a room on the island, although seemingly before the remodeling he did. Odd, he thought, whatever death-related neurological firing had placed me here. However, what was most notable about the room was what was inside it. Formed into haphazard lines, hundreds of people in matching tracksuits adorned with a three digit number were preparing to take their picture.
Scanning the crowd with his eyes while still frozen in place, In-ho spotted a strangely familiar man. He was unmistakable, 6'8" tall with inhumanly broad and muscular shoulders. Confirming his identity was the number on his back, 200; Kang Chul-moo. He turned his head just slightly enough for In-ho to see it, detailed, complex, and accurate down to the very last detail. At least as far as In-ho could remember. It was little tricky considering the last time he saw Chul-moo's face was over nine years ago, except for in his nightmares.
The line that In-ho was standing in moved forward and he couldn't manage to follow it, having trouble believing his legs could move. He unfroze his neck and looked down at himself, dressed in the same tracksuit as the rest of the people in the room. He lifted his arm and grabbed at the patch on the front of his sweatshirt and read the number upside down. 132. His number from his original games. Every detail was perfect, even more than he could remember. Brains held a lot more than people knew, he supposed. That's why he was back here. A flashback triggered by being shot in the head and killed. Simple, explainable, a mere memory he would soon be free of once the last light officially shut off in his quickly collapsing skull.
"Sir, please keep the line moving forward," a man said to him from the side.
He turned to face him, realizing it was a guard clad in a pink uniform and black mask with a square on it. In-ho did his best to see through the small holes in the mask to confirm who was speaking to him, but based off the number on his front he didn't need to. If he was flashing back to 2015, then that means it was before the guard uniforms hid their individualized numbers. The uniform design changed in 2017 in order to prevent players recognizing and forming bonds with specific guards for special favor. The square masked guard, number 10, was Do-eun, his second in command during the most recent games, the man who had taken over as interim frontman while In-ho was posing as a player. Assumedly, the same man who would take over permanently after In-ho had died and the rebellion was quelled.
"You must take your picture before the first game," Do-eun said to him again. His voice, while distorted by his mask, was younger and less assertive, simply following orders. He would gain more control in time.
In-ho didn't speak, but cautiously took a step forward, finally realizing he could. He turned over his shoulder to look at Do-eun eyeing him carefully. "Sorry," he said, hearing his own voice slightly younger. He felt against his throat and then followed to the sides of his head. His hair was longer and shaggier, sweeping across his forehead. Sliding his hand behind his shirt, he gingerly touched against his shoulder where Jun-ho had shot him a few years ago. There was no scar, no memory of the encounter etched onto his body. Not only was this scene recreated with exact precision, but so too was his physical form.
He eventually stood in front of the camera with the pink wall behind him, one of the very few spots of color beyond the green tracksuits and redder-pink uniforms that filled the room. Il-nam's style had been a lot more sparse and industrial. Sure, the actual arenas for the games were constructed with a little bit of theming, nostalgic and childlike, but the connecting corridors and other areas were less cohesive, more bland. Il-nam's personal areas were incredibly gilded and harshly geometric as they remained until the present. It wasn't until In-ho arrived as frontman and renovated the building that the full picture was realized. The arenas got a much needed upgrade, and the entire building was pulled together under a unified creative vision. Inspired largely by In-ho's wife who was an art teacher for school children, it was a combination and range of sophistication, art references, and child-like wonder.
It was then, standing in front of the camera as it told him to smile, waiting for this memory to finally cease and turn into nothingness, that he realized something. Do-eun hadn't spoken to him when he was here. He didn't hold up the line as he adjusted to being back in this room that no longer existed, surrounded by people who were no longer alive. He looked to his left at the other man who had just taken his picture. Player 415, Lim Kyu, smiled at him.
In-ho looked back at Do-eun who gestured with his head to move on from the photo station and begin his ascent up the stairs. He followed the instruction but felt his spine tingling. This wasn't a memory or a flashback, at least as far as In-ho could tell. Everything was identical to his games in 2015; the room, the guards, the players, his body. However, his mind, his choices, his knowledge was different. He was really here, somehow having traveled through time.
After his death he had been transported back to the beginning of his games, just as Jung-bae, Hyun-ju, and Yong-sik had claimed about their own that he had just been a part of.
So, while Jung-bae hadn't been correct about In-ho fearing his killing, he had been right about one thing; after he died In-ho had been sent to hell. And he needed to find a way out of it. Not only because he had no interest in experiencing these games over again even if he knew he could survive them, but because if Chul-moo was alive, and so was Kyu then so too was another person. His wife, Han-byeol.
⭘△☐
When Jeong Han-byeol was fifteen she went against God and pierced her belly button. Now, at thirty-two, He was punishing her for it. She did not believe that, not really, although the chain of events was undeniable, and the thought had been burned into her mind by so many of the people she had been raised around. However, rather than a punishment for a youthful choice, Han-byeol understood her current medical condition to be partially a result of those very people that she had been surrounded by in her youth. Maybe if she hadn't been born into a strict, radical Christian sect that she now recognized as a cult she wouldn't be this close to death? Maybe if she had been shown any allowance for body modification she wouldn't have felt the need to rebel and do it in secrecy with a group of friends jointly experiencing deconstruction? Maybe if she had been taught about sexual health, infections, modern medicine, anything, she wouldn't have contracted hepatitis C from the needle they shared to do the piercings? Maybe a whole lot of things, Han-byeol supposed, but none of that mattered. She couldn't change anything now and rather than spend her mind-numbing and terrifying days in this hospital thinking of all the trauma she had endured, she'd rather use what strength and mental power she had to make something.
Beyond comfortable clothes and her phone for communication purposes, the first thing In-ho made sure that Han-byeol had in her hospital room was a collection of art supplies. That morning after Jun-ho visited and explained to her where In-ho had gone and would likely be for the next day or so, she started a new watercolor piece in her sketchbook. Somehow she had managed to make the gentle medium painful and jarring. Even if she was purposefully trying not to think of all the horrible things in her past that brought her to this point, it was filtering through her by means of a hand holding a brush. It was all she could paint that day. Her discomfort and fear with In-ho being gone and doing something vague and likely dangerous was all-consuming. At this point it was typical, but it didn't make it any easier to bear.
She set her brush down in the cup of water on her side table and stared at the painting, turning her head to fully take it in. A moment passed, she sighed, and ripped the page out, crumbling it into a damp ball and tossing it into the waste bin beside her bed.
A knock came from her door and a nurse slowly entered.
"Hello, Ms.Jeong," she greeted cheerfully. "I'm going to check your vitals." The nurse put on a pair of gloves and got her materials out, before stopping in front of the bed. She stared at the food tray on the table beside her, barely touched. "How are you doing today?"
"I don't feel great, but I figure you already knew that."
"Your appetite still giving you trouble?" the nurse asked.
"My appetite, the nausea, all of it. I don't want to eat anything," Han-byeol answered, sticking out her finger for the pulse oximeter.
"You need to eat something. You need the energy."
"The energy to do what? Lie in bed all day?"
"How about the energy to grow another human being and stay alive."
Han-byeol, as of yesterday, was officially 21 weeks pregnant. Technically just over half-way to her due date, but her team of doctors had planned to deliver the baby as soon as they felt safe to do so in order for Han-byeol's severe cirrhosis to be better managed before a liver became available.
The nurse finished taking Han-byeol's vitals and then stood with her arms crossed in front of her. "I need you to eat something before I leave," she said firmly.
"I really don't want to."
"I can get you something else if you don't like the breakfast," the nurse offered.
"It doesn't matter what the food is. It's everything."
"I can talk to the doctor about getting you a different anti-nausea med and appetite stimulant, but if you don't eat we're going to have to do it artificially."
Han-byeol didn't like the idea of that at all, already overwhelmed with the amount of wires attached to her at any given time. She turned to her tray and picked up tiny bites one after the other and grimaced horrendously, swallowing them painfully and gagging every so often.
"Small meals, high protein, we'll get through this, okay?" the nurse encouraged, satisfied with the amount that Han-byeol had managed to stomach. At least for the moment, she would likely soon see if it would stay down long enough to be digested. She had become well acquainted with the emesis bags, even more so than during her first trimester. "Is there anything you need?"
"No, it's alright," Han-byeol said with even less energy than before.
The nurse cleaned up her stuff, taking off her gloves and washing her hands. "I'll ask the doctor about helping your appetite pick up a bit. We want you as strong as possible." She left the room and Han-byeol couldn't tell if she was relieved or terrified by that.
Being in a hospital was lonely. Sure, her friends would visit her, but they were slowly getting scared off by her worsening jaundice and dampening spirit. This entire experience had nearly entirely dried up her humor and her cheerfulness. She could find it in moments, but it wasn't even close to being the same. Before, her kindness and optimism had been some of the strongest qualities of her personality, known by nearly everyone around her as generous and cheerful. To some it might seem naive, but Han-byeol could always see the good in something. She could manage, no matter how grim the situation, no matter how horrible and abusive and corrupt her past, to see the light that surrounded her. Still, this particular situation was especially horrific, and with the accompanying physical discomfort, Han-byeol couldn't hide her distress. Especially not around the people she most trusted.
Jun-ho and Mal-soon visited her regularly and were not as turned off by her change in demeanor. They had been through a very similar situation several years before with Jun-ho himself. He had been diagnosed with idiopathic Focal segmental glomerulosclerosis at 17 and it progressed dangerously even with treatment. Similarly to Han-byeol now, Jun-ho's only option for survival was an organ transplant. In-ho and Han-byeol had been there for it all, delaying their wedding the moment Jun-ho received his diagnosis, figuring they would get married once Jun-ho was recovered. In-ho had been a match for the kidney and without hesitation decided to donate it. Luckily, following the transplant, Jun-ho's condition seemed to remain in remission, and now, over five years on, he had not returned to the hospital beyond his scheduled appointments for monitoring and updating prescriptions.
Jun-ho kept hope for Han-byeol and her baby better than anybody, now being on the other side of the most terrifying medical experience he would ever go through with every indication he would continue to live a long and mostly healthy life. She appreciated his presence very much. He managed to keep a positive attitude even when she couldn't, but he wasn't falsely hopeful. He understood the severity of her condition and did not sugarcoat it the way her friends had. He had been hopeful in the same way that Han-byeol liked to be in the rest of her life, focusing on and uplifting the good while not pretending the scary things didn't exist.
Han-byeol was dying, holding out long enough with intense care from the hospital until a liver became available, but if it didn't soon enough she and her baby would die. Jun-ho knew that and he accepted that that was a very real possibility. However, when he visited Han-byeol, rather than attempt to soothe her anxiety by claiming her recovery was an inevitability, he told her to paint. Jun-ho had been her student many years ago which was actually the reason Han-byeol and In-ho met. Jun-ho wasn't the most artistically inclined, but he always knew how important being creative was to Han-byeol and her happiness. Similarly, Jun-ho spoke of his unborn niece or nephew with excitement, a stark contrast from nearly everyone else in Han-byeol's circle who weren't being supportive. Jun-ho had made it his mission to help Han-byeol retain the parts of herself that made living worth it. Her art, her baby, her husband; Jun-ho did what he could to keep those things around and positive. As well as send Han-byeol silly cat videos when he wasn't visiting to keep her smiling.
In-ho, when he wasn't desperately trying to make money for Han-byeol's treatment, was by her side every moment he could be. He had always been more cynical and distrusting. Working as a police officer for many years, he saw a lot of difficult things and had become numb to it, always cautious of people's intentions and certain the world was a lot more bad than it was good. While In-ho had been convinced of the limits of human generosity and selflessness, Han-byeol had been a clear exception. Ever since he first met her, talking about the promise Jun-ho showed over a piece of his shitty art, he knew she was special. She was brighter than any star in the solar system and somehow she had found a way to love him. He initially worried when they started dating that he would bring her down. However, he soon realized that she was stubborn with hope. She was making him see all the wonderful things he had been missing. His empathy increased in ways he couldn't have expected and he felt everything deeper. And then Han-byeol's liver started to fail.
He wasn't glad that Han-byeol had decided to keep the pregnancy, knowing it complicated her health even further, but he had accepted it. The baby and Han-byeol were inseparable, both literally and figuratively. He kept the print of the ultrasound alongside his photo of Han-byeol in his wallet in order to remind him what it was all for. The stress of this ordeal got to him quickly, and he felt the pressure like he was in the Earth's core. A series of bad luck and miscalculated decisions sent In-ho scrambling for the funds to keep his wife and child alive. He was trying to do everything he could, but it never seemed to be enough. Until one day, on the way to the hospital, he was stopped by Yeong-gil in a suit on the subway platform with two ddakji tiles and a strange business card.
Han-byeol didn't know about that. All she knew was that she missed him and wanted him back home as soon as possible. Of course everything was weird, but it wasn't like him to disappear even if he didn't always tell Han-byeol the full story about what he was doing.
Right after the nurse left, Han-byeol felt the weight of loneliness tugging on her so much so that she couldn't find it in herself to paint anything else for the moment. Instead, the only thing she could do was reach out for her phone and dial In-ho's number. Several rings later, she was sent to voicemail.
"Hey, it's me. I'm just calling to check in. I don't know if you can't use your phone or if I missed you, but um… call me back when you can. Even if it's just for a little bit. I really miss you and I want to hear your voice. Jun-ho told me that you were away for a work thing or something. He was vague about it. I think because you were vague about it. I hope it's okay and safe." A pause. "I know it's not. I want you to tell me what's going on. I know you don't want to put stress on me and that you're doing all that you can to help me and the baby and the rest of your family. But I'm still here and we're partners so I want to be there for you too. Um… anyway, I'm alright. Feeling shitty, but staying alive and keeping myself busy. Come home soon though. I miss you keeping me company. I love you."
Han-byeol hung up the phone and only a moment later desperately grabbed at a bag behind her and vomited inside.
⭘△☐
In-ho needed to find a way out of here. He slowly climbed the stairs, stuck behind the congested traffic of all the other players heading towards the first game. While moving, he scanned every nook and cranny that he could see. Despite the aesthetic changes, the building's layout was pretty much the same. Several rooms were stacked on top of each other for the games, punctuated at the top with the control rooms and the frontman's office which assumedly Il-nam was in now preparing to watch the first game on the monitors. The escape routes weren't anywhere near this more central corridor. If In-ho wanted to make a break for it, not only would he have to evade the several secretly armed guards that were watching the players closely, but he'd have to do so for a while. That's not even considering the fact that if he could somehow manage to make it to an escape route and do so faster than the guards, the only thing he'd be able to use to escape would be the diving gear which would only last him to one of the neighboring islands. There was nothing there and he wouldn't even be able to signal for help from the rare aircraft passing by because it would alert the guards looking for him if they hadn't already found and killed him.
He didn't have a weapon, and while a capable fighter, he was certainly no match for the large group of armed soldiers. They knew the building nearly as well as he did and had eyes on him the entire time. Maybe if he could take out a single guard and assume their role? He'd know how to blend in and could probably figure out a way to secure his departure without any fuss. There was Do-eun, acting as manager. He could take him… probably. In-ho couldn't remember exactly how skilled he was in his thirty-nine year old body. Sure, he was younger now and had been a police officer for many years and had experience in the military, but he didn't practice as much hand-to-hand until after getting involved with the shady people that ultimately led to his financial problems. He continued practicing all throughout his career as frontman, figuring it could come in handy. Would it translate to now? Probably, but he would need to wait to find out.
He couldn't get out yet, not with everyone this close and watching him, not in these moments leading up to the first game. He'd have to play this one and then he could figure out his escape plan once he was through.
The crowd of players finally made it to their destination. It was the field, the same one from Red Light, Green Light. It was almost always the location of the first game. It was large, spacious, and one of their only venues with an opening to the outside in the form of its retractable roof. The first game was chosen to eliminate a bulk amount of players so even if something went wrong and people voted to leave, the VIPs would get an exciting show. There needed to be space to run even if the game itself didn't involve running and there needed to be places for the guard's to hide and shoot from so the guns wouldn't be revealed too soon and spoil the surprise, also so the overwhelming number of over four hundred players didn't somehow manage to overthrow the guards in their panic. The field was the perfect place for that; solid metal doors that locked, keeping only the players trapped inside until the game finished.
In-ho surveyed the scene. This time, just as he remembered, the field was arranged with place mats separated evenly. The place mats were in the same shapes as the guards' masks; a circle, a triangle, and a square. The Young-hee animatronic was positioned at the other end of the field as she always was, although this was the previous version that had yet to be waterproofed and was a lot more weathered than their newer version. They had a debacle in 2019 when, during the first game, a very unexpected downpour started and Young-hee broke down in the middle of the game, forcing to it end earlier, leading to several more players alive than expected. She got made new with better weather proofing and a different outfit. This one is an entirely pink, shorter shirt dress thats color was faded. Beside her was the railroad crossing lights that could switch between red and green from the command center. In-ho could hear several people murmuring about the odd view.
The intercom voice came on and introduced the game they were about to play, "The first game is Young-hee Says. Please listen carefully to the rules. You will stand on one of the markers on the floor. It does not matter which. The game will start when the light ahead turns green. Once the game starts you will receive several commands. If the command starts with the phrase 'Young-hee says' then you must do the command within three seconds or you will be eliminated from the game. If the command does not begin with the phrase 'Young-hee says' then do not perform the command or you will be eliminated from the game. You must follow the previous command until another one supersedes or contradicts it. The game will only end when the light turns red. Please find an independent place on one of the markers and prepare for the start of the game."
In-ho found a spot central on the field atop a circle space, looking around for the other shapes, memorizing the location of at least one of each. He then scanned the people around him. Kyu was still nearby. Chul-moo was far off but not hard to spot.
An alarm sounded and the light ahead of them turned green. The game had begun and In-ho listened carefully. He remembered playing this, but the individual instructions he could barely recall. They had tapes of nearly all the games, mostly for the VIPs to revisit for fun, but also to train and inspire the creative and psychological team behind the games, both local and worldwide. In-ho referred to them regularly when planning. However, the only one he had not watched back were his own.
A voice technically belonging to Young-hee, but distributed evenly throughout the entire field, gave its first instruction. "Young-hee says, raise your arms straight into the air."
Everyone followed the easy task within the required time limit, no bullets flying from the concealed positions high in the walls. Not only was Young-hee's motion sensing technology helping to monitor the actions of the players, but each soldier was assigned a specific section to watch over and judge.
"Young-hee says, lower your arms to resting."
Once again, no deaths.
"Young-hee says, clap once."
Although not in perfect timing, a quick smattering of claps sounded around the arena.
"Young-hee says, freeze."
No one moved, not significantly at least.
"Clap again."
This time, although not as loud, another smattering of hands coming together flitted through the field. Some cut themselves short as players realized what they did. A few of them seemed to be laughing about it, upset they had lost, but not knowing what would be coming.
Being spread out, the guards were even less likely to miss. Bullets flew in quick succession, taking out the players who had fled upon realizing what was happening. They did this every time. The players scattered and ran to the large doors where they had entered, desperately trying to open them and escape what they assumed was their inevitable deaths. It was human instinct to flee from the signs of danger. However, if they took even a moment to think, In-ho believed, they would realize that running for a safety that didn't exist was actually ensuring their deaths. This first game wasn't just about a big body count and taking people by surprise. In-ho also understood it to be about weeding out the truly senseless.
In-ho didn't move. He listened to the rules and stayed safe because of it. Others weren't as careful as him.
In-ho remained still, staring out blankly ahead, not perturbed by the deaths around him. Or at the very least, not showing it. He could see from ahead of him and in his periphery, several people beginning to run towards the back and being shot from above. Nearly half of the players that had entered the field were crumpled into piles by the doors.
The sound of gunshots eventually began to settle and the voiceover called out, "To remind you about the rules, you are to follow the most recent command beginning with the phrase 'Young-hee says' until another one supersedes it or you will be eliminated. Following any command that has not begun with the phrase 'Young-hee says' will also lead to your elimination." Then silence.
"Young-hee says, unfreeze," the doll at the front said in her youthful yet hollow voice.
Now that the rest of the players seemed to be on the same page about the severity of not following the rules, things would be running a lot smoother. The first fleeing was the only major interruption.
"Young-hee says, put your right hand on your head." Nearly everyone completed the task except for a handful who were too hesitant due to fear and didn't make it in time.
"Young-hee says, lower your right hand to resting." The first instruction since players started getting eliminated where no shots rang out.
"Young-hee says, take three steps backwards." People follow.
"Return to your spot." A few accidentally moved to do so, getting a bullet through their heart as soon as their foot touched the shape they had originally been standing on.
"Young-hee says, close your eyes." To which the people now three steps away from their original shapes did.
"Young-hee says, face the opposite direction." In-ho turned as the others around him did, keeping his eyes closed until he received an instruction to open them. Others performed the same, but a few couldn't quite meet the mark in time and more shots could be heard. In-ho felt his own face receive a small splatter of blood. It was heavily copper scented directly beneath his nose, but he was used to that smell, especially having just come from another three days of posing as a player.
"Open your eyes." Once again, a few did so, but In-ho did not, taking great care.
"Young-hee says open your eyes."
Facing backwards now, In-ho could truly take in the pileup of corpses for the first time in nearly a decade. He hadn't seen it in person in that time, always cleared out by the guards before he ever stepped foot on the field again. He had only seen it through the monitor in his office, except for this time. Except for the first time. Even if he supposed some part of this must be real, it also wouldn't surprise him if this was actually a recreated torture chamber for cosmic justice or something of that sort. He remembered being a true, taken-by-surprise and traumatized player all those years ago. Seeing them… smelling them on his skin… it brought him back. However, he couldn't focus on that. He needed to listen to the instructions and stay alive in order to reunite with Han-byeol.
"Young-hee says, place your foot on a triangle space."
In-ho instantly ran to the closest one he could find, pressing his toes deep into the dirt the triangle rested upon. He saw out of the corner of his eye Chul-moo not even needing to run with his wide gait, simply taking a couple steps forwards until he was safely on a triangle shape. More shots rang out for people who couldn't make it in the time limit.
"Place your foot on a square space." Nobody did it fully, but even the movement away from the triangle is enough to earn elimination. It is only those that are able to think quickly that stay put and hold their position steady, surviving to the next and final round.
"Young-hee says, leave the triangle shape and place your foot on a circle space." Once more, similar to the triangle command, several do not make it in time and are eliminated, their numbers being read out over the loud speaker.
And the light turned red. Game over. Hopefully the last game In-ho would have to play if he could manage to escape before the next morning.
⭘△☐
The entire time back to the dormitory, In-ho was looking around for more potential escape routes just in case the guard plan couldn't go through. The main room where the players spent the majority of their time was one of the deeper parts of the building, further from the exits than nearly any other part. It'd take at least twenty minutes to make it through to the outside and that was without any roadblocks. It'd be easier during the night with less guards on duty. However, at the same time the dark would make it harder to navigate and there would be less distractions to potentially help him slip away under the radar. He needed to do things carefully or else he would get killed and then would be of no use to Han-byeol at all.
Once everyone was back to the main dormitory, having traversed the dull corridors at gun point, the players took their usual positions in between the beds, petrified in fear. In-ho looked around at them all. All the faces he remembered, frozen in time at these ages right here, were alive once more. Had any of them been resurrected with their memories as well? Jung-bae had been accompanied by two others, but they also had all died around the same time supposedly. In-ho had nearly a decade more of experience and memories than anyone else in this room would ever get. Although, he realized, should he actually be able to escape and get back home in time to hopefully save Han-byeol, then one of the others here would actually end up being the winner. Perhaps Tae-won who was several seats away from In-ho now would end up being the one to take it and fulfill the promise In-ho wished he was able to make? Although, he'd be kidding himself if he thought Tae-won would ever be able to do what In-ho did.
The alarm on the door sounded and the several armed guards stepped through, the players yelping and moving behind the beams of the bunks to hide. Despite making it through the first game by means of listening and following the rules, they were still convinced they were destined for death.
"Congratulations to all of you for making it through the first game," the manager at the front stated. In-ho once again recognized him as Do-eun, Si-woo beside him and holding a large gun.
Kyu got onto his knees nearly instantly. "Please don't kill us! I'll find a way to pay back my debts, I swear! I swear I will!" Several more players followed him, desperately shouting out pleas for their life.
"There is a misunderstanding," Do-eun began. "We are not your debt collectors. We are here to present you with an opportunity to win the funds necessary for you to alleviate your debts. Please settle down."
No amount of words from Do-eun could properly quell the frantic and empty bargaining of the players. Therefore, Si-woo took a different approach and fired into the air. Screams erupted briefly, but the pleading ceased.
Unperturbed by the gun fire and knowing he would not be the target, at least not currently, In-ho stood from his spot by the bunks and stated, "Clause three of the contract we signed. The games can be terminated upon a majority vote. We chose to be here. We can choose to leave."
"That is correct." A collective sigh emitted from the gathered players, finally seeing a way to avoid death. "However, before you vote, let us show you the results of the first game." Do-eun clicked a button on the remote in his hand, the screen in front of the players counting down from 456 to 190. "266 people were eliminated in the first game, meaning the current prize accumulated is 26.6 billion won." The piggy bank above them illuminated and filled with the bills equal to their total prize so far. It was an alluring sight, but also made a few realize the broken promise they believed had been made.
People shouted out saying that the prize was less than previously stated when they signed the contract, not letting their terror stand in the way of them being pissed off and expressing it bluntly.
"We understand your frustrations. The prize is based off of the number of players eliminated. 100 million won per person. Should you vote to continue, after the end of the six games, the remaining players will receive the prize and return home. If you vote to end the games prematurely, you will all return home and 100 million won each will be distributed to the families of the eliminated players." Once again, outrage.
The games change the rules of the voting depending on the general debt level of people recruited for maximum tension. The 2024 games were not the first to allow people to split the current prize upon a vote to leave, however that format was more rare considering it required a higher debt threshold. This version where people are permitted to leave, but would do so without the money, happened more often.
In-ho knew what was coming as they started the vote, descending downwards from the highest number which at the time was 452. There was no point to try to convince the others to vote to leave for many reasons. The first being that they never listened, not really. They knew what they wanted to do and weren't going to be swayed simply by another desperate man's ramblings. More importantly perhaps was that the games at this point had very little tolerance for larger group discussions. They gave more and more allowance each year, growing more confident in how futile the attempts would be. It proved entertaining to the VIPs at a certain point and it turned into part of the fun of the vote.
By the time the guards reached In-ho's number, the votes were close, but continuing the games was slowly taking the lead. In-ho approached the stand to vote, raising his hand over the button and pressing down firmly. In-ho felt the red light illuminate his face. Just as it had the last time.