Chapter Text
Hyun-ju wasn't sure what powered her to stand back up; maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was determination, or maybe it was pure maternal instincts towards the broken down marine that was shivering behind her, but nonetheless, she got to her feet.
As she rose, the clear view of the armed guards came into her shaky vision, their guns raised with exasperation and warning, daring anyone who may have the courage to even try and retaliate, to meet their inevitable demise if they attempted anything of the sort.
The sudden rush of blood to her heels as she stood up was confining, an unbearable weight pressing down on her like a ton of bricks, the weight of fear, the weight of responsibility, the weight of death suffocating her from the inside as she scanned the area with wide, panicked eyes. With a deep breath of fear, determination and an odd sense of finality, Hyun-ju raised her gun, already picking her target and preparing to shoot the distant blur of pink she could spot in the distance. Shaky, blood-stained fingers tightened around the slim handle of the gun, hesitating slightly as her thumb reached for the trigger, almost as if her body disagreed with her mind, begging her to turn around, pleading with the careless influence of her thoughts.
But just for a moment, barely even a second, Hyun-ju entertained the thought of backing down, her body's intense signals of distress finally reaching her mind, allowing her overcrowded thoughts to pause and consider. She could turn around, drop the gun and the ammo, and submit to the guards. Going out there on her own was a death mission, being shot was almost guaranteed, so why shouldn't she stay hidden, safe in the array of beds with Dae-ho?
The dream-like fantasy echoed alluringly in the depths of Hyun-ju's mind, although she knew that those ideals would stay there, that she'd never act upon them and they'd remain nothing but an unattainable desire. Not because she didn't want to, but because it simply wasn't an option, the simple notion of living being a mindless fiction in the gruesome death games she'd found herself wound up in.
Regardless of her doubts, expelling any thoughts of fear from her mind, she stepped forward, only to feel the comforting weight of a small, frail hand on her shoulder, pulling her back. The touch held barely any force, yet the contact burned unavoidably as the hand remained. It wasn't painful or irritating, but rather oddly pleasant.
The voice was hushed, alarmed, and yet somehow soothing, immediately easing the nerves furrowed deep in Hyun-ju's stomach, allowing her to breathe.
"Hyun-ju. Don't do it, you don't want to die like this."
She turned her head to see Geum-ja, the dishevelled old woman looking up at Hyun-ju with something that can only be described as concern, not the fake kind you show when someone loses something or fails a test, no, it was a true, raw presentation on anxiety.
Hyun-ju could remember how Geum-ja had welcomed her onto her team before the pentathlon, how she'd heard Hyun-ju out after she voted O, how she'd called Hyun-ju 'fine' rather than 'beautiful' because she was still learning the concept of being transgender and didn't want to offend her. Such domestic moments feel silly now, like the idea of making jokes or having lighthearted conversations are nothing more than a distant memory, a dream during a time of loss and despair. But even up until now, from the moment Hyun-ju left to fight in the rebellion until the second she came back, Geum-ja genuinely cared.
"Miss, I have to-"
"Please, Hyun-ju. It's useless."
She could see the pleading in her eyes, the fear and uncertainty around the possibility that Hyun-ju could die, whether it was under her own coniditons or not, Geum-ja wanted her alive. Hyun-ju studied her face, shifting undecidedly under the light weight of her palm, searching for any underlying intention of malice, yet all she could find was authenticity.
With Geum-ja, what you see is what you get. Yes, she could be fierce, the sight of ill temper on her face was possibly the most terrifying thing Hyun-ju had ever seen, and considering everything she'd seen in her lifetime, that meant a lot. However, despite being firm and strong-minded, she also had a softer, attentive, more genuine side, a side Hyun-ju saw often.
She found solace in that, the older woman something of a mother figure to her, one that didn't distance herself immediately upon finding out about Hyun-ju's transition, rather one that opted to learn, a parental figure that strived to adapt and understand Hyun-ju's complicated view on life.
As the guards walked closer, Hyun-ju ducked down, discarding the ammo and releasing the gun from her intense grip as she chose the sweet, comforting embrace of life over a losing battle between humanity and death. She watched carefully from between the beds as the guards monotonously placed the deceased bodies into coffins, Hyun-ju noticing a slightly more solemn manor as they placed their fellow workers into the pink-ribboned boxes, potentially burying a friend, perhaps burying an enemy.
Despite being the minions for this sick and twisted operation, Hyun-ju couldn't help but feel a tinge of sympathy for the masked workers. Behind each shape was a person, a daughter, a father, someones best friend. Each guard had a story, maybe they had someone waiting for them outside, maybe not, but nonetheless they were all human.
Everyone here was a victim, everyone was here for a reason, it was ultimately down to luck whether you were handed the green tracksuit or the pink uniform. The guards were only more players disguised as employees, their own desperation and yearning to live hidden behind a black mask, ridding them of their identities and emotion.
As the guards continued to clean the blood-coated, marble floors of the room, the players slowly became curious, intimidated by the overwhelming presence of the guards. People emerged from their positions across the room, a strong divide down the middle as the X's and O's resided with those of the same vote, not daring to converse with the other team.
Many noticed the eerie silence of the halls outside, what was once filled with the clatter of guns and the loud bang of gunshots was now gone, all resemblance of life erased from the blinding pink stairs of the games. The silence brought fear as the players realised what the lack of noise and presence of the guards meant. The plan outside had failed, everyone who'd gone to fight had perished, and with them went any hope at surviving, any aspirations of leaving the confines of the games were gone.
Gi-hun's 'rebellion' was supposed to be a shot at ending the games, an opportunity to free everyone inside so they could have a second chance at life, yet if anything, it only made escape even more unimaginable. The guards would be on high alert, prepared for the worst and would probably never even get close to another player unless it be a necessity.
Those who voted O would only be motivated, inspired by the sheer amount of death during the rebellion, the majority being X's. The vote would never be in favour to leave. They'd have to suck it up and play the remaining games, most likely being targeted by O's as they satisfy their sickening desire for murder and revenge, their minds only focused on the growing piggy bank that loomed over them as they slept.
As the number of bodies on the floor grew smaller and smaller, the more people began to grow nervous. Players alike wondered with dread what the inevitable punishment for disobeying the rules of the game would be, some preparing to get on their knees and plead for forgiveness, others unfazed as they await an announcement from the guards.
Hyun-ju remained crouched down next to the beds as she watched the oddly symbolic ritual go on, the continuous sequence of placing bodies in boxes a now common occurrence in the games. She was almost too focused on the scene ahead of her that she barely noticed a gun-baring guard marching over to her, face unreadable behind the dark mask.
What could only be described as panic washed over Hyun-ju as she locked eyes with the square-faced guard in-front of her, the pink-suited worker towering over her hunched over form. Did he know? Did he know about her and Dae-ho's involvement with the rebellion? Was he going to kill them both in cold blood, leaving Geum-ja red-stained and shaking as she was forced to helplessly watch two innocent people be murdered?
Hyun-ju wouldn't mind so much if it was just her, only herself being massacred unjustly by the games, but the sheer though alone of Dae-ho being killed aswell, barely being able to process what was happening as he shook and wept made her sick to her stomach.
She couldn't just let them both be killed, not after they made it this far. It was only when Hyun-ju was about to sink to her knees and beg when the guard spoke, his sharp voice muffled by the mesh bask that bared his shadowed face.
"Give me the gun." It was demanding, almost like a threat as the words hit Hyun-ju coldly, piercing through her skin like a dagger as the string of sounds processed in her brain.
"W-What?" The words left her mouth before she could think about them, the fear of being shot still fresh in her trembling form.
"The gun. Give it to me." The command came out more aggressive this time, impatience clear in the tone of the workers voice.
Hyun-ju didn't need to hear it a third time, and she didn't dare ask to, simply nodding as she handed him the empty gun. Fighting back would only be futile, putting herself, Dae-ho and Geum-ja in danger if she did so, so she chose silence, obeying the order of the games for the first time since she arrived.
The guard turned to leave, not before spotting the bundle of ammo at the end of the bed and grabbing it with anguish, and simply walked away, like the conversation had been natural chatter about the weather.
As Hyun-ju watched him leave, she let out a satisfactory breath of relief, nerves draining from her body as she reminded herself that she was still alive, that no harm had been dealt to her or those around her.
"Hyun-ju. Are you alright?" A soft voice came from behind her, Geum-ja crouching down to Hyun-ju's level as she spoke.
"Yeah, I just- I wish there was more I could've done." Hyun-ju spoke truthfully, Geum-ja's simple yet consolatory presence making her feel comfortable enough to do so, emotions spilling out like water, uncontrollable and destructive as her true feelings come out in rushed matters of words.
"It feels so wrong to submit to them like this, like everything we've done has been for nothing."
"But it hasn't. You tried, that's all that matters, Hyun-ju. There's nothing more to do." Geum-ja spoke slowly, her words coming out soft yet calculated, like she knew exactly what to say, years of parenting apparent as she comforted the young woman, countless nights spent singing hushed lullabies into a childlike, crying Yong-sik's ear coming in handy at such an unexpected moment.
The words felt like the rain to Hyun-ju, each word cold and truthful, yet somewhat relieving as they marinated in her mind, slowly but surely settling as fact. Yes, the plan failed. Yes, everyone had died but two, but none of that was to the fault of her nor Dae-ho.
Placing the blame or picking faults was futile in the games, everyone was a victim, everyone was trying to survive. Those who decided to blame other players were only deflecting, a way to cope as they gradually familiarise with the morbid scent of death that lingered throughout the halls. Hyun-ju thought it was pointless to blame eachother. If people were going to be angry at someone, it should be the sick people who orchestrated these games in the first place, not the innocent players who are forced to partake.
Those thoughts only enhanced as she glanced back at Dae-ho, the quivering man still frozen in place at the head of the bed, the excruciating sobs long since stopped, his broad, traumatised eyes now distant, gazing elsewhere as he remained curled up, making himself as small as possible. Hyun-ju knew the guilt would consume Dae-ho, that he'd blame himself for everything, every death, every injury, despite it being far from in his control. He quickly averted his eyes as his view met with Hyun-ju's, regret and dishonour blatant in his avoidant nature.
She ached to tell him that it wasn't his fault, that he did what he could, like Geum-ja had done to her. Hyun-ju knew how the simple words of affirmation had helped her, giving her the hope and will to live, and she so badly wanted to do the same for Dae-ho, to be the one to give him that determination and strength during his time of need.
Her hands opened and closed at her sides as she conflicted with her mind, unsure of how to approach the situation without intimidating the already shaken ex-marine.
"Thank you, Geum-ja. Really." Hyun-ju smiled warmly at the older woman in-front of her, the type of honest smile that reached your eyes, crinkling the loose skin on the outsides of each iris, a sign of real gratefulness and appreciation.
Hyun-ju slowly got to her feet, Geum-ja rising with her, curious to her intentions as Hyun-ju brought her over to Dae-ho, their steps light and unhurried, careful not to startle the terrified man that cowered in-front of them.
Reaching out a meticulous hand, Hyun-ju got closer to Dae-ho, attempting to place a consoling source for comfort on the man's blood-stained shoulder.
"N-No!" Dae-ho cried out in panic, flinching away from Hyun-ju's hand as if it was radioactive, threatening to kill the man with just a simple touch.
He looked up at the two women in horror, his face apolagetic yet frightened as he searched for any trace of anger in their eyes, almost expecting a wave of insults and fury, like the women above him were ready to kill him with their bare hands, showing no mercy to the poor man.
"Dae-ho, its okay. We aren't going to hurt you." Hyun-ju noticed the apparent signs of trepidation in the younger man's body language as she moved her hand back, opting for words of ease rather than physical touch as Dae-ho shook like a leaf beneath her.
"Why? Why wouldn't you want to hurt me? Its all my fault, Hyun-ju." Dae-ho's response came out fast and stuttered, like the words pained him to get out, burning his esophagus as they made their way out his mouth, each sound like a small ball of fire that grew as he carried on.
"Everyone's going to blame me."
"Dae-ho." Hyun-ju tried to plead with the man as he rambled out of fear, out of desperation for his life, like telling his side of the story was the only way to survive.
"I was going to bring the ammo, I swear! I just got so scared and-" The man spoke frantically, clawing at his chest as he cried, almost as if he was reliving the moment itself, reliving the panic and dread that had occured not even an hour ago. Disquiet was rooted deep in his chest, like a bacteria that had infected all of his insides, finally reaching his brain as he broke down in-front of Hyun-ju.
"Dae-ho! Listen to me, none of this is your fault." Hyun-ju raised her voice ever-so slightly, immediately regretting it as he recoiled with her words, like the volume of her voice had affected him physically.
Despite feeling terrible, Hyun-ju knew Dae-ho needed to hear this, and if she didn't stop his incoherent mutters of distress she feared she would never get through to him.
"Whether you delivered that ammo or not, they would've been outnumbered." Geum-ja chimed in, her expression soft and sympathetic as she spoke gently to Dae-ho.
"Yeah, if anything, you did me a favour, Dae-ho." Hyun-ju added on, noticing the subtle yet noticeable slowing in Dae-ho's breaths, "If I hadn't come back for the ammo, i'd have died along with everyone else, so thank you for that, truly." And for the first time since he'd voulenteered to get the ammo, Dae-ho looked Hyun-ju in the eyes.
Behind each murky iris was a plethora of questions, an engulfment of curiosity, yet a hint of authenticity.
"R-Really?" Dae-ho tumbled over his words as they came out, incredulous and unbelieving, "Do you- Do you really mean that?" He raised his voice at the end, like the idea of him failing to deliver the ammo bringing any form of positive outcome in anyway was unfeasible and absurd.
The trembling in his voice was vulnerable, almost infantile, like a child who'd just gotten a bad report card and had failed to hide it from his parents in time. But behind the consternation and doubt, was a flicker of hope. Like a miniscule flame that had been lit and forgotten about, the small bundle of fire so small and unnoticeable that you'd miss it at first glance, yet with plenty room to grow and flourish as the hope grew into determination.
Hyun-ju responded with a simple nod, such a small movement, yet one that holds so much meaning and intention. The direct shaking of Hyun-ju's head grounded Dae-ho, slowing down his once racing mind, allowing it to breathe and relish in the feeling of relief, the blissful sentiment of peace.
A sentiment that only lasted for a second, the screeching doors of the dorms pushing open just as Dae-ho opened his mouth to speak.
The three figures turned to look, along with the other players scattered around the room, at the influx of guards as the now familiar monotonous voice echoed through the speakers.
"Players, showing any form of aggression towards or workers is strictly forbidden," As the deep voice bellowed through the dorms, four guards marched forwards. What they were holding, Hyun-ju couldn't tell, the object in the middle blocked by the beds around her.
"You have all chosen to be here, remember the rules of the games."
The announcement came to a close, and players began to gather closer as the guards dropped off the inexplicable object in the middle of the room, and turned to leave.
Hyun-ju shared a glance with Geum-ja, who nodded her head towards the middle of the room, and they began to walk towards it, curiosity getting the better of both women, not before glancing back at Dae-ho, who urged them to go forward as he remained curled up on the bed.
As Hyun-ju trudged closer, the pink and black smudges of the unnamed article began to form a clear picture, her throat going dry as she finally got a good view of the item. Geum-ja turned to her shakily, the everlasting nervous pit in her stomach emerging again at full force as they stared helplessly at the object before them.
"Is it.." Geum-ja started, her breath shaky as she yearned for confirmation, hoping, begging that it could be anything other than the obvious.
"Yeah. Its a coffin."