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It seems almost funny now, as Sae-byeok stands in front of the ATM and stares down at the balance. 45.6 billion won, a number with more zeros than she’s ever seen in her life— and conflicting emotions rise within her. She desperately wants to cry, she’s just not sure why. Is she glad to have enough money to save her mother and get her brother out of the orphanage? Is she glad to finally have enough cash to get a house and a life? Does she want to cry because of all the blood spilt for her to get this? Is it because Ji-yeong and Gi-hun willingly chose death to make sure Sae-byeok survived?
She doesn’t know. And she doesn’t cry. She won’t allow herself to.
She retrieves some cash and takes off to the nearest convenience store, one hand drifting to the left side of her stomach, where some medic had stitched her up before they dumped her on the sidewalk. They gave her her phone too, fully charged. As if nothing had changed. She was gone one second and back the next.
In the convenience store, she shoves all the ingredients her phone indicates are in a mojito, and dumps them on the counter. She ignores the cashier’s concerned looks, how he stares at her scars and greasy hair and haunted eyes. He doesn’t ask, and Sae-byeok’s oddly grateful. That’s changed about her, the gratefulness.
She stalks off to her tiny, shitty, rundown apartment with the bag in hand and is surprised to find she hadn’t been kicked out yet for not paying rent. She turns on a single light, kicks off her shoes, and takes a seat on the floor, right at the entrance, and starts mixing the ingredients in a plastic cup— rum, lime, mint, soda, some type of sugary syrup and whatever else her phone indicates— until it vaguely resembles the photo provided on the recipe she found online. She stares at it for half a second before she chugs it. It’s way too sweet and somehow still sour and fucking disgusting and it feels like a cruel joke. Like this was Ji-yeong’s plan all along— to make Sae-byeok drink a horrible cocktail and then cackle about it like it was the funniest thing in the world.
And maybe it was, because Sae-byeok doubles over, chest against her knees, and laughs.
She can’t stop thinking of Ji-yeong. We’ll drink mojitos in Jeju or the Maldives. We’ll take a trip together, have a girl’s night out. She thinks of how, in just thirty minutes, Ji-yeong got to know her better than anyone else. How she made a friend so quickly and easily, something she’d never done before. She thinks of Ji-yeong dying for her, throwing the game just to make sure Sae-byeok survived. How she smiled even with a gun pointed at her head, how she said she was glad that she and Sae-byeok got to play together, that she was honored to have been Sae-byeok’s partner. Sae-byeok couldn’t stop thinking about how there was nothing honorable about her. Ji-yeong shouldn’t have given up, even if Sae-byeok would be eternally grateful that she had. The bullet ringing out through the arena and the cold woman’s voice over the speaker, player 240 was eliminated.
Sae-byeok laughs until she’s out of breath and the tears escape. Until the stitches on her side pull painfully at her skin, threatening to rip open, and the agony only gives her more reasons to cry. Until she’s sobbing into her knees and nearly unable to breathe.
So many people died for the money she now possesses. The old man whose wife died before him. Mi-nyeo too. Ali. The old man with the brain tumor. Ji-yeong. Gi-hun. Hell, even Sang-woo.
Take care of my mother, Gi-hun had begged, bleeding out after having stepped out of the game’s area during the squid game, which he hadn’t even bothered to explain to Sae-byeok because he knew he wasn’t going to attempt to win it. The worst part is he could’ve. Sae-byeok was still bleeding out, he could’ve easily won but chose not to. She’s sick and needs surgery. And my little girl, her name is Ga-yeon, she’s ten years old and so sweet, please tell her I love her. And I’m… tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t get her something nice for her birthday, I could only get her tteokbokki. Please take care of them, they’re all I have. Sae-byeok promised she would, and it was all over. She didn’t even get to thank the older man.
There’s so much to do. Her brother, her mother, Gi-hun’s mother and daughter… Ali’s daughter and wife too… probably some other things… Sae-byeok’s too exhausted to care for any of that right now. It still feels as if her blood is on fire, like there’s so much energy inside her it’s threatening to burst. She can’t help but think of what would’ve happened if she’d been too slow, if she hadn’t been able to kill Sang-woo before he got to her.
She thinks of Jeju Island.
She can do anything she wants with the money. She can do nothing with it. She can change her own life and not care about anyone else. But Gi-hun and Ji-yeong and Ali showed her a kindness that she thought didn’t exist anymore. No one had ever been that kind to her, ever. And she’d never had a friend before, not like Ji-yeong or Gi-hun. Hell, she wouldn’t have even considered them friends before but now… she supposes it’s from hindsight.
She’ll pay for Gi-hun’s mother’s surgery and she’ll track down his daughter to let her know. She’ll track down Ali’s wife and child and give them some money, just to make sure they’ll be okay. She’ll get a grave for Ji-yeong, even if there’s no body. At least, her friend will be remembered, there’ll be evidence that she was once there. Maybe ones for Ali and Gi-hun, too.
She’ll get her mother out of North Korea. And she’ll get an apartment and live with Cheol. And she thinks of what she’ll do with the remaining blood money. It feels as if there’s so many opportunities at her feet that she doesn’t know which one to pick.
But she does know that she… she’ll do her best to be better. To be kinder, like Gi-hun and Ji-yeong. That she’ll keep them in mind as she lives, will remember how they died for her. She won’t waste the life they guaranteed for her.
She thinks of Jeju Island and the Maldives, and the movie Ji-yeong talked about.
She wants to lay down, to sleep for a week straight and not care about anyone else, but Cheol’s more important. Cheol will always be more important. And so she stumbles her way back to him, fully intending to get him out of the orphanage even if it’s by threatening the caretakers with physical violence. As she walks, a downpour comes from the sky. And when Sae-byeok tilts her head up, letting it drench her, she allows herself a little leeway. If her tears mix with the rain, no one will know.
Sae-byeok won. And now, she’ll do her best to live.