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There’s strength in numbers. That’s how you survive.
That’s why you didn’t take her hand. You put out your own in the form of scissors to beat her paper. Now you try to think the same as you see her lifeless form on the cold ground, crimson blood a sharp contrast against the pallor of her skin. She still looks beautiful…
—
A sniffle from below me woke me from my thoughts. When I looked below, in the same place I thought her body was still laid on, was the plain cement flooring. The only sign of her gruesome death were the dark stains that refused to come off despite the scrubbing. From up high on my occupied bed, I could almost pretend they were merely stains from spilled coffee.
But no, even while we felt relatively safe in the sleeping area, it would be foolish to think we would survive the night. From afar, there were still shots being fired. Right below me, I could hear the murmuring of a so-called soldier, one of the volunteers in the heroic group led by Player 456. He held a green jacket filled with magazines, but he was in catatonic shock.
What happened next made me want to hide beneath the covers, but we were utterly outnumbered. I don’t think there’s any more numbers to hide behind. So instead of hiding, I began thinking. It was the only thing I could really do.
As the skillful transgender woman came barrelling through the doorway and started calling what seemed like the name of her comrade, I instead made my slow climb down the stacked-upon bed frames. I kept thinking and thinking, even when I almost slipped during my descent, the rungs slippery with blood and other liquid matter I dared not investigate upon.
And when I finally stood shakily on solid ground, my thoughts brought my eyes to the giant suspended piggy bank right on top of our heads. A constant sight, mocking us wordlessly this past few days. A symbol of what can be gained with every game played, and a warning of lost opportunities if one dared to press on the red button.
Strength in numbers. I would have still voted the same way in the previous votings. Now I bear the red cross against my chest. But all of this hardly mattered now that there was rebellion thick in the air. Gunshots still thundered and echoed despite being obviously a distance away. Player 456 was still on the offensive. But perhaps not for long, if the scene playing in front of me was an indication of what was happening in the frontlines at all.
Player 120 had made it to the shaking form of Player 388. I ignored the former’s frantic questioning towards the unresponsive man as I turned my sight towards the door. I could already hear the uniform march of the incoming pink-laden soldiers. They were coming.
A few meters away from me, Player 120 had grabbed onto a full magazine and had started to make her way to face the mob. She was held back by the old woman, her well-meaning head shaking no.
I thought it was time to finally stop thinking.
Player 120 couldn’t even retaliate as I took the spare MP5 from behind her back. Even as she saw me do so, she didn’t react with hostility but instead her face was plastered with utter confusion. I knew I didn’t look like a threat. I banked on that.
The gates slid open to admit the lines of pink, faceless soldiers, and I did something so inherently stupid I could hardly coincide my own actions with myself. I stepped forward, removing myself from the safety of the crowd, and took careful aim of the submachine gun, pointing it straight at the triangle-faced one.
And just as I expected, the head soldier held up a fist, and the whole squad paused. Self-preservation . And at that moment, I aimed my gun away from the triangle-shaped target and instead pointed it straight up, my eyes squinting against the glare of the fluorescent lights.
I didn’t set the gun to a single shot, so when I pressed on the trigger, all hell broke loose along with my barrage of bullets. Glass broke, the sound almost glittering amongst the harsh release of the bullets, and hundreds of wads of paper money fell from the sky. Most broke apart from the bindings and obstructed everyone’s view. Around me, many players were frozen, but a few took a dash to grab at their premature prize.
Player 120, not taking the distraction for granted, aimed true and felled four soldiers in a blink of an eye. I wasn’t as sharp of a shot, but I managed to take down two in the moments afterward, scrambling clumsily on the ground while avoiding hostile bullets.
“Attack!” Player 120 screamed, and it worked for a while. Many of the red team charged at the disorganized soldiers and relinquished their guns from them. But greed hardly made a common enemy. Soon, some of the players were fighting each other while grabbing at the unexpected cash. When weapons were added onto the fray, no one knew now who was fighting who and for what aim.
But I knew this would happen, so instead I made a mad dash forward, grabbed the jacket with magazines on the ground, and almost tackled Player 120 to the ground. “We have to leave. Don’t the front lines need this ammo?”
She looked at me as if I was crazy, and I knew she might even be right, but we were running out of time, and even now, the soldiers were growing in number. So, I shook the barrel of my gun at her chest. “We have to go. Now!”
Her dazed look soon disappeared with a bob of her Adam’s apple, then she was all serious-faced, a soldier well trained. “Yeah, let’s go. Cover me.”
Then, we made a run for it as I released another hail of bullets at the enemy. Luckily, Player 120 knew the way like the back of her hand, and the reinforcements from the enemy side were coming from the opposite direction.
She grabbed the back of my jacket just in time to pull me out of certain death. I took a shuddered breath and stammered out a thank you. She answered by replying with a deadly shot, killing the nearby pink soldier immediately.
“Take my walkie talkie and set it to signal seven,” she ordered. “I haven’t heard from Gi-hun sii in a while, but we have to bring these magazines to them. They’re right outside the control room.”
I did as told and pressed upon the button, but just as I was about to speak, I removed my finger from it. Player 120 looked behind me when she didn’t hear anything from my end. I shook my head at her. “What’s to say they haven’t already been captured? Haven’t they been left there for a while now?”
“We still need to know what happened,” she replied impatiently, exchanging her empty magazine with another. “Just do it.”
“We’ll be giving ourselves away if we do this,” I insisted, and followed after her as she continued on her way. I shot a soldier on the shoulder before hiding behind a crevice. “We’ll have to make our way towards the control room ourselves without contacting them to keep the element of surprise. You saw what happened back there. They already think they’ve won.”
Player 120 hissed out a frustrated breath before sighing in resignation. “Okay, fine. But we have to hurry.”
When we made it to the last stretch of open, colorful hallways, we were greeted by a line of the fallen. Green dominated the pink, and every corner was splattered with blood. “It’s a massacre.”
“No-” Player 120 whispered, before kneeling and feeling for a pulse.
“It’s no use. We have to keep going,” I told her softly, eyes continuously scanning around us for possible foes. She didn’t reply but we kept going forward. As we did, I did a mental headcount. If I were right, only around six made it through.
There was a locked door in front of us, but seeing a shot-through plain mask on the ground, I took a gamble and put it on before facing the camera above the doorway. Just as expected, there was a laser scan and the door clicked open.
“How did you-?” my companion asked as we made our way through. “I never told you about the masks.”
“The masks being an access key makes the most sense,” I replied quietly, eyeing the dark, narrow stairway. “It frees up both arms to allow use of weapons, and I always knew the masks weren’t just there to hide their faces.”
“Okay, but slow down, we don’t even know which way to turn,” she hissed out from behind me.
I puffed out a frustrated breath. “Just follow the bodies.”
And so we did, and at some point, we came upon a juncture that looked a bit different. I held out a hand and grabbed at her jacket. I pointed a finger towards the deeply affected walls. It hinted at a prolonged battle. “We’re probably near the control room. The bullet marks are far more than in other areas. 456 probably made a stand here.”
She nodded. “Then we’re on the right track. Let’s go up.”
“No,” I said, refusing to release my hold on her. “We might just walk into a trap.”
“What?” she asked.
I jutted my chin forwards, and her eyes caught sight of the pool of blood at the end of the stairs. She froze in shock. No one said anything but judging by the amount of blood, it was unlikely that person survived.
“Someone got injured here, probably very badly,” I whispered softly. “But if I’m correct about something… we probably won’t even need to pass by here.”
She looked down at me in askance, her face pale and glistening with sweat. If I was wrong, her death would be in my hands. I gulped and took the chance. “I’ve been looking at the layout of this entire place. And everywhere we went, there was always some kind of balance. Two race tracks. Two soldiers beside the doll. Stairways that mirrored each other. A round merry go round with doors of equal distance from each other.”
She shook her head, clearly not getting my point, and getting more anxious as we continued to stand frozen, and exposed in the open.
“Two choices. To play or to go home. An even number of guards, a balance of circles, triangles, and squares,” I continued, my voice losing its shakiness as I went. “If I’m not wrong, then just around this corner, we could probably find another pathway, a mirror to this one.”
The woman’s eyes grew clearer, but then she frowned. “But even so, we don’t know if both ways are filled with soldiers or traps.”
I shook my head. “I know, but it’s worth the try.”
And so we went on our way, keeping to the same hallway and making a round tour. As we went, the more likely I felt I was correct. We passed through empty hallways but ones that seemed identical to the ones we passed before. When we finally saw the mirror of the other side, instead of feeling hope, I felt despair.
Two bodies lay on the ground.
Player 120 cursed from in front of me, and I had to stop myself from making a similar cry. Player 456 probably also made the same assumption as I did and sent these soldiers towards this other entryway.
But they failed…
Or had they really?
“120 sii,” I called out to her. “Who were the ones who made it this far?”
She looked at me with furrowed brows. “Gi-hun ssi and Jung-Bae ssi were at the frontlines together, then Young-il ssi followed after them with- with these two.”
Carefully, I made my way closer towards the bodies. Eyeing the stairway upwards, I saw a clear pathway. There didn’t seem to be any soldiers lying in wait. There were no signs of a gun battle or obvious struggle. In fact, everything was clean and clear. Too much so.
When I looked down at the bodies, everything made sense but also not. One thing was clear, though. The men were shot in the back.
“Young-il… was the other one, right?” I muttered.
“Huh? Yes. Min-su ssi, I don’t know if we should be standing around here. The pathway is clear, so-”
“Young-il… Gi-hun… 456… previous winner,” I mumbled, eyes shut close in concentration. “456 players. 45.6 billion won…”
“Min-su ssi?” Player 120 called out, a bit more worried now. “We should really-”
“Young-il… Wh-What was his player number?” I asked, the question coming out harsher than I intended.
“Wha-?” she sputtered, but seeing the almost crazed look on my face, she still replied. “001. I think he was number one.”
My heart skipped a beat, and my breathing grew a bit more uneven. “001… 456? Isn’t it- Isn’t it too much of a coincidence? Their bodies are gone. I mean, they’re not here anywhere. And these men were shot in the back.”
“What are you getting at?” she asked, getting more frustrated. Her hands shook as she held her weapon.
“I-I’ve always been a gamer,” I confessed, and hastily continued as I felt her patience getting thinner. “A-And it’s such a basic thing, you know? There’s nothing more boring than just watching a game unfold. Wouldn’t- Wouldn’t you want to join in?”
She shook her head. “No. Gi-hun ssi wouldn’t do that. Why would he even do such a thing?”
“N-No, maybe not,” I admitted. “But Young-il ssi? Even his name is… and why-”
I was cut off by the sound of incoming footsteps. Player 120 covered my mouth and bodily carried me up the stairway, making it a good halfway up before shoving me towards an alcove before hiding herself on the opposite side.
Below us came voices, altered eerily by their voice changers. “It’s faster if we pass through here. We can move the marked bodies across easier. Team One can-”
Their voices soon grew softer as they passed through, and Player 120 flicked her head to the side, signalling us to go up once more. And just at the very top, we lay flat on the stairs, peeking at the top to see.
There were only two soldiers immediately outside the door. Just like the doorway before, there was a camera right on top. Player 120 tensed up, as though ready to spring forth and attack, but I held her back. “Did you understand what I meant?”
She glared at me, but stayed quiet, so I whispered even more softly. “I don’t care if you think I'm wrong. But if I’m right… then what we may see in there… we’ll probably see some people we never would have expected to be on the other side.”
For what felt like a long moment, but probably took only a few seconds, we held each other’s sharp gazes. But then she closed her eyes and gave the smallest of nods, then held up a hand to signal, a universal sign of a finger in front of closed lips. We’ll be taking them on as quietly as possible. A solid plan.
When she gave the go signal, we both rushed up in unison, her taking the farthest soldier while I took on the other. There was a scuffle, but miraculously we were able to incapacitate them both without releasing bullets. My hands were still shaking when I took off the mask from the man whose neck I snapped dead.
Player 120 stood ready to shoot while I held up the mask to the camera. When it finished scanning, I held my breath, expecting an army to greet us. But instead we saw a plain, boring gray wall, a look so unusual and unadorned compared to the overly done interior of the rest of the game area. Inside, a long, curving corridor awaited us. We both shared a look before fixing our guns and made our way through, me behind and her in front.
But in our long trek, we encountered no one but the gradually increasing volume of classical music playing from a far-away speaker. By the time we made it to the end of the corridor, we were right under the blazing sound machine, the violin crescendoing to a grating level. There was a door.
I cursed myself for leaving the mask behind us, and I was already preparing to run back to get it when the music stopped abruptly, and so did my heart beat. Player 120 took a sharp breath beside me, her grip on her gun tight enough to make it rattle in the sudden silence.
Without a word and any fuss, the heavy set doors, gray and nondescript, swung open slowly and without aid. We stood in terror, awaiting danger, but we soon realized no one was coming, so together, we walked straight in.
The room was dark. It was a clear contrast though from the plain, gray walls we passed through earlier. It was modern, and almost harsh in design. There were cubical textures on the walls, dark, monotone colors on spaced out tables and chairs. Intentional and classy. Unfriendly. At the center of the room, in a concave below where we stood, was a man in a dark gray robe. He almost blended too well with the surroundings. When he raised his head, a dark geometric mask covered his face underneath the hood. I felt a sudden jolt of freezing terror pass through my body, lingering at my back and causing numbness in my limbs.
It was just us. Two of us, armed and tense, versus one of him, seemingly unarmed and alone. Strength in numbers, but I didn’t feel the usual sense of safety that came with it. In front of him, even while I stood above him with a loaded gun, I felt like prey cowering before a predator.
But I was determined to unnerve him and give us every possible advantage. So I took a gamble, odds at 50-50.
“You’re Player 001, aren’t you?” I asked.
Silence, then soft, light laughter. His voice was deep when he asked, “Player 001? Oh Young-il? Why do you think I would be him?”
I inhaled shakily. “Are you not?”
The robed man hummed, while Player 120 kept his gun steadily aimed at him. The man then uttered, “Answering a question with another question is hardly fair, but I suppose we haven’t set the rules beforehand anyway. That’s why games are easy, yes? We have clear rules to make life fair. This removes future altercations.”
Then, he bowed his head down, his gloved hands coming up to his face. The mask was removed.
“Good job, Player 125, Park Min-su,” Young-il exclaims with a soft smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve done well to catch me.”
Player 120 visibly took in a sharp breath, releasing it with gasps that sounded more like laughter. “This crazy bastard. You- You-”
The man only nodded solemnly, seemingly unaffected by the insult. “Yes. Player 120, Cho Hyun-ju. You’ve also done well to make it this far.”
He then started to walk towards us, and we both took a step back, only to be met by closed doors against our backs.
“I am the Front Man,” he stated calmly, as if they were only conversing about the weather. “Min-su ssi is correct, of course. There is nothing more insulting than to be exposed to exciting games one can never take part in. That’s why I do join in whenever I can, and what a game this was indeed!”
The Front Man beckoned us forward, ignoring how perturbed his casual mention of his constant surveillance over our conversations made me feel. “Come, let’s talk. I won’t be hurting you.”
Neither one took a step.
He laughed. “No, really. I think with the secret out and too many variables out on the field, this year’s games would have to be put to an early close. Or, well, perhaps we can make some special conditions?”
The man was already seated on one of the chairs, in front of an asymmetrical, rounded table made of white marble. He raised a gloved hand. “Sit now, or I’ll have to call on my men to have you here near me.”
Player 120 took a step forward, and so I too followed suit. Our weapons were still firmly held and trained upon the man. We sat, as careful as foot soldiers making their way through mine-infested fields.
The Front Man smiled gently at that. He placed both elbows on the table, linked his fingers together, and resting his chin on top. “Shall we play a game?”
Neither one made a move to reply. I gulped, and wet my lips, tasting blood in the process.
He took turns looking at us, and pouted. “No one? But I had a feeling you would do so well with the game I had in mind. Then how about I sweeten the deal?”
I glanced at my companion, noting how tense she was and how shaky her hands were. One twitch and she might accidentally pull on the trigger. I flinched when the Front Man coughed, and found his eyes trained on me. “What about it, Min-su ssi? You seem like a clever, young man. Play this game once and if you win, you can go home with the full prize.”
I pursed my lips, finding it hard to even think properly. “W-What happens if I lose?”
The man sputtered before giggling. “Why! You’ll be punished then. I would think you would know by now how this works.”
“Yes, I know,” I managed to say. Then I stared straight at his eyes. “But as you’ve said, isn’t this year’s game unusual? You mentioned special conditions before. Shouldn’t we, the two of us, Player 120 and I, in finding out your identity… warrant some kind of reward?”
I watched as his smile dropped slowly, and he was entirely emotionless as he asked, “And what kind of reward does Player 125 seek?”
I dared not look away. “Immunity.”
“Ha!” the Front Man huffed. “You seek immunity from the game’s penalties in the event that you lose? Won’t that simply be unfair on the remaining players yet?”
I shook my head. “Haven’t they already lost? The moment we entered this room, has there not been a clear winner? You always placed great meaning in keeping the games fair by using masks to ensure anonymity, I recall this being said, so… so shouldn’t us finding out your identity stop the games itself?”
“So you mean to say you’ve already won?” the Front Man laughed sardonically. “Should we send the men out to shoot the remaining players dead?”
Player 120 let go of her gun’s grip and made a grab at my wrist, her hold strong enough to make me squirm in alarm. She shouted, “Don’t you dare, Min-su!”
“I won’t!” I replied back, flinging my wrist out of her hold. As I looked at her, I tried to convince her to trust me through my eyes, but she only looked more apprehensive.
“So, what then?” the Front Man asked, this time more curious than affronted. “You claim you are a winner, but yet refuse to act like the winner. There can be no winner if the losers walk free, Player 125.”
I tried to sit straighter, and I tried to ignore the uncomfortable pointed ends from the seat that poked at my back. The man in front of me kept a steady gaze towards me all the while.
“The contract states,” I began, watching closely as the man sat just the tiniest bit tenser. “-that before any beginning of a game, and this is any game since the contract is vague, then… then we have the right to choose if we should continue or not.”
There was a moment of silence. I didn’t even dare breathe before continuing. “So, if, then, you had offered a few minutes ago that we have a special game, then this means that we would have the right to vote-”
I was interrupted by a harsh set of laughter. It was so crazed and uncontrolled that it came out more like screaming. The Front Man doubled over, banging his fist against the marble-carved table. It was so violent that Player 120 and I stood from our seats. His guffawing finally came out in painful wheezing, and by the time it ended, his fists were twitching from the force he exerted, and I felt like he broke some bones.
He then looked back at me, his eyes bloodshot and lips bleeding from a bite too hard. He stood up in a motion too swift for it to be natural, and he held his broken hand against my cheek as if to caress it. “You’ve won this game, Park Min-su.”
I felt a shiver run down my spine. He then let me go and turned his back on us. “Head on back to your resting area. A final vote will be held this same evening.”
—
Too many were lost due to the recent events. The infighting and midnight massacre. The subsequent rebellion. At some point, the red or blue on our chests didn’t matter anymore. There too were players that simply can no longer be found. 456. 390. 100. 246… 001. And to contain the chaos that I caused when I shot open the money pot, numerous more players died by the soldier’s gunshots.
So when Player 120 and I returned and started to announce the incoming vote, there was no doubt that we had lost the will to continue playing. In just a few hours, the pot had grown enough to make even the hard-set blue players satisfied by a certain degree. In the end, the vote turned blue, 38-9.
We went home.
---
A Year Later
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It’s been a year since our games ended. I still find peace when I’m hidden in the crowds, but sometimes, when I feel like I need to step out, I do. Life has definitely been a bit fairer for me since then.
In my dreams, I would like to imagine how things would have played out had I taken her hand.
—
In an island far from the reach of the laws of the land, a robed man sat beside another, twirling a glass of whiskey with a gloved hand. In front of them was an array of monitors showcasing a new set of players, who were taking turns at the cameras to have their pictures taken.
“What do you think about this year’s roster, hero?” the Front Man asked.
The other man, dressed plainly in a simple black suit over a white shirt, stared at one screen in particular. He shrugged slightly. “It’s the same. Over and over.”
On screen, a pretty woman stared at the camera, and just in time, smiled happily.