Chapter Text
The smell of the hospital was nothing new to you. The sterile smell had left a bitter taste on your tongue for far too long now, but it was probably the closest thing you could call home at this point in your life.
The woman stared at you from over the desk as you nervously tapped your fingers against the grainy countertop, assessing you from the comfort of her chair. She had seen you in these clothes far too many times, just assuming your cleaning bill must be through the roof from how much you wore it. But from the way you had just reacted from the news of bills and money, she began to assume otherwise.
"I don't..." you breathed out shakily, finally peeling your eyes from the countertop to look at her. "I don't have the money right now."
You hadn't had the money for a while, but that was better left unsaid for the both of you. The woman, Nurse Jin from the name tag, just let out a sigh, shaking her head slightly. "Ms. Woodre, your bills are falling behind. Too much this time. The hospital is going to stop treatments if you don't catch up with the payments." You didn't respond, hand lifting to your face as it streaked over your features.
You could feel the bags beneath your eyes, and you blinked rapidly, willing yourself to stay awake. Wordlessly, you turned away, venturing down the hallway that was so familiar to you now. You slipped into room 5A, sighing at the sight that met you nearly every single day.
Your father laid in hospital bed, his eyes closed as usual. You walked towards his frail figure, pulling a chair up to sit. A long exhale escaped you as your head fell into the palms of your hands. How were you going to pull this off? You had barely any money in your name, and there was only one more procedure that could promise viable results. You were getting money from the wrong people, had been for a few months now, and slowly but surely, they were beginning to grow irritated with your 'frivolous' excuses.
With those type of people, it was simple; money is money - pay back what is owed.
Only issue is, you owed a lot of fucking money.
Lifting your head from your hands, you stared at your father. His beard was beginning to show again, and you made a mental note to get a razor from one of the stations when you visited him again tomorrow. Standing up, you pushed the chair back to its original space, venturing towards the exit. One last glance, and you turned the overhead light off, leaving the room and soon the hospital.
It was on a busy street, filled with different types of groups and people, given that the train station was just nearby; people in suits and pressed shirts coming home from work, young teens adorned in school uniforms with their bikes and scooters, young adults going out. You watched a group of them forlornly, a slight bubble of jealousy fizzling inside of you.
You were like them once; laid back and fun, with a good group of friends that had your back when times were tough. You missed your home town, and all the future walkways it promised you. But then your father's disease got bad. Very bad. You visited the doctor with him every single time without fail, skipping out on parties and outings, and barely graduating high school with just a certificate to say you passed. The number of friends you had dwindled, and soon, you could barely count a hand full of them, the number dying out. They all went onto college and greater things, but you were stuck in the small town that you had known your whole life. Those future possibilities were so far out of reach, you never even bothered to stretch your hand out for them.
The doctors told you that Korea had it. The treatments. The possible cure. It was enough for you to say yes. You and your father flew there after you graduated, and it had now been three years since. At first, it went well. There was promise in the treatments, and you could see the difference in him; his footsteps were lighter, and his smile didn't seem as tired as it used too. You learned some Korean, and although you had the basics down, you still weren't very good, but you understood most.
You were going good. Really good.
Until the treatments just... stopped working.
The statistics went down, and the bills got higher. You were forced to take leave, leave that wasn't even apart of your job contract, until management got too pissed off paying you for nothing. You didn't have the heart to tell your father you'd been fired, keeping it under wraps. You had bigger things to focus on.
It was then that you met some people. They weren't terrible, but they weren't the best either. They seemed kind, but you were just a naive, twenty year old foreign girl; you were prey, and they were predator. So keen on destroying you. They offered you money, claiming that you had plenty of time to pay it back. They seemed so understanding.
Your eyes refocused when you felt a buzzing in your pocket. You had just missed your train by two minutes, and the next one was still 33 minutes away, so you had sat down on one of the long benches at the end of the station, out of sight from passerbyers. You looked down at the notification bubble, eyes widening slightly at the familiar contact.
You got my money, sweet thing?
You were annoyed that you still had read receipts on, cringing to yourself because he would've seen that you were aware of his message. Shoving the phone back into your pocket, your head dropped, hands smoothing over the nape of your neck. Fuck. You thought he might've given you a few more days or something. Wishful thinking on your part-
Suddenly, your body changed. It took on a tense position, as the hairs on your arms raised. You snapped your head to the side, eyes widening at the sight of a handsome man suddenly sitting beside you. He seemed to have appeared from thin air, tailored suit silhouetting his lean yet obviously toned body. His eyes, although one was hooded more than the other, were an alluring brown and his smile?
You gulped slightly.
"Hello, miss," he greeted, surprisingly in English. "Do you have a moment?"
"I-I..." You were at a loss for words, quickly regaining composure and pasting on a cooled expression. "I don't have time for lectures on faith."
The man chuckled, and you glanced at him from the side. "It's not that. I would like to offer you a great opportunity-"
Out of nowhere, you rose from your spot, "I don't entertain scammers," you state, opting to walk down to the other end of the station to wait for your train. 29 minutes left.
You heard rustling, and the slight scrape of his fancy briefcase against the metal bench. From the quickened footsteps, you assumed he was chasing you, thus proven correctly when you heard his voice,"I am not a scammer," he denied with a simple shake of his head. "Please. Entertain me."
You breathed in shortly as you turned casting a wary glance around the station. You were keeping an eye out for anyone you possibly may know, not wishing to be ridiculed for playing a children's game with a random man at night in the middle of a train station. You still had 28 minutes left.
"Fine," you breathed out with a tinged grin. "Since you asked so nicely."
The man took on a smirk, such a quirk of his lips causing you to glance away for a moment. He placed his pristine briefcase on the dirty floor, kneeling down to open it. Inside, your eyes widened slightly when you saw a row of three wads of cash, and two squares, red and blue.
They were compact and paper, clearly folded that way. You recognised it.
"Ma'am, have you ever played ddakji before?" the salesman asked as he rose to his fuller height, now causing your head to crane upwards to meet his curious eyes.
You nodded, a silent confirmation. The kids on your street had taught you a few months ago when they had finally gotten brave enough to approach you.
"If you play, each time you win, I will give you 100,000 won."
You couldn't help but scoff lightly, tilting your head to look at him. "Really? So, I flip your ddakji over, and you willingly give me your money? Do you enjoy humiliation?" you wondered with a soft smirk. You were confident in your ability, having beaten the children every time they had asked you to play, even though they knew you'd win after seeing your prowess the first time.
The salesman couldn't help but match your expression with a low hum, "However, each time I win, you must give me 100,000 won."
And there's the catch. You see the moment he catches your disenchantment, the sight making him smirk a fraction wider. You began shaking your head, taking a slight step back.
"You've lost me, mister," you frowned. "I don't have that kind of money to spare."
"But you have the money?"
"Yes, just not to spare." Your voice took on a stern tone, almost as if you were scolding him. "The odds aren't in my favour. For all I know, you could be the god of ddajki."
"And you could the goddess," he shrugged a shoulder, rebuking, "but I am willing to throw odds and fate out the window to play this game with you."
His words elicited another scoff from you, but the man didn't seem disheartened by it, just intrigued. You watched him, jaw clenching slightly. Looking up, you looked at the time slot beside the station you needed to get off; 26 minutes left.
"Look, sir, like I said; the little money I have right now will not be wasted on some children's game," you spoke, tone clipped.
You watched as a slow smirk came across his face, his next words dumbfounding you, "Then, you can pay with your body."
Your jaw dropped, and without thinking, your hand raised with lightning speed. The slap echoed in the train station, and the man's head was flung to the side from the sudden impact.
"Fucking pig," you muttered, spinning on your heel and speeding away. Stupid, you thought to yourself, Just because he's hot, doesn't mean it's excusable to say such a thing.
"Miss!" Your eyes widened, shocked at his persistence.
"You know, I could report you," you snapped at him from over your shoulder. From the corner of your eye, you watched as he sped up, skidding to a stop in front of you, blocking your path and effectively halting your walk.
"Miss," he repeated, swiping his hair back with the palms of his hands, huffing out a small breath. "When I meant paying forth with your body, I did not hone any indecent thoughts. I purely meant something more along the lines of a simple slap. Though I will not hit you as hard as you did me."
There was light humour in his voice, and it had you tilting away from him. What a strange, strange man, you thought to yourself.
"You would feel comfortable hitting a woman?"
"If you would like me too," the salesman rebuked. "You sound like you could use my cash. What simpler way to earn it?"
You were at a slight loss for words. On one hand, this guy was clearly out of his mind, offering you 100,000 won to play a simple children's game, and in turn, if you lost, slap you in the face in public.
But on the other... it was 100,000 won to play a simple children's game with the possibility of getting slapped.
"I want to be red," you stated.
The salesman smiled.
The game was simple; you had to flip his ddakji in order to win, and vice versa. He allowed you to first with that same placid grin on his handsome face, and you were surprised at how well it held up when you had won the first round.
He flashed two 50,000 won notes in front of you , sliding them into your outstretched hand. You quickly assessed the money, deeming it real and not fake or wrongly printed.
"Again?" he asked.
Your response was a horrific slam of your red ddajki, effectively flipping over his own blue one. That was how the next fifteen minutes went; although there was a loss every now and then, you ended up with more wins then the salesman. Your cheek was slightly red with a faint sting, but he had kept his promise of only lightly slapping you.
The money felt sweet and light in your palm as a victorious smirk pulled at your lips. The salesman watched as you counted the notes, effectively summing up your worth.
"Did you have fun?" the man wondered.
"I guess," you shrugged, eyeing him. "Cheek hurts, but pain is game."
He chuckled, tilting his head. "You can make big money playing games like this for a few days."
You let out a small laugh as you tucked the money away into the small card wallet you kept stored on you. "You mean to tell me that there's more idiots like you out there that'll just hand me their money if I win some children's game? If this is some sort of new pyramid scheme, I won't be apart of it."
The salesman was quiet as he suddenly reached down to grab your hand. A hitched gasp escaped you as he unfurled your fingers, placing something flat and thin into your palm. He closed your hand, patting it gently.
"I think you would do well," the man hummed lowly, his voice rumbling gently. "But there are only a few spots left."
The man leaned backwards to his full height as the train pulled up. You glanced at the time sheet for the trains; 2 minutes left. The salesman watched you from the entrance of his train, tilting his head again with a placid smile.
His wink was the last thing you saw before the train peeled off down to the next station.
The train ride and walk back to your shitty hole of an apartment was cold. The weather had dropped significantly, and your apartment was slowly becoming naturally colder since your landlord began cutting down on the electricity due to your payments. Your hands, shoved in the pockets of your jacket, fiddled with the card resting there. The salesman had handed it to you, the cardboard rough against your skin. You couldn't look away from the paper the entire train ride.
There wasn't really much to it, just a sequence of numbers and shapes; 010 - 034 and ◯△▢
You walked into the building, the foyer being slightly warmer than outside. You ignored the elevator like usual, the sign long forgotten for it being unsafe and under construction, walking up the flight of stairs.
The complex wasn't as busy as it usually was, but with each level, you caught a glimpse into some lives; apartment 203 and 204 were family, 203 being an old man and woman, with their daughter and her husband living in 204. Their doors were open as they milled in between each apartment. 306 was at the end of the hallway, and she enjoyed the view from the corridor window better then the one in her living room, so there was always a foldable camping seat awaiting her in the hallway.
At your level, you let out a sigh of exhaustion, movements sluggish. From 401's alcove, two little boys peeked at you. "You look like shit," the first one claimed.
"Shut it," you snapped, "Or I'll let your mother know you're sneaking candy before bedtime."
He practically hissed at you as he licked at the dalgona candy in his grubby fingers. This was one of the little boys who had challenged you to ddajki all those years ago, and now, every second Thursday, you babysat the pair.
"You have a visitor," his younger brother piped up, smiling at you as he tried carving out the shape in the sugar.
"He said he knew you," the little boy shrugged as he snacked his own.
Your posture straightened, and your body went tense. You could hear your heartbeat erratically sounding in your ears. There were so many possibilities on who it could be; loan shark, banker, guy from the station. Fuck. Fuuuuuck.
You didn't speak to the brothers as you slowly made your way towards your apartment; 409, at the end of the hall. Your fingers grazed the cool metal of the doorknob, breath hitching when it seamlessly turned without needing a key. You squeezed the makeshift knife you had with your keys lodged in between the slits of your fingers.
Quietly, you slowly opened the door, casting a quick glance over your front corridor for any suspicions. Your eyes latched onto a shadow, and you were now aware that someone was in your kitchen.
You breathed in quietly, steeling your nerves as you slipped against the wall. Three, two, one- "Hyah!" you exclaimed as you thought you struck your intruder. You frantically glanced around, and suddenly, embarrassment hit you like a freight train.
Hwang Jun-ho stared at you with wide eyes and a full mouth, the silver spoon hanging from his lips. His eyes swept over your form before he chuckled around the utensil, pulling it away.
You let out an annoyed exhale, already beginning to scold, "Jun-ho, what are you doing here? I told you to stop breaking in!"
"How can it be a break in if I have a key?" he smiled, tilting his head at you from his leaned position of your countertop.
"Irregardless," you dismissed, holding a hand up. "Don't ever scare me like that again."
Jun-ho didn't bother responding, happy to simply watch you mill about the kitchen as you placed your things down, too caught up in your own world to feel or care about his gaze.
Suddenly, as you opened the door to your small fridge, you slowly turned with a hostile glare, "First, you break into my apartment, and then you eat my leftovers?
Jun-ho's eyes widened as you began storming towards him. He had barely any time to grab his phone, manoeuvring strategically past you as you began mindlessly yelling at him. You tried to attack, but he used the coffee table in the living room as a defence, quickly tapping at his phone.
In a moment of distraction, you slipped to the side, ready to strike when he spoke, "Hello, two bulgogi and rice bowls please." You suddenly came to a stop, wrath easing as he let out a shaky huff of laughter as he rattled off your address for the delivery.
"Good save," you murmured when he ended the call.
"You scared me for a second," he said, placing a hand on his chest, an action that had you rolling your eyes good-naturedly.
Half an hour later, you were content with the meal your best friend had brought you. "So, how was your day?" you asked, dabbing at your face.
"Just another day," he shrugged, before adding, "A new lead on that case with the loan sharks." Jun-ho didn't notice you tense, chewing halting for a moment before you swallowed. "-You? How was the hospital?"
You smiled softly, avoiding his gaze. "Fine."
Short and sweet; an easy answer to an easy question.
But Hwang Jun-ho wasn't an easy guy.
You watched from the corner of your eye as he placed his half-eaten bowl of bulgogi on the coffee table, turning his body to face you. The feeling of his hand on your bare skin elicited warmth, and you glanced at him, silently mirroring his actions to face him as well.
"Lying doesn't work on me," he said with a pointed stare.
"Of course, it doesn't," you grinned gently. "You're a detective. If that lie slipped past you, I'd hope you'd pick a new career."
Jun-ho didn't say anything, still concretely staring at you. You blew out a raspberry, chin resting on your knees as your hands slid down your knees. "He wasn't awake when I saw him."
"And the bills?"
You rolled your eyes. "No bills."
"Bullshit."
You cast him a glance, before sighing and lifting your arms. Your hands plopped onto his shoulders, but his eyes didn't stray from yours. "You worry too much."
"I worry too much about you," he countered.
"Exactly. And I don't know why," you shrug, standing up. You walked back to the kitchen, aware of his presence behind you as he follows you like a stray puppy. He watches as you take out a plastic container from one of the cupboards, pouring the rest of the two bowls into the one container, closing it up with utensils. "I like to think I've been holding up well."
You fish out the card from your pocket, frowning softly as you looked at it.
You can make big money playing games like this for a few days, you recalled the salesman's pitch. Whatever could that mean?
You turned around, tucking the card back into your pocket, but the movement didn’t go unnoticed by Jun-ho. He would've said something if it wasn't for the gentle smile on your lips that had his mind fogging.
"Night shift?" you questioned, to which he hummed. The poor man already seemed so tired, so whilst he went to grab his belongings from the living room, you grabbed the espresso concentrate that you'd spent too much money on, quickly sprucing up an iced latte fit for a cafe.
You walked behind Jun-ho as he made his way to the door. Opening it, he turned to look at you. This felt so domestic, handing him his meal for work and wishing him a good shift. You might as well just kiss him on the cheek to make it real.
"I'll see you soon," you whispered, handing him the container and drink before your fingers dipped back into your pocket, discreetly toying with the card.
Your heart clenched at the sight of his soft smile. It always managed to make your chest tighten - in a good way. Awkwardly, he placed a hand on your shoulder. "Stay safe." For me. "...Okay?"
"You're the detective," you chuckled. "You have to keep me safe."
"Always will."
Watching him leave felt painful. His figure retreated down the steps, not before glancing back at you with that same quirk of his lips.
But the moment he was gone, you hurried back into your apartment and quietly shut the door. Briskly, you walked around your living room, teeth knawing at the skin of your nails.
Why were you overthinking this so much? It was probably just some stupid meeting in some dingy hall with a couple of rich geezas that didn't know what to do with their money. You've dealt with worse people.
You thought back to the text message from earlier. Your loan shark was going to kill you soon enough, and what better way to ease him with some cash to make him forget.
Stepping out onto the small balcony, you made it just in time to see Jun-ho enter his car. He was talking into his jacket, obviously to other officers about something before his car slowly peeled away down your street.
You'll see him again soon. His mother had been nagging him about you for a few weeks now, he had told you.
Biting your lip softly, you took the card out again, along with your phone. Ignoring the earlier message, you began typing in the numbers on the back of the card. The usual dial tone greeted you as you pressed the screen to your ear.
"Hello."
You nearly let out a gasp, gulping slightly. The voice sounded normal, almost commercial. And yet, for some reasons, a million alarms rang in your head. "I met your salesman today. He drives a good pitch," you started.
"Do you wish to participate in the game, miss? if you do, please state your name and birthdate."
Slowly you exhaled, quiet enough so that hopefully the man wouldn't hear you. You rattled off your name and your birthdate, nerves spiking as you heard faint clicking, possibly of a computer you assumed.
"Thank you, Ms. Woodre. We have tracked your location, and will pick you up shortly. Please move somewhere concealed."
The tone sounded, signifying the end of the call. You dropped the phone, hand swaying slightly at your side. Well, shit. Now you've gone and signed up for something that you have no idea about, including its stakes.
A while later, you found yourself at the edge of your street on the furthest side from the main road. Your breaths came out shallow from the cold, the exhales misty in the air. Suddenly, you were shrouded in light, and you turned, finding a van approaching slowly. It came to a stop across from you, and you leaned down, brows furrowing at the sight of the driver, dressed head to toe in pink jumpsuit.
What scared you the most was his mask. Completely black with a white circle painted in the centre.
"Ms. Y/N Woodre?" the man questioned. You couldn't respond, too scared, so you just slowly nodded. "Password?"
"... Red light, green light," you tested, skepticism clear in your tone.
Silently, the masked man nodded, and you flinched at the sound of the van door sliding open automatically. Just as you entered, your eyes widened at the sight of other people in the van. One of them was snoring behind you, whilst everyone else seemed to be sleeping.
What the fuck is th-
Your thoughts cut off by a mist overwhelming you, filling the car as the door suddenly slammed shut. The mist, slightly opaque, had your bones practically melt and your head lull. Forced exhaustion filled your body, and just as you fell asleep, the masked watched you succumb under the veil of involuntary drowsiness.
Welcome to the games.