Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You’re sick.”

The Recruiter laughs, a snide sound bouncing against the walls, infiltrating Jun-ho’s brain and playing with his mind. He laughs, his nostrils flailing, and grabs the muzzle of the gun.

“Oh, officer…” he breathes, Jun-ho’s insults the greatest circus of all to him. “Is that all you’ve got?”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” says Jun-ho.

“I’m pretty sure this breaks some sort of protocol.” The Recruiter raises an eyebrow; Jun-ho doesn’t budge. “No?”

He gestures around the room, the cold investigation room of the police station.

“I’m already here.” He moves his feet, to show off the jingle of the chains attached to himself. “Why threaten me like this, hm?”

“I need you to talk.”

“I am.”

“Don’t be smart with me.”

The Recruiter innocently blinks, tilting his head. “Do you want me to play dumb, then, officer?”

“You and your—” Jun-ho scoffs.

Officer.

The word plays over and over again in his head, on his exact tone—that tone, sulky, irritable, whiny even. There’s an air to it, of superiority, of…

Jun-ho shakes his head. “Talk. Now.”

“I already told you, I am!” says the Recruiter, raising his hands. Jun-ho’s hold on the gun only tightens. The man grins. “Oh, you still want answers?”

Jun-ho grits his teeth, pursing his lips even more.

“Fine, fine…” He’s so obviously enjoying this. Jun-ho wishes he knew why.

What a sick bastard, he tells himself, wanting to brush it off.

The Recruiter goes to speak, his mouth opening with a soft click of his tongue. Only, then, he just swirls it around his teeth, rotating his eyes around the room… The Recruiter looks, and looks, and looks… He doesn’t meet Jun-ho’s eye, just clicks his tongue from time to time. Jun-ho watches him like a hawk; the Recruiter smiles softly to himself.

“You know…”

He finally looks back at him.

“You’re really handsome.”

Jun-ho blinks. Scoffs. And then, he says:

“I beg your pardon?”

“Begging already?” The Recruiter quirks an eyebrow. “I thought we were only getting started. Alas, if you insist…”

Jun-ho cocks the gun, his finger on the trigger. The Recruiter looks at him, then at the end of the weapon.

And then, slowly, he puts his hand on it, and drives it to his forehead with a smile so impossibly big on his face.

“Are you not used to compliments, officer? Whyever would you react in such a way to a mere compliment…?”

The nerve on this guy – the vocabulary, too. A small part of Jun-ho wants to be impressed with him, but he quickly pushes the thought away, wishing he could kick this guy out just as easily, too. Unfortunately for both of them, Jun-ho needs him.

The Recruiter is still holding onto his gun. Only now, he’s driving it towards his own mouth.

“Stop that.”

He doesn’t.

“What, do you want me to kill you?”

He stops.

His eyes shine.

“Oh, officer, what a terrible thing to say… And yet, you call me sick?”

“Tell me where that island is.”

The Recruiter smiles.

“Officer… you should know better than that.”

He takes his hands off the weapon and crosses them on the table, hands linking together as if proposing a business deal. Once again, he tilts his head as he looks at him.

His lingering smile grows.

“How about you buy me a drink first?”

Jun-ho gets up. He looks to the one-way glass, nodding towards his colleagues that stand on the other side to take over. He can’t deal with this anymore.

As he turns away, the Recruiter’s voice drums in his ears, demanding, condescending, playful:

“Leaving already?”

When he turns to him, he’s pouting. Mockingly, of course; though, Jun-ho swears he sees an ever-so-small trace of actual disappointment in his expression, too.

“Where’s the fun in someone else other than you interrogating me? After all…”

He leans forward. Jun-ho finds himself holding his breath as he awaits the continuation of that sentence.

The Recruiter gives it to him.

“It’s you that needs me so badly.”

He clicks his tongue.

“To find the island,” he completes. The little shit.

Jun-ho squints.

“I’ll be back for you, don’t you worry.”

And the Recruiter grins again. Jun-ho ignores the creeping feeling in his chest, in his face, in his head as he does; that pang of something new. Something unusual, something that should under no circumstance be.

“Fantastic news, officer. In that case, be back soon? I can only wait so long…”

Jun-ho bites the inside of his cheek. But he can play the man’s game.

“Very,” he assures, turning to the exit.

He hears the Recruiter’s excited clap and laughter before the door shuts after him.

Chapter Text

“You really want to work with a man like me, officer? I’m surprised… If you knew everything I’ve done…”

“Seong Gi-hun told me enough. You’re lucky I haven’t already incarcerated you.”

The Recruiter’s eyebrow shot up. “So, you know what kind of person I am, then?”

Jun-ho scowled at him. “I know more than I could ever want.”

“Why ask me for help, then? Why stoop down to my level?”

He leaned across the table, smugly smirking, voice low and impossibly tender.

“How can a man of your moral caliber even stand being in the same room as myself?”

And Jun-ho said, straight-faced and as calmly as possible:

“I want you to tell me where the island is.”

The Recruiter laughed. Full of himself, mocking him. Jun-ho knew his kind all too well; and yet, he was afraid this one was something new. Something unusual, something that should under no circumstance be. A cruel, uncaring individual with so much blood on his hands and no chance for redemption.

And still, a man as sick as this one was a man he needed if he wanted to rescue those poor, innocent people on the island. This person – if he can even be called that – was his key to proving the horrific events he’d witnessed years ago were real. To helping those who are never helped.

To finding In-ho again. To bringing him home. To forgetting everything that has ever happened, leaving it all behind, and being with his brother again.

The Recruiter was Jun-ho’s key to peace, whether either of them liked it or not, no matter how ironic it was.

“I’m not telling you anything,” came the brash voice once again. The Recruiter was grinning at him, ear to ear. “I have nothing to gain nor lose from this… And I can be here all day.”

He leaned back in his chair.

“So, I’ll just stay here, and you can go.” He gestured towards the door. “Find someone else. This is a warning, officer – I’m not going to help you.”

His eyes glinted with pure joy.

“I’m only going to cause your doom.”

Jun-ho got out his pistol.

“You will talk, and you will do it now.”

The Recruiter put a hand on the weapon. Jun-ho almost flinched back; he caught his reaction and smiled.

“Don’t worry, officer. I’m not going to kill you… not yet, anyways.” He winked at him, clicking his tongue as he did, leaning back. “But I think I’ve got some ideas on how to do it already. You know, shooting people gets pretty boring.” His smile widened. “Even my father was routine.” He hummed. “But you… Oh, I wonder what I can do to a man like you…”

“You’re sick.”

He laughed once again, looking at the gun pointed at him and grabbing it again.

“Oh, officer… Is that all you’ve got?”

He requested a drink.

Jun-ho figured he needed one, too.

“Take over for me. I’ll be back in a while.”

Gi-hun looks at him as two other officers pour into the interrogation room.

“Where are you going?”

“Mr. Seong,” said Jun-ho, “as you’ve seen…”

His eyes dart back to the room, looking at the Recruiter through the one-way glass. The other officers are just sitting down, looking at the man like he owes them money. He, in turn, does the oddest thing: he looks towards where Jun-ho is. Seemingly unbeknownst to him, he locks eyes with the officer, smiling, making his stomach churn.

Jun-ho turns away.

“Our friend here is not willing to cooperate.” He grabs his keys off the nearby desk. “But perhaps his tongue will loosen if I do bring him that drink.”

“Are you serious?” scoffs Gi-hun. “It’s who knows how late and now you want to humor that fucker??” He yells, “What kind of cop are you? Jesus Christ—”

“Mr. Seong.”

Jun-ho stares at him. He looks drastically different from how he remembered him. Even though he was also miserable last time he saw him, at least then, you could see a sparkle of something in his eyes. Lingering happiness from better days, a trace of hope. Now, Gi-hun’s eyes are empty, and his hair is short and practical. No longer does it move with every expression or gesture; no longer does his face twist in silly grimaces. He is… numb.

Jun-ho can’t blame him.

“Mr. Seong,” he repeats, softer this time. “I understand your concerns. I don’t like him, either.”

He looks back at the Recruiter, who is staring right back, as if waiting for Jun-ho to glance towards him again.

Does he know? (Can he even?)

Does he really see him? (Can he even?)

Would it be so bad if he does? (Just how bad?)

“But…” He looks at Gi-hun, whose anger seems to waver. “I need you to trust me.” His expression hardens. “Like I trusted you.”

“He’s the one—” Pointed Gi-hun to the Recruiter the moment Jun-ho burst into the apartment— “He’s the one that’s recruiting all those people!”

“What?” gasped Jun-ho, barely catching his breath, his gun pointing from Gi-hun to the Recruiter to Gi-hun and to the Recruiter again.

The Recruiter grinned as he held his arms up.

“Oops,” he whispered. “Looks like I’ve been caught.”

Gi-hun’s eyes looked like those of a bewildered deer’s, helpless and panicked. The man beside him was anything but; calm, sickeningly enjoying the moment.

Jun-ho angled the gun towards him.

“You’re under arrest.”

There was a sigh of relief from Gi-hun—barely there, but Jun-ho still spotted it. He wondered how much he’d been through, those past years they hadn’t seen each other. He looked a mess, traumatized to hell and back.

A sense of familiarity washed over Jun-ho, as if the man before him was the same one – pale, exhausted, with deep, sunken bags under his eyes – that he saw in the mirror each day.

Gi-hun swallows.

“Yeah. Okay.” He nods. “I trust you.”

Jun-ho lets out a sigh.

“Good. Good, okay. Well, then, you keep an eye on him and—”

His eyes are on him again, of course. But this time, he was expecting it.

He’ll expect it as many times as he must.

“And I’ll be back soon.”

“I can only wait so long…”

The words bounce in his head mockingly, gripping him by the throat. They dance around his brain and invade his every thought.

That laugh…

The man is sick.

As he drives away from the police station, all Jun-ho can think about is him.

He’s the key. He and Gi-hun are sure of it. There’s no other man that could get them closer to that island than him; and Choi Woo-seok is living proof of that.

“You—YOU!!!”

With an animalistic scream, the newcomer lunged towards the Recruiter. He wouldn’t have landed a hit on him, for the man dodged his attack, but Jun-ho held him back anyways.

“No, no no no, let me at him—let me at him! Let me—LET ME KILL HIM!! That bastard—that bastard! You!”

With frantic desperation, the man yelled and plead for Jun-ho to let go of him, so he could get a hit on the Recruiter. His disdain for him was a mystery, until he got out, through various sobs:

“THAT BASTARD KILLED MY FRIEND!!!”

Jun-ho and Gi-hun exchanged glances; Gi-hun was shocked.

“Who? Who did he kill?”

“The boss—” A sob— “he killed Jeong-rae! He killed my friend, he killed him!”

“How did he kill him?” asked Jun-ho, as Gi-hun swore under his breath.

“H-he—” The man met his gaze. “He attacked us on the street, he—he made us wear these sick gags and play—oh, God, he made us play Rock, Paper, Scissors and—and all he had to do was choose rock…”

He was sobbing now. Jun-ho looked to Gi-hun for help, to no avail.

“But he didn’t…” The man wept for his fallen friend. “And he… he sacrificed himself for me, he… It’s all his fault, it’s all his fault…” He looked towards the Recruiter. “It’s all his fucking fault—!”

Jun-ho, once again, restrained him. The man looked at him with fury in his eyes.

“What are you doing? I have to—I have to murder this bastard! Let go of me, who do you think you are?!”

“I’m with the police,” warned Jun-ho, “who do you think you are?”

The strangest thing happened: there was a chuckle from the Recruiter. The man snapped his head towards him.

“IS THIS FUNNY TO YOU?! I’LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO LAUGH AT—”

Jun-ho kept his firm hold on him.

Woo-seok went back to his apartment, at Jun-ho’s request. He believes him to be valuable, and he assured him he would contact him later, but he didn’t want him interrupting his interrogation with unpredictable reactions or emotions.

Well – he scoffs to himself – now he’s interrupting his own mission. But he’ll be back soon; he needs the Recruiter to cooperate with him, so this is something he can afford. It’s an inconvenience for sure, and Jun-ho silently curses himself for giving into him, but perhaps playing his game is exactly what he ought to do.

After parking his car, he enters a small corner store, immediately booking it to the drinks section. Just ‘a drink’ is a vague request, but that only means Jun-ho can buy a cheaper option and be done with it. He doesn’t need to humor the man more than necessary. And, while he’s at it, he may as well get himself a drink. God knows he needs it.

Jun-ho grabs a bottle of blueberry soju and looks around the isle for something for his suspect. He looks at several bottles and brands, but they either seem too bad or too good for the Recruiter. He would be caught dead before spending more money than necessary on him, but he also needs him to cooperate, so he cannot settle on the cheapest of the bunch either…

He checks the price on his own bottle – his favorite soju, both brand and flavor.

Begrudgingly, he takes a second one.

The third, he gives to Gi-hun. He seems to relax for the first time that night when he does.

“Thanks,” he says softly. “You didn’t have to… I’ll pay you back.”

“I don’t need your money, Mr. Seong,” assures Jun-ho. He’s opening the other two bottles as he speaks. “Save it for our mission.”

“Do you actually think he may be helpful?” asks Gi-hun, after a long gulp of his drink.

Jun-ho takes a sip of his soju, glancing towards the interrogation room as he does. His colleagues are hard at work dealing with the Recruiter, but he doesn’t budge. He doesn’t break eye contact with them, but he doesn’t speak one word; they look absolutely infuriated. One of them is pacing around the room, whispering curses and various profanities under his breath. The other is this close to taking his pistol out of its holder.

Jun-ho feels like the both of them combined.

He takes another sip.

“If we coerce him,” he finally says. “If he doesn’t give us anything, I’ll simply have him locked up while we commence our pursuit.”

“And what afterwards? Are you going to set a criminal such as himself free?”

Jun-ho looks to Gi-hun.

“Are you already thinking about an ‘afterwards’, Mr. Seong?” He quirks an eyebrow. “Let’s try to make it out of this alive first.”

Gi-hun sighs, and downs half of the bottle.

“Officer!”

Jun-ho gestures at his colleagues to leave; he’s never seen them happier. They basically skip out of the room, almost giggling with glee and relief. He, instead, silently sighs to himself, a heavy weight in his chest. They barely interrogated the man for half an hour, even less; he, on the other hand, is stuck with him for… who knows how long.

God, he just wants this to be over already.

“That must have been… What, twenty, thirty minutes?” The Recruiter’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he tuts in mock disappointment. “I don’t think that’s really ‘soon’, is it, now?”

“What, did you miss me?” scoffs Jun-ho.

“Very much,” replies the man, on the sultriest tone possible, leaning forward.

Jun-ho rolls his eyes. He puts a bottle in front of himself, then gives him the other. He quirks an eyebrow.

“What’s this?”

“The drink you requested,” smoothly explains Jun-ho.

The Recruiter’s eyebrows raise further, now both of them, in what looks to be genuine surprise. His eyes are wide and blink towards Jun-ho like a deer in headlights.

“Huh?”

Two can play your game, thinks Jun-ho as he sits down.

“You requested I buy you a drink to make you talk. I bought you a drink. Now,” speaks the detective, “talk.”

The Recruiter continues to look at him, regaining his composure with every blink. Finally, he chuckles.

“You are a most curious man, officer Hwang…”

“Detective,” corrects Jun-ho.

The Recruiter quirks an eyebrow, a smirk tugging on his lips. “I thought you were demoted.”

“To you, it’s detective.”

He runs his tongue over his lips.

“Okay. Detective.”

He tilts his head.

“What do you want to know?”

Finally, thinks Jun-ho, almost sighing with relief; but he keeps himself on his toes. He doesn’t allow his relaxation to take over, and certainly doesn’t show it to the man before him. He’s still the enemy—to some degree—and he needs to act accordingly. He’s unpredictable, and thus, powerful.

But Jun-ho holds more power here than he does.

“First of all, I want your name.”

“My name?” He feels the following sentence coming from miles away. “What, do you want to buy me dinner, too? Aw, detective, I’m—”

“Your name,” repeats Jun-ho, exasperated, forcing himself not to roll his eyes, “is crucial to the investigation.”

The Recruiter leans forward more. He studies Jun-ho’s face, his expression, probably, searching for some form of weakness… His eyes trail along his cheekbones, going from his lips to his nose and to his own eyes again.

Jun-ho meets him with a scowl. His elbows pressed into the table before him, he further approaches the Recruiter, face nearing his. Although it makes his stomach churn, he doesn’t take his eyes away from him, meeting his cold, dark gaze. He can barely make out his pupils.

“So give me it,” he says, more of a whisper than a command; the man is close enough to hear it. His breath basically brushes against his skin.

The Recruiter, of course, smiles and sits back in his chair. He doesn’t yet talk, because why would he ever comply? Instead, he takes the bottle – opened by Jun-ho prior to entering the room – and fiddles with it.

Knowing Jun-ho is watching him, he raises his head to meet his eye before—and Jun-ho cannot believe he’s actually seeing this with his own two eyes—leaning down, parting his lips and wrapping them around the bottle.

What. The fuck. Is he doing.

Slowly—agonizingly slowly—he takes the bottle in his mouth a little further, and then goes even beyond that. Without breaking eye contact with Jun-ho – who is both too terrified and too intrigued to look away – the Recruiter grabs the base of the bottle. He raises it, taking it from the table, but doesn’t pull back to take a sip; instead, he seals his lips around the opening, slow, obscene, turning the air around them thick with an unspoken, forbidden emotion.

He looks at him, for a while, like this. His eyes, cold and yet glowing, amused and smug, are never torn away from Jun-ho. Swallowing hard, the detective forces himself to meet his gaze; the Recruiter, far from stupid, notices his discomfort, and there’s a smirk in his gaze as he does.

He takes the bottle in just a little deeper. There’s a soft gagging sound in his throat; Jun-ho cannot ignore it, no matter how hard he tries. It’s almost like a whimper, a disgusting air of pleasure to it.

His eyes locked on Jun-ho, the Recruiter finally downs some of the liquid; his throat flexes as he drinks, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He looks absolutely delighted with himself.

When he’s done, he slowly takes the bottle out of his mouth. He licks the tip, lips parting around it one final time, then runs his tongue over his own lips.

“Moon Ki-yong.”

His voice, the slightest bit hoarse, brings Jun-ho back down to Earth; although he’s unsure why his mind would be elsewhere anyways, when he’s only been looking at him since he has entered the room.

Jesus Christ.

The Recruiter – Ki-yong – continues.

“‘Moon’ means ‘writing’. ‘Ki’ stands for ‘foundation’, ‘rise’, while ‘Yong’, for ‘courage’ or ‘dragon’.” He runs his tongue over his teeth. “A foundational figure with the courage of a dragon, soaring through challenges with great strength.”

Before Jun-ho can add a biting remark – a way to get back at him for the control they both know he lost during the previous scene – the man adds:

“Oh, and I’m a Gemini.”

The detective frowns.

“I’m sorry?”

Ki-yong winks.

“In case you wanted to know.” Then, he leans forward. “What’s your sign, detective?”

Jun-ho looks at him incredulously. The nerve on him never ceases to surprise him; how his eyes burn into his, that smirk never leaving his expression. Even when he isn’t smiling, there’s that sparkle to his gaze, daring and, to some degree, imposing. Always asserting some form of dominance by mocking him, laughing at him and the world.

Yet, Jun-ho is never one to back away from a challenge.

“I’m born in early September,” he says.

Ki-yong’s eyes light up.

“A Virgo!” he gasps. “Oh, what good news!”

“Why’s that?”

He grins. Jun-ho realizes, with that expression, that he’s fallen for his bait.

“Because I hear we are quite compatible, detective.”

Jun-ho quirks an eyebrow.

“I think you have more in common with that bottle than with me.”

Ki-yong looks at the soju as if he’s seeing it for the first time. He pouts before looking back up at Jun-ho.

“Don’t say that, detective. Even if it were true, I’m sure you’d be much more fun than a bottle,” he adds, smiling, licking his lips afterwards.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it’s supposed to mean.”

Jesus Christ. He just keeps fucking himself over. Jun-ho wishes he’d been the one playing Russian Roulette with Ki-yong, not Gi-hun, so he could have taken the gun and shot himself dead.

Instead, he just sighs – because he hates how much Ki-yong gets to him, how little control Jun-ho has over him, and how pretty his stupid fucking name is.

“You’re a pain in the ass, do you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Ki-yong understandingly nods. “But I’m your only chance… And, frankly, your lack of respect wounds me.”

As if to show just how much Junho has broken him, the Recruiter puts a hand over his heart.

“You ought to respect your elders more, detective. How about calling me hyung instead of such hurtful names?”

Jun-ho quirks an eyebrow. Ki-yong sighs.

“No? Throw me a bone here, detective… At least call me Ki-yong-ssi.”

“The only thing I’ll be calling you,” says Jun-ho, ignoring his pout and what it does to him, “is an asshole.” Then, reconsidering, “Or, at the very least, the fucking sicko that you are.”

At that, Ki-yong perks up. His eyes go slightly wide again, and his lips part slightly with a breath.

“Oh, yes,” he says – moans, more accurately. “Call me sick. I like the way you say it.”

Jun-ho scoffs and looks away, face flushing despite his most desperate attempts to keep himself collected. He then groans in frustration and disgust, and maybe something else, that he can’t quite put his finger on.

“I should’ve known a freak like you would react like that.” He turns to look at him again, meeting his eye. “Your masters really made you their dog, huh?”

“I’m quite a good dog.” Ki-yong smiles, speaking as if he’s pitching his loyalty to him to have. “As your friend there Gi-hun put it, I run, bark, and wag my tail for them. I’m nothing more than their bitch. Always have been.”

By his tone, Jun-ho is surprised he doesn’t follow up with a wink and says, “And now, I can be found in stores for just 47.99; limited time edition.”

He is, of course, being sarcastic. Jun-ho can sense it in his tone, in the way he moves, melodramatic and theatric—he doesn’t actually believe himself driven by the Games, nor their masters. More than that; Jun-ho thinks that Moon Ki-yong believes himself unmovable, an unstoppable force, someone that does not bow to anyone. A mountain that cannot be moved, never faltering. It’s quite ironic, and even sad, in a sick and twisted way. For a split second, he wonders what kind of upbringing he must have had to now possess such a wrong way of thinking, to be self-aware and still not grasp his own person at all.

But he doesn’t care to unpack Ki-yong’s emotional baggage right now. He needs him, more than anything – his cooperation is critical to his operation. To bringing In-ho back. To peace.

Much unfortunately, Ki-yong refuses to be his peace, for he breaks it once more:

“You should be grateful I’m this loyal. Captain Park is not even half the man I am.”

Jun-ho’s breathing stops the moment that name comes out of the criminal’s mouth—as if he doesn’t know the effect upon the detective, said criminal just continues talking.

“I told my superiors he’s not the man they need for the job – he’s nowhere near as charming as I am – but, of course, they didn’t listen.” A melodramatic sigh. “They have so much faith in me, yet don’t allow me to watch over you… Well,” he grins, sitting up straigher, “I’m glad we met anyways. Aren’t you, detective?”

Jun-ho stares at him. He feels numb with dread.

“What…” His mouth is dry. “What did you say… about Captain Park?

Ki-yong stares back. He has the audacity to cock an eyebrow.

“What did you hear?”

“How do you know about him?”

And Ki-yong grins.

“Oh, darling, how could I not know about the Frontman’s most trusted transporter?”

His breath catches in his throat once more.

“His what?”

But Ki-yong doesn’t need to speak again for Jun-ho to have his fears confirmed.

Betrayal hits him deep, shattering his very core; he shudders as he leans back in his chair, but he doesn’t even feel anything around him as he moves. Jun-ho stares down at the table, disordered breaths leaving him as his eyes go wide.

Captain Park – the man that rescued him from a certain death, the one that’s been driving him around the seas, the only man who ever believed him when he spoke of what he’s seen – is…

“So, you’re the man who saved my life?”

The sailor, probably somewhere in his 60s, if not older, looks up. Recognizing Jun-ho, he softens – then, frowns.

“How did you find me, kid?”

“Police records.”

“Police? You’re police?”

Jun-ho nods. The man scoffs.

“What did they have one of their officers out at sea for? Or was that a failed diving attempt? Either way, you ought to be more careful… You could’ve drowned.”

“I know.”

Jun-ho extends his hand out towards him. The man vigorously shakes it.

“Jun-ho. Detective Hwang Jun-ho.” He smiles. “Thank you for saving me.”

The man smiles back. “You can call me captain Park, detective.”

“Captain Park it is.”

Maybe the world hasn’t entirely forsaken him, after all.

“In-ho sent him.”

Jun-ho’s head shoots straight up at the name. Ki-yong is leaning forward, his voice and face both breaking the detective out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Your brother,” says Ki-yong, slowly, as if talking to a scared child. “He was the one to send Captain Park after you. As soon as he was back on the island, he arranged for him to find and take care of you.”

Jun-ho pauses. This is all too much to process.

Then, realizing:

“Don’t—don’t, Gi-hun will—”

“He went to the bathroom.” Ki-yong chuckles. “Do you truly think I would let him in on our little secret? No, this is very entertaining to me, detective—withholding such a valuable piece of information is something I would do, rather than an esteemed policeman…”

Jun-ho can tell where he’s going with this, but he’s too tired to tell him off.

“You know…”

He looks at Ki-yong helplessly as a grin forms on his face.

“You and I seem to have a lot more in common than I’d thought.”

This is where his breaking point is.

He doesn’t even realize he’s pinned Ki-yong to the wall until their faces are mere inches apart; but Jun-ho got up, his chair falling backwards in his hastiness, grabbed the recruiter’s collar, and now, he is at his mercy, back to the wall, staring down at him in a mix of so many emotions, Jun-ho struggles to pin down just one.

No – actually – he can make one out just fine.

Glee.

“You never cease to surprise me…”

His words barely register in Jun-ho’s head, but it’s his voice – that smug, cold tone – that makes him raise his arm and—

Crack.

Ki-yong yells in surprise, and the slightest bit of pain, as Jun-ho punches him straight in the nose. A small trail of blood immediately pours from his nostrils, and Jun-ho notices the same crimson red coats his fist. Ki-yong laughs.

“Really, detective?” he tilts his head. “Is that truly—”

He doesn’t let him finish. He hits him again.

One hand firmly gripping his collar – his neck, squeezing, wishing to cut all the air out of his throat – the other punches Ki-yong until his own knuckles hurt. Between pants and ragged breaths and sobs and sickening laughter, Jun-ho keeps punching Ki-yong.

And Ki-yong just laughs.

Even as blood dribbles from his mouth onto his expensive suit, and his perfectly kemp hair falls into his place, and his forehead dampens with sweat as he receives blow after blow after blow, all that the psychopath, sickening, monstruous Moon Ki-yong does is laugh.

With tears in his eyes and one final, pathetic grunt, Jun-ho punches him in the mouth – then, he stumbles backwards, and gazes upon his fist.

Blood soaks his hands. He stares at it as if it’s the first time he sees the damn – damned – liquid. He shudders; he can’t help it.

He looks back at Ki-yong. The man grins at him.

“I must admit,” he says, panting and fixing his tie as he speaks, “that you truly know how to keep me on my toes, detective.”

Jun-ho resists the urge to lunge towards him and hit him again. He’s already broken God knows how many protocols. He has to retain one bit of humanity – it’s what sets him apart from this monster, despite Ki-yong’s claims that they are similar.

“Here’s what’s going to happen next,” he says instead.

Ki-yong perks up. Good – at least he’s willing to listen.

“I’m going to get some men, and you, along with captain Park—”

It hurts to say the traitor’s name more than it should, but he thinks this is only the beginning.

“You two are going to help Gi-hun and I infiltrate the island, and stop the Games. One wrong move – one single wrong move – and I’ll kill both of you on the spot. Are we clear?”

“Do you really think you can stop the Games?” asks Ki-yong, titling his head. He tuts. “And here I thought you were a smart man…”

“I’ll stop them,” insists Jun-ho, “by capturing the Frontman, and—”

“And what? Convincing him to stop them with the power of brotherhood and friendship?”

Ki-yong scoffs with disdain. Although still handcuffed, and now beaten black and blue, he still looks menacing. There’s still a sliver of control, and it terrifies Jun-ho how little he seems to get to him.

“Real life doesn’t work like that, detective. You of all people should know that. You cannot stop the Games unless…”

He smirks. He appears to recall something.

“You know, I read a book once. A dystopia set in the US… There is a dialogue there,” says Ki-yong, piercing Jun-ho’s gaze, “which I often think of when dealing with those deluded like you. Two women are talking; the first one says, ‘You can’t change laws without first changing human nature’. The second one replies, ‘You can’t change human nature without first changing the law.’ It’s because the two are dependent on each other, you see; changing one requires also changing the other. Thus, neither will change – for it is too difficult.”

Although he’s smiling, it seems as though his expression is fading. Something much more sinister lurks underneath; a deep disdain for humanity, and all that it encompasses.

“Humankind is doomed, Detective Jun-ho. We shall wipe ourselves out because we are inherently cruel and unkind creatures – and for that, we deserve to rot in hell. The Games are only an extension of us and our selfishness, our ever-growing desire for more.”

Ki-yong isn’t smiling anymore. His eyes are dead and cold.

“You will die trying to make a change, my sweet boy – and then, what? Who will remember you? You shall give your life for justice – but what difference will that make?”

Jun-ho looks him straight in the eye.

“We leave tomorrow.”

There’s a soft sigh of defeat.

“No. You leave October 31st.”

Jun-ho blinks.

“What?”

Ki-yong’s eyes flick to his own suit, to an upper pocket. Slowly, as best as he can while handcuffed – but still, notes Jun-ho, worryingly agile – he pulls out a card. He holds it out towards the detective.

“My boss meant for it to reach Gi-hun, but I doubt he would mind you seeing it as well.”

Jun-ho snatches it out of his hands.

There are only a few words engraved on it:

OCTOBER 31ST, MIDNIGHT
CLUB HDH

He glances back up and meets Ki-yong’s gaze.

“What is this?”

The recruiter tilts his head.

“An address and a time for you to meet the Frontman. Are you being intentionally dense?”

Jun-ho grits his teeth. “Listen, asshole—”

“You better prepare, detective.”

His blood runs cold when Ki-yong’s tone turns from teasing to purely grave.

“Because, when you reach the island – if you ever reach it again – he’ll stop you.”

Ki-yong’s eyes never leave his. Never has Jun-ho wanted to look away from something, someone, more.

“And this time,” promises the recruiter, “he won’t let you walk away.”

Chapter Text

“These guys were in the Marine Corps, these guys were in the UDT, and these guys were in the ROK Special Forces!”

Woo-seok’s enthusiastic ramble comes to a halt as he sees Jun-ho – and, more so when he sees Ki-yong standing by him, handcuffed, but still very much paying attention to everything happening.

“This guy is just a former cop,” says Woo-seok, pointing at Jun-ho, “and this one,” he turns to Ki-yong, “is a bastard that should’ve died a long time ago.”

Jun-ho catches Ki-yong’s faint smirk in the corner of his eye.

As Gi-hun suggested, after the interrogation – which, he supposes, could’ve gone worse – he quit his job. His colleagues pestered him for more details, his boss especially. Everybody was curious about who Ki-yong was and what he stood for; because, while Jun-ho had his colleagues also interrogate him, he never told them anything too specific. The Recruiter hadn’t budged anyways, and so, nobody at the police station was convinced the Games were real. To them, Jun-ho was still insane, and needed therapy. Ki-yong, living and breathing proof, was the one thing that would’ve changed their minds—but he decided the Recruiter was his own special little secret.

And so, days went by with the little group preparing for their departure for their island. Gi-hun was planning how to talk to the Frontman. He figured they would meet in person, so he took every precaution to ensure that’d go smoothly. Jun-ho found him a little obsessed, but the older man always brushed it off. Installing a tracker in his teeth, Gi-hun was ready to face against the Frontman, and ordered Woo-seok to hire some guys for added protection – whom Woo-seok was presenting to them right now.

There was a quiet understanding between Gi-hun and Jun-ho. They were the only ones who had seen the atrocities on that island, and had witnessed the Games. Gi-hun had been a player, and was now traumatized beyond hell and back – and Jun-ho wasn’t better off. Having a detailed look at the behind-the-scenes was something he probably wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy. (Then again, his current worst enemies were the people who had made the Games, so, in hindsight, it wouldn’t be too efficient of a revenge.)

Woo-seok was, for the lack of a better word, helpless. Jun-ho meant no harm in wondering how the hell it was him that survived the Recruiter’s game. He was absolutely harmless, clueless, and he could barely handle a gun. Moreover, Jun-ho couldn’t understand what his resolve even was. Ki-yong was now, for better or for worse on their side – and Woo-seok had only been directly affected by him, not by the bigger picture of the Games. Still, he seemed to, for now at least, put their differences aside, opt to ignore him, and instead continued working under Gi-hun. He wasn’t in it for money, he’d made it clear – but then, what else could he want out of this?

Truth be told, what Ki-yong told Jun-ho in the interrogation still stuck with him. How he called humankind selfish and doomed – it echoed in his mind at the strangest times, playing over and over like a sick melody. He didn’t know why. Sure, there were times in which his faith in humanity paled – witnessing the Games and their horrors, having his colleagues laugh in his face when he broke down explaining what he’d seen… that affected his mental health and how he viewed humans.

But that didn’t mean all of humankind was bad. There were a few rotten apples – the ones they were after – but once they were out of the way, Jun-ho thought people weren’t that bad.

Still, Ki-yong had planted some seeds of doubt in his mind. He did that quite well – mess with people, make them think things they normally wouldn’t. Jun-ho couldn’t figure him out for the life of him but he needed to keep him around. Captain Park hadn’t been loyal, and although Ki-yong was a subordinate of the Games too, at least he had told Jun-ho the truth from the start. Between the sailor and the recruiter, Jun-ho figured the latter was somewhat of a lesser evil.

Jun-ho didn’t know what to do with him. Up until a few days ago, before he quit his job, he had kept Ki-yong in a cell, and after Jun-ho handed in his resignation, Gi-hun gave the Recruiter a room in the Pink Motel. He was handcuffed to his bed every night, and walked around with his hands tied the entire day. As Jun-ho showed up less around at his own house, instead taking refuge in Gi-hun’s motel, he had the misfortune of bumping into Ki-yong more often than not; but, no matter what the Recruiter tried, Jun-ho didn’t give into his attempts to talk to him, or confuse him more.

He knew what he wanted to do; he was an open book, despite what he obviously thought of himself. Ki-yong was searching to break him – to twist his morals into his own and make him see his point of view, to prove a point. It was clear with his every movement and word that he was looking to corrupt Jun-ho; the problem was, Jun-ho wasn’t looking to be corrupted.

It was an exhausting cat-and-mouse game that Jun-ho wanted to be over as soon as possible. Still, while they were playing it, he might as well have his own fun.

“Are you truly sure Seong Gi-hun is to be trusted, detective?” trilled Ki-yong at one point, as Jun-ho went to practice his shooting. “What if he’s only bluffing about trying to stop the Games – if he’s actually planning to infiltrate alongside you just to have you killed, while he rules them with an iron fist?”

Jun-ho took a rifle off a rack and went through the hole in the wall. Ki-yong, obedient little puppy that he was, followed.

“I’m trying to help you, detective.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Jun-ho turned to him, to see his flashing grin.

“Of course,” nodded Ki-yong. “I can’t let a man as special such as yourself be harmed. I only wish to aid you…”

“Then hold this.”

He threw a few rounds of extra ammo in Ki-yong’s arms, who in surprise barely caught some of them. The rest fell on the ground, each with a thud.

The detective quirked up an eyebrow.

“Hand-to-eye coordination is not your forte, huh?”

He could see Ki-yong gritting his teeth.

“I suppose not,” he retorted, more of a hiss than actual words.

For someone who looks so untouchable, he sure is easy to throw off his game. Then again – thought Jun-ho – this could be a double blunder. Ki-yong could be letting him tease him to make him think he has control, only to then—

No, that’s not what’s happening. While not impossible, Jun-ho thinks the Recruiter has too big of an ego to be even faux vulnerable. There must be something else – he must be weakened, at least to some degree, by Jun-ho, or by the circumstances of their… predicament.

Jun-ho wondered what the stakes for Ki-yong were. What would the leaders of the Games do to him, when they found out he’d ratted out Captain Park, and was now helping Gi-hun’s revenge crew? He figured such a betrayal was punishable by death in their world – but then, why would Ki-yong march towards his death with such little care, helping his enemies kill him slowly?

“Why did you propose Russian Roulette as the game?”

The Recruiter’s eyes raised to meet his.

“Why not?”

“The game endangered both you and Gi-hun. If you had chosen something else, you would have had less chances of dying.”

The Recruiter shrugged. “Well,” he said, “where’s the fun in no risk?”

Jun-ho frowned. “Are you suicidal, then? Is that why you care this little for your own life?”

Suddenly, the expression of the man before him grew colder. The tease in his eyes disappeared at an alarming, terrifying speed – instead, a stubborn anger overtook his features.

“That, my dear boy—” he said, getting the words out as if spitting poison— “is the stupidest thing I have heard you say all night.”

“So, then—”

“Then, what? Why is it your concern what game I chose? I could’ve chosen anything, and it wouldn’t have mattered. I had a gun on me, and I wanted to use it. Is that good?” He tilted his head, but long gone was his playfulness. It just seemed like an empty gesture. “Did I do good, officer?”

“And if Gi-hun had died?” pressed Jun-ho. “Would the Frontman have been pleased with this?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“It is my concern—”

“That’s none of your concern!”

Ah – thought Jun-ho – so, the untouchable man could grow frustrated enough to yell. Good to know.

Ki-yong is a mystery. That’s the only way Jun-ho can describe him. He doesn’t know what to make of him and probably never will – and, really, that’s fine by him. He doesn’t care, and he doesn’t have to. All he has to do is infiltrate that island and reunite with his brother, and then everything will be alright, and he will never give Moon Ki-yong another second of his time.

One day, Hwang Jun-ho will know peace; he must hope he will.

“This is the leader of the team,” Woo-seok says – his voice bringing Jun-ho back to the present – as he walks up to a particularly tough-looking man. Black slicked-back hair and a sharp jawline define his look, as well as piercing eyes and a most serious gaze. “He’s a seasoned veteran who has seen a lot of combat overseas.”

The man nods towards Gi-hun.

“Please call me Kim.”

As Gi-hun continues talking to him, Woo-seok also chiming in, speaking with that laidback attitude of his, Jun-ho feels a shift in Ki-yong. Whereas he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jun-ho mere seconds ago, now, he is watching Kim like a hawk. When Jun-ho turns around to look at him, his eyes are cold as they look this ‘seasoned veteran’ up and down.

“What?” whispers Jun-ho.

“What?” Ki-yong whispers back.

A vague gesture from Jun-ho, nodding towards Kim.

“What’s your problem with him?”

“I don’t have a problem. Do you have a problem, detective?”

“Don’t deflect, dipshit.”

Ki-yong scoffs.

“So, so hurtful. I am deeply wounded…”

Jun-ho opts to ignore him as Gi-hun begins talking about his plan again. He’s thinking worst case scenarios, but Woo-seok keeps assuring him everything will be alright. His optimism is admirable at best, childish and weak at worst. Ki-yong certainly thinks so, too – he’s humming condescendingly with every word, the ghost of a smirk on his face.

When Gi-hun mentions going inside the club, Jun-ho perks up.

“I’ll come with you inside,” he offers.

Gi-hun immediately turns him down. “No. You had your face exposed on the island, they may catch on. I’ll have Woo-seok with me.”

“Wha—?” Woo-seok perks up. “You will?”

As Gi-hun and Woo-seok begin talking again, Ki-yong hums in interest. When Gi-hun fully turns away, he leans in.

“Detective,” he begins, voice low, dropped to a whisper – as if this is a moment only the two may share, and nobody else is allowed to hear – “are you really this sloppy to let yourself be seen?”

Jun-ho shoots him a glare. Ki-yong smiles in response. He hates to admit it, but that move in his muscles soothes him for a second, as if an instinct to soften at the sight of this man. He straightens immediately, tensing – he remembers he’s not to be trusted. It’s something he has to forcibly teach himself rather than the fundamental truth that it is.

Moon Ki-yong is a monster – Jun-ho can’t give into him, lest he wants to compromise his entire mission, and even his own person. Why is it so difficult for him to comprehend that?

Why does he give into him—

Jun-ho ignores the creeping feeling in his chest, in his face, in his head as he does; that pang of something new. Something unusual, something that should under no circumstance be.

Why does he keep feeling for him—

For a split second, he wonders what kind of upbringing he must have had…

Why does he want to play his game—

Does he really see him? (Can he even?)
Would it be so bad if he does? (Just how bad?)

And why does he—

Jun-ho scoffs and looks away, face flushing despite his most desperate attempts to keep himself collected.

Why…?

His voice, the slightest bit hoarse, brings Jun-ho back down to Earth; although he’s unsure why his mind would be elsewhere anyways, when he’s only been looking at him since he has entered the room.

Why, of all people, is it him to—?

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jun-ho flinches and meets Ki-yong’s gaze. The Recruiter smiles slightly, provocatively, but with an ever so slight trace of care.

“Are you alright, detective? You look pale.”

“What do you care?” scoffs Jun-ho, tone as cold as he can manage.

He brushes past him, shoving his shoulder against his as he leaves the room. The man looks after him with a slight scowl.

He follows. Of course he does. As if Jun-ho pulls him in, akin to a magnet, as if he doesn’t have a choice but to follow. It’s eerie, but somewhat exciting and—

God, no. Anything but that… He can’t, he just can’t.

Jun-ho winces. Ki-yong tilts his head.

“Detective, you don’t seem like your usual self.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jun-ho’s voice is ironic, his laugh, empty. “What’s my usual self, then? Since you know so much about me.”

Ki-yong raises an eyebrow.

“Well, usually,” he begins, accepting the challenge, “you’re keener to pressure and argue with me, rather than attempt to escape me. Which, I must remind you, is impossible. I have nothing better to do than to follow you around,” he says, matter-of-factly. Then, shrugging, “It’s your fault. You’ve brought this upon yourself.”

“Trust me, sicko,” hisses Jun-ho, “I want you out of my life as much as you do. If it was up to me, I’d have put you behind bars the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“So, why didn’t you?”

Jun-ho frowns.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you?” insists Ki-yong. “Seong Gi-hun doesn’t want to keep me around, that Choi Woo-seok neither. And I don’t imagine the men that were just brought in will take a particular liking to me.”

He’s staring into his soul now, metaphorically trying to undress him and pull the truth out of him. The ground beneath Jun-ho’s feet shakes – his head is pounding. What the hell is this man doing to him?

“You are the only one here that insisted I remain. Why? And why do you pretend, now, as if it isn’t true, when you and I both know better?”

Jun-ho’s arms are crossed at his chest. It’s a pathetic attempt at an emotional shield – as if Ki-yong will leave him alone if his body language suggests he wants that, as if that wouldn’t just fuel him more. That’s the kind of person the Recruiter is, after all: he doesn’t care for those around him, just takes what he wants. He takes, and he takes, and he destroys – until there is nothing left neither to take nor destroy. A person like him can barely even be called that, for they wilt and ruin everything around them.

So – comes the question – why does Jun-ho keep him around? Ki-yong is right, and he, himself, is right – he should’ve just put him behind bars. He should’ve left his colleagues to deal with him, while he pursued the island, and freed the players from the Games, alongside Gi-hun, for their shared noble cause.

But here he was, negotiating and debating with one of them. While not at the top of the ladder, Ki-yong was the first evil the players encountered. His charm, the trustworthiness he displayed on the surface, they were all traps laid out for them, and they all fell for it.

Jun-ho doesn’t want to admit it, but perhaps he isn’t that different to those poor, pathetic, desperate people – perhaps he, too, can be just as easily persuaded.

He stares at Ki-yong now; he stares, and his question rings in his ears.

Why does he keep him around?

The answer is the most terrifying admission he’s ever given, and he doesn’t say it out loud. He can’t. He walks past him again, escapes him. Ki-yong lets him, probably thinking him pathetic; he lets him go, for now, knowing he can and will torment him later.

For now, this internal recognition is enough punishment for Jun-ho.

The truth is, he doesn’t know.

No – the truth is, he does know. He does know, and it’s terrifying. Terrifying and pathetic, a betrayal of his deepest values, of the very core of himself.

The truth is Moon Ki-yong intrigues him, and he wants more. And not just more about what he knows of the Games: more about him. About his person, about his past, about his morals – about him.

The truth is, Jun-ho may be heading into very dangerous territory – and, the truth is, that he’s willing to explore it.

Gi-hun gets a tooth removed, inserting a tracker attached to a fake tooth in place of it, to prepare for the upcoming… meet-up, Jun-ho supposes is the right word. In all honesty, he’s not even fully aware of what Gi-hun’s plan is, but he trusts him.

It’s a few days after that, when Woo-seok leaves the Pink Motel after their final debrief – the morning of October 31st. It’s today that Jun-ho will propose his own plan to Gi-hun. Although hesitant at first, circling the room in which Ki-yong is held finally gave him the final push he needed.

“I’ll pick you up tonight,” Gi-hun reminds Woo-seok.

“Ah, yeah, of course! See you then, man!”

Woo-seok is out of the building in a few seconds, and Gi-hun is left – seemingly – alone. He sighs.

Jun-ho hums. “Mr. Seong?”

“Jesus—” Gi-hun turns around. “How long have you been standing there?”

Jun-ho ignores the question. “Listen, are you sure you don’t want me coming with you? It could be dangerous.”

“I’m aware. That’s exactly why you aren’t coming with.”

Jun-ho narrows his eyes. Then:

“What if we brought Ki-yong, too?”

Gi-hun pales at the question. His jaw goes slightly slack – his eyebrows shoot up, and an incredulous scoff leaves him.

“You want to bring him along? Why the hell would we do that?”

“Like it or not, Mr. Seong,” Jun-ho says, “he is quite useful to us, as the recruiter of the Games. He knows many things we do not, and he…”

He pauses. Thinks for a second if he should say this. But knowing it would give him some leverage, he goes on:

“He’s probably seen the Frontman up close, too. He probably knows him.”

Gi-hun hesitates.

“Do you think so?”

“I do. And for that reason, we need him.”

You’re a hypocrite, Jun-ho. Are you aware?

The voice in his head is half his, and half Ki-yong’s, and the realization sends a jolt through his entire body.

“…Alright. Sure.” Gi-hun nods – when he nods, it’s never uncertain. He nods with full awareness, knowing what he has chosen, and that it is the right thing. He nods, and he nods with his entire being. “Sure, let’s bring him with, Jun-ho. I’ll trust you on this one.”

Jun-ho sighs. It’s done. He has no idea why the idea of the Recruiter himself coming along with them relieves him, but he sighs nonetheless.

And, as he returns a small smile to Gi-hun – the gesture weary and tired, just like themselves – he can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“I’ll trust you on this one,” he said.

But you shouldn’t trust me at all.