Chapter Text
When I used to be a kid, it would take an hour for my mom to convince me to put on my raincoat before going out in the pouring rain. Like the stubborn child I was, I would just toss and run around the whole apartament, because I didn’t want to put on that damn coat. It was happening quite often, until one day my mom found a solution. Instead of forcing the piece of clothing on me and complaining about what an disobedient boy I was, she’d simply ask me “Do you want to put on your red coat, or the blue one?” It sure sounds silly, but believe me, it worked just fine on a seven year old. I remember being so proud of myself for finally having the opportunity to make my own choice, as I felt like I was the one in control of what I wore. It honestly felt like I finally had the upper hand, like I’d won. Ever since then, I’ve never seemed to have a problem with wearing my raincoat again.
***
The only thing he could feel on his skin at this very moment was the cruel touch of the cold, plastic-like floor, pressing against his side. It was almost like his body had numbed out the sensation of his multiple physical injuries, in order for his mind to get lost in a turmoil of countless feelings that he was not able to identify. He was not even certain if this absurdly enormous storm inside his mind could ever even be labeled as simply as an “emotion” .
When he would imagine the final moments of his rebellion, he’d expect blazing and eternally consuming rage, fuelling his actions and driving him forward, blindly leading him to his goal, despite all obstacles and the strongest morals. He thought he would be afraid of taking this final step with no point of return. He feared the possibility of holding the gun to the Frontman’s head and not being able to pull the trigger. That was the moment he would let his emotions take over him, to help him do the very thing his conscience never allowed him to.
Yet, this moment had never come. He didn’t even have to proceed with the internal debate, as it was the Frontman who pointed the weapon at him. Everything was boiling inside of him, whether it was anger, despair or fear. Even the loudest screams and cries of internal pain didn’t fully express the agony he was feeling. He had no strength to look to his left, as he was aware that the only thing his gaze would meet is the corpse of his best friend. Still, the choice didn't belong to him, as he found himself pressed even deeper into the floor, forced to face the life-deprived visage of someone with whom he'd spent so many years with, and yet he never saw his face looking like this before. His eyes drifted to the creator of this horrifying image, however the Frontman had already made his way up the shiny stairs. Running away, just ready to hide again inside the comfort of his privileges. Not even a second look at the fruits of his cruel actions.
“Why is this bastard turning away?! That murderer…that monster…that…coward. Can't even look me in the eye…”
That was his very last thought before he saw everything vanish into the black abyss and nothing seemed to hold any significance anymore.
***
Young-il is dead.
He perished along with all of the other pathetic lowlifes during the rebellion that had no real right to succeed, or maybe even earlier. He threw himself into an inescapable gunfire that had put him to the ground for eternity.
Young-il is dead.
All that was left of him was the lingering mirage, simply a memory that ought to be erased, forgotten and thrown into the pit along with his mortal body. That was a person that has been gone for years, and now the coffin was sealed at last. The final nail would be the bullet in the skull of the man in front of him.
"Pull it"
"Pull the trigger and end this man's doomed pseudo-heroic quest."
He attempted at closing his eyes in a desperate attempt to dissociate from his consciousness. He tried imagining his mask as his real self. Cold, unbothered. A machine he was supposed to be, a being who could only feel bleakness, a mere husk of what was once a man, a man who was deprived of all the illusory values and the false conviction of mankind's deeper purpose. He tried to shut out the excruciating screams of his intuition and internal feelings. No matter how much he desired to overcome his own body and mind, he couldn’t chase this human weakness away. He needed to feel hatred and disgust at the sight of the two players kneeling before him. He deeply, truly expected to see them as another glitch in the system that ate itself away, self-destructed due to false hopes and naive beliefs, once again being lost in the vast, dark ocean of the empty shells that humanity reduced itself to.
Pull the trigger. Break him as you once were broken. That’s what has to be done. Prove it. Prove to him that he’s not special, that he's just another animal wasting the oxygen on this planet. Worthless, naive, incompetent.
Then, he’ll be set free of this burden he thinks he’s supposed to carry. There is no destiny one has to fulfill, no such thing as a villain or a hero that he seems to think he is. One can simply power through life, making seemingly important choices. Some reasonable ones, but inevitably most of them foolish enough to irreversibly corrupt their life. People just glide through their existence, making in reality meaningless choices, and then dying and finally decaying, returning their bodies to the soil they came from. The glorification of life in a society truly made him sick. It was something he wasn't capable of believing in anymore.
Young-il is dead
And with him, the connection to this…this man he shouldn't have even gotten as close with as he did. Another mistake, another bad choice, yet another illusion he'll take with himself to the grave.
"Pull the trigger."
At last, he could finally hear the gunshot, followed by strained screams and cries.
To his surprise, he found himself unable to turn his eyes to their source. He pushed this man as far as he could go, yet there was still one thing left to prove. He needed to show him. Show him things he will now be able to see. So much can change in the man’s eyes after he’d tasted the bitter truth.
No, In-ho didn’t turn around to look at Gi-hun again, even after the sounds of terror were shut down by the butt of a gun.
After a couple of long seconds that In-ho perceived as painfully long passing hours, the masked manager dressed in deep black colors emerged from behind the corner of the purple corridor. He could feel his employee’s gaze from behind him, yet did not offer him a look in his direction. The manager examined the scene in front of him and after a quick assessment he drifted his eyes from the bloodstained floor and the unmoving player’s bodies to his boss, standing just a couple of meters away up the stairs.
-Sir. - the manager called out to his superior, waiting for the other man to face him.
Yet all that In-ho found himself able to do was to slightly tilt his head downwards. He didn’t need to reward the man with such an acknowledgment. That was the choice he had every right to make.
"I cannot look back"
No.
Young-il is dead.
-Sir, should we proceed with the next part of the plan?- the man addressed the frontman again, this time making sure he’s audible.
-Take the one still breathing to the spectation lounge and don’t let him out of your sight until I arrive there myself. Make sure he doesn’t wake up before then. - In-ho lifted his eyes off the ground.
- With all due respect, Sir, isn’t he to be eliminated?
In-ho ignored the question, letting his subordinate feel the pressure of the silence.
- Tell the staff to prepare for the next game and make sure everything is ready for the VIP’s arrival. We shall hold the rest of the games as usual.- He responded with an emotionless voice.
The masked manager stared at his boss with an obvious uncertainty, that despite the hidden face, was showing through his confused stance. Couple of seconds had passed between them.
-It’s an order.- The frontman repeated with a commanding voice.
The manager snapped out of his hesitation.
-Of course, Sir.
***
In the room left by big brother,
The coals keep vigil like gourd blossoms.
Train rounding the mountain spur,
voice hoarse-
Though not tonight, will it rain?
Again and again adjusting his cloak,
He'll be gazing out, won't he,
on only black glass!
In the room left by big brother,
The clock sounds so eerie, I'm scared
~Jeong Ji-Yong
From time to time, Jun-ho would remember this old poem his mother used to teach him while he was still in kindergarten. She would always carry this small poetry tome in her bag, and they’d occasionally spend time on reading some of the poems together. As a kid, he’d always struggle to understand this particular one. The vocabulary was just beyond his comprehension, and the motives didn’t seem relatable enough for him to care. He’d just recite the empty words in order to please his mother.
That was, until their lives changed for good. Until she married a strange man, who’d always have this eerie smile on his face. It felt warm, but he’d always doubt if it was genuine. Along with this uncertainty, he brought to his life yet another person, who was supposedly his new brother. He was older than him, a young adult, at the time. It took Jun-ho some amount of time to adapt and get used to the new people in his life, but after a while, his brother became not only his best friend, but also his idol. By the time Jun-ho was 15, he would have not been able to imagine things being any different.
Yet, he still couldn’t understand the poem at the time.
His older brother would always be there to support him, despite having his own life to attend to. He was always ready to lend Jun-ho a hand during all of the major big steps in his life, and also be there for him during the smaller ones. Learning to ride a bike. His first love, first breakup, graduation…he would have his back. He taught him things his mother couldn’t, and he had always inspired him to become the person he is today.
But, for some time already, he’s been able to comprehend this poem from his childhood. The realization hit him at the same time the bullet did. The still visible scar served as a constant reminder of that.
Jun-ho was woken up to the intense rocking of the boat. His whole body was sore from sleeping on the makeshift bed under the deck, and his head was already bruised because of him regularly hitting it against the inconveniently low suspended ceiling of the boat.
He looked around, still sleepy. On the floor next to him, he noticed a cracked mirror, just lying there carelessly. It must have been what woke him up. It probably fell down due to the boat rocking so much on top of the waves. Jun-ho sighed and stood up to hang the mirror back where it was before. Once he found the nail with the help of his phone’s flashlight and put the small shiny square on the wall, he found himself looking at his own reflection. He looked pale and exhausted, almost like a ghost surrounded by the dark. His eye bags were starting to become more visible with each passing day, and the blinding light from the flashlight highlighted them even more. The cracks of the mirror split the image of his face in half. Just like he actually felt for the last couple of years. Torn apart, his thoughts and beliefs inconsistent. How ironic.
-Who’s there?!- A shout coming from the outside interrupted his train of thought.
Jun-ho took his eyes off the mirror.
-Choi, is that you?- The second voice cut in between the sound of the pouring rain. - It’s me, Capitain Park!
Out of interest, Jun-ho quietly crawled closer to the ladder leading to the top of the deck. He tried to make out the most of the conversation through the loud storm and waves crashing against the side of the boat.
-I thought you were asleep. What are you doing out here, it’s pouring down! - By the tone of the man’s voice, Jun-ho figured it’s Woo-Seok along with the captain.
-I couldn’t sleep, then I heard some noise.
-I heard it too... - Woo- Seok responded.
So it wasn’t the sound of the shattering mirror that woke him up after all?
-I think I heard someone scream and some thuds after that. - The man continued
That bit especially captured Jun-ho’s attention. Why would anyone just randomly scream on top of the deck in the middle of the night? Maybe it was himself? No, they would have figured out where it came from if it was from the cockpit. What if someone got too drunk last evening and fell overboard? For a moment, Jun-ho’s heart started to race at this thought, but he quickly brushed it off. Those men were trained specialists, or at least they all realized the seriousness of the case. It was unlikely someone would just allow themselves to be this reckless given the circumstances. However, he needed to get to know more at this point, so he just kept listening.
-That’s why I came out to take a look. I think it was the waves hitting the deck. Look at the mess. - Capitain Park exclaimed. -It’s dangerous out here in the rain. Get back inside and get some sleep.
Jun-ho furrowed his brows. He wondered why the captain wants Woo-Seok to get out of there this badly? The storm sure seemed dangerous enough to worry, but the older man’s behaviour seemed quite unnatural to him. Some of his excuses seemed forced, like he knows more than he lets on. Still. Jun-ho couldn’t bring himself to suspect him of taking an active part in the chaos on deck. His intentions have to be honest enough if he willingly took on the burden of rescuing a stranger from the water those three years ago. In his mind, one had to be a decent human being to attempt helping a random person in need. As a policeman, he was deeply aware of the effect of a bystander, so selfless acts like that were a rarity, and he’s learned to appreciate them. Someone really important to him taught him that, and he sincerely hoped he’ll be able to bring this person back once he finds him.
The men on the top deck exchanged a few more sentences, and then no more disturbing sounds could be heard. Still, Jun-ho didn’t intend to lower his guard down for the night. He was trusting, but he wasn’t this naive. He sat back on his mattress and shoved out his phone. There was, obviously, no service. As much as he was used to this sight, he needed something to focus on to not fall asleep, so he started scrolling through his gallery. He has made some nice memories over the course of the recent years- he realized as he swiped back and forth through the pictures of him and his friends, the chief, his mother…Yet, this phone was far too new to have any pictures of his brother stored.
"I will find you, In-ho. I did it once, and I’ll do it again."
***