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Gi-hun dreams of it again. Years have passed already but it never feels any less raw. He refuses to. How can he just simply forget?
His terrified eyes stare down at the beaten man he’s called a lot of names.
He was a traitor.
A killer.
A friend.
He was Sangwoo.
The Sangwoo that graduated from the prestigious college and led a fulfilled life overseas as a businessman. The Sangwoo his mom would always compare him to. The Sangwoo that was supposed to be better than this. Just what went wrong?
With bloody hands, they’d already been neck to neck with one another. But Gi-hun still can’t understand. He can no longer understand the person he swore he knew since they were kids.
He sees how Sangwoo exchanges his look of desperation, the look that was unable to scream how much they wanted it all to just end.
“Sangwoo, let’s.. Let’s go home,” Gi-hun exhales. The chill trapped in his wet skin seemed to have seeped through his body, making him shiver at even the slightest steps he makes. Still, it doesn’t stop him to reach for the warmth of the other man’s hand.
“I can’t. You know I can’t,” Sangwoo chokes while laying flat on his back against the mud. Unpleasant blood traces his face but all Gi-hun ever cares about at that moment were the tears that reside on those crimson splatters. He wants to wipe them away, more reason to convince him to just hold on to him.
“Please.” Gi-hun begs. His voice is hoarse but it speaks the loudest against the rain. It’s all inevitable, he’s well aware but just seeing him gives him hope he’s not supposed to have. “Don’t leave me.”
He knows there’s no point. The space between their calloused hands that reach for each other will never be filled. Not when they both crave for something different.
“I’m sorry.”
And like how it happened before, Sangwoo pulls out the knife beside him and plunges it deep into his neck.
Life flickers out in his red eyes and Gi-hun lets out a scream.
—
Gi-hun wakes up in a cold sweat. His clothes were no longer damp but he still feels icy. His hands clasp his face and touch the streams of tears trailing down his cheeks.
“Are you okay?”
A man looms over him, worry etched on the corners of his face.
“Y-young-il…”
He sits up with his shaking arms and stares down. Another bad dream at a time like this… It’s not helping him at all. Or does it serve some harsh reminder? Has he cut himself slack where he almost forgets that he stands beneath countless corpses from receiving a crown he never wanted?
A hand rests on his neck and he jolts a little.
“You’re cold. Are you okay?”
Gi-hun swats it away. “I’m fine,” he huffs. The breaths he takes still get caught up in his throat but he attempts to level it. He closes his eyes as he voluntarily inhales and exhales. Once he’s calmed down enough, he finally looks back at Young-il only to see his still firm concern.
He scoffs pathetically. “Was I talking in my sleep or something? Why are you awake?”
“It’s my turn to be on a lookout.”
Gi-hun makes a silent ‘Oh’ as he leers at the barricade they’ve made then back at him. Somehow, it makes him feel sheepish as if he’s bothered Young-il from all the guard duty. He’s had enough sleep. Maybe it’s time for him to take his place.
“Ah, you should go to sleep,” he suggests while getting himself off the bed. He gives him a pat on the shoulder before passing by him to sit on the front of their makeshift barrier. “I’ll take it from here.”
Gi-hun perches down with his arms resting on his knees and is taken aback a second later when someone sits besides him. “You said two people need to watch over right?”
“Then why were you alone in the first place?”
“Told them to rest,” he brushes off cooly.
“You should too.”
In-ho can’t help but smile. The room may be dim but he can still make out the frown he wears every time he regards other people more than his own. That stubborn attitude of his always amuses him. “Thanks for worrying but I really do prefer to stay up.”
Gi-hun wants to retort and convince him to sleep but he hates how he likes his company. Despite the rocky start, he’s grown fond of him especially after the second game. Someone like Young-il who actually has people missing him shouldn’t be wasting his last breath in this wretched place.
He finds himself glaring at the players on the other side. Some sleep and the rest chat but what remains the same among them all are the electric blue patches they wear willingly on their jackets. It makes his stomach churn.
Sometimes, he finds himself forgetting that these players are actual people. All of them, good or bad. Like just now, the same crowd he suspects to turn into cold-blooded killers had actual lives before they entered the game. It’s not like he’s assuming they had the best ones. It’s just something about it that makes Gi-hun wonder about how fast someone can drastically change once thrown into a place like this. He’s watched countless people fall into that nature. Even Jung-bae, who once agreed to continue.
The money where gallons of blood had to be spilled apparently isn’t enough for them. They’ve seen the horror of it all yet chose to stay still. He can sense their dissatisfaction growing and cultivating to something more disgusting. Something so cruel that you can barely distinguish a human from a famished predator. They may not be murderers now but soon they will be.
If only he could just show them the worst of what’s happened—
“Mind if you tell me what you’re thinking about?” Young-il cuts his train of thought. He tilts his body a little closer to Gi-hun to show his piqued curiosity.
He successfully catches the taller man’s attention and raises his brows further to gesture to tell him.
“You do believe me, right?” Gi-hun’s voice strains with more desperation than he prefers. With all the bad omen, he wonders if he’s even going anywhere in this plan of his.
“Believe what?”
“That that isn’t worth it,” he gestures to the piggy bank above that lights the room warmly in irony.
He pauses, but not long enough to sound unconvincing. “Of course I do.” The words roll in his tongue casually despite wanting to say otherwise.
Gi-hun can’t help but muster a grin from the comfort of his companion’s solace. He lets himself loose a little. He may not trust a lot of people in this dorm but Young-il is an exception. Maybe it’s the way he sees a little of himself in him.
In-ho pushes the topic. “Why do you ask?”
Seeing the unease, Young-il tries to reel back his question but the man insists.
“No, it’s fine. You ought to know,” the previous winner assures. His eyes veer around the dorm before him, letting the memories bleed willingly in his mind. “It was the first time that I joined this game, I had a dream about it.”
“Judging from how you woke up, I’m gonna assume it wasn’t the best one?” He ponders.
“Very much.”
He scoots closer, ensuring to catch every word. “What was it?”
“I had a friend here that I could’ve sworn lived a life more lavishly than mine. He was someone my mom always wanted me to be, what I wanted to be,” he croaks with a head hanging low. Even now, he thinks that Sangwoo should’ve lived. They could’ve quit together and left this behind.
He exhaled. “So imagine my surprise when I recognized him among the crowd.”
He remembers it all too well. The eye contact they first held on that sunny field. The same eyes that soon flared so differently that Gi-hun couldn’t recognize it anymore.
“He wasn’t a bad person. He helped the people here. Sangwoo could’ve kept quiet when everyone was panicking after the first game but he stepped up and initiated the voting.”
In-ho observes the inconsistency of Gi-hun’s emotions crossing his face. He sees confusion, envy, anger, longing—
“I just.. It frustrates me on how I still can’t understand why and how he ended up so… cruel? What went wrong? Was I not there enough for him? Just like the others?” He hugs his knees tightly. His breaths hitched, as if it’s undeserving.
A warm hand falls on his back. Gi-hun’s never realized the close proximity they have until now. It calms him down a bit.
“What did he do?”
Yet In-ho knows. He was there up above, watching, rooting for Gi-hun. He hoped that he’d change after going through the worst of what he’s done and seen. But the horse he betted is right here, constantly in refusal to embrace the reality of this game. He wants to push off all that guilt and sense of heroism the man carries.
Gi-hun shoves the man’s hands away with a shaking head. “No, i-it’s not that.”
“It’s what all this made him do,” he corrects sharply. If they were never here in the first place, they’d probably be out somewhere right now, complaining and maybe still running away from their loans. It was terrible but it never got to a point to kill.
In-ho searches for the right way to respond, to correct. Ah, of course. The words repeat in the frontman’s mind and he suppresses a scoff that threatens to surface. So that’s what Gi-hun thinks. He believes that everything everyone has done within this place isn’t something they should be held accountable for, as if all the decisions they’ve made aren’t theirs.
“If it’s the games’ fault, then why does it seem like you’re blaming yourself?”
Gi-hun freezes, tongue-tied. The words he’s stacked up in his head drowned. He stares bewilderedly before finally finding his voice. “He.. He was a person I cared about. If you’d let someone like that turn for the worst, you wouldn’t forgive yourself too,” he huffs. His vision blurs and he finds himself looking away. “That’s why I’m here.”
A memory flashes into In-ho’s mind. The look of betrayal Junho gave him pierced more harshly than the bullet he earned. As he recalls it back, beneath that disbelief, has Junho also thought the same way? Has he taken himself accountable for not looking after his brother when it should be the other way around?
“But does he want you to be here?” He presses on, now with a tilted head to see him face to face.
“Hey, what’s your problem? You’re asking so many questions,” Gi-hun scowls, giving him a light punch.
Young-il chuckles from the obvious annoyance Gi-hun expresses. He sees him let out an exasperated sigh from the burst of laughter but he catches a smile lingering for a second after.
He finally quiets down. “Sorry about that. It’s a bad habit.”
Gi-hun drags on the banter. “Which one? You laughing at me just now or you interrogating me?”
Young-il backs away with a teasing grin. “Okay, I won’t ask too much.” He then changes his posture, back laid back with hands now resting behind him. “Still,” In-ho pursues. “I want to hear your answer.”
He repeats, “Does he want you to be here?”
Gi-hun purses his lips upon hearing it. A conclusion settles but he doesn’t think about it. He knows Sangwoo would hate him. He took his own life to ensure Gi-hun’s win. But it’s just wrong to keep the money for himself. How could he simply choose to live a good life with cash that stole the lives of so many people? Revenge is the only way. All the money they’ve sacrificed for should be handed back to them one way or another.
“No, but I know that along with everyone, they want justice.”
“Justice from what killed them.”
It leaves In-ho curious on how far Gi-hun sees people as people. He’s sure that the ones he’s here for wouldn’t do the same. It’s his ego that holds him back. Perhaps that race horse comparison really hit a nerve at him, likely because he knows how it feels to be on the other end of the line. Does it bother him that much?
In-ho continues to wonder about the unusual allure Gi-hun has on him. It’s sickening, he’s never met someone so opposite to him. Yet that becomes the exact reason why he can’t take his eyes off him. Two sides of the same coin, that’s what they are.
He chooses his words carefully. “I’m not one that gives the best words of comfort but.. I don’t think you’re supposed to take responsibility for what’s happened.” He places his hand by the man’s shoulder.
“People change, Gi-hun. And that’s something out of your control.”
He grits his teeth. He’s wrong, he doesn’t know. He wasn’t there. “You don’t understand. You haven’t seen what I’ve gone through. I had so many chances to save him. To save them–”
“And they had choices too,” In-ho cuts him off, squeezing the grip on his shoulder.
He goes silent, anger rises but it doesn’t feel sensible. Thus, he lets the man continue.
He lets go, leaving his arm limp between them. With a voice he hopes to be convincing, In-ho concludes, “It just so happens that they didn’t choose to be saved.”
Gi-hun breaks eye contact. He finds his fingers digging his palms to suppress his agitation. ”What do you know?” He’s mad at the way he sounds so sure. Young-il always does somehow. As if there’s something he sees that Gi-hun couldn’t. But his ears listen still, despite his persistence of thinking he’s wrong. He finds the man interesting in a way he feels that there’s more to him to uncover, and a late night conversation like this just feels like the right time to do so.
Gi-hun continues to stare ahead but he remains attentive to the companion beside him. He sees the way his body pauses before finally breathes out whatever doubts that tied his tongue.
“I have a brother,” Young-il starts. “We’ve always looked out for each other but well… something happened,” he smiles thinly. He can’t seem to look at Gi-hun so he merely follows his gaze, looking down on the floor that faintly reflects them.
The gunshot rings in his head and the wound close to his heart aches. He finds his palm already travelling to it, soothening it to subside the pain.
He purses his lips as he grunts. “Let’s just say he doesn’t like me being here.”
Gi-hun perks up. A potential string of hope glimmers visibly in his widened eyes. “So he knows? Does he know about this game? Is he searching for us now?” he probes.
Young-il only gives him an apologetic smile. “Not quite. I didn’t want to trouble him even more so I made sure he wouldn’t find me here.”
He finally meets the eyes of the man he’s somehow been avoiding and notices the way it carries something that In-ho doesn’t like, almost like pity. The way Gi-hun approaches all his selfish exploitations differently stirs something in him. He doesn’t say anything but In-ho refuses to acknowledge the silent consolation.
“Ahh, if anything, he’s better off looking after my wife if anything happens to me.”
Right. He’s Young-il. He attempts to put his story straight.
He turns the tables,“Wouldn’t you do the same?”
Gi-hun’s eyebrows rise at the sudden turn. He thinks about it a little. It wasn’t anything eventful, he slipped in and out of this game so easily. “No one ever knew when I joined this game before. I just left.”
“Someone was probably looking for you then, being gone abruptly and all.” Other than the necessary background checking and monitoring, In-ho never really went out of his way putting every player under constant surveillance upon agreeing to join. The life they decided to leave behind never really mattered to him. So given his lack of knowledge, his pique of interest isn’t fully a facade. He feels the need to know even the tiniest bits of the kind of man he used to be.
Gi-hun lets out a pitiful chuckle as he recalls the memories that seemed to have happened so long ago. “Doubt it. She probably thought I was off gambling and fighting thugs.”
“She?”
“My mom. She probably cursed how much of an incompetent son she had — the son that went away without a word and left her to die alone,” he mumbles bitterly. The pain of seeing his mom that passed away so quietly and unknowingly couldn’t compare. He was tired, alone, dirty, and he wanted nothing but her after that hell of a week he’s had. But fate was so cruel that even they took her away, the only light that directed him to home.
Gi-hun chokes back a sob, “I don’t want to lose any more people.” He turns to his companion, fierce and almost striking. “Young-il, I’ll make sure you get out of here and see your wife.”
Something twists inside of In-ho. The look Gi-hun gives him is exactly like the face he’s detested. The one that wears nothing but will that’s solid as steel. The one he’s as willing to shatter. But this time, it catches him the same way his breath gets stuck in his throat.
In-ho realizes he doesn’t hate it. He likes it. He likes that hope dancing in his eyes. He likes it so much it gives him more reason to tear it apart.
“I’m here, Gi-hun. I’ll make sure we end this."
In-ho may be full of lies but that at least that was the truth.
He can almost taste the words Gi-hun decides to leave at the tip of his tongue. Even with his mouth barely agape, his emotions still find a way to slither out of his chest. Like radio static, it travels to reach the other man and In-ho feels the need to speak for them.
"Together?"
Gi-hun inches closer. "Together.”