Chapter Text
"You two have an extremely important mission, the most important mission on this island. Not only are your lives at stake, but the fate of this island depends on you." The pink guards watched their boss pacing back and forth in the nursery as he gave a monologue about the importance of their work. They hoped they were really getting a raise. "You have to understand the importance of the task I’m assigning to you, and that choosing you was not an easy job. I still believe you are incompetent, but you are, at this moment, my best option, my only option, unfortunately."
It wasn’t unusual to see their leader without his mask or his usual monochromatic outfit, which, if you asked the two present guards, they would tell you it seemed exaggerated. When the games weren’t running, the boss used to stroll around the facilities in civilian clothes, as casual as his personality allowed. But what was rare was seeing him in the state he was in now; he wore sweatpants, an oversized black t-shirt, although it was supposed to be plain without any print, a dried purple paint stain decorated part of his chest area. Not only was his hair not perfectly combed back as usual, but a total disaster, as if he hadn't bothered to brush it in days, and more than that, as if he had run his hand through it in frustration multiple times. The guards had seen this man stand in front of VIPs without even flinching at their presence, they had seen him put bullets in the skulls of traitors, they had seen him strangle men and snap their necks as if they were just simple celery sticks. He was one of the most powerful and intimidating man they knew, the way he paced in front of them like a trapped cat was utterly uncharacteristic.
Behind him, they could see Gi-hun-ssi. That man had kept himself away from anything that had to do with the organization or the games. However, by direct orders from his boss, all the soldiers were obliged to follow his wishes, even if that went against the leader's own. Gi-hun was a good boss, more patient than the Frontman, he sat with them at the cafeteria to talk, and even asked them about their birthdays or their families. It was a pleasant contrast to the cold man who stood in the control room. Additionally, Gi-hun had never killed anyone just because they had overheated a baby bottle.
In the older man's arms, the guards could barely see a bundle wrapped in a green blanket, the child's black hair barely visible from where they stood. It was clear he was asleep. When awake, he was a whirlwind, even worse than dealing with 456 people, worse than dealing with his father when something unexpected happened during the games, even worse than when his dad tried to take over the operation and started a rebellion in the player's room that not only caused the deaths of many of his comrades but also resulted in the Leader withdrawing special punctuality bonuses and the cookies in the cafeteria. But right now, in his dad's arms, the sound of his calm breathing was barely audible over the footsteps of his father, who kept pacing back and forth. If they had said this was the same child who, just the day before, had forced all the soldiers to play Green Light/Red Light with him in the yard—without anyone having to die, thank heaven—they probably wouldn't have believed it. Here, asleep in his dad's arms, he didn't seem like the boss' son, he didn't seem like the child who almost brought down the entire organization with his tears, he didn't seem like the spoiled child they were used to see.
Both soldiers were so absorbed in admiring the tranquility of Mini Boss that they had completely lost track of what their boss was saying. Anyway, they were almost sure their boss was only two minutes away from total madness.
"That's why, I need you to take care of Min-ho while Gi-hun and I take a nap."
WHAT!?
Now, both soldiers were completely sure their boss had lost his mind. Their bodies tensed and their throats went dry as they tried to swallow past the knot that had formed. They felt like their whole lives flashed before their eyes. They didn't know what was worse: that their boss had gone totally crazy allowing someone other than himself, Gi-hun, or his brother to take care of the child, or the simple fact that he had gone crazy enough to ask them to take care of the child. The child, the one who, if he said one of the soldiers didn't please him, it would be the last time they saw that soldier on the island (and they still didn't want to ask the boss what happened to them; some things are better left unknown), the same child who had been found climbing the bunks in the players' room as if it were an amusement park, or that time they had found him sitting on the boss' couch drinking a glass of milk while watching a cartoon about a bluey dog (or something like that), and his father, the most intimidating man on the island, was sitting on the floor, analyzing the footage of the latest games on the tiny screen of his cellphone. And don't even mention the day they found him on the tug-war platform; no one talks about that day.
Now they definitely deserved a raise.
"What?" Guard 015 spoke, his voice distant, barely a whisper distorted by the mask's modulator.
"You'll take care of Min-ho." In-ho turned around, extending his arms to Gi-hun, a silent request. When the older man placed the child in his arms, both soldiers saw a brief smile, which quickly faded as In-ho turned back to face them. "It shouldn't be a problem." In-ho walked past the soldiers to carefully place the child in the crib. "He's already eaten, he shouldn't be hungry for another two hours, which means he shouldn't cry. If he's hungry, his food should be prepared in the kitchen, he loves guksu. When he eats guksu, he doesn't cry. He can let you know when he needs to go to the bathroom, so he shouldn't cry. His clothes are clean, which makes him comfortable, and when he's comfortable, he doesn't cry. He should wake up from his nap in about 20 minutes, rested, and when he rests, nobody cries. If he wakes up, play with him, playing never makes him cry." Both soldiers swallowed hard as they looked from the infant in the crib to their leader and back. The threat was clear.
In-ho smiled as he watched his son sleep in the crib, wearing the green tracksuit with the number 457 on the front. He took a moment to appreciate the sleeping child before getting up and refocusing on the soldiers.
"If he cries, if he even sobs, or if it's just a small, silent tear..." He paused, standing in front of them, his gaze serious, his dark and intimidating eyes piercing. "You will pay for it, dearly. Understood?" Both soldiers nodded their heads. "Guard Circle 015 and Circle 026, understood?" He repeated.
"Yes, sir," they replied in unison, earning a smile from their leader, a smile very different from the ones directed at his son or his husband.
"Excellent. See you in a few hours."
Gi-hun passed by them, only to approach the crib. He bent over the child and gave Min-ho a small kiss on the forehead, causing him to stir slightly. Gi-hun smiled before standing back up. His gaze turned to the guards who still hadn't moved, and the look in Gi-hun’s eyes was something they had never seen before—more raw, colder, far more intimidating than the boss' own. He didn't say a word as he walked past them, approached In-ho, took his hand, and together they left to their room.
Just as In-ho had mentioned, 25 minutes after the leader and Gi-hun had gone to their room, Min-ho began to wake up. First, it was the subtle movement of his little hands, which started to curl into tiny fists. Then came the slight change in his breathing. He slowly opened his eyes, scanning the room quickly before his heavy eyelids closed again. He tried once more, and this time his eyes stayed open. His lost gaze wandered around the room. The guards were already standing next to his crib, not wanting the infant to cry because no one was there when he regained consciousness. His hair stuck to his forehead, and his usually rebellious black hair, once perfectly combed, now had tangles behind his ears, slightly stuck to his head from sweat. He remained lying in his crib, still processing his return to the real world as the sleep fog slowly faded.
Both guards were fascinated by the scene. Mini boss was absurdly adorable, and even more so now that he was looking at them with those big black eyes. Sometimes, he looked so much like their leader that it was incredible to see those features perfectly combined with Gi-hun’s, so relaxed. They wondered if that was what the boss looked like when he was a child.
"Hey, Mini boss." One of the guards finally had the courage to speak. Min-ho focused his eyes on him indifferently, not yet interested in the world around him. —Did you sleep well? Are you hungry? Do you need to go to the bathroom? Do you want to play, or would you prefer we change your clothes?— The guard bombarded him with questions that Min-ho barely processed. He raised his arms to rub his eyes, attempting to shake off the last remnants of sleep as he pushed himself to sit up.
He had a small mark from the bedsheet fabric on his left cheek.
"Appa?" Min-ho removed his hands from his eyes and, for the first time since waking up, focused his eyes on the guards next to him.
"Oh, he’s asleep, just like your father." Min-ho tilted his head, as if pondering what sleep meant, trying to figure out a riddle. When he found nothing odd in the guard's statement, he raised his arms towards them.
Guard 015 picked him up under his armpits to lift him out of the crib. They knew this process was unnecessary— they'd seen the boss go crazy with the child because no matter how high the crib's bars were, Min-ho always found a way to jump over them. He'd once said that this determination and rebellion definitely came from his appa. One day, he got tired of sending engineers to raise the bars higher and accepted his defeat— if his son wanted to escape the crib, he would do it, and it was better that the bars weren't too high to avoid injury. The guard gently placed him on the ground.
"Play?" Min-ho looked at both soldiers, who were watching him from a safe distance, still in standing position, fearing that if they touched him, he would start crying.
"Um… Yes, of course, what do you want to play?"
"Jegi!" Min-ho smiled.
The soldiers remained with the child the whole time, like constant shadows while he switched from jegi to ddakji, then grabbed other toys from his chest and played with them for 10 minutes before getting bored and moving on to the next one. Sometimes one of the guards sat beside him and played, and other times, they simply watched him until Min-ho, with a frown very similar to his father's, grabbed one of their gloved hands and forced them to play with him. At one point, he even asked one of the soldiers to carry him on his back like a horse. They definitely deserved a raise.
Min-ho was far too energetic for a child his age, possibly because he was surrounded by adults in pink overalls all day, or perhaps the confinement on the island played a role. What they blamed most was that if the child wanted to play in one of the game rooms, he was allowed to. Or if he wanted something, even if it meant traveling to Seoul to get it, they had to get it for him. There was nothing In-ho could deny him, and Min-ho knew it well. Gi-hun was usually less permissive with him.
"I want Kimchi." After 10 minutes Min-ho asked one of the soldiers who was sitting on the floor with the child on his lap.
"But... You have guksu, you love guksu. Don’t you want guksu?" Min-ho shook his head.
"Kimchi." He repeated.
"But the kimchi might take another half hour. Don’t you want guksu?" The soldier repeated, praying Mini boss would accept the offer.
"Kimchi." Min-ho separated the syllables as if he thought the soldier was just dumb and wasn't understanding him. "I want Kimchi."
"Eeh... 015." Guard 026 called his partner's attention.
"What?" The soldier glanced at his partner, who simply pointed towards Min-ho. He couldn't see the other guard's face but was sure it had a look of total fear underneath the mask. 015 looked over at Min-ho.
The child was pouting, on the verge of breaking down. 015 paled under his mask.
"Okay, okay." 015 hurriedly said. "We'll make sure they prepare Kimchi, Mini boss." As if by magic, Min-ho’s expression changed.
"Thank you!" He smiled, taking a small car in his hand and continuing to play with it, rolling it over the soldier's mask.
That had been too close, too close. The guards glanced at the clock on the wall of the cafeteria— an hour and a half had already passed since the leader and Gi-hun-ssi had gone to sleep. They couldn't take much longer to wake up, right? They refocused their attention on Min-ho, who was eating his freshly prepared kimchi. They had made sure it was at the perfect temperature, had served him apple juice, and even offered to feed him themselves. Fortunately, the infant refused, taking the spoon himself. Like his father, Min-ho was left-handed.
If there was one thing to know about Mini boss, it was that he was probably the cleanest child to ever exist. Like any child, of course, he got dirty, but he couldn't stand staying dirty for too long. He couldn't tolerate a stain on his clothes, the discomfort of dirt on his hands or face, and what he hated most: any food stains on his clothes. So, when Min-ho, in his childlike clumsiness, failed to bring his juice glass to his lips and caused a mess on his clothes, the shock made him drop the glass, which hit the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. Min-ho looked at his clothes, now ruined with kimchi and juice stains, his chin damp from the spill. He clumsily wiped his sleeve over the area in an attempt to clean himself, but this only made it worse. Min-ho looked up, not focusing on anyone in particular, instinctively searching for his father, who wasn't there. His eyes began to fill with tears as his face scrunched up in a frown.
Before he could start crying from the discomfort, both guards had already picked him up in their arms and showed him a change of clothes. They carefully removed his sweatshirt and small white shirt, which had the large number "457" on it, quickly but meticulously cleaned him with wet towels, and before he could even think about shedding the first tear, Min-ho was fully dressed in new clothes.
He smiled happily as he climbed down from the chair where they had placed him after the drama, stretching out his hand to grab one of the guard's hands.
"Train." Min-ho asked, looking at the soldiers. Both sighed in relief, happy to have avoided another disaster.
Min-ho was back in the nursery, sitting next to his little toy train. The tracks could be removed and rearranged to form different paths. It had a tunnel, a small station, and even a lever to switch the tracks. The guards were relaxed. The child was clean, satisfied with his kimchi, and had already gone to the bathroom. Nothing could go wrong.
Until everything went wrong.
They noticed the train was moving slower and slower, struggling to move forward. The more wagons Min-ho attached, the slower it became. They had prepared the battery change, just as they had already prepared a change of clothes when Min-ho was eating his kimchi. So, nothing could go wrong.
When the train finally stopped moving, Guard 026 took Min-ho to distract him while Guard 015 grabbed the train and began changing the batteries.
It all happened so quickly, too quickly that they weren’t even sure how it occurred. The train slipped from his hands, and he tried to catch it in mid-air, but between his nervousness and clumsiness, he only managed to push it farther away. The train hit the floor with a loud noise, a sound that seemed louder than it should have in the room's silence. The little chimney fell off upon impact, landing at Min-ho's feet. When Mini boss looked at the now-broken piece of his train, nothing in the world could stop the oncoming storm. His face barely made a pout before he burst into tears.
He started to cry. No, not crying; he was shouting. Shouting with tears in his eyes. These weren't small sobs or tiny tears; they were screams full of emotion.
Both guards crouched beside him, trying to calm him down, showing him more toys, trying to get him to play Ddakji with them, even offering to play Green Light/Red Light again, trying to explain that the broken piece could be glued back together. But Min-ho refused to listen. Both guards tried to pull him close to their chests to muffle the sound of his shouts, but every time they tried, Min-ho pushed them away with his little arms.
The guards had already accepted that this was their end. There was no way to stop this. There was no way Min-ho wouldn't appear in front of In-ho, tears in his eyes, holding the broken train in his arms, telling him what had happened. There was no way this would go unnoticed. They thought that maybe, if they left right now, they could make it to the boats and escape from the island and more important, from the child's parents.
But just as they had decided that running was the best option, the door to the room slammed open. Both guards stood up, turning to face their fate. But it wasn't the Frontman standing there. It was something worse. Something much worse.
Gi-hun, with messy hair, a pillow mark on his right side, his shirt on inside out, showing he had put it on in a hurry, his eyes—still half-closed from sleep—were dark, cold, filled with hatred. The guards thought they had never seen him like this, not even a few years ago when he had been kneeling in front of the boss, who had pointed a gun at him after his failed rebellion. Gi-hun looked both of them over with those eyes. They felt truly intimidated—no one had ever looked at them like that, not even the boss. And honestly, at that moment, they would have preferred it was the Frontman standing there instead of Gi-hun. The older man's gaze shifted from them to his son, who was already running towards him with outstretched arms.
Gi-hun bent down to receive his son in his arms, and when Min-ho collided to him, he buried his face in his dad's neck. His cries finally quieted, but tears still streamed down his face, accompanied by soft whimpers. Gi-hun placed his hand on his son's head, stroking his black hair, pulling him even closer while whispering comforting words and giving him small kisses on his temple and cheeks. It was a beautiful scene. Maybe the guards would have let out an "awww" if it weren't for the whole situation they were in.
Gi-hun stood up, and his gaze shifted from his son to them. His eyes, which only seconds ago had conveyed love, now radiated ferocity.
"I'll deal with you later."
And just like that, Gi-hun, still holding Min-ho in his arms, left the room, leaving the two guards behind in the hallway, still holding the train.
Would it be too late to try to escape?