Chapter Text
Endless dates crossed off from his calandar, awaiting the day efforts led to an answer. He had seen the recruiter once, undoubtedly he'd show up again. And so it happened.
In the beginning, Gi-hun had nothing but vain hope to cling to, the same way trauma clung to his features ever since he won. Part of him tried to turn away, but he had been shattered and pieced back a new man. New isn't always great. He mourns the old and familiar. But he has to honour the shadows he now carries.
After clues started coming in, Gi-hun gained more determination. Three years served him well, otherwise he wouldn't stand this prepared before club HDH.
Whatever awaited, he had gone over the plan countlessly, every angle was covered.
Curiosity stirred as a pink soldier once again led the way. What he didn't expect? Being faced with a speaking piggybank as he sat in the limousine. Pathetic. Mockery dressed as luxury, the game following despite format. From what he vaguely recalls, the last time he was here, blindfolded and whatnot, the so-called Front Man was at least present.
Come what may, Gi-hun was sure to make the most out of it. As the two exchanged sarcastic remarks, the man found himself lost in the conversation with a scalding heat creeping up his throat.
Hwang In-ho was sitting upright in the front of the vehicle, separated by tinted glass. While Gi-hun's feelings only became more obvious through his words, Inho was nothing but amused, perhaps endeared. He had long admitted that Player 456 was one interesting individual, standing out until the end.
After his departure, the Frontman kept a close eye on Gi-hun, slightly interfering at times. The recrutier's presence at the airport that day had been a mere tease, nowhere near an incite to such chess match. It's not everyday a winner digs that tracker out, let alone in a public bathroom.
Part of him was intrigued, how a man with so much ahead, walks back down this road. Player 456 was a puzzle he couldn't yet solve, challenging each one of his ideologies.
In the midst of his action, Gi-hun had forgotten
how scheming the system he was up against could be. So, with the limousine still moving and all of his allies took down, he pulled out his gun, wishing to gain leverage. Hope was draining from him with each shot failing against the bulletproof window.
His last resolve lay plainly: 𝘗𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦.
Voice steady, betraying nothing of his mental turmoil. Wouldn't want to disappoint with such underwhelming ending.
It happens quicker than he can process. Fumes beginning to fill up the air: he blames his first experience on being clueless, second on not caring and this reckless action on Sae-byeok. Sat idly in one of the beds, explaining how her knife found its way into the games.
Expecting about anything, as the years had let him ponder, Gi-hun found the need to prepare for such outcome.
He inhales no more than once, drowsy enough to calm down and put on his act of unconsciousness.
𝘉𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, Gi-hun thinks, now an opponent rather than a pawn.