Archive of Our Own ^beta

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‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

MEN LIKE NAM-GYU were easy to wrap around your finger.

Clingy and blindsided when they were feeling lustful towards someone, so long as you said what they wanted to hear, they were all yours. Seo-Yun had mastered that a few years ago now, when she met Nam-Gyu at Club Pentagon. All it’d taken was a few lines, some sweet talking, and he’d been hooked. What they had wasn’t love, or even lust. At least, not on Seo-Yun’s side. She figured he probably had something, though definitely not love - Something that was easily tamped down every time she got drunk or high with him. 

If there was anyone he was in love with, it wasn’t the girl who accidentally spilled her drink on him four years ago. Their relationship was complicated, but in no way was it romance. It was a consistent give-and-take, a series of motions that satiated each other’s hunger for something better. Nam-Gyu always wanted a better high, more expensive drugs, the newest thing on the market. Seo-Yun wanted control over her fate. She wanted love. She wanted to want nothing.

Sharing substances helped the both of them in their own fucked up ways. It helped him in his journey towards new experiences, towards fun. It helped her try to forget the empty hole that swallowed her up inside.

The man beside Seo-Yun groaned as he slipped the needle out of his arm. The scarred flesh it’d just dug into momentarily was painted with red as the entry wound bled, though the color was quickly wiped away. She eyed his face, then the needle. There were many things she’d been open to doing, but she’d said many times that she drew the line at needles. And surprisingly, Nam-Gyu had respected that. Once more, he respected it tonight.

“I feel like it’d burn, wouldn’t it?” She asks the question as Nam-Gyu pulls his sleeve down, her face contorting into a grimace when his hand drops the needle on her coffee table. He just shrugs, reaching up to pluck Seo-Yun’s lit cigarette from her fingers. “Y’know, you don’t have to inject it. You could snort it. I know you’re not against that.” Nam-Gyu sticks the cigarette in his mouth, but he doesn’t inhale from it. He just waits for a response.

A loophole. Seo-Yun didn’t think he’d be smart enough to find a loophole. And he was technically right. She wasn’t going to do it, though. Something about such a hard drug being put into her body made her squeamish. It’s different than rolling on molly or snorting a few lines. “I think I’ll just stick with my soju and cigarettes.” 

She didn’t feel like getting high tonight, anyway.

Instead, Seo-Yun chose to keep company with the bottle hanging from her hand. Irritated at the thievery of her cigarette, she grabbed her pack from the coffee table - Which Nam-Gyu could’ve easily done - And slid a cigarette out of it. The scene in front of the two was definitely something to see. A chipped coffee table, covered in all the proof of their nightly happenings. A now empty needle, beside an overflowing ashtray. Empty soju bottles were scattered across the surface, alongside a small baggy of powder and a rolled-up 1,000 won note. 

Nam-Gyu had insisted on getting high. Seo-Yun said she wouldn’t, and she stuck by that sentiment. She watched as he did, knowing well that he would soon end up passed out across her couch. As irritating as the thought of that was, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence - Quite the opposite, really. Nam-Gyu’s housing situation was always fluctuating, and he seemed to prefer couch-hopping. So long as he stayed on the couch, she couldn’t find it in herself to send him off to the streets. Really, where would he go? Probably to that insufferable rapper he was close to, but even then… 

Seo-Yun wasn’t in love with Nam-Gyu. Not even close. But she was connected to him, in her own odd way. He wasn’t just a friend, but he wasn’t quite a lover. He wasn’t a brother. He was just what she needed him to be at any point in time. And that’s what she was for him, too. Their relationship was, at surface level, purely transactional. To anyone who cared to look a bit deeper, though, it was clear that there was a level of care and love to it. Just a type that was too complex to properly describe.

She groaned in agitation as she searched across the coffee table for her lighter, regretfully coming up empty. Her stolen cigarette still dangled from Nam-Gyu’s lips, seemingly forgotten by the man. In the few minutes she’d spent searching for her lighter, his drugs had seemed to kick in. It was rare that Nam-Gyu wanted a downer rather than an upper, but he battled internal demons, that much was obvious. On nights it was bad, he’d show up at her doorstep with the heavy stuff. It pushed away whatever haunted him so terribly that he tossed and turned on the couch some nights, yelling for it to stop.

Their relationship was impersonal. He didn’t know about her childhood, and she didn’t know about his. Everyone had things they wanted to run from. Whatever it was that he was running from, she wasn’t going to ask. Seo-Yun was just going to give him somewhere to run to in his race against his mind.

“Whatever you did with my lighter, I’ll kill you for when you’re sober again.” Seo-Yun snatches the burning cigarette from Nam-Gyu’s mouth as she mutters the words. Her fingers curl around the unlit one, tossing it in the general direction of the coffee table. She takes a swig of her soju, completely disregarding the “proper” way to drink it. Who cares? Seo-Yun’s the only one drinking it, so it hardly matters. The cigarette is lifted to her lips, and she finishes it off as she sits there beside Nam-Gyu. At this point he’s basically a noodle - A bit of a hyperbole, but whatever - just sitting on his side of the couch and staring up at the ceiling. It’s not even all that clear whether he’s awake or asleep. At second glance, he’s awake, though just barely. His lips move a bit, as though he’s talking, though no sound comes out.

It always weirds Seo-Yun out when he’s like this. On the rare nights that uppers and alcohol can’t numb whatever he’s struggling with and he turns to the heavy stuff, it’s surreal to watch him do this. The way Nam-Gyu’s body goes limp, just sitting there and going through whatever he’s going through. Surely downers just make it worse, but at least they help him sleep. 

Her dark eyes sweep over his limp figure. His fingers twitch on his lap, absentmindedly scratching at the fabric of his dark jeans. His breathing is slow, and he struggles to keep his eyes open as he mouths his words at the ceiling. It’s like watching a goddamn zombie. The worst thing she’s ever seen, she thinks.

Seo-Yun never knew her parents. Orphaned at birth, she was tossed from foster home to foster home until aging out of the system a bit ago. It’d been hard to find out anything about the people who left her at the hospital, since they hadn’t even given birth there. The best theory that hospital staff had was that her mother gave birth, walked into the hospital, handed the baby over to the first person she saw, and then left. It was a bit of a miracle that she’d survived, really. Born premature and to unknown parents, Seo-Yun drew a shitty hand at life from the very beginning.

Through the years, information was picked up here and there. Her mother’s name was Sun-Hye, and her father’s was Hyung-Min. Her father was a drug addict - Heroin, despite its high costs and difficulty to obtain. Exactly what Nam-Gyu needed to make everything okay on the bad nights. And who knew where her mother was. No one knew. She left that hospital after handing her baby over and was never seen again, pretty much. Her father died not long after her birth, and her mother seemed to have disappeared into the abyss.

On nights Nam-Gyu is there on her doorstop, needle in hand, Seo-Yun wonders if this was what her father had been like. If her mom had done her a favor by giving her away. Would she have grown up with a zombie dad? One who sat on the couch, mouthing words into nothingness, while she sat and watched? 

Seo-Yun stands from the couch with a sigh. These nights were a reprieve for her friend, but a hellscape for her. It just always made her think, always made her wonder what her life would have been like if things were different. More specifically, what she would’ve had to see if she hadn’t been handed off to a stranger just two hours after her birth, screaming from hunger and cold. Her mom hadn’t even wrapped her in a blanket. 

Nam-Gyu doesn’t even turn to look at her as she slams her unfinished soju bottle onto the coffee table. The bottles around it shake, but none fall. They quickly still their motions, and she leaves them there. She’ll clean it off soon, which is what she said every night. Soon will come eventually. But soon is not tonight. 

“‘Night, Nam.” Seo-Yun eyes the blanket she keeps on the back of the couch for a moment, debating within herself. They weren’t friends. But she did care. She grabs the blanket and tosses it onto Nam-Gyu’s lap, knowing well that if she didn’t do it then he would be stuck sleeping in the cold - Her apartment had no heat, it wasn’t something she could afford. He was far too much of a man-baby to help himself, to take the blanket and cover himself. Especially when he was high on something. So she was stuck caring for him, as agitating as it was. But he would always do the same back.

The girl’s apartment wasn’t much at all. A studio apartment - everything except the bathroom just out in the open. The kitchenette area was almost directly behind the couch, and to the left of the couch was her messy bed, pushed against the far wall. It only took a few steps for her body to reach her bed, and she collapsed onto it almost instantly,  not even caring about the fact she still remained in her street clothes. Far too exhausted to get back up to change, she just laid there, staring up at the ceiling. 

Nam-Gyu did not reciprocate her goodnight. He probably was hardly even conscious, if at all. The only thing reassuring her that he hadn’t overdosed was the low sound of his slow breathing. Seo-Yun positions herself as comfortably as she can around the clothes and other clutter piled onto her bed, drifting off to the sound of her friend’s breathing. 

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‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

LATE NIGHTS AT CLUB PENTAGON were not new to Seo-Yun. In fact, they were far from it. She didn’t have an official job, the job market in South Korea was far too competitive, and she didn’t have a college degree. She made more helping Nam-Gyu push drugs than she would if she got a real job, anyways. So this worked for her. She was happy stuffing her pockets full of drugs of all kinds and depositing them in the waiting hands of celebrities who frequented the club.

Club Pentagon wasn’t exactly the most luxurious club in Seoul. In fact, it was far from it. There were many bigger, more popular clubs in Seoul, ones that hosted far more celebrity attendees and concerts. But Club Pentagon wasn’t a measly place, either. It was relatively popular and big, at least enough so that it could host a decent amount of B-list celebrities. Thanos, that stupid rapper friend of Nam-Gyu’s, was one of them. Although, calling them friends was a bit of an overstatement. They talked every now and then, most of their interactions consisting of Nam-Gyu looking at him with this pathetic lost puppy look in his eyes, and Nam-Gyu insisted on being the specific person to deliver Thanos’ drugs.

It was weird, but whatever. Seo-Yun was one of four people that helped acquire and deliver drugs to the celebrity guests of the clubs - unofficially, of course - And she was more than happy to never interact with that man. Thanos was loud, obnoxious, and cocky. He’d flirted with her on more than one occasion, sending odd remarks and compliments her way, but she ignored it every time. He was nothing if not determined, though. Even tonight, as she entered the VIP area of the club - which pretty much just hosted celebrities and very rich people - He was calling señorita after her.

She ignored him easily, just doing her job and discreetly delivering the drugs to the proper people. Nam-Gyu tended to the purple-haired man, an odd look on his face as Thanos’ eyes burned holes into her back. She knew he didn’t really want her - men like him didn’t want for anything. He was simply frustrated that she was, most likely, the only woman to ever really reject his affection. Typically women go weak-kneed the second their eyes land on him. It takes hardly any convincing to get them back home and in his bed. Seo-Yun wasn’t like that, though. 

Something she’d wanted ever since she was a child was love. Losing both parents as soon as she was born left her craving love, willing to accept it from anyone willing to give it. Unstable, impermanent foster homes. Edgy older boys in school and in the orphanage. Her social workers. Mostly just emotionally unavailable boys at school. Ones who had no clue what they wanted in life, who took whatever she was willing to give, which was everything. 

She’d done that for a long time. Trying to seek love and comfort from the wrong types of people, the types who had no love to give. And Seo-Yun learned quickly that the next best thing was simply attention. Being desired was just as good as being loved, and it was a much easier goal to reach. Something that would satiate her need for love for just a moment as a man called after her and she provided the vaguest details she possibly could. Mystery kept them coming back for more. 

She learned how to figure out what they wanted and give them just enough to be satisfied but still come back for it again and again. She learned how to wrap them around her finger with just one sentence, just one look. Nam-Gyu had stuck around the longest - Many men get bored after a bit. But he was just as desperate as she was, so they were able to satiate each other. Drugs for Nam-Gyu, attention for Seo-Yun.

Even still, there was always that want at the back of her mind, the craving for a real, intimate connection. Seo-Yun navigated the world pretty much alone before Nam-Gyu came along, and their dynamic was not similar to a true friendship. They were all the other had, and ultimately, they were dependent on each other to some degree. But it was not love and it was not an intimate connection like what Seo-Yun wanted. None of the men she associated herself with would be capable of giving her the connection she’s craved her entire life.

Working with shady individuals was easy, something she’d done to get by for a long time. It just wasn’t going to give her the life she wanted, which was just fine. Seo-Yun had held a shitty hand in life ever since the beginning, and she’d come to terms with the fact that she would be unable to get the life she wanted a long time ago. That didn’t mean she didn’t mourn it. It didn’t mean she didn’t feel resentment as men called after her with nothing but lust in their voices. And it didn’t mean she didn’t fall asleep at night to images of being held and cared for in a way she never had before.

With the drugs delivered, Seo-Yun exits out of the backdoor of the VIP area of the club to emerge in the back alleyway. Tonight was one of her later working nights - It was 3 AM and she’d just gotten done. Or so she assumed, at least. Being an unofficial employee of the club meant being the one to actually go out and acquire the product while the actual workers of Club Pentagon did their real, official jobs. And it also meant working very on-call, never knowing if her shift was really done. Just when it always seemed like everyone was tended to, another customer would make a demand. She would be expected to give in to their every beck and call, doing exactly as commanded like a fucking dog.

She fishes around in her pockets for her pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and placing it between her lips. Then she searches again, only for a moment, before her fingers wrap around her lighter. As soon as Nam-Gyu had woken up today, she’d hounded on him about it. They managed to find it slung under the couch, somehow. Seo-Yun had just been too tired to complain, but she vowed never to let Nam-Gyu borrow her lighter again.

She flicks it on, watching the flame dance in the darkness of the alley. Any normal person, especially a young girl, would feel terrified at the premise of loitering around in a dark alley at 3 AM. No streetlights in sight, just an overflowing dumpster and the sound of cars distantly driving down streets. Seo-Yun was used to this, though. She didn’t look like much, but she was able to put up a decent fight for herself - at least just to get away. And this was her environment. Dark alleys, shady neighborhoods, all things untrustworthy and crime-filled. From the moment she’d turned 16, Seo-Yun had familiarized herself with bad environments and illegal ways of making money.

She lights her cigarette, going to pocket the lighter again when the alley door swings open with a squeak. The noise echoes through the alleyway, effectively running off any boogeymen hiding in the shadows, and she turns to face whoever just exited the club. It’s Nam-Gyu, one hand reaching up to push a greasy strand of hair from his face. As he looks at her, he still has the odd look on his face. Something that almost seems to border on resentment or jealousy. Something she’d never seen on his face before.

He reaches into her pocket wordlessly, taking one of her cigarettes. Nam-Gyu just holds it in his fingers for a moment, spinning it around his pointer with his thumb and middle finger. Seo-Yun blows smoke out into the night air as Nam-Gyu holds the cigarette up to the dark sky, eyeing the silhouette of it against the moon, which pokes overtop of the building beside the club. It’s a restaurant, maybe. Or a clothing store? Whatever. Seo-Yun can’t remember and she doesn’t quite care about it. 

“What do you have going on with Thanos?” Nam-Gyu finally asks, holding his free hand out to her expectantly. Begrudgingly, and despite her promises, she drops the lighter into his waiting hand. She’s watching him intently as he lights his cigarette and puffs at it, fingernail digging into the plastic side of the lighter. And she mulls over his question. The answer? Nothing. Legitimately, nothing. Though many girls would fall head-over-heels for the charismatic rapper, Seo-Yun just wants to do her job and go home every night - Get high or drunk with Nam-Gyu, pass out on her couch or her bed or in the bathtub, and do it all over again tomorrow.

“The rapping asshole who keeps speaking Spanish to me? Even though we’re in South Korea?” She scoffs as she asks it, voice entirely monotone and sarcastic. Why does Nam-Gyu care anyways? He’s never seemed to care much about any other man who calls after her. “You know I don’t date, Nam.” Even though I would very much like to.

Seo-Yun’s free hand rests against one of her thighs, finger tapping in increments of five as she awaits a response. Nam-Gyu suddenly caring about her love life is uncharacteristic, to say the least. There’s tension in the air as he doesn’t respond for a moment, his jaw tensing and slacking as he thinks over a response. Seo-Yun tries to stay patient, to let him have his time to respond, but she can’t help but think this is stupid. Her love life, or lack thereof, is none of his business. And he has never cared before now, never brought anything up or even gave her this weird look.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Nam-Gyu mutters bitterly, fingers clenching in their grip on his cigarette. Seo-Yun turns away from him, suddenly angry at whatever possessed him to suddenly care about who pursues her. She tries to read him, tries to understand if it’s her he’s mad at or if it’s Thanos, and she determines it must be Thanos. Because even with Nam-Gyu’s bitterness, his anger towards her is always something more specific. When he’s mad at her, it’s explosive and then suddenly apologetic. Nam-Gyu’s anger towards Seo-Yun happens quickly and out of nowhere, and it ends just the same. It’s not this growing bitterness and resentment. But why would he be so mad at Thanos about this? Those pieces still aren’t connecting.

She bites at her lip, puffing at her burning cigarette a few times as she thinks and thinks. Nam-Gyu’s slowly growing to seeth beside her, something in his mind convincing him of something that is definitely nowhere near true. “Nothing is happening, or has ever happened. I ignore him completely.” Seo-Yun tries her best to extinguish his anger. He just laughs, no humor in the noise, and throws his cigarette on the ground. He doesn’t even stomp it out, just walks back into the club, the door slamming forcefully behind him. 

Seo-Yun has this terrible feeling for a moment that she’s messed up. But then she remembers all the fights they’ve had over their time of knowing each other. This happens at least once a week, one of them picking away at something the other has done, and even when it’s Seo-Yun doing it, she always ends up feeling like this during it. Empty and terrified and stuck thinking this is it, he’s leaving, he hates her. 

She knows, rationally, that they always come back to each other. They will never fully separate regardless of how bad the argument is. Nam-Gyu is just irrationally angry and in his head on a good day, let alone a bad one, which was what today probably was. He will cool down and come running back with a handful of pills to help mull out Seo-Yun’s anger and fear of abandonment, and when they come down from the high, it will have been like nothing ever happened.

Seo-Yun snubs her cigarette out against the gritty wall of the alley, and then she walks home. She falls into a dreamless sleep as soon as she’s able to sprawl out on her bed. And when Nam-Gyu knocks on her door at 6 AM, fingers clutching tightly around a bottle of pills, Seo-Yun lets him enter.

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‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

THEY DON’T TALK ABOUT IT. That’s just simply something the two don’t do. They never talk about it. They just move on. 

Seo-Yun pointedly focuses on anything but the fight last night as she clumsily heats up ramyeon for the two of them. Nam-Gyu sleeps heavily on the couch, letting out obnoxious snores every now and then. He’ll wake up soon to the smell of the noodles, but for now he’s practically dead to the world, allowing Seo-Yun time to push their argument from her mind. It’d been stupid and, moreso, confusing. 

She curses as hot water spills from the top of the ramyeon container she’s clutching, the liquid burning across the back of her hand and dripping onto the countertop. A stack of overdue bills resting there is stained as a few drops of water land on them, smearing the words on them. Bright red OVERDUE ’s, sums of money that Seo-Yun will never have. She pushes the bills across the counter with her forearm before setting the containers down and yanking her burnt hand away. The skin is flushed bright red and there’s a stinging throb at the surface as she wipes the water onto her shirt.

Nam-Gyu lets out a groan from behind her, letting her know that the smell of food has woken him up. It’s an ungodly hour to wake up, 5 PM, but relatively early for him. Working late nights means sleeping all day, and the cycle repeats. Lucky for her, Seo-Yun is off tonight - Although that’s always subject to change in her line of work. And perhaps it’s not so lucky, anyways… Her apartment has been without AC for a long time, and it being the middle of summer makes things terribly miserable. Even now, in her crop-top and underwear - A terribly inappropriate outfit to wear around a male, but who cares - She finds herself sweating.

“Food?” Nam-Gyu asks as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, fingers tapping at the cushions of the couch. Seo-Yun nods, blowing cool air onto the burned skin of her hand. The hot air in the apartment is sure as hell not helping with the hot, stinging pain. “Ramyeon.” She responds simply, hands reaching out to grasp at the noodle cups. She then turns and pads across the threshold until she reaches the couch, bending to place both cups on the messy coffee table. Loose, scattered pills have added to the mess, a show of their drug adventures from the previous night.

They serve as the only reminder of any of the events of the previous night. 

Nam-Gyu reaches for his cup instantly, not a care in the world about the heat of it still as his fingers grasp at the chopsticks and he goes to town. He slurps at the noodles obnoxiously, sighing out breathes between bites as the heat of the food burns at his mouth. He’s never had much patience at all, especially not when it comes to food. Seo-Yun just rolls her eyes and walks off to her bed. She searches through the blankets for her phone, the only entertainment she has in her ratty apartment.

“Nice ass.” Nam-Gyu’s words are muffled around the noodles in his mouth, and Seo-Yun just rolls her eyes at his vulgarity. It’s not a surprise from him, honestly. Nam-Gyu’s never exactly been the most respectful of guys, but she could still tolerate it better from him than she could from Thanos. At least she actually knew Nam-Gyu, and it was clearly a joke, if a distasteful one. She smiles to herself as her fingers come into contact with her phone, and it has enough battery to last for her to at least scroll while she eats! Yay, her.

“I can see why Thanos likes it.” And there it is again. Seo-Yun huffs out a sigh, agitation instantly rising within her as she hears that jackass’ name again. She was already exasperated about this, and they’d only fought about it once. Although that seemed to be turning into twice, now. She pads back over to the couch, anger just under her skin as she grabs her cup of ramyeon. The warmth of it is no comfort to the already overheated skin of her palm, her burnt hand clutching at her phone. She figured it was safest to keep it away from more heat. 

“What is it with you and that douchebag?” She mutters, more bite to the question than intended, but it thoroughly gets her point across. And hopefully Nam-Gyu will drop this now that he sees just how pissed it really makes her. She’s already not a fan of Thanos, and now she’s being taunted or interrogated or whatever the fuck about him liking her? Obviously she’s less than happy about it. 

Seo-Yun deposits her almost-dead phone on the coffee table, forgetting about it as she tries to find something to tamp down her anger. Her hand moves to instead grasp at one of the loose pills on the table, and she brings it up to her face. Honestly? Seo-Yun has no clue what it is. But she knows it mulled her out last night, made her docile and numb, and she needs to tamp down her anger right now. Into her mouth it goes, and as soon as it’s down, she starts slurping at her noodles.

Her mind wanders as she waits for the pill to kick in. She tries to think of why Nam-Gyu was so fixated on this, but her mind was coming up blank. Seo-Yun hardly paid any attention to his interactions with Thanos - In fact, she hardly paid any attention to Thanos at all. But there have obviously been times she’s caught glance of them in her peripherals, or as she looked across a room. So she tries to think if there was anything weird there at all. Anything to hint about why this was causing so much anger.

Well… There’s always been a look, it seems. In the few memories she has of the two together, there was always this look Nam-Gyu had in his eyes. Something unplaceable, something heated and intense but indescribable. But Thanos never seemed to return it, always seeming rather uninterested. When Thanos was in the club, too, Nam-Gyu seemed to follow him like a lost puppy. But that was unremarkable, really. Nam-Gyu followed everyone like a lost puppy. And he was always oddly touchy with people. That’s just how he was. But there was no real explanation for the look in his eyes. He sure as hell didn’t look at her like that.

“He’s not- Just-” Nam-Gyu trips over his words, setting his now empty ramyeon cup on the coffee table. His head makes its way into his hands, fingers tugging at greasy strands, and Seo-Yun scrunches her nose in disgust. “Wash your damn hair. Jesus.” It wasn’t unusual for his hair to be greasy, but it was worse today. She goes back to slurping at her noodles, eyes flitting down at her phone screen as it lights up with a notification. 

“ What does he fucking see in you?” Her eyes flick back up to him as he stands, and his hands drop away from his hair. Seo-Yun just shrugs, unbothered as his anger seems to rise, because this is really not that serious. And the pill’s kicking in. And she’s telling the truth, really. She has no clue what he sees, because he’s a semi-popular wrapper with hot girls dangling off his arms every time he leaves the club, and she’s a drug runner who couldn’t give a shit about him. 

“Why don’t you ask him? I dunno. I’ve never even looked straight at him, man.” Seo-Yun sighs, relieved as the pill fully tamps down her emotions and allows her to feel the blissful nothingness that she needs to enjoy today. Her one day off and Nam-Gyu’s picking a fight with her over a man she hates. “Can you not pick a fight with me in my apartment that I let you stay in for free?” Her head falls back against the back of the couch. She discards her cup of ramyeon onto the coffee table as well, now that it’s relatively empty and she’s no longer all that hungry. 

Seo-Yun lazily points in the general direction of the only other room in the house, the bathroom. “Shower. You fucking stink.” It’s a lie, but they both know he’s not going anywhere until his shift later today, and she needs some time away from his anger… Jealousy? Whatever it is that’s making him freak out over an annoying, dirty-mouthed rapper who only sings about sex. And probably only has sex. Nam-Gyu mutters something under his breath, but he does walk away, at least. Although, he doesn’t make for the bathroom. He approaches her bedroom area, digging around on the bedside table until he comes up with a stray cigarette and a lighter. And honestly, Seo-Yun couldn’t give a shit anymore. She just watches as he walks over to the window, opens it, and starts smoking.

Nam-Gyu’s presence is seriously starting to get on her nerves, though. She doubts that these arguments have any real substance to them, that there’s any feelings behind his words. The two spend so much time together, sharing an apartment and both working for Club Pentagon, that they get tired of each other quick. It happens about once a month. They realize they’re agitated at spending so much time together, so they have petty arguments and then Nam-Gyu runs off to stay with his rapper. He doesn’t stay away for long, though. Thanos’ companionship is not the same as Seo-Yun’s, and the three of them know that. 

She pushes herself off of the couch, grimacing as her shirt sticks to her back. No AC in the apartment subsequently means sweating all. The. Time. It’s absolutely miserable, but what can be done? It’s a hazard of being poor. Shitty landlord who won’t fix it, no money to do it yourself. Seo-Yun pads over to her bed and she just grabs some miscellaneous clothes piled on top of it. Whether they’re hers or Nam-Gyu’s hardly even matter - He’s relatively small and skinny, so it’s not like his clothes seem obnoxiously large on her. He doesn’t really care, either, because when he’s not sleeping, he’s at work. And when he’s not at work, he’s sleeping. Hardly any time to use his actually good clothes, so Seo-Yun pretty much has free reign.

“Where you going?” The words come from him as she changes, sliding into the shorts and discarding her sweaty crop top for the black t-shirt she found, merch for some singer that he likes and she’s never heard of. “I dunno. Anywhere. You’re driving me crazy.” There’s no real bite to it as she says it, just sarcasm and exasperation, even despite the pill she’d taken. Seo-Yun approaches the front door, slipping her shoes on as she awaits a response, but none comes. She simply just slips out the door then, taking a deep breath as the door clicks shut behind her.

God, he’s really getting on her damn nerves.

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‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

THE STREETS OF SEOUL are busy and crowded as Seo-Yun attempts to make her way through the chaos of it. She has no destination, no plans of where to go. She just needed to get away, needed to be away from the agitating voice of Nam-Gyu, prodding at her for something that wasn’t even real or true. She half-wanted to find that annoying fucking rapper and do something to prove Nam-Gyu’s suspicions true. He had a unique way of pissing her off, a way that made her think in ways that were completely irrational and against her better judgement. And today he had managed to do that, so here she was, walking past bustling businesses and loud groups of friends and seriously thinking of hooking up with Thanos out of spite.

She does not end up doing that. Her morals are much stronger than to do something she knows well that she would hate and regret out of pure spite. Besides, if she really wanted to get back at Nam-Gyu, fighting dirty was not the way to go. Seo-Yun had learned early on in knowing him that when she goes low, he goes much, much lower. Nam-Gyu isn’t a bad guy, but he is petty. He’s not afraid to be the biggest dick pretty much ever if he has to be. 

Seo-Yun ends up at a street food stand instead, acquiring herself some red bean paste bread that she definitely did not have the money for. Really, she’d found herself at the stand accidentally, and she bought something more so out of obligation. The last thing she wanted was to seem rude for accidentally loitering around the stand and not buying anything. At least the food was cheap, and the fish shape of it was cute, too. Worth the money spent, even if it was a very big waste of money for someone who had literally nothing to her name.

Well. She’d spent money on worse things. Fish bread was probably a better investment than white powder.

Seo-Yun walks slowly down the sidewalk, taking small bites from her bread every now and then. She savors the earthy flavor of the red bean paste and the bread to compliment it as she walks, just people watching the entire time. That was something she was good at. People watching. It was one of her favorite pastimes, something that made her feel not so alone in the shitty world. People watching gave her a chance to sit and take in the fact that everyone’s lives were probably not all that different from hers, even the lives of the rich businessmen she passes. It was fun to watch people and just admire the way they lived their lives. 

The way the couple just in front of her seem exhausted, but they still take the time to hold hands as they walk down the street. The little boy weaving through foot traffic and the handful of won he clutches in his chubby hand. The exasperated doting mother beside her trying desperately to get her crying baby to calm down. It was chaotic, but entertaining, and in its own way, calming. More than anything, it was something to take her mind off of her own life.

Creating ideas in her head about the people she walked past was much more entertaining than thinking about the pile of bills on the countertop back home, words now smudged with ramen water. It was more entertaining than remembering that Nam-Gyu is staying in her home rent-free, and they just had the dumbest fight of all time. People watching gave Seo-Yun a chance to live a different life in her head, if only for a moment, as she imagined what the lives of those she saw may be. Things were much easier to stomach that way.

Despite her attempts to forget the argument, she can’t. Her mind spirals until she’s remembering all the fights the two have had over the past few years of being friends. Surprisingly, this wasn’t the only fight over a man. Nam-Gyu’s had a few jealous spurts over the years, but Seo-Yun had always assumed it was because of her, not the man. Although, maybe it’s the other way around? Now that she was really thinking about it, the anger always seemed to be directed at the men he was jealous about, he’d just taken it out on her.

 They’d had other fights as well, of course. The worst had been just a few months into their friendship - He’d taken one of her credit cards, withdrawn all the money, and went on a bender. Seo-Yun should’ve ended it there, but she had taken pity on him, even though she had no clue why. Maybe because the two had quickly formed their dependent dynamic and were unable to leave each other no matter what at this point.

He’d promised to pay it off, and he did. She didn’t know how he managed to get the money and she didn’t want to know. He’d paid her back and that was that. It never happened again.

She physically shakes her head, trying to remove every thought of all the fights they’d ever had from her head. Despite the pill she’d taken, anxiety still managed to gnaw at her, the idea that Nam-Gyu would be gone from her apartment when she came back. Seo-Yun was angry at him right now, but she didn’t want to lose him. They were both fucked up in their own little ways, and that’s why they stayed together. He was a dick, but she was a bitch sometimes, and it evened out. So it really didn’t matter what he did to be an asshole, because she always did something back to make it okay. And vice-versa.

Seo-Yun finds herself in a park as she finishes off her bread. As soon as she finds an empty bench and plops herself down on it, she comes to find she’d forgotten her phone at her apartment. Goddamnit. Not like it’d do much use, though. It was pretty close to dead earlier, so it’s probably fully gone now. With a huff, Seo-Yun slides down on the bench until she’s just about hanging off of the front of it, allowing her to tilt her head back against the hard backing of the bench. It’s very uncomfortable - The way it digs into her neck through her hair and the sun beats brightly against her eyelids as they slide closed - But whatever. Still better than being in her hot ass apartment with Nam-Gyu’s bitterness.

With every intention of taking a nap or really just doing anything to pass the time, Seo-Yun crosses her arms over her chest and just listens to the people milling about around her. This time of day, it’s mostly people commuting from work. The conversation is pretty much just business-talk as busy employees walk home, though are still on the phone with coworkers or bosses. Every now and then a child runs past followed by an anxious mother trying to keep up with them.

And then there’s a tap on her shoulder. She jolts up, instinctively grabbing for her phone to call Nam-Gyu to come save her from whatever creep that just tapped her shoulder - But her phone’s at her apartment. Seo-Yun’s hand comes into contact with her empty pocket while her other hand rushes out to hurriedly push the man away before she can even process what he looks like or who he might be. It’s just some businessman, she realizes, and her heartbeat - Which she hadn’t even realized was raised - Starts to slow at the revelation. 

But… It’s some businessman. What could he possibly want with her? He doesn’t appear to be a creep, though, because he steps away before her outstretched hand can even come into contact with him. He sends her this odd smirk, one eye slightly wider than the other as he does so, and the smirk is so cocky that it makes her feel sick. There’s something entirely off putting about him, but he seems relatively harmless, so she just cocks an eyebrow at him as she takes him in entirely. He’s well-dressed, in nicely pressed grey suit and slicked back hair. He clutches his briefcase casually but securely, not unlike any other businessman walking past on their daily commutes.

There's still that question. Why did he approach her? The only answer Seo-Yun could possibly have is that he’d mistaken her for someone homeless. She did look like she was sleeping on a bench, after all. “Sorry, sir. I’m not homeless. If you wanna help someone, I think that man over there looks like he could-” She tries to clear up the possible confusion, but the man standing in front of her holds his hand up, quickly silencing her. Agitation is rising within her, and it’s clear now that the pill is not working or has already worn off, because the agitation is rising fast. 

“Chae Seo-Yun.”

Her blood runs cold as soon as he says her name. Instantly, a million possibilities runs through Seo-Yun’s head. The biggest one is that he’s a debt collector and he’s here to kill her, sell her organs to make up what she owes. It’s a solid possibility. She’s in a decent amount of debt of all sorts - Bills, credit cards, and drug dealers. The dealers would be the most likely option for why a debt collector would come sniffing around for her, but any could be a possibility. All she knows is this man approached her randomly and knows her name and there’s something deeply wrong with him based off of just his vibe. She just nods in response, pushing herself to stand from the bench. Maybe she can make a run for it.

“Thirty years old. No official occupation, but you make money through drug pushing for Club Pentagon.” As he lists off more and more information about her, a sense of panic quickly begins to overtake Seo-Yun’s being. She looks around hurriedly and anxiously, making sure no one around them is paying attention to overhear this as he lists this deeply personal information out. The man’s annoyingly cocky smirk just seems to grow as it becomes clearer and clearer that he has her pegged, knows everything about her. She’s just trying to figure out how he fucking knows all of this and who he is. What he wants from her.

“Would you like to play a game?” The businessman quickly changes the subject, and Seo-Yun’s eyebrow shoots up skeptically once more. A game? What is this guy’s deal? He holds up his briefcase just as she’s about to interrogate him about this game, setting it on the bench and popping it open. Her eyes widen as they land on one side, filled to the brim with cash, then the other with a bunch of ddakji pieces in it. 

“Just a simple game of Ddakji. If you win, I give you 100,000 won. If I win, you give me 100,000 won. Sound fair?” His words are smooth as he speaks, but there’s still that hint of smugness beneath them. He doesn’t even wait for her to consent to the game before he pulls two ddakji pieces out, one red and one blue. Seo-Yun’s gaze latches onto his hand as he moves to hold the pieces up in front of her. She’s half tempted to just bolt, now, because this seems way too fucking good to be true. But the money’s right there… And it’s definitely real. The worst thing that can happen is he doesn’t give her the money, right? Or it’s fake. 

She nods. The man’s smirk grows into a real smile. He holds the ddakji out to her. “Red or blue?” Seo-Yun has no real preference, she just grabs one. It happens to be the red one. As he throws his on the ground, she suddenly remembers she does not have 100,000 won, she’d just used the last of her money on that stupid bread and even that hadn’t been 100,000 won. But she was good at ddakji. It was going to be fine.

Seo-Yun throws her piece as hard as she can, but the businessman’s piece hardly budges. He bends down to pick up his ddakji, not hesitating before throwing it with precision. It flips Seo-Yun’s instantly. She freezes then, feeling hot all over as the embarrassment kicks in. She doesn’t even have 10,000 won to her name, let alone 100,000. That’s exactly what she says to him, hands trying to find purchase in the bottom of the t-shirt she’d stolen from Nam-Gyu. Seo-Yun expects the guy to scream about wasting his time, but his smile just seems to grow. It’s a crooked, evil look. Not a hint of warmth anywhere in it. Although there’s… Some sick look of pleasure in his eyes as he opens his mouth to respond.

“Don’t worry! You can just pay with your body.” He says it like a reassurance, but it just makes her feel even hotter all over. Not out of lust or anything adjacent, either. This man may be physically attractive, but there was something deeply wrong with him if he’s approaching people on the streets to play ddakji with him just to have sex. He also has this terrible look in his eyes that, mingled with the pleasure of her loss, is villainous and sickening. Her agitation is building into anger very quickly, anger at the situation and the man and Nam-Gyu and her circumstances and the fact the pill isn’t fucking working like it should.

“What?!” It comes out of Seo-Yun’s mouth so loudly that the poor homeless man on the next bench over perks his head up to look at the two. She can’t find it within herself to be embarrassed at potentially raising a scene. This man just basically coerced her into having sex with him! And it wasn’t happening, mind you. It’s not fucking happening. “I’m not- I’m not fucking you! What’s wrong with-” She’s cut off for the second time in their interaction as there’s an intense stinging feeling across her face.

She’s just been slapped. Hard. It happens so fast that she’s not even able to process it until the man’s bending down to pick up their ddakji pieces, leaving her to clutch pitifully at her burning cheek as the aftermath stinging hits her. The sound that leaves her as she fully realizes what he’s just done is a mix of a gasp and a scoff, and she has every intention to start cussing him out. The man just pushes her red ddakji into her free hand, prompting her to start the next round. 

For some reason, she does. He wins that round, and then the one after it, and then the one after that. He wins most of the rounds. By the end of it, Seo-Yun has 200,000 won in her hand to show for all of it, alongside a stinging cheek that is sure to be bruised tomorrow. The businessman hardly has a care in the world as he packs his things back up. Seo-Yun just watches him, wondering how he’s so unbothered after slapping the shit out of her more times than she can count and only giving her 200,000 won for her troubles. He’s digging around in his suit pocket when she chalks up that it must just be some weird kink, and though it’s terrible to drag random unconsenting people into it, at least she’s getting money for it.

She finally turns and is just about to walk away when he calls miss out to her. Honestly, with the money in her hand, she can’t find herself to be nearly as irritated when she’s forced to turn to face him again. “There are more games like this. You play and earn money for winning.” And the offer is… Tempting, to say the least. But the throbbing in her cheek is telling her otherwise. It’s telling her to turn the other way and go home with her 200,000 won. It’s not much, but it can pay off a few of the growing number of bills and credit card debts. 

Although… It’s just games. Play games. Make money. That sounds pretty easy. Especially if they’re children’s games like ddakji. So what if she gets slapped for losing? It’ll probably be more than the 200,000 won she has in her hands right now, and even what she has now was worth the slapping. The man has that twisted look in his eyes, though, paired with that smug smirk, and Seo-Yun doesn’t want to say yes when she knows then he will have considered himself as having won and she has given in to whatever weird perversions he has in his mind.

He pulls out a business card, taking a step toward her to hand it to her. And she takes it, despite her better judgement, because the promise of money is winning her over more than the idea of him thinking he’s lost and the fact she’s going to get slapped a lot more times. Seo-Yun eyes the side of it facing up. It’s simple, just a brown card with three shapes on it - A circle, a triangle, and a square. “What the hell is this?” Seo-Yun looks up as she asks it, but the man is gone. Fucking weird.

She flips the card over, looking back down at it. Just a phone number. No information about these games. With a huff, she pockets the card and the money before making the walk back home.

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‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

THE ODD INTERACTION weighs Seo-Yun down through the rest of the day and into the night. With Nam-Gyu at work, there’s little to distract her from the forming bruise on her cheek and the business card in her pocket. Although she’d tried to take her mind off of it by chucking the shorts somewhere random in her apartment and replacing them with something much more comfortable, the card invades every thought she attempts to have. Well, the interaction invades her thoughts, and the card comes close after. The money she’d won was also still stashed away with the business card, practically burning a hole in her pocket despite the shorts having been tossed off to the corner.

She scrolls on her phone, which is now fully charged. The time passes by slowly, so slowly. And all she can think about is the 200,000 won in her shorts pocket. The business card with the phone number and symbols on it. What do the symbols mean? She tries to google it, but no results come up. It’s pretty vague, so that’s to be expected. Whatever Seo-Yun had managed to get herself involved in must be top secret, with the vague logo and minimalist card. Also the fact that the businessman earlier hadn’t even attempted to introduce himself, but he knew everything about her. Definitely some shady business, but the question was - What shady business?

The only real answer to her question would come with calling the number on the card. But that could, and probably would, just open a whole new can of shady, unsafe worms. The offer had been tantalizing - Play games, make money. It would be easy. But there was a catch, there had to be. No one would just be giving out money to people for playing games - presumably children’s games, assuming the businessman had played ddakji with Seo-Yun earlier that day. Even his game had come at a price, a loss would lead to being slapped. Surely these games, at probably a much larger scale and a larger prize, would have some sort of punishment for losing. 

Although… Surely it couldn’t be anything too terrible? They were recruiting in broad daylight, so there was a lack of secrecy. And there was no way they would be able to get away with any sort of large-scale arrangement full of danger. Maybe these games would be basically the same thing as what Seo-Yun had engaged in previously that day. Win, get money. Lose, get slapped? If the punishment was anything more severe, she could easily just go to the police about it. It would be fine, it had to be. This wasn’t some underground gambling ring, but even then, she wasn’t exactly opposed to that. At this point, any way to make money was desired, and physical danger wasn’t that big of an issue. So long as she lived through it, she could take just about anything. Perks of having grown up in unstable foster families and around cruel orphanage children, Seo-Yun can withstand just about anything.

She was smart, too. Not the smartest person in the world or anything like that, but relatively clever. She would probably be able to figure this all out and therefore be at an advantage, even if not at much of one. She would be fine. 

Coming to her decision, Seo-Yun stands from the couch. She searches around the darkness of her apartment - honestly just too lazy to turn the lights on - for her discarded shorts. It’s late by now, darkness having overtaken the world now that the moon’s risen to replace the sun. Nam-Gyu’s been off at work for a few hours, and it’s doubtful he’ll return anytime soon. Seo-Yun is just grateful to have not received a text from him yet, asking if she can come do a run for them. It would be more money in her pocket, but she could really use a day off. Besides, that 200,000 won would cover her next few shifts. She doesn’t need anything more right now than some time to herself. Spending so much time with her only friend was starting to get to her.

Finally, she finds the shorts. Seo-Yun instantly bends down to grab them, hand diving into the back pocket for the card and money. She’s blinded now by the possibility of making enough money to at least pay off her debts, even if it doesn’t give her a chance of getting a better apartment or job. Being debtless is enough for her. All second-thoughts are thrown out the window as she stares happily at the 200,000 won. That’s just the beginning of what she could possibly earn in these games, whatever they may be.

Her cheek stings to serve as a momentary reminder of what these games could possibly mean as she dials the number into her phone. She hasn’t even moved from where she’s crouched beside the heap of shorts, too focused on getting herself into the games. The man hadn’t mentioned whether there were only a certain number of spots or if they were only recruiting just enough people to fill the spots. She wanted to make sure she’d get in, just in case there were a lot of people fighting for minimal spots, so she didn’t want to hesitate any longer. 

As the call begins to ring, Seo-Yun lifts her phone to her face. Her eyes flutter closed, the cool metal of her phone screen slightly relieving against the heat still resting in her cheek. It doesn’t take long for someone to pick up, but the voice is not that of the businessman from earlier. They get right to the point. “If you wish to participate, please state your name and date of birth.”

Seo-Yun huffs out a sigh, screwing her eyes shut. She could just hang up the phone right now. She should just hang up the phone right now. 

“Chae Seo-Yun. February 28, 1994.”

There’s silence on the other end of the phone, only for a moment. Although, for that brief moment, Seo-Yun thinks that the person may have hung up. Uncertainty weighs heavily in her stomach, even now that she’s convinced herself to do this. Maybe that should be a sign. Maybe she should hang up. She doesn’t.

The person speaks again, providing a meeting spot and time. And then the line goes dead. Another sigh leaves her mouth as she pulls her phone away from her ear, reality really hitting her. There’s no going back now.

The meeting date isn’t until Halloween. At least she has a few months to prepare, mentally and physically. But that also means she has a few months of overthinking this decision, wishing she hadn’t agreed. She could just not show up to the meeting spot, but she doesn’t know the potential consequences to that decision. She has to commit to this now, even if she’s seriously wishing she had just chucked the card in the trash.

She finds her way back onto the couch, head hanging over the coffee table as she arranges powder into a neat, thin line. It’s muscle memory, the arranging of it and then the snorting of it, as well. It hits her quickly, the energy and the euphoria, and she comes to not regret her decision as much anymore.

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

SEO-YUN HAS NO CLUE what time it is when Nam-Gyu finally stumbles into the apartment. All she knows is the sun is just rising, rays of light streaming in through the window that, quite honestly, she has no coverage for. She’s in her curled-up, half-awake state on the couch when he approaches her and puts a hand on her shoulder, shakes her awake with no gentleness at all in the gesture. It’s clear he’s tired and has had a shitty night at work, but he’s not angry. He’s just irritated, which he always is when he gets off work, and she has no clue why. Seo-Yun just knows that Nam-Gyu is the type of person who, when upset, likes to ensure that everyone else is upset alongside him.

It never works for her, but she tries to just stay out of his way when he’s angry so that they don’t have to fight. She especially does so now, almost immediately jolting up upon being shaken awake. The last thing she wants right now is to argue for the third day in a row about something completely fucking idiotic. But Nam-Gyu doesn’t do anything other than let out a huff as she takes longer than he would like to push herself off of the couch. Fine. He’s agitated. Whatever. She prefers sleeping on her actual bed, anyways. Sometimes she just happens to fall asleep on the couch, most often after getting high or drunk, and that’s what had happened last night. She’d gotten high, danced away her energy as the drugs made the idea of winning the upcoming games something tantalizing and celebration-worthy, and then collapsed on the couch in a heap when said drugs had finally worn off. 

It’s Nam-Gyu’s turn to collapse onto the couch, and he does so without even changing out of his work clothes. It was more common for him to end up sleeping in his work clothes than in actual pajamas, anyways. Really, that was common for the both of them. Exhausted after extremely late hours, they never really cared what they ended up sleeping in, so long as they were sleeping. 

Seo-Yun takes a step towards her bed, but a sudden hand on her wrist stops her dead in her tracks. Of course, the only person that could be grabbing her right now would be Nam-Gyu, but that’s extremely uncharacteristic of him. Well, it was only slightly uncharacteristic. He was a pretty clingy, touchy person with those he liked the company of. That just so happened to include Seo-Yun. But it was odd because he was clearly exhausted, fighting off sleep as his eyelids drooped, but he was still trying to get her attention over something. 

She turns to face him, and she’s sure that her confusion is clear on her face. He’s in a bad mood and tired, typically in this sort of state he just wants everyone to steer clear of him. He lifts his head a bit from where it’s perched on the cushions, eyes narrowing as he stares up at her face. The two stay like that for a moment, just looking at each other, until his hand leaves her wrist and waves her to crouch down. Odd as the request is, she does it without thinking. 

They’re at almost eye level when Nam-Gyu’s narrowed eyes go from something akin to confusion into a more angry look. It’s then that she’s sure he’s about to pick a fight, but really, why would he? He’s the one insisting she stay here and bend down for whatever fucking reason, so if he gets pissed, she’s kicking him out. Seriously. Maybe not permanently, probably just for today, but it should still be enough for him to learn his lesson. Seo-Yun’s getting seriously sick of his fight picking now that they’re onto day three of fighting about things that are not her fault.

He doesn’t pick a fight, though. The hand that had just been waving her to crouch is now moving, fingers pressing at the bruise on her cheek. Pain shoots through her face then, a soreness that accompanies the purple and blue painting her left cheekbone. That businessman had hit her quite a few times, and clearly hadn’t held back with any of his slaps. She figured it would be fine, though. Faces heal quick and maybe the bruise would get that Thanos asshole to back down. She just didn’t expect Nam-Gyu to see it and start fucking pressing on it. 

He only does it once before he lifts his fingers enough for them to just ghost over the darkened skin. It’s an unusually light touch, something intimate and caring. It’s so out of character for him. They knew each other. They cared about each other, in their own weird ways. They did not intimately caress each other’s faces or even really show their care for each other in any physical ways. Their care for each other was shown through unspoken favors. Seo-Yun runs out of her favorite brand of soda, it’s there for her when she wakes up the next day. Nam-Gyu forgets his phone at the apartment, she’s coincidentally on her way somewhere and the club just happens to be on the way there, so she is able to bring him his phone.

They only ever show their care through little things. Not this way. This, Nam-Gyu’s fingers gently prodding at the purple of her cheek, is something far beyond their dynamic.

“What the hell happened?” Nam-Gyu’s voice is groggy, showing even more evidence of the fact he’s trying so hard to fight off his sleep. Seo-Yun’s eyes race around the world, trying pointedly to ignore the intense look in his eyes. He’s angry, but it’s not at her. It’s at the man who hurt her, even though he doesn’t know who hurt her. And she just doesn’t understand why, because this is not the way their dynamic is. No one has cared for her enough to be angry about her being harmed at the hands of someone. 

“Nothing happened. I’m fine. Go to sleep.” With that, Seo-Yun goes to stand from her crouching position. Nam-Gyu, despite laying down and fighting off sleep with intensity, grabs her face in his hand. That’s more like what she’s used to from him. Roughness and a tinge of violence, but not from him wanting to hurt her. He just doesn’t know any better way to show his emotions, and neither does she. They both grew up around violence, even if different kinds, and even if neither of them knew the circumstances the other had grown up in. 

His grip leaves her with no other choice than to stay there, crouched beside the couch. She could pull away if she really wanted to, but she knows it’s best to tell him what happened. If she doesn’t, he’ll definitely go on a week-long angry rampage. But how is Seo-Yun supposed to tell him what happened? Nam-Gyu is not going to believe that some fancy businessman walked up to her, offered to pay her to play ddakji with him, and slapped her when she lost. And he offered her a chance to play more games for money. It sounded fucking crazy, and it was crazy. 

At least Seo-Yun’s good at thinking on the spot. Good at coming up with little white-lie stories that she laid on thick and easy. “Some guy tried to mug me. He got really mad when he saw I had nothing on me, so he roughed me up a little. I’m fine, though. Seriously.” Nam-Gyu’s hand loosens up a bit as he goes to process her bullshit explanation, providing her with enough of an opportunity to tug her face from his grasp. Before he can grab her again, Seo-Yun stands, though she doesn’t move from beside the couch.

“Roughed you up?” The anger’s dripping off of his words now. He’s surely just catastrophizing, thinking of the worst that could possibly happen to a pretty girl on the streets of Seoul when a guy tries to rob her. As quickly as she can, she shakes her head at the implications of his question. Seo-Yun just points a finger at the bruise on her face, trying to reinforce that this is all that happened, because it’s true. This is the worst that happened to her. “He slapped me. Like really hard. Nothing else.” And he hardly seems to want to take that as an answer, but his exhaustion is clearly starting to take over now. 

“Y’know how hard you gotta slap someone to bruise?” It’s unclear if his question is an actual question or just sarcasm. The tiredness in his voice is masking any possible tone, leaving Seo-Yun to try to figure it out as his eyes finally drift shut. In actuality, no, she has no clue. Apparently it’s as hard as that businessman was slapping her, and you have to do it about ten times. Or maybe she just bruised easily. Nam-Gyu doesn’t even await an answer, although she’s sure that’s simply due to his tiredness. He’s snoring in no time, but this conversation isn’t over and Seo-Yun knows that. He’s going to interrogate her even more about it when he wakes up later, even though she doesn’t know why he cares. Although then again, she’d never come home with a bruise before, not once. Maybe it simply wasn’t that this wasn’t his method of caring, maybe this was just an uncrossed bridge they had now stumbled upon.

It doesn’t matter. She stumbles across her apartment, collapsing onto her bed as soon as she’s there. The time passes in spurts of tossing and turning until she’s finally up for the day around 2 PM. Even then, Seo-Yun scrolls on her phone for hours and ignores the hunger eating away at her stomach. She wants that money she earned yesterday to go towards AC for her apartment, so food can wait. 

When Nam-Gyu wakes up a few hours later, his line of questioning regarding the bruise bombards her. Seo-Yun’s just attempting to live her fucking life and relish in the post-high euphoria, but Nam-Gyu doesn’t give her a moment’s relief. He’s on her within a minute, hands grabbing at her face and forcing her to look up at him. Her body’s still sitting on her bed, back against the wall and thumb frozen over the heart on an Instagram post. Nam-Gyu’s oddly tender hold on her face has left her in complete shock, even after it had already happened earlier that day. The first time, it was easy to blame on his exhaustion. Now, Seo-Yun was afraid their relationship was something more than just a transactional friendship - That maybe somewhere along the way the two had grown to care for each other in a way similar to a true friendship, or maybe even siblings.

It was especially odd because, well, Nam-Gyu was… Distant from people, to say the least. He only ever seemed to care about himself, with little regard for the consequences of his actions unless they directly affected him. So this care, this tenderness that he was showing, was uncharacteristic. 

He turns her face so that her bruised cheek is fully facing him, giving him a better look at the vaguely hand-shaped blotch of purple and blue painting Seo-Yun’s skin. She doesn’t even try to resist, oddly mesmerized by the way he’s being so careful in his handling of her. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost think Nam-Gyu was in love with her. Seo-Yun knew he wasn’t, though. He made comments every now and then, almost sounding like he was hitting on her, but they always seemed impersonal. Like he was trying to put on a facade. 

Hell, they’d gone on a date not long after they first met, one that Nam-Gyu had asked her on as her method of “repayment” for spilling her drink on him. They got as far as his apartment after the date before he had gotten something almost akin to cold-feet and abruptly just told her to go home. The switchup had been random and fucking weird, because he’d been so cocky and silver-tongued during the entire date and then suddenly, as soon as they were doing anything physical, he “remembered he had plans.”

Needless to say, it’s very doubtful that Nam-Gyu is anywhere close to being in love with her.

“He got you good, yeah.” Nam-Gyu turns her face a bit more to get a better look at the bruise. One of his fingers grazes against it and Seo-Yun jolts, the soreness radiating from the area sending a shock through her for a moment. “Hurts?” And at that, all Seo-Yun can do is roll her eyes and nod, full of agitation at his stupid question.

“Of course it hurts! It’s a fucking bruise.” She snaps though she doesn’t mean to, and Nam-Gyu just looks at her with empty eyes. She yanks her face from his grip, which he allows surprisingly easily, and he doesn’t grab her face again. Instead, he just stands there, staring at the dark purple bruise and the irritated look on her face. And he just shrugs.

“That fucking sucks. Put some ice on it.” As though catching himself in his moment of vulnerability, Nam-Gyu takes a step back. He’s instantly blank faced and emotionless, hands shoving into the pockets of his ruffled work pants as he turns to walk away. Seo-Yun says nothing, simply watching him walk towards the bathroom. She’s not a baby and she doesn’t need him trying to take care of her, even if it’s coming from a good place. She’s taken care of herself her entire life, she can handle a bruise.

“Can you make something to eat while I’m in the shower?” Nam-Gyu retreats into the bathroom before Seo-Yun can even process his question, leaving her with no option but to say yes. With a sigh, she pushes herself off the bed and pads into the kitchen. Ramyeon again.

Chapter Text

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JULY MERGES INTO AUGUST. Seo-Yun gets her AC fixed, although it still doesn't work that well in staving off the sweat that drips down her back as she lays in her bed. No matter how she positions herself, it's terribly uncomfortable - the way her skin sticks to her back, even with the sheets kicked away from her miserable form. She has to work later today, but for now, she's just trying to enjoy the show she has playing on Netflix. Seo-Yun's hand hovers above her face precariously, holding up her phone as best as she can while her other hand works as a pillow for her.

She groans at the strands of hair sticking to her neck, but tries to just focus on this show. Mr. Plankton. It wasn't up her usual alley - Seo-Yun preferred horror and thrillers - But she'd been seeing it all over Tik Tok, so she couldn't help herself. As hard as she tried not to fall into the Tik Tok cinematography rabbithole, it was pretty impossible not to. People online have pretty ass taste, as she's come to find, but she still falls victim to all the sad edits of things that get made. 

On episode two, she has no clue whether or not that had been a terrible idea. The plot is... Interesting, to say the least. Fun, but not what she had been expecting. From the edits, this show had seemed like a sad love story. Not what it was. Maybe it was about time to start having original thoughts and opinions about TV shows. This was the second drama she'd started that she'd seen on Tik Tok. And the first one, Daily Dose of Sunshine, had not really been her thing at all. The best part was the guy who looked weirdly like Nam-Gyu, which she had to point out every time he came on screen. Nam-Gyu got tired of it pretty damn quickly, but he still looked at her screen every time she shoved it in his face to look at the guy and his weird little round glasses.

She attempts to roll over onto her stomach, trying just about anything at this point to cool off. This must be some sort of fucking heatwave or something. Or she just has shitty AC. The latter is probably much more likely. Seo-Yun remembers when she'd just moved into this apartment, freshly eighteen and with nowhere else to go. It'd had AC then, but it was terrible. The only way to get relief back then was basically to sit right in front of one of the vents. She's afraid that may still be the case, even despite all the money she'd spent to get it fixed. She should've just bought a damn fan and used the money for one of her long overdue bills. Had Seo-Yun known the money would be practically flushed down the toilet, she would've just done that. 

"I'm fucking sweating balls, man." Seo-Yun lifts her head to eye where Nam-Gyu's strewn himself across the couch. Strands of his hair stick to his face and neck, and he fans himself down (or attempts to, at least,) very dramatically. She'd finally found the energy at some point to clear all the garbage off of the coffee table, so Nam-Gyu's phone rests there now, propped against an unopened soju bottle, playing some stupid Youtube video. At first glance, it looks like that annoying cryptocurrency guy he lost a bunch of money on. She focuses a bit more, though, and realizes it's actually someone debunking what happened with that dude. The rise, the fall, and the aftermath. 

She groans in response to his words, flopping her head back against her arm. "Yeah, dude. Me too." Nam-Gyu sighs from the couch. Seo-Yun gives up on her show, far too uncomfortable from the heat to properly focus on the goings-ons of the guy and his brain tumors. She pushes herself off the bed. Nam-Gyu leans forward to rewind whatever part of the video he's watching. Seo-Yun only realizes what part that is as she steps a bit closer to him - Where is MGCoin now? Of course he's still intent on finding that dude. She has no clue what he's gonna do to the guy - but Nam-Gyu's been salty about it ever since he was scammed a few months ago. 

She can't exactly blame him - She'd be pretty pissed if some guy said she could get rich fast, just to take all her money. But... Nam-Gyu did sort of have every chance to just not invest money he didn't have into some shady cryptocurrency. At least he didn't steal one of her credit cards again. The first time had been bad enough. 

"I thought you got the air conditioning fixed." Nam-Gyu rubs a hand over his face, sighing heavily. He rewinds the video again. The guy talking about the scandal repeats what he's already said three times now. As of the most recent reports, Lee Myung-Gi, the man behind MGCoin, was last seen on April 20, leaving a 24 hour ATM. It's suspected that he was withdrawing the money he'd scammed from his viewers. 

Seo-Yun rolls her eyes. She takes the few steps it takes to get over to the couch before swooping down and grabbing Nam-Gyu's phone. He's mid-way through reaching for it as well, probably to rewind the video once more. However, it ends up in her grasp before he can reach it. Nam-Gyu's finger remains hovering in the air as his eyes flicker up to look at where she stands beside the arm of the couch that his head rests on. "I did get it fixed. I just wasted my money, apparently. Go buy a fan if it's that terrible. Oh, right, you're poor. We're both poor." 

She swipes out of the Youtube app on his phone, pointedly ignoring the way Nam-Gyu scrambles up to grab at it in her hands. She holds it up higher, trying to work as fast as she can as she navigates to the settings and sets a parental lock on Youtube. And, for safe measures, any other app that may have information on MGCoin. Nam-Gyu finally got done harassing her about Thanos (for now, at least,) and she did not want to be listening to stupid videos about MGCoin for the next month. 

"I'll open the window. Just don't throw yourself out of it." Seo-Yun drops his phone onto his lap. He immediately scrambles for it. She's over it now. He'll find out pretty quickly that he can't do shit on there for the next twelve hours. And in the meantime, she's going to do exactly as she said - While he finds out about his new parental lock, she's opening the window behind the couch. The breeze that blows through is hardly relieving of the stagnant warmth inside the apartment, but at least it's something. Somehow it's cooler outside than it is inside, even with the AC on. She should fucking sue the company she paid to fix it.

"It's not my fault I'm poor." Nam-Gyu mutters, fingers tapping away at his phone screen in growing urgency and agitation. "Blame that MG-dick. He stole my goddamn money." There's suddenly a frustrated groan. Seo-Yun is too busy sticking her head out the window, breathing in relief and the smell of hot tteokbokki from a nearby food stand, to care much at all about the definite crisis he's having behind her. 

And then it comes. "What the fuck did you do to my fucking phone?!" He pairs it with a wordless half-shout, a noise that the people outside the window definitely heard, based on the way a few passerby stop to look up. Seo-Yun sighs, forcing herself to pull her body back into the apartment. Maybe because she's being stared at. More likely because she has an inkling that if she doesn't, the only person being thrown out the window is going to be her. At least she only lives a few stories up, but it'll still definitely break a few bones.

"I'm stopping you from fixating on that weirdo. He took your money, yeah. But what is stalking him gonna do, exactly? Especially when no one's seen him since he took everyone's money?" Seo-Yun pads into the bathroom, leaving the door open as she waits on Nam-Gyu's response. She searches around for a hairbow, humming to herself when she finds a stretched out one laying on the sink. It lays scattered amongst a dried-out eyeliner stick, a smudged black eyeshadow pan, and a tampon. Classy. Although, it is her mess. Nam-Gyu owns little bathroom products. He's not a skincare dude or anything like that. Every now and then, he paints his nails black, and he uses Seo-Yun's nail polish to do it. 

She's gotten just about tired of the heat against the back of her neck and the way her hair sticks to the skin there. Seo-Yun grabs the hairbow, gathering her hair into a somewhat-messy ponytail with one hand and stretching the hairbow over the fingers of the other. Nam-Gyu still hasn't responded once her hair is up into a ponytail, so she takes it as the end of their conversation. 

"I'll take back my money." The words are almost so quiet that Seo-Yun doubts if she truly heard them. Nam-Gyu muttered them under his breath, jaw clenched as he tried to fix the parental settings on his phone. She knew she heard it, though, and heard it right. But she couldn't help but think it was a stupid plan. "And if he's spent it all?"

"That fucker will pay me back one way or another. And Thanos." So that's what this was about. That fucking rapper. It always seemed to link back to him. Nam-Gyu always found a way to bring him up. Even before their most recent arguments, he'd had a tendency to find any way possible to bring Thanos into things. In complaining about his night at work, or just work in general, the name of the rapper spilled from his lips almost instantly - Complaints of giving him free drinks, just to be waved off like nothing. At least he wasn't picking a fight with Seo-Yun over the so-called "feelings" between her and Thanos - Things that, again, were definitely not there.

Thanos, Thanos, Thanos. 

"Are you, like, in love with that guy or something?" She exits the bathroom, hair swinging behind her as she makes her way over to the couch. Nam-Gyu looks up at her as she stands beside the couch once more, his hand gripped tightly in a claw-like grip around his phone. The hold he has on the object is so aggressive that the tips of his fingers and the knuckles on his hands are bright white, edged with pulsing redness. He's clearly taking this parental lock much more seriously than Seo-Yun had thought or intended. It's not like his phone is completely unusable, he just can't access any social media without a password for the next 12 hours. He'll be fine. This will probably be good for him.

Nam-Gyu's eyebrow raises. His head flops back against the back of the couch, free hand coming up to rub at his sweaty forehead. "What guy? Fucking MGCoin? Obviously not. How much of a stupid bi-" He abruptly cuts himself off. Seo-Yun watches on in amusement, sticking her hands in the back pockets of her jean shorts. He knows how much she hates being called a bitch, even though he calls pretty much everyone that, regardless of gender or whether he likes them. "How stupid are you?" Nam-Gyu corrects himself easily. His lips come to purse together as his hand runs up into his hair, gripping tightly at the strands that sprout from his scalp.

Seo-Yun rolls her eyes. Obviously he's not in love with MGCoin. If he was in love with MGCoin, that would be a whole new ballfield. It'd be weird and slightly concerning, considering the fact he was fucked over by that guy. Nam-Gyu was odd and dysfunctional, but so was Seo-Yun. Their relationship was not one where they cared much about the wellbeing of the other, at least not in the traditional sense. They did drugs together. She has little urge to judge his taste in men, women, or anyone in between - And that included if his taste extended onto men who severely fucked him over. However, to say it is not concerning is entirely incorrect. She can acknowledge the worrisome-ness of it while also not caring much at all.

"No, dumbass." With a sigh, Seo-Yun works her way onto the couch beside him. He scoots over easily to allow her room there, as if he really takes up that much space on the couch in the first place. "I was talking about Thanos." Although, if Nam-Gyu had interest in MGCoin, or even both of them, who was she to judge? Her taste in men had never been all that impressive, either. Seo-Yun hardly dated. She much preferred working towards the likes of men in bars or clubs, namely Club Pentagon, and getting whatever sense of love she could from them while giving them just enough to be satisfied for the evening. They never saw much more of her than a crop top or low cut dress could offer, and their hands never touched her. 

Although, there was a guy she'd dated forever ago. He was relatively decent, but the relationship was bound to fail. A cop, aspiring to become a detective, with a girl living off of crime? She broke it off, knowing well that her debt would just drag them both into a hole. He had a good opportunity, and she would never become anything with the weight of being an orphan from the day she was born. 

Nam-Gyu sputters for a moment. His face grows something that could almost be a blush if Seo-Yun wasn't sure that she knew better than that, and he seems to be speechless at the mere idea of having a crush on the man. Even still, it takes him a few minutes to work up the words to reject the concept, and when it does, she has to say that it doesn't sound all that convincing. 

"I'm not in love with Thanos. I just like his music!" Seo-Yun just giggles, the noise quickly growing into a full-grown laugh, because Nam-Gyu's statement is most definitely not the truth. In fact, it's so far from the truth that it's comedic. He's a good liar, but Seo-Yun knows him by now. She can read right through him at any point in time, regardless of how well he manages the lie or how hard he tries. She can read most people pretty well, but especially Nam-Gyu. They were almost the same person. She knew him like the back of her hand.

They were two sides of the same coin, in a sense. Both had shitty home lives and turned to drugs to cope, moving out as soon as they turned 18. Finished high school but no further schooling, requiring the both of them to seek out shitty jobs to make ends meet and try to maintain their coping mechanisms. Both of them are seeking something better, something more than their current life could provide. And, at the end of the day, both of them are highly dependent on the other. 

Both of them, also, seem to turn to entirely the wrong people.

"Just like his music, my ass. His music is trash!" A half-lie, honestly. Thanos' music is just okay. But Seo-Yun has listened to his music so much by now that she could swear her ears bleed at even the thought of listening to it, and she has had such a taste of his shitty personality that she kind-of wishes he'd throw himself off the Han River Bridge. Seo-Yun's still laughing, chest aching from the motions, when a pillow is suddenly being tossed at her. 

"Take that back! Take it back now."  Nam-Gyu holds his other pillow between his hands, his phone seeming to have been discarded now. He holds it high above his hand, ready at any moment to toss it at Seo-Yun whenever necessary. She grabs the pillow that now rests on her lap from having just been chucked at her, throwing it at Nam-Gyu before he can even process what's happened.

"Sneak attack, dumbass. Fighting 101, actually watch your opponent." She's promptly met with both pillows being tossed at her again. 

Chapter Text

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THE WARM STREET TTEOKBOKKI smells even better as Seo-Yun passes it on her way to work. She’s half-tempted to buy some, to have a somewhat proper dinner for once, but she knows well how terrible of a choice that would be. Although street food is fast to get and relatively cheap, she needs everything she has right now. Even trying to splurge for some tteokbokki is outside of her budget, despite how much she may want it. And, despite the protesting noises her stomach lets out as she passes the vender.

Nam-Gyu walks alongside her, hands in the pockets of his jeans. Her arms sway beside her, wrists brushing up against the fabric of her jean shorts every now and then. Nam-Gyu, the fucking loser, is stuck in his work uniform - all black shirt, pants, and shoes. Not much different from his usual clothing, but there’s no freedom of expression really allowed. He wears his rings, but other than that, he’s pretty neutral. The good thing about being an unofficial drug pusher for a club means wearing whatever you want. Seo-Yun enjoyed keeping her self expression. And her crop tops. Especially when it’s the middle of summer and the nights are not much better than the days.

“Excited to give Thanos free drinks all night and hardly be acknowledged?” Thanos may be a sensitive topic, or at least somewhat of one, to Nam-Gyu, but Seo-Yun still loved teasing him about it. She had ever since she realized just how much Nam-Gyu tries to impress him. Up until more recently, she’d thought it was jealousy over Thanos’ small bit of fame, or that Nam-Gyu was trying to get an inkling of the attention Thanos gets on any given day. As time has passed, though, and Nam-Gyu’s anger over Thanos’ “feelings” for Seo-Yun has grown, she’s starting to think it may be something deeper.

She never thought Nam-Gyu may be able to care for someone. Or feel anything at all for someone. He seemed to lack empathy, lack the ability to care for others. He seemed to only care for himself, how things affected him. Sure, he stayed with Seo-Yun through thick and thin, but he also seemed to have a deep fear of losing those closest to him. Of losing those he cared about.

He was an odd guy. And, overall, he hardly seemed to know what he wanted.

“Just shut up.” Nam-Gyu mutters, pairing the words with a harsh sigh. Seo-Yun breathes out a small laugh, something more akin to a giggle, and smoothes a hand over her swinging ponytail. She decided to try to make herself feel better tonight by smudging some eyeshadow over her eyelids, drawing a wing across her eyes. So far, it’s not working too well. In fact, now that the two are nearing Club Pentagon, Seo-Yun is sure it’s just going to draw her more attention from trashy men, especially Thanos. At least her bruise from the weird salesman was gone by now. It’d throbbed on her cheek for about a week and a half, and then finally faded away. Now that they were in the middle of August, it was fully gone, thank God. She’d been getting too many questions about it. As if debt collectors weren’t looking for her.

Nam-Gyu is convinced that’s what it was. Some shitty debt collectors. Ever since, he’s insisted on leaving the apartment with her if he can. As if he’d be able to do much around shady, strong groups of money lenders. Those guys were trained to beat people’s asses, to threaten them, to kill if needed. Nam-Gyu’s bony ass isn’t going to do anything more than entertain them when he swings and misses. Nothing Seo-Yun says is going to change his mind, though. He’s insistent on shadowing her everywhere possible. They’d even left for work early today so he could go with her on her drug run. 

“Oh, I’m sure it must be terrible to be ignored by your crush.” She watches as her words settle within him, as his jaw clenches and his hands bunch up into fists in his pockets. She watches as Nam-Gyu’s entire demeanor becomes tense and frustrated. Seo-Yun has no clue if rubbing salt in the wound is what’s doing it, or if it’s because she’s accusing him of having a crush. She does know that if the roles were reversed, she’d be getting the same shit from him, so sue her if she’s just speaking the truth. 

“I don’t swing that way.” That’s all he says before the two are plunged into silence. Seo-Yun just raises her eyebrow at him, but no more conversation comes from it. She decides to drop it, then, and the rest of their walk is quiet. At least, it’s quiet between the two of them. The streets of Seoul are packed and busy. Children run circles around their parents, couples hang off each other's arms, homeless people attempt to hide from police. Tired businessmen find their bar to settle into for the night. A tired looking older man smokes a cigarette outside of a convenience store, a bag full of ramyeon cups hanging off his arm as he stares intently at his phone. Cars drive quickly past the sidewalk, the air whooshing around them. 

The conversation may stop, but Seoul never does. 

Club Pentagon, similarly, does not stop. The club is booming when the two finally arrive, a line stretching far out the door and through the sidewalk by the club. Although Club Pentagon is not the busiest club, or the most popular, it still gets a pretty decent amount of traction. It definitely doesn’t have trouble staying afloat, that’s for sure. Much of that can be attributed to the rapper who so often attends the club, showing up almost every night, either on stage or in the VIP room, or both. Club Pentagon was much less of what it is now before Thanos began attending. Once he started coming around and performing, people started to come as well, mostly in attempts to meet him. Some of them get to, usually the women he takes home. Most are left to wait for a turn that will never come.

Seo-Yun, on the other hand, wishes she had never met him. That wish grows tenfold when Nam-Gyu swipes his employee ID card to unlock the side door that leads into the VIP room of the club and Thanos’ voice is echoing out almost instantly. Seo-Yun cringes at the sound of Thanos’ voice, and this is before his eyes have even locked onto her. She hands off Thanos’ portion of the drugs to Nam-Gyu, and then she tries her best to blend into the small bit of crowd that rests within the VIP room.

It doesn’t work.

“Is that my señorita I see? Hey! Get over here, princess.” He waves her over, brightly painted fingernails waving through the air. Seo-Yun stares at him out of the side of her eye for a moment before turning away to hand out the drugs she’d gotten for the other paying customers. At least Thanos is across the room, and Nam-Gyu is quickly approaching him with tonight’s stash - LSD. Thanos loved himself some uppers, especially the hallucinogenics. Maybe he could start to think that Seo-Yun is merely just a hallucination and he’ll stop yelling out for her.

She really doesn’t get why he’s so intent on her when he could have any woman he wanted from this club. Not only could he, but he does have any woman he wants in this club. Every night. So why does it have to be her that he’s always going after? Seo-Yun wants to just blame it on the alcohol. 

As soon as her customers have tended to, Seo-Yun bolts for the alley beside the VIP door of the club. For good measure, she leans against the door. It’s an outward swinging door, so her body weight against it should at least be enough to stop someone trying to exit, as annoying as it may be for them. Technically, Thanos doesn’t have clearance for the VIP door. Technically, Seo-Yun doesn’t either. She has one of Nam-Gyu’s keycards that he “lost” so he could get a replacement. Stupid Club Pentagon didn’t deactivate the old one. 

As it turns out, the building beside Club Pentagon is a very popular restaurant. The crowd outside both of the buildings seems to intermingle, quickly blurring the lines of who was here for the restaurant and who was here for the club. Seo-Yun’s stomach rumbles as the smell of food escapes out of the door to the kitchen, which just so happens to be almost directly across from the VIP door of Club Pentagon. Living off of ramyeon and other quick meals was starting to get to her. Well, not starting to. She’d been doing it for so long now that her body had adapted, but smelling real food was always a whole new form of torture for her. It reminded her of what she was missing out on. Especially this place next door. Usually, she was at the club so late that she was unable to be here for the restaurant to be open. Tonight she was here early enough to smell it, to hear the dishes clinking past the cracked open door, to crave the expensive food that lay just past the threshold.

Suddenly, the door swings open with a squeak. Seo-Yun jumps back, although she has nowhere to go with the door to Club Pentagon directly behind her. The person emerging from the restaurant does so in less of a step and more of a tumble out the door. He catches himself as best as he can, although the hand not on the doorknob is carefully clutching a food container, and his feet trip over each other as he tries to regain his balance.

Just as Seo-Yun is sure he’s about to fall to the ground, he manages himself. Almost akin to a baby giraffe learning how to walk, the man’s hand on the door tightens its grip, muscles straining under his black shirt as he pulls himself to steadiness. He huffs out a laugh, only finally letting go of the door when he’s sure he’s securely standing, and he pushes a hand through the half-tied-up hair on his head. The door swings almost shut behind him, hinges screaming in protest at the motion. And then he seems to realize that he’s not alone in this alley, that his blunder was watched by someone who is trying not to laugh right now.

Because it’s true. Seo-Yun slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes crinkling as she tries desperately not to giggle to herself. He may not have fallen, but the sight of this man before her stumbling over his own two feet and almost going down was slightly hilarious. Although she would have felt terrible for him, had he done so and spilled his food. Seo-Yun had always ingrained herself with the importance of food. Your body’s fuel. And a weapon, sometimes.

The man stares at her awkwardly for a moment, watching the way her eyes crinkle and her hand clamps harder down over her mouth as she tries to keep in the sound of her laughter. His face quickly paints itself crimson, most definitely out of embarrassment, but all he does is take a few steps to the right of the door and slide down to the trashy ground of the alleyway. He pries his food container open, pulls some chopsticks out of it, and begins to quietly chow down. 

Seo-Yun just feels absolutely terrible as the image of him almost falling over himself echoes through her mind. She most definitely should not be laughing, especially when this poor guy is clearly just trying to enjoy his meal break, but it was a pretty funny sight. Especially considering this is a decently manly dude. Aside from his overall awkward demeanor, he’s pretty masculine. Muscular, tall. His hair being longer for a man doesn’t take away from that. Not in the way it tends to do to men like Nam-Gyu, scrawny guys who could pass for a girl if you didn’t look too hard or hear their voice.

She almost wants to say something to the poor guy, maybe apologize for laughing at him or insist that she didn’t see, even though she very much did. On second thought, though, she does not want to ruin his meal. He probably doesn’t get long for meals, especially if he’s a waiter, which is what he appears to be. He’s in all black, something similar to what Nam-Gyu wears for his job. It’s nice clothes. Not something you’d see a cook in. This man, also - No offense - Did not look like he could cook for shit. Don’t judge a book by its cover, blah blah. The noodles he was slurping out of the container were burnt. So there’s that.

Seo-Yun, suddenly awkward as she’s now stuck in this alley with a stranger, fishes around in her pockets for her pack of cigarettes. She doesn’t even really need one right now, she should be saving them alongside her money, she needs something to do so she doesn’t look like she’s just staring at this guy as he eats. The last thing Seo-Yun is gonna do right now is go back inside and endure Thanos’ catcalling. 

Her fingers catch on the box in her pocket, and the lighter stuffed alongside it. She digs both objects out, taking her precious time to open the box, pull a cigarette out, light it, and pocket the box and lighter once more. She just needs something to do. Seo-Yun places the cigarette between her lips, inhales the smoke. The taste of nicotine fills her mouth, throat, lungs. She holds it in, breathes it out. And then she repeats. 

Seo-Yun wants to make conversation, but she’s never been good at making friends. Only ever good at flirting, at appealing to what men want. This man just wants his lunch, that much is clear. He’s shoving the noodles in his mouth with a purpose, mouth full with every bite. He also just doesn’t give off the vibe of the type of guy she usually sidles up with. This guy is good. He cares. He loves. Those other men just look and try to touch.

She racks her brain for conversation topics. The restaurant. She could’ve sworn it was a clothing store just a few months ago. “Is this place new?” Seo-Yun points at the building the restaurant resides in, blowing smoke from her mouth as her hand comes up to pull the cigarette from her lips. The man looks around, as though disbelieving she could be talking to him. Upon realizing she is, in fact, speaking to him, he hurriedly finishes his bite of noodles and then looks back at the building behind him. He’s quick to take up a more confident demeanor, even if that awkwardness still rests behind the brown of his eyes.

“Yeah, uh… Today’s the opening day. I think before this it was some sort of boutique, but it went out of business.” He scoops up another bite of noodles, shoves them into his mouth. It’s a smaller bite this time, though, which Seo-Yun is quick to take notice of. Maybe he’s into the conversation. Or at least, where it could go. 

She nods, lifting her cigarette to her mouth once more. “That makes sense. I could’ve sworn it was a store a bit ago. I dunno, though. I don’t pay much attention to anything around here except Club Pentagon. This area is out of my pay grade.” She tries to sound it as a joke, pairing it with a lighthearted laugh. The man joins in, although his laugh seems to just be to make her happy. Even still, he nods in agreement. 

“So you work there? Waiter?” Seo-Yun gestures to the restaurant again. The man chews his noodles, swallows. And then he smiles, nods, pushes his hair back. “Yeah. I kinda hate it, but beggers can’t be choosers, right?” 

That, she can certainly resonate with. Seo-Yun does not want to be pushing drugs at the ripe age of 30. She’d always dreamed of becoming something. A dancer, maybe. Or an actress. Or both. She wanted to be known, to be loved by all. Instead, she was stuck in a stale apartment, with a deadbeat roommate, and pushing drugs for just enough money to get her by every month. “Wanna trade? I’m stuck in this dump.” Seo-Yun pointedly keeps her true occupation a secret. This guy is chill, sure, and a lot of people are getting cooler about drugs and such, but she was involved with a lot more than just weed. 

He chuckles then, a real laugh, and takes one last bite of his noodles. “What are you, a bartender?” He eyes her outfit as he places his now empty food container onto the ground next to himself. It’s then that she remembers she is most definitely not dressed professionally in any capacity, and if someone were to look at her outside a club, she’d definitely look like the club had some sort of underground prostitution ring going on. Club Pentagon had some shady stuff happening there, but it was purely drugs and gambling. She just shrugs, hand not clutching her cigarette coming down to tug at the bottom of her shirt. It does little to cover the exposed skin, which isn’t much, but is very much still noticeable. The shirt stops just above her belly button, but it’s not long enough to cover it even as she tugs away at the fabric.

“Something like that.” Seo-Yun puffs at her cigarette a final time, then she throws it onto the ground and stomps it out. The butt of it finds its home amongst many other stamped out cigarette butts, most of which definitely belong to her and Nam-Gyu. The only other guy she’s seen who works in Club Pentagon who actually smokes cigarettes is some old bouncer, and he hardly frequents the VIP area. Most other people have switched over to vapes by now.

She’s about to introduce herself, to get to know this guy, because believe it or not she sort-of wants to be friends with the dude, when the door to the kitchen swings open again. The hinges squeak loudly once more, the terrible sound echoing through the alley, and the man cowers for a moment. His confidence breaks, hands flinching up to grab at his ears. Seo-Yun frowns, the position of him curled up there, behind the door, hands over his ears, reminding her much of the days of being bullied in the orphanage and mistreated in foster homes. The worst had been her last. Afternoons of hiding in her bedroom closet, hand clamped over her mouth. 

“Dae-Ho! C’mon, let’s fucking go. I told you not to take long.” The girl that pokes her body out of the door is tiny, a stark contrast to the man - Dae-Ho - When he stands and comes out from behind the door. He makes sure to pick up his food trash, even though many people who take their breaks in the alley don’t do the same. Seo-Yun crosses her arms over her chest, ready to watch him go and then spend the rest of her night waiting on Nam-Gyu to get off or to have to make a drug run. And then, suddenly, Dae-Ho is turning to wave to her, a bright smile on his face as he does so. 

“Looking forward to getting to meet you, neighbor!” And then the door swings shut behind him.

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

AUGUST PASSES IN A BLUR of busy, late nights and hot, sweaty days. Seo-Yun does not see Dae-Ho again. Maybe it’s because of conflicting schedules. It’s most likely due to that. The restaurant closes at eight, and it’s rare that Seo-Yun gets a chance to be done with her job before that. Nam-Gyu goes in at five or six, sometimes even seven, and she goes with him. They run for drugs, dole them out to the customers, wait for any more requests. They waste time gambling away what they don’t spend on substances for themselves. Nam-Gyu sneaks free drinks to Seo-Yun and Thanos. Seo-Yun goes outside to smoke, and by then, the sun has set and the restaurant is closed for the night. She’s left with no company but the cigarette butts on the ground of the alleyway, the singular burnt-out streetlight where the alley comes to open up at the sidewalk in front of the club and the restaurant and all the other buildings along the street.

She’s sipping at some concoction, head spinning with the drugs that have just settled into her system - Some colorful pills that make her feel blissfully happy and childish - When Thanos comes to settle next to her. Seo-Yun’s got almost her entire body strewn across a loveseat in the VIP room of Club Pentagon, smiling to herself over something that she’s made up in her drugged haze. Thanos is almost nothing more than a haze of bright colors and purple hair until he’s coming to sit at her feet. She has half a mind to kick at where his thigh meets the sole of her shoe, but she doesn’t do it. Technically, Seo-Yun is not supposed to be relaxing back here. Technically, she’s not supposed to have a drink in her hand and pills in her system. The bouncers look the other way because, technically, she’s not supposed to be inside the VIP room at all.

But she is here, because she makes barely enough to get by in illicit dealings of pills and powders. Seo-Yun is here because she exists to discretely slip baggies and bottles into waiting hands. She is here because of the man at her feet, and the men like him who are too drunk to see straight on the couches surrounding the leather loveseat she rests on. 

Seo-Yun merely cocks an eyebrow at the rapper. Eyes burn their gaze into the back of her head. She knows it’s Nam-Gyu. She lays her head back against the armrest behind her, neck quickly protesting in pain from the angle it’s bent at. Seo-Yun doesn’t care. The blue lights of the VIP room mesh into an ocean before her eyes. She doesn’t know what she took, just knows it was something Nam-Gyu enthusiastically fed to her. She knows she didn’t reject it. She knows it’s making her feel amazing right now.

She can almost hear the crashing of the waves. Her eyes slip shut, the drink in her hand forgotten. Seo-Yun hardly even feels as though she exists. She becomes one with the waves above her, no longer a human in a club with an annoying rapper at her feet and a jealous friend behind her back. She’s a wave, flowing underneath the moonlight of the mid-September night.

A hand lands on her ankle. The moment, as small as it may have been, is ruined. Seo-Yun jolts, head peeking up to face the man at her feet. He’s rubbing circles into the skin of her ankle with his thumb. It would almost be satisfying, would almost be exactly what she wanted, if it wasn’t him. She scowls, tugging her foot from his grip. 

“Go find someone else to bother, Thanos. Don’t ruin my high.” Maybe that isn’t how she should talk to a decently famous rapper and someone who indirectly employs her. Seo-Yun can’t find it within herself to care. He’s a loyal customer to the club, and she’s rejected him before. He keeps coming back for more. He hums, a thoughtful sound. She thinks for a second he might listen.

Why would she ever think that?

“C’mon, beautiful.” The English is foreign on her ears as he speaks it. Seo-Yun groans, head falling back against the armrest. Luckily, Thanos does listen - Somewhat, at least. He keeps his hands to himself, but he doesn’t give up on his verbiage. He never does. “I could give you the best night ever.” His offer is almost tempting. She doesn’t remember the last time she’d had sex with anyone, or really had anything with anyone that was more than transaction. But Thanos is just so… Not her type. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, not in the slightest. Surprisingly, though, Seo-Yun liked loving and gentle more than what he was sure Thanos was - Rough and possessive. Someone who would own, but only for a night, and then leave you hanging. Never acknowledge you again.

She chased relationships like that when she was a bit younger. Freshly twenty years old and searching for any love she could possibly get, Seo-Yun would chase after any man that looked at her for a moment too long as though she was a lost puppy. She got what she wanted - A quick, unemotional fuck. But she was always left waiting for more, something that would never come along. After a few years of doing that, Seo-Yun came to find she’d rather have nothing than something that only involved waiting up for someone who would never come around.

In the time since then, she’s had a few relationships. The first, immediately following the hookups stage, was with the aspiring detective. Then came along a man who was… Weird, honestly. Nice at the beginning, but his descent was rapid once they were official. He became controlling, possessive. After him was the date with Nam-Gyu. Seo-Yun hasn’t tried with anyone since then. She tells herself it’s because she wants to focus on herself for now. In reality, it’s because she’s sort-of given up. The only men that show interest are trashy ones - Although, that wannabe detective had been good - and that’s not what she wants for herself. It’s also awkward trying to date whenever you have a male friend staying on your couch. Trying to explain that he’s just a friend never quite works.

“I’m seriously not interested. Don’t you know what consent is?” Seo-Yun looks up at Thanos again. For a single second, an awkward look flashes over his face. It’s just as quickly replaced with his typical cocky facade, but that look plants a seed of doubt within Seo-Yun’s mind. Maybe this is something else. Maybe he’s not interested in her at all. Or maybe he’s just awkward over being outrightly rejected. She’s rejected him before, but not quite so directly. It’s always just been her walking away from him when he hits on her. She’s never said no before. Maybe that’s why he’s never stopped. Maybe he’s bad with context clues.

Thanos’ hands come up beside his head in surrender, eyes wide. “Consent is important!” Is what he says in response, pairing it with a nod. He only looks at her for a moment, though, before his eyes drift to something behind her. Seo-Yun raises an eyebrow, turning to look at whatever he’s looking at. Her eyes immediately land on Nam-Gyu, leaned against the VIP bar. He’s got some unreadable look in his eyes, something that pairs perfectly with the way his body leans against the bar and his arms crossed over his chest.

Confusion swirls within her. Her eyebrows furrow. What the fuck is going on?

She turns back to Thanos. He’s still staring at Nam-Gyu, an unreadable look in his own eyes. She tries to read them, tries to take advantage of the way she can read people better than most can. Nam-Gyu’s face is something bitter, almost angry. Thanos’ is closer to passion. Lust. 

Seo-Yun turns back to look at Nam-Gyu again. He pushes himself off the bar, walking across the VIP room for a moment. Both of the bodies on the couch track his movements, both of them with different intentions. Seo-Yun’s trying to decode what the fuck is going on with these two. She has no clue what Thanos is doing - As far as she knew, he hardly cared at all about Nam-Gyu’s existence outside of Nam-Gyu’s ability to bring him drugs. This was something new, something odd. 

Nam-Gyu weaves through the crowd. It’s an exclusive area, so it’s not all that busy, but he still has to push his way through people to get to wherever he’s going. He ends up in front of an older looking man on a couch. The man’s alone, nursing a drink. He’s not quite old enough to be greying, but old enough to be registered still. Crow’s feet around the eyes, smile lines framing his downturned mouth. Nam-Gyu says something to the man, who frantically looks around immediately after. 

In the split second it takes the man to set his drink onto the table in front of the couch, Nam-Gyu’s looking up and staring directly into Thanos’ soul. It’s such an intense look that even Seo-Yun can feel it, can feel the way it chills Thanos to his bones. The rapper’s reaction is visceral - His jaw clenches, hand fists into his ripped jeans. 

She connects it all, then, as Nam-Gyu’s attention turns back to the older man, who’s now standing. Her gaze is flitting between the three men, recognition quickly seeping into her body. There’s something going on here, something between Thanos and Nam-Gyu. It’s intense, something much more than friendliness. And they’re competing with each other. Fighting for the attention of the other, finding someone to distract them and simultaneously make the other one angry and jealous.

It all starts to make sense. She’d clocked something almost like jealousy when Nam-Gyu fought with her over Thanos. She hadn’t expected it to be real. It was, though. There was something there, even if neither of them wanted to admit it. Even through the high that buzzed through her nerves, she could sense it.

“You’re trying to make him jealous.” Seo-Yun says it quietly, tries to make sure no one around can hear. She may not be a big fan of Thanos, but she still is going to respect his dignity. His head whips around to face her as she stares at him, the way the drugs in her system distort his face and she can’t help but giggle. He says nothing, but he does shake his head. “I’m not like that.” His response is simple, emotionless. He stands from the couch, then, and says nothing else before making his way to the bar.

She doesn’t care enough to follow up on it. Seo-Yun smiles to herself. The blue light streaming down from the ceiling is conjured into rain by her substance-affected mind. She’s a kid again, running through puddles and catching droplets on her tongue. 

When Nam-Gyu drags her home later that night, hand clutched tightly onto her arm, she has not a care in the world. Not about the odd relationship of her friend and the rapper, not about her finances, and not about the games she’d signed herself up for without knowing what they were.

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

SHE DOESN’T MENTION IT. Why would she? The two don’t talk about these things. They just continue on with their lives, tiptoeing around the truth. Tiptoeing around getting too into the other one’s personal life. They simultaneously know so much and so little about the other. Seo-Yun knows many things about Nam-Gyu. He loves pork, hates seafood. His go-to munchie food is cheetos - He has the worst habit of wiping the dust onto her couch. He loves energy drinks. He copes with needles - Whether by injecting substances into his veins or coloring himself with only semi-meaningful images. His favorite color is black.

She does not know anything more substantial than that. His family is completely unknown to her, as are any of the goings-ons of his childhood. The meanings behind the tattoos on his arms were irrelevant the first time Seo-Yun asked. The cause of Nam-Gyu’s nightmares, the uncontrollable anger, the irresponsible nature of himself, are all things that she does not know and probably will never know.

And that’s just how they function.

So the days pass between them, neither of them mentioning the encounter at Club Pentagon. Seo-Yun does not bring up the older man, nor the exchanged glances between Thanos and Nam-Gyu. She does, however, do what she always does for Nam-Gyu. She makes small steps to preserve his interests, his happiness. She avoids Thanos even more aggressively than ever before. Her eyes never fall on his figure, slumped over a couch in the VIP room of Club Pentagon. 

As the days drift into the beginning of October, Thanos is even less to her than he had been before. Seo-Yun may not approve of Nam-Gyu’s choice in men - In fact, it’s questionable at best - But he’s her friend. She supports his endeavors. And, just a few days into the month, as the weather cools and leaves drift from dying trees, Nam-Gyu tells her that he’s going over to Thanos’ house

She gets alone time, too. So she’s definitely not complaining about the growing closeness between the two, even if it makes no sense to her. Even if it’s, quite honestly, distasteful in her opinion. Nam-Gyu hardly allows her time to herself, always strewn across her couch or butting his way into plans with her. She has the rare chance to see a movie? He suddenly wants to go. It got even worse after that salesman had effectively beaten a bruise onto her cheek and Nam-Gyu had gotten oddly protective. He was just now becoming more willing to leave her alone, but he set a strong rule. Stay inside the apartment.

She did not do that.

Seo-Yun strolls the streets of Seoul, hands buried into the pocket of her ripped jeans. It’s getting cooler out, now, and she’s window-shopping for a Halloween costume. She hardly celebrates Halloween - Hardly has the time off or money. It just so happens, though, that she has the day off this year. At least, it seems that way for now. That could always be subject to change. She sort-of hopes she has a chance to celebrate for just a bit, though. Seo-Yun was leaving for those games Halloween night, and she has no clue what they will consist of or how long they will last. She’d like to party for a minute beforehand. She doubts she’ll have access to anything fun during them.

Money was also a slight issue, of course, although not one that couldn’t be remedied. Her hand clutched at some bills buried within her pocket, money that it’d taken quite a bit of effort to get scraped up. This cash should be going to something important, and it will. Seo-Yun has a plan in place. Buy a costume, wear it for Halloween, return it and get the money back. A lot of effort, but an effective manner of having an essentially free Halloween celebration.

She splits off from the crowd of people on the sidewalk, following a group of teenagers into a store. It very enthusiastically advertises the selection of costumes in stock, and who is Seo-Yun to reject such a tempting advertisement? The teenagers giggle in front of her, speaking amongst each other about what they want to be for Halloween as they enter the store. Seo-Yun silently follows behind, wishing desperately that she hadn’t wasted away those years in shitty foster homes and discovering age-inappropriate substances.

She couldn’t help but feel bitter, although it wasn’t the fault of the group in front of her that her childhood was shitty. Even still, it was hard not to feel resentful towards people enjoying what she had suffered during. 

Seo-Yun tries to distract herself. She looks around for a costume, eyeing the various displays now that she’s inside the store. The bright fluorescents on the ceiling light the entire store up brightly, showcasing everything there is to offer on the sales floor. There are so many costumes. From fictional characters to random sexy outfits, the store has pretty much anything someone could ever want to be. 

She suddenly feels something almost akin to a deer-in-headlights. Seo-Yun hasn’t celebrated Halloween in so long. She can’t remember the last time she’d been caught in a costume store, excited at the prospect of partying away the night. In that same vein, she has no clue what she wants to dress up as. There’s so many costumes available in the store that she’s overwhelmed at the mere idea of picking something. 

She also has no clue what she’ll be doing for Halloween, and that’s probably important when finding a costume, right? Right. 

Seo-Yun reaches into the back pocket of her jeans, fingers wrapping around her phone and tugging it from the pocket. She texts Nam-Gyu before she can even think about it, inquiring about what he’ll be doing for Halloween. There’s no expectancy of a quick answer - Seo-Yun can use her imagination to think of what Nam-Gyu could possibly be doing at Thanos’ house right now.

Surprisingly, a response comes in quickly.

thanos is throwing a party. u in?

Seo-Yun sighs. The last thing she wants is to spend her last night of freedom before some creepy ass games in that guy’s house. But maybe it could be fun? She’d never gone to a celebrity party before, let alone one thrown by Thanos. Even still, she’d heard that his parties are fun. And Nam-Gyu was going to be there, which was always a reassuring thought. It beat sitting around at home and being miserable, or going to a random party and not knowing a single person there. She may not know Thanos, or any other celebrity, but she knew Nam-Gyu. She wouldn’t be alone.

Maybe.

That’s all the response Seo-Yun comes back with. Despite the uncertainty of the response, her mind is already made up. If Nam-Gyu is gonna be there, she will be, too. It’s a bit unhealthy, honestly - The way her and Nam-Gyu are hardly individuals. They rely on each other, operate as one. If Seo-Yun were to lose Nam-Gyu, it’d be like losing a part of her. It’s unhealthy. It’s weird. And yet, it’s not love. Not romantic love, at least. She depends on him, but she doesn’t want to date him. It makes no sense.

Her eyes search the sales floor, heart pounding as she still feels slightly overwhelmed at the selection. What does someone wear to a semi-famous rapper’s Halloween party?

Her feet carry her across the store unconsciously. She eyes the stock, trying to find something good. She seems to circle the store about ten times before just getting frustrated and grabbing something, hoping that it’ll be good enough. An angel costume. Ironic.

The won in her pocket is just enough for the costume. Seo-Yun even has a bit left over, enough to buy herself some street tteokbokki as she gets back to her apartment building. Something has possessed her, left her in a somewhat good mood. Maybe it’s the fact she’s getting alone time now. Maybe it’s knowing Nam-Gyu has someone other than her, because even as deeply as she needs him, it’s nice to know he has someone else in case he loses her. 

The angel costume is discarded onto her bed quickly, not even taken out of the packaging. It won’t be taken out of it until Halloween night, when Seo-Yun is sure to put off getting ready for the party until the last minute and is going to look like trash when she stumbles out her front door. 

She flops onto the couch, tteokbokki making its way onto the coffee table. The motions of grabbing the bag of white powder from the table, dumping some out, and shaping it into neat lines is practiced, precise. Her hands move effortlessly as she goes through the familiar routine, something Seo-Yun hasn’t much had the pleasure of doing alone in recent years. Through everything she’s tried, the powder has been her favorite. She doesn’t know why.

What she does know, though, is that it fills her with energy. A sense of life. It brings her back from the dead, a death that poverty and abuse has given to her. Seo-Yun leans back on the couch, stares at the excess powder on the surface of the coffee table. She spears the tteokbokki on her chopsticks and eats slowly while waiting for it to hit her. The spice is nice, not too spicy and not bland. The stand should get more business. More of her business, especially. She’s surprised she’d never bought from there before, considering it’s not far away from where she literally lives.

When the energy hits, alongside the rush of euphoria, Seo-Yun finds herself scrolling through the music app on her phone. Her thumb hovers over Thanos’ music for a single second. Teeth gnaw at her bottom lip, drawing blood. Her heart pounds, leg shakes from the rush of energy. Before she knows it, Thanos’ rap is playing from the speaker on her phone.

She almost catches herself thinking that maybe, just maybe, his music isn’t so bad.

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

SHE DOESN’T KNOW HOW SHE GOT ROPED INTO THIS.

Actually, she knows exactly how. 

She’d said maybe to Nam-gyu’s offer of attending Thanos’ Halloween party. What that maybe had meant was actually fuck yes, because anywhere Nam-Gyu goes, Seo-Yun goes, too. Even if she hates Thanos’ guts. Even if he’s fucking obnoxious and he’s giving her fuck-me eyes as soon as she’s stepped through the front door. 

Some part of her has softened towards her over the past month. She knows it’s only because Nam-Gyu likes him, even if Nam-Gyu is adamant on not admitting it. Seo-Yun has done all she can to get the confession from him, to get him to just say it. It’s not like she would ever care, and surely he should know that. At no point has she ever even insinuated that she cares about someone’s sexuality, especially not his. Really, she sort-of saw it coming. 

Well, not really. She didn’t see it coming. She always just thought that his lack of a love life was because of commitment issues, and that the lack of sex life was because he was living on her couch. Seo-Yun can’t say she wasn’t much different. Maybe she was just projecting her own issues onto him, assuming that he had no love and sex lives for the same reasons she did. 

The only real red flag that had ever appeared was the night they’d gone on their date. The night they went back to his place, back when he had one, and he got cold feet. Not that he’d said directly he had cold feet, it just seemed to be that way, because when she started taking her clothes off his face went pale and he abruptly came up with an excuse as to why he couldn’t do this. Even then, that could be shrugged off as him just not wanting her.

Seo-Yun realizes she should’ve seen it sooner. Things come back to her now that she knows the truth. Nam-Gyu only ever talked about Thanos. He never checked girls out. He never talked about girls. He talked about exes, but always seemed disconnected from them. There had been many times she changed in front of him, and he never even seemed slightly into it.

She doesn’t really care, though. She just wished he had told her, but it makes sense that he hadn’t. They don’t talk about that sort of stuff.

“Nam-Su! You brought my princess.” Thanos is in front of the two in an instant. He’s dressed in a very shitty vampire costume, fake blood smeared down his chin and a cheap cape attached around his neck. You’d think he’d spend more money on a fancy, good looking halloween costume, considering how rich and famous he claims to be. 

Nam-Gyu rolls his eyes as Thanos pulls Seo-Yun into a hug, which she pointedly does not reciprocate. He simply mutters a it’s Nam-gyu as Thanos squeezes her in his arms. Seo-Yun stares at Nam-Gyu, silently begging him for help. “Or should I say, my angel?” 

God, it makes her want to throw up. Or drink until she forgets this entire night. Maybe both.

“You two should’ve matched!” 

Definitely both.

Seo-Yun grimaces, eyes staring pleadingly into Nam-Gyu’s. His stare is entirely deadpan. Thanos finally pulls away, turning to look at Nam-Gyu for only a moment before turning back to Seo-Yun. There’s a viable tension there. Seo-Yun wishes she knew about it. She’s always been easy to accept the dynamic between her and Nam-Gyu, easy to not care about the goings-ons of his life. She knew he didn’t want to share, because neither did she.

Now, though, she finds herself extremely nosey. Mostly about the relationship between these two. Tension, purposeful jealousy. Something that could spice up her boring life.

“Catch me dead before I match with this asshole.” She points at Nam-Gyu, eyeing his cheap costume. A zombie. It’d hardly cost any money at all. Seo-Yun had insisted he dress up if she was going to, had spent the time carefully crafting the makeup look, and ripped a few holes into one of his band shirts. He may have yelled at her, but he got over it pretty fast when he realized it actually looked better that way. Grungier, like he liked.

Thanos barks out a laugh. Seo-Yun grimaces once more. She side-steps around him, giving him no more small talk as she high-tails it away from the awkward atmosphere and Thanos’ annoying personality. 

She has a goal in mind immediately - Alcohol. Although she would be lying if she said she didn’t take her sweet time trying to find the kitchen in the labyrinth of his apartment. Thanos may not have been lying after all when he said he was rich, even if he was lying with the famous part. The penthouse he resides in is huge. Two stories, more rooms than he could ever dream of needing. Each room decorated like a trashy, rich rapper would decorate them. Leather couches, music memorabilia on the walls, LED lights, annoying rugs, shiny wooden surfaces. 

Strangers throughout the house dance, socialize, make out. In the living room, two women enthusiastically stick their tongues down each other's throats. A group of people sit criss-cross around a bottle, laughing as it spins on the floor. Some people just scope out the environment. As Seo-Yun reaches the kitchen, she’s greeted with a guy puking in the sink, someone rolling a blunt, a woman begging a man to be allowed to have another drink.

It’s been a while since Seo-Yun has been to a party. Now she remembers why. The sweaty bodies around her, most of them clad in costumes, are quickly getting to be sensory overload for her. Especially as she has to shoulder her way through the crowd to get to the bottles of alcohol piled onto the marble countertops. Thanos has a wide array of drink options, none of them being anywhere close to non-alcoholic. Beer, soju, liquor. Seo-Yun grabs a random single-serving bottle, not really caring what she’s drinking so long as she’s drinking.

She stays in the kitchen for a long while, drinking and watching the people coming in and out. Seo-Yun takes the time to think about the games she’s leaving for later that night. They told her to meet oddly late at her meeting destination, which is the only reason why she was able to come to the party. Even still, she was going to go straight from the party. No change in outfit. Seo-Yun just hoped they’d be providing better clothes. Surely if it was an event happening for multiple days, they would be providing clothing.

She gets tired of people watching. Between that and the sound of cheering from the living room area, Seo-Yun decides to go see what’s happening in the other areas of the house. She pushes herself off of where she leaned against the counters, walking slowly towards the chaos in the next room over. 

She’s greeted relatively quickly with… A sight.

A girl is sprawled across the coffee table, giggling to a gaggle of girls standing next to her as another girl bends over her, laps up tequila spilling from her belly button. Seo-Yun now understands what the cheering is about. The girl’s giggling causes the tequila to quickly spill down the sides of her exposed stomach. She’s in nothing but a bra from the waist up, and Seo-Yun has no clue of if that’s part of her costume, or a result of the ongoing actions.

The girl above her finishes the alcohol. She moves up the girl’s body, licking at a trail of salt that goes from bellybutton to sternum, and then pulls off to bite the lime wedge from the girl’s teeth. Cheers ensue once more, and the people around the coffee table scatter. The girl who had just been lying on the piece of furniture laughs with her friends, face bright red, as they help her into a shirt.

“Who’s next?” Thanos comes out of the crowd then, brandishing a bottle of tequila and a jar of salt in one hand, the other holding onto a lime wedge. Seo-Yun raises an eyebrow. She’s surprised she hadn’t seen him before, he must’ve just been standing at the edge of the crowd. This is very clearly his idea, but no one seems to be against it.

She surveys the rest of the crowd. Nam-Gyu stands on the sidelines as well, arms crossed over his chest. She looks between the two as the crowd argues over who goes next, a plan formulating in her mind.

Seo-Yun pushes through the crowd, holding her beer bottle up high to prevent it from being spilled onto someone. The people around her hardly want to part to allow her through, but Seo-Yun has some ability to fight, even despite the heels strapped to her feet and her relatively slender frame. 

“If I volunteer, do I pick who drinks off of me?” She asks it as soon as she’s through the crowd. Thanos’ gaze turns to her immediately, seeming to be simultaneously entertained and surprised at her choosing to volunteer for this. It’s very out of character for her, but fuck it if she’s not gonna play matchmaker. She has an idea in her head. She wants Nam-Gyu to be with Thanos. She wants him to be happy.

Thanos’ eyes light up when he seems to clock that she’s being serious. He nods, the motion enthusiastic. Seo-Yun internally groans. She has to remind herself that this is for Nam-Gyu. This is for her best and only friend. “Thanos,” She starts, stepping towards the coffee table. Some alcohol from the previous girl has dripped onto the nice wood surface of the table, momentarily staining it. His eyes light up even more. “You do it. But I want to pick which two people go next.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Thanos nods, approaches her. Seo-Yun doesn’t miss how some people around them pull out their phones. Her face is going to be plastered all over social media tomorrow, and it’s all because she wanted to play matchmaker. Fuck. 

She sighs, strips herself of the bulky wings attached to her back. The corset-style top of her costume comes next. Seo-Yun is so glad her costume didn't come as a dress. She positions herself to lay on the table, straightening up her body and relaxing as much as she can. Thanos is there in an instant, setting it all up. The lime is held over her face, rind towards her mouth. She opens her mouth after cursing herself out internally, teeth taking hold of the bitter fruit. 

Thanos, at least, doesn’t waste any time. He sprinkles a trail of salt from her navel to her sternum, stopping just below the cups of her bra. And then the tequila comes splashing down into her belly button. Seo-Yun has to physically stop herself from flinching as the liquid hits her, drips across her stomach and down her sides. Above all, she hopes it doesn’t stain her costume. She needs to return that shit.

He pauses once it’s all set up, seeming to almost take a mental image of this. Seo-Yun tries to ignore the few flashes she sees around her, the occasional shutter noise. She is going to become famous and it is going to be absolutely terrible. 

Thanos bends down, laps up the tequila from her belly button. He’s impatient with it, splashing alcohol across her skin and onto the skirt hanging off her hips. Thanos is also thorough . He’s hurried, but still takes time to ensure it’s all off of her skin before he licks his way up her abdomen. Seo-Yun’s breathing stutters, the ticklish feeling of his tongue sending chills through her body. It’s so weird. Something she’s never felt before. Something she never wants to feel again.

The things she does for Nam-Gyu.

Thanos comes to a stop above her face. He smiles cockily down at her, then lowers himself to take the lime in his mouth. Their lips brush for a single moment, and Seo-Yun is sure her entire world stops just then. She frowns as soon as he’s pulled away, lime between his teeth. Seo-Yun pushes herself to sit up immediately, searching for her shirt and tugging it over her exposed abdomen.

As she’s clambering off the table, Thanos speaks up. “I told you that you can pick, so who’s up next?” He’s still sucking at the lime as Seo-Yun pretends to think about it, eyes drifting straight to Nam-Gyu’s agitated looking face. She slips back into the terrible, fake wings. And then she wordlessly points to the two of them, Thanos and Nam-Gyu, one hand pointing at each of their figures. Thanos’ eyes drift first to her pointed finger, then the other man being pointed at. His eyes go wide and he suddenly begins to cough, wrenching the lime from between his lips as he strains for breath.

“Thanos lying down. Nam-Gyu drinking.”

The both of them seem to be stunned. Neither of them move, even as Seo-Yun stands fully from the table and walks over to Nam-Gyu at the edge of the crowd. Phones are still out, no doubt recording this for every inch of the internet to see tomorrow. Nam-Gyu gives her the nastiest look she thinks she’s ever seen, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Something deep behind the brown of his irises wants this, even if he will never admit it. Some part of him is thanking her, deep down.

There’s silence for a moment. Not quite silence, as the people surrounding them are gossiping amongst each other and the music is pulsing loudly through the apartment, but it’s the closest they’ll get to silence at this party. Thanos and Nam-Gyu just stare at each other. Thanos sucks the lime dry, then drops the rind of it onto the floor. He walks off for a moment, comes back with a fresh lime. Still, neither of them move to do what is demanded of them.

“C’mon, don’t be a buzzkill! Just do it!” The girl from before shouts from a place just behind Seo-Yun. Her exclamation quickly prompts an uproar from the people surrounding the situation. They shout, jeer, beg for the two to just do it. It’s easy to do that when you don’t realize the gravity of whatever they have going on. That’s exactly why it was easy for Seo-Yun to point at the both of them, single them out.

She clasps a hand on Nam-Gyu’s shoulder for a moment, feigning encouragement. He turns to look at her, clearly upset about having started this mess. Just as he does so, her hand drifts to his back, and she shoves. It’s not hard enough to send him falling, even though he’s surely been drinking. It’s just enough to get him out there onto the floor, get more attention on him. It works. People turn to him, shout at him to do it. They shout at Thanos to get on the table.

Seo-Yun has no clue how long it takes for the two to actually oblige. Thanos looks around, an odd look on his face, before he finally nods. He strips himself of the cheap cape and the completely period-inaccurate victorian shirt. And then he lays on the table. He hands off the supplies to Nam-Gyu, who just stands there for a moment. It seems, for a single second, like you could hear a pen drop in the room. Even with the beats echoing through the room, even with the people giggling in the crowd.

Nam-Gyu inserts the lime into Thanos’ mouth. He sprinkles salt across Thanos’ chest and stomach, leading down to his belly button. And then Nam-Gyu pours tequila into his belly button, far too much. So much that it leaks down his sides, forms puddles in the hollows of Thanos’ stomach and on the table below. And then he sets the glass and salt on the floor beside the table.

He stares for a long moment. Longer than Thanos had stared. Thanos’ eyes crinkle up at him, hands tapping at the surface of the table he lays on. Nam-Gyu bends, licks at the liquid staining Thanos’ abdomen. He takes his sweet time with it. Each motion of his tongue is slow, languid. Sloppy, but in a purposeful way. His eyes drift shut. He’s enjoying this far too much.

The liquid comes away. Nam-Gyu trails his tongue up the line of salt, eyes half-lidded as he does so. Seo-Yun almost feels like she’s interrupting something intimate. He licks his lips when he pulls away from the salt trail, bends back down to hover above Thanos’ face. Nam-Gyu comes down, connects his lips with Thanos’. It only lasts for a second, but it’s almost a kiss. When he pulls away, the lime has been transferred from Thanos’ mouth to his.

Seo-Yun doesn’t know whether to feel proud of herself for making this happen, or sick from basically watching them just foreplay each other.

She pulls her phone out, checking the time. Her eyes widen when she realizes her meeting time is in an hour, and it’ll take almost an hour to get to the place. Fuck. 

Seo-Yun doesn’t even say goodbye. She just shoves her way through the crowd and leaves. Nam-Gyu doesn’t call after her. He’s too busy eye-fucking Thanos to notice.

She walks to her destination. It’s in the middle of nowhere, essentially, which should be a red flag. Seo-Yun has too much alcohol in her system to think properly when the black van pulls up, slides a back door open. She just steps inside and settles herself among the bodies in the backseat.

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

SEO-YUN DOES NOT REMEMBER FALLING ASLEEP.

She remembers the party, and she remembers walking across Seoul to her meeting spot for the games. She remembers loading herself into a black van, amongst passed out strangers. She remembers telling herself that they were passed out because it was late, not because something was going on.

Seo-Yun does not remember anything to lead to where she wakes up. As her eyes drift open, her groggy brain tries to comprehend the environment. She grimaces in discomfort at the old makeup caked to her face from her Halloween costume - Smeared eyeliner, crusted lipgloss, and itchy silver body glitter. The intricate style she’d carefully put her hair into last night has begun to fall, hairspray weighing down her hair as she pushes herself to sit up as much as she can. 

She’s in one of many bunks that inhabit a very large room. Strangers surround her, some still sleeping, others making their way from their beds and into the middle of the room. Classical music plays from the speakers, something that should be comforting to those inhabiting the room. Instead, Seo-Yun can’t help but feel deeply unsettled. She looks down at herself, suddenly becoming aware that she’s no longer in the uncomfortable costume from last night.

She’s sickened to find herself in a green tracksuit, the number 287 printed onto the left side of her chest. 

These games are not what she thought they’d be. Nowhere close to it. Seo-Yun’s stomach sinks, bile rising in her throat. She’s somewhere mysterious, amongst what appears to be hundreds of strangers, and she has no clue how she got here once she was in the van. She has no clue who changed her clothes. What they may have done while she was being changed. 

A quick patdown of her body shows that Seo-Yun has nothing she came here with. No cigarettes, no phone, no wallet. The only things left of her life before the games were the jewelry decorating her body - A simple white choker, a gleaming cross necklace, and a bracelet that spans across the back of her left hand in an intricate design. The makeup from last night also serves as a reminder of the time before. Her hair still remains in the style she’d done for her costume as well, serving as a home for a few bobby pins and hair ties.

She takes note of everything on her body. Each thing could be of some use, just in case she’s gotten herself wrapped up into something terrible. It could also be a signal that someone is messing with her, if she wakes up and something is missing.

Finally, Seo-Yun clambers off of her bunk. It’s unceremonious, but nothing about her state is ceremonious. Even if she can’t see herself, she knows she looks a mess. There’s nothing she can do about it, so she decides to focus on the room around her as she descends from her bunk. It’s large, bright. The walls are painted white, with designs sprinkled around them. Many designs are unable to be seen, due to the stacks of bunk beds, but there’s clearly designs there. Many of them appear to be games, such as monkey bars. Seo-Yun wonders if it may be a hint towards what games the people in the room are destined to play.

As she’s fully descended, she’s allowed more of a view. The room is large enough to host what seems to be hundreds of people, all donning green tracksuits. Nothing seems to separate individuals from each other. It’s just a sea of green around her as she joins the crowd of confused people, trying to look for a familiar face. Seo-Yun doesn’t know many people, and if this is something shady, she shouldn’t be hoping to see someone she knows. Even still, something tugs at her. The want to not be alone here.

Even if she’s gone through life alone, she wants someone to be here with her for this.

She’s unsuccessful in scouting out a familiar face. Not to say that there isn’t one here. With how many people have come to stand down here with her, it’d be hard to not see at least one person she knows. If this is for people in debt, the chances of seeing Nam-Gyu are high. But he doesn’t exactly stand out - No one stands out.

Seo-Yun is distracted from her searching at the sound of doors clanking open. She turns away from the people behind her to face where the sound has come from. There’s a small platform at the front of the room, with a few stairs leading up to it. A small blue door rests a few feet to the left of the platform, and a large TV screen hangs above the platform. 

A group of people walk out from the doors. There appears to be nine of them, all dressed in pink jumpsuits. There’s hardly any defining factors about any of them. They’re all dressed the same, similar heights, and are all wearing masks that cover their entire faces. The only difference is the shape painting the black mask over each person’s face. The one in the very front dons a square. Each of the others, all standing rigidly at the sidelines of the square, are circles. It seems to mean nothing, but it has to mean something. Everything means something.

“I would like to extend a warm welcome to each of you,” The square speaks, hardly moving as they do so. There’s a clear voice changer within the mask, which Seo-Yun takes note of. As if the coverage from head to toe wasn’t odd enough, the fact that a voice changer was necessary scared her. It’s coming to her quickly that these games are not just games, even if she has no clue what they really are.

“Over the next six days, you will participate in six different games. Those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize.” Seems simple enough, but there has to be a catch. This is all so weird. Seo-Yun just furrows her eyebrows, looks down at the ground. She resolves she will be one of the winners. She will get out of whatever this is, and hopefully it won’t come back to haunt her. Hopefully it won’t get her into more trouble than she was to begin with.

Someone speaks up from behind the crowd. “Excuse me,” Seo-Yun turns to look at the person who’s spoken - a woman, still standing on the stairs. She’s pretty, and tough looking. There’s clearly a strong build underneath the tracksuit. Maybe Seo-Yun could group up with her, if that’s necessary. There’s strength in numbers, and when you’re in a room full of strangers, it never hurts for women to stick together. “You said I’d be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me.

The woman takes a few steps down. Seo-Yun nods. That’s what’s not making sense here. The secrecy. She pipes up with her agreement. “Yeah, and you changed everyone’s clothes!” It’s not that she’s modest, it’s about the fact these people changed the clothes of her and everyone else in the room. It’s about consent. She turns back to face the guards, trying to ignore the way there’s now someone’s gaze burning holes into her back. No way she got on someone’s bad side already.

“How am I supposed to believe this?” The woman continues speaking. There’s rustling behind Seo-Yun, footsteps getting closer to her. She just keeps her head down. She’s normally not the type to sit and take something, but the last thing she needs is to get on someone’s bad side in something like this. Something where she has no clue what the stakes are. Something that she desperately needs to win.

A hand lands on her shoulder suddenly. The square person responds to the woman’s concerns.

“I apologize. Please understand it was necessary to maintain the game’s security.” The words fall on deaf ears. More concerns rise from the crowd. Seo-Yun looks up at the person beside her, the one whose hand is grasping at her shoulder. They never explained why they changed everyone’s clothes. 

Her eyes widen as they land on Nam-Gyu. Her heart thrums and she’s just so glad to have a friend here. Seo-Yun smiles, momentarily ignoring her concerns about the games and why Nam-Gyu is here in the first place. She’s just so happy to see him. To not be alone. She smiles at him, and he smiles back. Something about being here has sent them both off-kilter. Seo-Yun feels almost like a child, the anxiety clawing away at her stomach telling her that she never should’ve come. Nam-Gyu seems to be somewhere similar, although probably handling it a lot better.

She takes a step closer to him, knocking her shoulder against his. It’s weird for them. Unpracticed. Even still, Nam-Gyu does it back.

Seo-Yun hardly listens to the explanations given by the square in response to the concerns of the crowd. Faces of staff are covered for confidentiality and fairness. This is not an illegal gambling house - Seo-Yun could’ve said that - And that the uniforms are simply necessary. The uniform information comes after another girl expresses concerns over being changed. And after Thanos, who Seo-Yun is very angry to see in the room, complains about his change in footwear.

Nam-Gyu, on the other hand, is ecstatic to hear Thanos’ voice. His face brightens and he turns in the man’s direction as soon as the sound echoes through the room. Seo-Yun sighs. This is going to be a very long six days, even if there’s no violence or crime involved.

The guards are also very insistent on no one having their personal belongings. This is revealed when a man starts bitching about cryptocurrency. The guard brandishes a remote, clicks a button, and humbles the man in record time.

The TV clicks on to show a video of the man playing ddakji and getting slapped, over and over again. “Player 333. Lee Myung-Gi, age 30, used to run a YouTube channel called MG Coin.” Nam-Gyu seems to perk up even more, although his previous brightness forms into a scowl. Seo-Yun’s eyes widen. Seems like there’s going to be a lot more reunions here than she thought.

“After convincing subscribers to invest in a new crypto coin called Dalmatian, causing losses of approximately 15.2 billion won, you shut down and disappeared. You’re wanted for fraud and for violating telecom and financial investment laws. Current debt levels, 1.8 billion won.” The man, Myung-Gi, hangs his head in shame. The public embarrassment has not ended, though. This is just the beginning. The video of Myung-Gi switches to one of the girl who’d asked about her clothes.

It changes from person to person as the square guard states their name and debt levels. From the girl, to Thanos, to Nam-Gyu, to Seo-Yun. The woman who had first spoken up. Hundreds of videos of strangers being slapped, alongside their names and debts. All ending in an older man, the one in the most debt - 10 billion won.

Everyone turns to look at him. Seo-Yun crosses her arms, hangs her head. The public shaming is effective - Embarrassment burns hot in her gut after the video of her getting her ass handed to her in ddakji was just presented to hundreds of strangers. At least no one was alone, the staff took their time showing each person suffering at the hands of sadistic businessmen.

The older man shouts as everyone stares. Seo-Yun just waits for the moment to be over, for everyone to move on from their shared humiliations.

Finally, they move on. 

“When we first came to you, you did not trust us. However, we played a game and gave you the money as promised. And so, you trusted us. You volunteered to participate according to your own free will.” Seo-Yun hated how right the staff member was. She hated admitting that she was here of her own volition, but it was true. She wanted to distrust these people, but they had given her every reason to trust them. And she knew that, if she were to be asked, she would agree to stay. 

“You have one last chance to decide. Do you want to live like a piece of trash, running from creditors? Or will you seize the opportunity we are offering?” As the question is asked, the ceiling seems to open up. Everyone turns to look immediately, heads darting to face the opening in the ceiling. Seo-Yun is jostled just a bit as a man behind her turns his body to face the hole, and the motion sends her stumbling. Nam-Gyu’s hand wraps around her bicep, simultaneously keeping her upright and providing himself with the comfort of touch that he’s always needed.

A large, see-through piggy bank descends from the opening. A robotic noise echoes through the room alongside it, something you would probably hear from a machine in a casino. A bright yellow light shines down on it, making the object look almost golden despite it being see-through. “What you see now is the piggy bank where your prize money will be stored. After each of the six games you will play, the prize money will accumulate in this piggy bank.”

The piggy bank is huge. It hasn’t been revealed just how much the winning amount is, but if it fills that piggy bank, Seo-Yun is more than happy to agree to play these games.

“How much is the prize money?” A man speaks up from somewhere in the crowd. It’s a question everyone was dying to have the answer to, one that Seo-Yun has found herself wondering every time her mind wandered to the games before she had even arrived here. Everything about this had been kept very tight-lipped, including the prize amount.

Now, though, there seems to be no issue with answering questions. That includes when it comes to revealing the winning amount. “The prize money for the games is 45.6 billion won in total.” The staff member’s voice answers without hesitation, as though that isn’t an outrageous amount to win for playing some children’s games. Seo-Yun’s eyes widen. Nam-Gyu’s grip on her bicep tightens, and he turns to her. She watches the motion out of the corner of her eye, too fixated on still staring up at the piggy bank above the crowd. 

Her mouth seems to go dry as it settles in. 45.6 billion won. That’s enough to settle her debts and never have to work a day of her life, if she didn’t live above her means.

The revelation, of course, sends a murmur through the crowd. People gasp and gossip, turning to each other as they process the information. Seo-Yun’s trying to piece everything together. It all seems too good to be true. “And one of us will get it?” The man speaks again. It’s clear the staff are getting tired of all the questions when the square responds, as though this is not part of their job. Surely they get questions every time they host these games - If they host them often. 

“We will reveal all the details about the distribution of the prize money after the first game. For these games, you will be given a special new advantage. After each game, you will be given a chance to vote on whether to continue the games or not.” Seo-Yun doesn’t know whether that’s promising or not. She doesn’t know if she should be worried that a vote-to-leave process is necessary in the first place.

“If the majority votes to leave the games, the accumulated prize money will be distributed amongst you.” At least that’s a plus. Seo-Yun’s beginning to get antsy. She’s never done well with crowds, something about being smushed in with so many strangers. She wants to get these games started already, so she can see what this really consists of. What the catch is, because there’s sure to be one.

“You’re saying, if the majority vote to leave, we still get the split prize money?” Another man, an older one, speaks up from the very back of the room. Seo-Yun eyes him, jolts as she realizes he’s somewhat familiar. And yet, she has no clue how he’s familiar. There’s just something about him, about his face. The gloomy look on it. She’s seen him before, probably in passing on the streets of Seoul. She’s probably seen over half these strangers in passing. He sticks out, though.

The staff member nods and confirms. 

There’s suddenly chaos from the front of the crowd. Seo-Yun only half pays attention to it as the scene goes down - A mother encountering her son here. Yelling at him to leave, that she should be here, not him. 

It takes a while, but the two stop arguing. The staff wheel out seven pedestals, all carrying thick stacks of papers and a few pens. The group is told to split off into lines, and Seo-Yun is tugged after Nam-Gyu before she can even have a second thought. The two come to a stop just behind a very familiar, very annoying, purple-haired rapper. Nam-Gyu taps the man on the shoulder, rocking back and forth on his heels as he does so. The nastiest shit-eating grin is painted on his face, and all Seo-Yun can do is roll her eyes at the excitement resting in his eyes.

Thanos turns, just his head. Nam-Gyu is quick to launch into a conversation with him. Seo-Yun shakes her head, huffs, and hopes for this line to move as fast as it can.

As fast as it can proves to be very slow. The guards explain, as people sign forms and the lines move, that this is a consent slip for the games. That if you wish to leave, you need to say so now. They place extra emphasis on making sure it’s known that no one is forced to be here, and everyone has a chance to leave. That this is the people’s choice, not the staff’s. 

It all seems to be… Defensive. They’re trying too hard to displace the blame. Even still, when it’s Seo-Yun’s turn to sign the form, she skims over the clauses printed over it. And she signs it. Right there, on the line. 

채서윤

From there, it’s a waiting game. Seo-Yun stalks off to a lower bunk bed, no real care for who it belongs to, as she watches Nam-Gyu and Thanos stalk the room. She knows what they’re looking for - Or who, more specifically - MG Coin. Lee Myung-Gi. The man who stole everything from them, as they say.

What they intend to do with him, though, is completely lost on her. She’s sure the staff won’t allow fighting within the participants. Especially not if one of them starts trying to kill another one, which she’s sure is Nam-Gyu’s intentions. Probably also Thanos’.

Myung-Gi emerges from a line soon enough, and they’re on him like vultures. Shoving at him, calling him names, demanding their money. Seo-Yun rolls her eyes as it all goes down. If Myung-Gi is here, then he’s as bad off as the two of them are. That doesn’t seem to deter either Nam-Gyu or Thanos, though. Thanos even starts to throw a punch, but Nam-Gyu drags him away, surprisingly.

Everyone signs their forms. Not a single person asks to leave. The staff push the pedestals back to wherever they came from, another room outside of this one. And then they direct the participants to make their way in single-file formation through the small blue door beside the platform. Seo-Yun has every intention to split off, feeling a bit more secure in this place now that she’s a bit more sure that she can trust this stuff, but Nam-Gyu doesn’t let it happen. He grabs her by the sleeve, waits for her to crawl off the bunk she sat on, and drags her along after him.

He sticks close by Thanos as they filter out of the bedroom area and into a larger, intricate room. It’s high, colorful, full of stairs and shapes. The room is mostly pink, but the stairs are combinations of childish, pastel colors. The stairs go all over the place, crossing over and over above the heads of the people inside the room. The participants are stopped, told to make more lines. These lead to booths, or something akin to them. It’s mostly just a bunch of walls across from each other. You put your back to one wall, face the other, and wait for it to snap your picture. You then emerge out the other side, forever a part of the history of these games.

Thanos steps into the photobooth. He urges people to join him - The more the merrier! Nam-Gyu doesn’t relinquish his grip as he dashes over, squeezes in behind Thanos. His free hand clutches at Thanos’ shoulder. Seo-Yun huffs, hangs her head, and wishes for this to be over as quickly as possible. People fight to be in the picture, crowding in around her. She’s forcibly squished against Thanos, a place she could have gone her entire life without being.

A staff member comes over to break it up, stating that pictures must only have one player in them. Seo-Yun doesn’t think she’s ever been so grateful to hear anything in her life. Thanos tries to bargain, but the staff is stern. He waves for the group to disperse, and they do. Nam-Gyu seems to be the most upset about the arrangement, but he still listens. And he keeps a hold on Seo-Yun as he does so.

Thanos takes his picture, making an odd face and holding up two middle fingers. Nam-Gyu goes next, simply just trying to fix his hair and look neutral. And then it’s Seo-Yun’s turn. Nam-Gyu waits around beside the booth, forcing Thanos to do the same. Seo-Yun eyes the screen in front of her, urging her to smile into the camera positioned right above it. She does, adding in a peace sign as well. 

And then the group is off. They follow the other players being led up the large staircases, around haphazardly placed walls and through hallways. It’s a long ascent, and it seems to be going in no general direction. They take so many turns that Seo-Yun has no clue where she is in relation to the door that brought her here. 

There’s three large gate-like doorways that open into the first game room. Thanos rushes off, eyes set on some girl. Nam-Gyu tries to take off after him, but Seo-Yun grabs the shoulder of his tracksuit. He’s stopped in his tracks, wide eyes turned to look back at her. She just shakes her head at him. “Just let him. He’ll come back.”

Nam-Gyu clearly doesn’t want to listen, but he does all the same. The two of them join the hundreds of other people entering the room. The floor is grainy sand, uneven under the soles of Seo-Yun’s shoes. The walls are painted to resemble a sky. The room is long, with a line at the end she stands on - A starting line, presumably - And another at the other end of the room - An ending line. A tall, dead tree is placed dead in the middle of the finish line at the other side of the room, and a eerie looking girl doll stands directly in front of it. She’s dressed in an orange and yellow dress, plastic pigtails hanging above her shoulders. 

A large screen hangs on the far wall, looming over the tree and doll. 

The gates slam shut behind the players. Seo-Yun startles at the slamming sound, although she’s still taking the room in. The sound of birds squawking overhead prompts her to look up, eyes squinting as she takes in the real sky above her. Birds fly overhead, staring down at the players below.

“The first game is Red Light, Green Light.”

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

WELL, THAT’S EASY ENOUGH.

Seo-Yun reaches up, brushing stray-hanging strands of hair from her face. They take place behind her ears, perched neatly there. The robotic voice that seems to follow them everywhere at this point announces the rules of the game, as if anyone could forget how to play red light green light, or not know how. It’s one of the most common childhood games. Anyone who fails at this has to just be stupid.

Nam-Gyu paws at her sleeve. He pointedly looks anywhere but in Thanos’ general direction, anywhere but where the man he has a crush on is flirting with another girl. At this point, is it a point to make each other jealous, or is it genuinely Thanos being an asshole? The world may never know. Both options seemed viable.

The feminine, robotic voice finishes announcing the rules. Seo-Yun braces her feet into the uneven sand beneath her soles, ready for the game to begin. She’s competitive, which may or may not be a strong suit over these next six days. Just when she’s sure the game will begin, the older man from before runs out in front of the crowd of people behind the starting line. He’s not quite on the field, but he’s teetering on the edge of being so as he waves his hands in the air and begins to yell.

“Everyone! You need to pay attention!”

What the fuck?

Seriously, what the fuck?

Seo-Yun’s eyebrows furrow, and she instinctively turns to Nam-Gyu for guidance. He shrugs, seemingly as confused as she is. Of course, they’re both at a loss over his behavior. Everyone seems to be so. There’s distinctive murmuring from the bodies behind her, questions flowing from lips and a tension taking over the air that’s thick with confusion. She crosses her arms over her chest, heels still braced into the sand as she considers this older man. The same one that looks vaguely familiar, but she can’t place why.

“This isn’t just a game! If you move during ‘red light,’ you’ll get shot!” 

She groans. This man is fucking insane, he’s just wasting everyone’s time. Agitation rolls to a boil beneath her skin and she shares another look with Nam-Gyu. “What the fuck is he on about? Getting shot?” Seo-Yun leans closed to Nam-Gyu as she whispers it, not wanting to draw the attention of the senile old man as she ponders. Nam-Gyu snickers, raising a hand to run through his already greasy looking hair. It’s been one night and he’s already greasy again. Disgusting.

“He’s probably high. Whatever he’s on, I want some.” Nam-Gyu laughs at himself. Seo-Yun allows a faint giggle to slip from her mouth, quickly raising a hand to cover the sound as best as she can. If this dude is rambling about getting shot, it’d probably be best not to get on his bad side by being loud. He could very well be the one doing the shooting. She nods in agreement with Nam-Gyu, snickering behind the hand over her mouth.

As the man continues to ramble on about the deathly weight of the situation and people egg him on with questions, Seo-Yun feels her patience run thin. Agitation, the heat of sunlight beaming straight down at her, and the disgusting feeling of caked makeup on her face is exactly what leads her to speak up before she can stop herself. With an eyeroll, she takes a step closer to the older man. “Okay, sorry, but - You literally sound fucking crazy. Just play, ajusshi. If you didn’t want to, you shouldn’t have signed that form.”

The man turns to her specifically. There’s quite a few murmurs of agreement around her, and it just proves to spur her on. Seo-Yun isn’t the biggest fan of being the center of attention, but all the passive aggressive questions were received by this older man with paranoid answers. Someone needed to knock him down a peg. If that just so happened to be her, then that’s that.

The man’s lip trembles for a split second before he composes himself with a tense sigh. His eyelids slip shut, and he physically seems to be trying his best to keep himself together as he just stands there for a moment. Seo-Yun is sure this is quite a sight. She must resemble a petulant child fighting with their father much more than a 30 year old woman yelling at a senile man. 

“There are guns in the walls! The doll’s eyes are motion detectors!” The man points at the doll at the end of the room. Seo-Yun raises an eyebrow, shifting her weight as she eyes the looming plastic doll across the room. It’s hard to fully take in the details of it from so far away, and with the glaring sunlight, but it appears to be a normal doll. Maybe a bit creepy, but otherwise normal. Nothing with motion sensors in its eyes. “If you get caught, you will die!” The man just keeps blabbering. Seo-Yun scoffs, fingernails digging into her biceps where her arms are crossed over her chest. The stinging pain momentarily distracts her from agitation, but it doesn’t last.

“Who let you out of the looney bin dude?” It’s supposed to be a sidelong remark, but it gets some laughs anyways. She scowls as she hears a particularly familiar sounding laugh from Thanos’ direction. Of course he’d think she’s funny. Fucking-A. The man points to himself, practically shaking as he yells a response. “You have to believe me!”

Yeah, no. He’s crazy. Delusional. Seo-Yun backs off, returning to Nam-Gyu’s side. His fingers take hold of her tracksuit sleeve again, just barely grazing the skin of her wrist. “No talking any sense into that guy.” She mutters, using her head to gesture to the man, who’s listening in disbelief as another player accuses him of wanting to take all the money to himself. Now that she would believe. Nam-Gyu laughs a bit.

The older man has no time to fight back. There’s a whirring sound from the end of the room. Everyone turns to look at it, Seo-Yun included. The doll’s head is moving, turning to face the dead tree behind it. Her hand is also coming up, palm against her eyes as though she’s covering them. It’s eerily realistic. Something about it sends a chill down Seo-Yun’s spine. 

“With that, let the game begin.” 

“Do not panic! No matter what, just do not panic and start running!” 

The robotic voice and the man at the front of the group speak simultaneously. The man looks hurriedly back at the doll, then at the crowd as a singing audio echoes from the doll. Green light, red light. The group of people behind the bright white line begin to move. Seo-Yun breaks into a speed-walk, wanting to get a feel of the pace before starting to sprint, she is far too competitive to let herself walk to the finish line. Besides, there’s not long on the clock. Of course, there’d be a timer. Five minutes, counting down from the beginning. 

The older man remains in place, throwing his hands out as soon as the sound of red light reverberates through the space. Seo-Yun plants her feet into the sand, uneasy on the ground. Sand was a terrible choice for this, but maybe it was intentional. With the amount of money at stake here, it would make sense if the games were rigged. Like carnival games. 

The doll’s head turns around with a whirr, and Seo-Yun watches as its eyes start to scan the players. Her stomach sinks. The man was right, at least partially. The eyes of the doll are hard to clearly see from so far away, but it’s impossible to miss the way they move to take in every person on the field, ensuring not a single one is moving. She just hopes that’s the extent of his correctness, that there isn’t truly guns in the walls waiting to kill people who move.

The man screams to freeze. Nam-Gyu snickers again from where he’s now standing just behind Seo-Yun, fingers not yet having let go of her sleeve. She smiles, but does not let out a mirroring sound. Just a smile and annoyance rushing inside her, alongside her internally cursing herself out. Obviously there aren’t guns in the walls. Anyone would be stupid to believe that. These games may be a little shady, but to just start emptying out on hundreds of people? That’d catch attention eventually, and so far, this is unheard of in the media. 

“Good! Just stay calm like this! We just have to move and stop at the right time!” Seo-Yun hopes this man gets eliminated first. He’s obnoxious. She rolls her eyes, sighing out a deep breath. He continues to yell through the pause, and finally, the doll turns away again. The sing-songy voice comes once more. Green light.

She moves. Speed-walking once more, resisting the urge to pull away from Nam-Gyu. Whether or not there are guns in these walls, they need to stick together. There’s too many people here, too many possibilities. It’d be stupid to purposefully separate from the only person she knows, and the only one who knows her. Neither of them are much, neither of them can quite be placed as threats, but she’s sure that, together, they could do some damage if they had to.

Seo-Yun hopes they don’t have to. 

Red light. 

She comes to a stop, now just a bit farther than the shouting man. He still doesn’t move. She just scoffs at him as he resumes his yelling, cupping his hands around his mouth to project his voice. If he doesn’t want to win, then that’s on him. Not her or anyone else. He can stay put there the entire game and scream about guns in the walls all he wants. 

“Freeze!” 

Fucking hell. Seo-Yun sends a very nasty glare in the general direction of the man, sighing to herself as she does so. She then goes back to looking straight forward with her eyes, watching the doll and how it works. It scans the players, but surely there’s no way it can see all of them? If the only sensors are in its eyes, then only the people in the front can be seen, right? If someone is behind someone else, like Nam-Gyu is with her right now, then would they be seen?

“Nam-Gyu, move a little bit. But keep it behind me.” She’s going to test her theory. There’s the distinct sensation of eyes burning into the back of her skull, a sure sign that Nam-Gyu is giving her probably the dirtiest look ever. “You trying to get me to lose?” He groans out his complaints, but he does it anyway. Fabric shuffles behind her. The hand not clinging onto her sleeve grazes against her lower back, and then it disappears. A bit more shuffling. 

“There, I, like, waved my hand around.” Seo-Yun hums in acknowledgement. There’s no indication of Nam-Gyu being removed from the games or having failed. No announcement, no staff member coming to pull him out. Her theory must be right. “Stay behind me, and you can move as much as you want, so long as it’s behind me.” 

Green light.

Seo-Yun shuffles forward. Nam-Gyu stays hot on her trail, practically stepping on the heels of her shoes as they move. He doesn’t move from behind her, now just seeming to have chosen keeping as close behind her as is humanly possible. Slightly annoying, but fine. It’s fine. Sand crunches under players’ footsteps, and Seo-Yun tries her best to avoid those around her as they move. Everyone seems to move as one, spacing out as much as possible, but it’s difficult with all the bodies here. 

“How did you figure that out?” It’s hard to hear Nam-Gyu over the singing and the muffled sound of footsteps, but Seo-Yun is just barely able to make out his question. She raises an eyebrow, huffing in agitation as a strand of hair comes loose from behind her ear. It dangles annoyingly in her face, right in her line of eyesight as she moves. 

Red light.

It’s easy to make a routine of this now. Seo-Yun comes to a quick stop with Nam-Gyu just behind her. The doll moves at the same pace, its little song not deviating whatsoever in speed. She just has to memorize it and move alongside it on instinct, which is becoming easy. “Figure what out?” She squints her eyes as a particularly harsh ray of sunlight glints directly into her face. The strands of hair sticking in front of her eyes seem to reflect the light even more.

“Me hiding behind you.” Oh, right. How could she forget that already? She literally told him to do it during the last red light. She has to fight the urge to shrug, mentally reminding herself of the stakes. 45.6 billion won. Seo-Yun was going to win it, she had to. But she had to get through red light, green light. Which meant not moving, despite how hard that was when she was having a conversation.

“The guy’s right. There’s sensors in the doll’s eyes. But it can’t see behind obstacles.” Fuck, if she doesn’t feel extremely smart right now. It’s a shame she never went to college, she’s sure that she would’ve gotten far there. Seo-Yun has never really considered herself all that brilliant, but her teachers had throughout her schooling years. Right now, she sort-of understands why. No one else seems to have figured out the eyes except for the screaming man.

Green light. 

Becoming more familiar with the pace, Seo-Yun gets a bit braver. She breaks out into a full sprint this time around, trying to cover as much ground as she can. Nam-Gyu stays close behind, breathing heavily against her exposed neck as the two of them run. She can’t exactly blame him, neither of them are really all that athletic or active. 

The sand slips under her feet. It’s so hard to run on this. Maybe you’re not supposed to, but she’s doing it. Fuck it if she’s not doing it. 

Red light.

“Freeze!”

Stop, go. Stop, go. Stop, go. 

It’s a consistent cycle. The room is a lot bigger than Seo-Yun had anticipated. They’re only halfway through now as they reach another red light, and her chest is heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Nam-Gyu is in a similar state. She can hear the way his breathing heaves behind her. He’s moved now to clutching at her shoulders with both of his hands, sweaty forehead resting between her shoulderblades as he tries to regain breath. 

Okay, maybe no more running. Speed walking was working before, and it seemed to be doing just fine for everyone else around them. It would be fine. 

A woman screaming suddenly echoes from a bit behind Seo-Yun. She thinks it’s the general direction of where Thanos is. It’s probably that girl he ditched Nam-Gyu for. Nam-Gyu’s head lifts from Seo-Yun’s back, probably trying to scope out whatever the situation is. The screaming only lasts for a second before the girl giggles, says something. 

And then there’s a gunshot and that stupid robot voice. “Player 196, eliminated.”

It’s calm. Aside from the man now screaming to stay still and not move, it’s so calm that you could hear a pen drop, even on the muffling sand floor. For a moment, it’s like the world has stopped entirely. Nothing happens. No one moves, the birds above don’t squawk. Not even the older man who was screaming says anything. The world seems to shift on its axis, the moment spreading long and thin as everyone tries to process what’s just happened. There’s guns in the walls.

All hell breaks lose. Screaming starts, thanks to a woman not far away from the girl who’d just been shot. Nam-Gyu’s grip on Seo-Yun tightens. People begin to scramble, turning and high-tailing it towards the fence doors of the room. They scream, sob, beg to be let out. It’s absolute chaos. A man running for the doors is shot just in front of Seo-Yun, and before she knows it, she’s tumbling to the ground. 

She groans as her knees collapse and she hits the ground. First her ass, then her back, and then her head. The entirety of her goes down so quickly that she can barely process it. The air in her lungs forces its way out. The weight of the body above her is suffocating. Seo-Yun struggles for breath as her chest tries its hardest to expand under the force of the body. The man is nothing close to slender. The sun beats down on her, hot on her face and bright in her eyes even as her eyelids slip closed. Nam-Gyu calls her name, but she says nothing for a moment.

The only thing she can think, as gunshots echo and screams begin to die down, is that she’s going to die here. Seo-Yun had never considered death. She’d never considered it could happen so soon. Even as a young, bullied child, she only ever wanted to live. To fight to continue on and be what she wanted to be. Now, at 30, she found herself still wanting the same thing. People say death is peaceful. This is anything but. Screams are all she can hear. The sun beams brightly past her closed eyelids. She’s trapped under a bleeding corpse, the blood pooling steadily onto the sleeve of one of her arms. The man’s probably not fully dead, not with where he was shot. Somewhere in his stomach. Not an instant death or anything close to it. But he’s not struggling, he’s not saying anything. Seems they’ve both accepted their fate.

Nam-Gyu calls her name again. Gunshots still echo. “Don’t come over here, Nam. Seriously. If you move they’ll kill you.” Who are they ? Seo-Yun will probably never know. She will stay here, under this body, until the timer runs out and she will be eliminated. Now, knowing what elimination truly means, she knows she will never know anything. She will never amount to anything. 

There’s one final gunshot, and then it all stops. The screams, the running. It’s over with. Seo-Yun now just has to sit here and wait for the inevitable. That’s fine. She can do that. The robotic voice repeats the rules, as if anyone could forget the rules of the game. It was like salt in a wound. No one forgot the rules. They were too scared of being murdered to think about them as they ran and screamed for help.

The man was right. There are guns in the walls.

Green light.

There’s no sounds of motion. Seo-Yun opens her eyes, lifting her head just enough to scan her surroundings. There’s still plenty of people left standing in the group, although significantly more dead bodies are scattered around. Red stains the sand. Nam-Gyu stands just a foot away, staring straight down at her and the body on top of her. He’s trembling, though he’s trying to hide it.

Red light. 

Nothing. Just heavy breathing. The palpable fear in the air. The doll scans, turns back around.

Green light. 

One person runs. It’s the older man again. Of course it is. He’s scanning the group of people, jaw tense as he runs towards the front. No one else dares to move. Seo-Yun attempts to push the man off of her with her free arm, but he’s all dead weight. Probably at least 150 pounds of limp, dead weight. Even if he’s still alive, he’s not trying to help her out here. She’s stuck. 

Red light.

Seo-Yun sighs, giving up on her attempt at pushing the body away. Her hand remains on its torso, though. She may be dying at the end of this round, but if she can prolong it, that would be deeply appreciated. 

Green light.

The man reaches the front of the crowd. “If you don’t reach the finish in the time limit, you’ll still die!” 

Honestly, Seo-Yun is a bit shocked by the stupidity of everyone else here. Yes, they’re scared. But they weren’t getting shot during green lights before. There’s no reason to think they would now. She pushes at the body on top of her, groaning as she does it. Still, the people are hesitant to move. Although, oddly enough, there’s another set of footsteps. Seo-Yun is too busy focusing on the man at the front of the crowd to pay any mind to the person approaching her until there’s a set of hands pushing at the corpse on top of her. 

Her head snaps to look at the person. Nam-Gyu. Thank fuck.

Another set of footsteps, and then there’s the other man. He crouches just as the doll announces red light. “Freeze!” The man shouts it, and Seo-Yun tries not to flinch at the loud noise. Although she’s got the sensor figured out pretty well, it’s a bit unclear what exactly may trigger it. The man had been telling people to cover their mouths when they talk, just in case. She never did, and she was fine. Who knows, though. Maybe she was just lucky. 

It’s not like he had to yell, either. No one was moving. 

Green light.

Nam-Gyu swats Seo-Yun’s hand away. She drops it with a sigh, cringing at the feeling of sand crunching against the back of her hand as it lands onto the ground. At this point, she’s surely even more of a mess than before. Definitely covered in sand, she knows that much. It’s managed to make its way into her tracksuit. The grittiness of it scratches against her back, her arms, her legs. It’s even in her damn shoes. 

The older man helps Nam-Gyu push the body away from her. It lands with a thump onto the sand. Seo-Yun just lays there for a moment, completely stunned. She’s saved, and by none other than her best friend and the man she insulted just three minutes ago. “Thank you.” Seo-Yun breathes it out as she gasps in breaths, brain short circuiting. The blood that had seeped onto her arm, through her sleeve, is now cooling and tacky against her skin. It’s terrible, but all of this is. Her hands grip at the sand beneath her, but she still just lays there, staring up at her saviors.

“Sorry for insulting you, sir.” He was right all along. Seo-Yun does feel quite terrible for insulting him when he was just trying to save lives. He smiles, waves her off as he does so. Like it’s no big deal. Maybe to him, it isn’t. Plenty of people were laughing and throwing insults. He was probably expecting it as soon as he ran up there.

Red light.

But… how did he know? It makes no sense. Unless he works for these games, but that also makes no sense. An employee would not be trying to save people and stop the games. All of the employees earlier encountered, the ones in the jumpsuits and masks, seemed to condone the games. They were defending them. He doesn’t work for them, no way. There’s another answer.

Seo-Yun smiles shakily at Nam-Gyu as she considers things. Sand cakes under her nails from the grip she has on the ground. It only seems to tighten as she mulls over the possibilities. Maybe he’s a cop, but he should have a squad with him if he’s on a case. Undercover possibly, but he has no weapons or identification. Wouldn’t make sense.

Only viable answer - He has insider information somehow. Maybe he’s been here before? An ex-staff member or a previous winner. 

Green light.

A minute thirty on the clock, still halfway to go. Nam-Gyu grabs Seo-Yun’s bicep and pulls, completely discarding the older man. That’s fine, clearly he can pull his weight. The man’s pushing himself off the ground as Seo-Yun stumbles to stand, barely catching her balance before she’s running behind Nam-Gyu. The other people have begun to move again as well, although cautiously. 

“Get behind someone taller than you! It can’t sense you if you’re hidden!” So she was right. Man, does Seo-Yun feel like a genius. Even if she was convinced she was dying a minute ago because she couldn’t escape from under that body. She still figured out the sensor on her own. 

People form into lines, slowly but surely. Nam-Gyu comes in behind the inquisitive woman from before the games, and Seo-Yun files in after him. 

Red light.

Stop, go. Once more. A bit more skilled now, though. More fearful, but more skilled. No more gunshots ring out for a bit. 

Green light.

Just people moving in tandem. Working together to live. Nam-Gyu extends a hand behind himself, ensuring that he has a grip on Seo-Yun’s arm no matter what. It’s not like that would do much, someone can take her down regardless. Nam-Gyu is not strong enough to hold her up, especially with one arm. But she won’t say that. If it makes him happy and reassured, then it’s fine.

Red light.

Thirty seconds on the clock. They’re getting so close. A few gunshots ring out from across the room, but it’s okay. For the most part, people are surviving. They’re working together. Reaching the end together.

Green light.

“Run!” 

The older man didn’t even have to say it. People break out into full runs towards the red finish line, and Seo-Yun is one of those people. Her and Nam-Gyu make a run for it, bolting for the line in tandem. Nam-Gyu crosses and then Seo-Yun does, just after him. Just beyond the red finish line, she attempts to catch her breath from the run. Her hands perch on her thighs, body half bent over as she fights for oxygen. Loose strands of hair stick to her sweaty forehead. It’s not even that hot outside, but Seo-Yun finds herself sweating profusely. 

Nam-Gyu seems to be in a similar state, red-faced and struggling to breathe. But it’s fine, because they made it. They made it over the line with twenty seconds to spare. They were alive, although just barely.

If this is what the other games were going to be like, this was going to be a long six days. 

Red light.

A gunshot. Seo-Yun whips to eye the field, eyes scanning the bloody sand and dead bodies until they land on one, a man just going down. Blood blossoms on his tracksuit pants. He lands hardly on the ground, face twisting in pain as the blood begins to stain the sand beneath his body. A wet, pained sound leaves the man’s mouth. The fight leaves his body at the very same time, and he goes limp. 

Green light.

The older man, the one insisting on helping everyone, runs out from behind the red finish line. He’s got a target on his back now, as he runs towards the body so close to the end. With so little time on the clock, it’s doubtful that the two will make it. Even still, this man does not seem to be deterred. He’s dead-set on helping everyone, it seems. Even if it costs him his own life. Seo-Yun could not nearly be so selfless.

He picks up the body of the man, slinging an arm around his shoulder and hurrying as quickly as he can towards the finish line. He’s lucky the man didn’t go down very far from the end of the field. Any farther, and they’d both be dead as the timer hits zero. The numbers tick down as the doll sings, and the man struggles to carry the weight of someone who can only limp pathetically as he tries to save himself. This is it, she’s sure. The only person here who knows anything, the only one who can help, and he’s killing himself in the first game.

The woman from the beginning, the one with the strong build, suddenly rushes out. She comes to the other side of the man being carried, wrapping strong arms around him as the doll’s song ends.

Red light.

The three figures still left alive on the sand tremble. They share anxious glances. Time’s almost up. Tension in the room is thick and heavy, the moment stretching like taffy in the room as everyone waits with bated breath. Will they live? Will they die? 

Green light.

They run for it. With two of them carrying the man’s struggling mass, it’s much easier for them to break out into a proper run. They cross the finish line with just a few seconds to spare, sweat dripping down their faces and fear deep in their eyes. Seo-Yun isn’t sure she could blame them. She wouldn’t have helped that man, far too afraid of her own demise. For that, they’re already so much better than her. She doesn’t believe she has a right to blame them for much of anything they may be feeling right now.

The timer on the wall beeps. Everyone seems to let out breaths as the three collapse onto the sand just beyond the finish line. Seo-Yun turns to Nam-Gyu, head falling onto his shoulder. The bone digs into her forehead, but she doesn’t care. All she can do is breathe out a relieved sigh as the game ends. She’s safe. He’s safe. So is the only other person that matters - The one who understands these games. Nam-Gyu even seems to let out a breath as well. The tension dissipates, unravelling into exhaustion and happiness. 

There’s only a moment of solace. Another gunshot rings out, and the man who was just saved collapses. Blood streams quickly out of a new hole in his body, one entering and exiting through his temples. Seo-Yun closes her eyes tightly, wincing and biting at her lip. Damn. 

There’s a rumbling noise from above. She doesn’t look up, not much caring for it. The ceiling rumbles and creaks as players mutter things to themselves, confused sentiments shared into the air of the deathly field. 

Seo-Yun only opens her eyes and lifts her head when there’s the distinct sound of the doors creaking open at the end of the room, where everyone started. Despite the masses of bodies piled against the green doors, they slide open easily. The bodies are pushed to the side, revealing massive pools of blood that paint the sand in front of the gate-like doors.

Players are led the exact same way out as the way they came in. Through the field, down the colorful hallways and staircases. They reach the bedroom area soon enough. Many people freeze as soon as they’ve entered the room, muttering incoherently and praying and crying. Seo-Yun feels numb as she pushes past the masses blocking the door, not caring much at this point if Nam-Gyu is following. He’ll find her. They always find each other. She needs time to process all this. The games, the deaths. 

She also needs time to think about the cash. There will be a vote soon, that was promised to them. It was on the contract. Assuming the staff are true to their word, Seo-Yun will need to decide what to do. 

She’ll need to decide if the money to be won is worth her life.

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

PEOPLE FIND THEMSELVES GROUPING UP rather quickly. Nam-Gyu splits off with Thanos, claiming an empty bed beside the rapper’s. He urges Seo-Yun to do the same, but she shakes her head. It’s smart to get to know the others around her. The next game could be anything, and there seems to be nothing hinting towards what it could be. The paintings on the walls, despite looking like games, do not align with what’s already been played. It’s doubtful that they would show future games.

It would also be smart for her to make allies. Nam-Gyu is a just fine one, but Thanos is… Not exactly what Seo-Yun would consider to be a strong ally. He seemed to do okay in red light, green light, but it’s clear he’s high on something. As soon as Nam-Gyu grouped back up with him, Seo-Yun took in the way he was suddenly antsy. And the way his pupils are blown wide. He’s high off his ass, which is just fine, but may impair him in the games.

She thinks about the woman from before. Strong build, and clearly brave. That woman spoke up against the staff from the very beginning, and helped the older man try to save someone’s life. Seo-Yun’s current allies may be Nam-Gyu and Thanos, but it’s smart to get on the good side of strong people. Even if she doesn’t fully ally, with how dangerous these games have proven to already be, the more people on her side, the better.

She looks around, trying to find the woman in the sea of blue jumpsuits. It proves to be difficult, though. Despite the amount of people who had died in the first game, there were still many people milling about. Tucked under bunks, socializing, calling out names of those they recognized. It was hard to even pick Nam-Gyu out of the crowd when Seo-Yun looks for him, let alone a woman she had only seen a handful of times. Hell, the only reason she could really find Nam-Gyu was because of Thanos’ bright purple hair shadowing him. 

Whatever. Seo-Yun navigates away from the door the players were brought back in through, pushing through the groups milling about. People were already forming groups, alliances, cliques, whatever you wanted to call them. It was survival, even just after the first game. But it also reminded Seo-Yun much of high school, far too much of those years of her life where she didn’t even remotely fit in. Years of being bullied for being too quiet, too stupid, not pretty enough. Being bullied for being an orphan. 

She’s tried to bury the memories, but it’s hard. Especially here, when people are establishing groups and hierarchies already. They’re subtle but they’re there, with the way people eye her as she shoves past their groups. She’s safe, so long as she sticks with Nam-Gyu, and she knows that. But that doesn’t remove the paranoia and anxiety that brews within her stomach as she navigates the crowded room, receiving looks from the people she passes. Some are kind, some are neutral. Others are malicious. It just reminds her far too much of the times of being called names, being snickered at, and having to go home to the same treatment. To foster parents who beat her, or an orphanage full of kids who ostracized her just as much.

Her eyes scan faces, trying to look for the strong-built woman and hoping that woman is kind, not one to delve into hierarchies so soon. She searches and searches, starting at the front right side of the room and working her way back. Seo-Yun remembers the woman came from the back of the room. She’d been climbing down some bunk stairs. She’d probably go back to her bunk, or somewhere close. So, Seo-Yun makes her way back there. She tries to take in the face of every person she passes.

Finally, fucking finally, she sees the woman. Relief spreads through her. Yes, she has Nam-Gyu, someone she knows and trusts. But Seo-Yun needs to have other people, and she’d like to have at least one girl on her team. She approaches the woman, sitting on the metal stairs of the bunks. The woman looks up at her, eyes wide. She’s clearly startled, and Seo-Yun can’t blame her. Seo-Yun tries to spread a smile over her face, but it’s thin and rough around the edges. Whatever. Fuck her for trying.

“Hi.” Seo-Yun doesn’t exactly know what to say. She’s never been the best at socializing, and she’s never really had friends. Nam-Gyu was her first and only real friend. She may have gotten along with people here and there through her childhood years, but Seo-Yun did not make friends. They were either children from the orphanage who got adopted before friendship could be established, or people at school who realized being in her immediate vicinity was social suicide. But that reputation of hers did not exist here. In a sense, she had a clean slate. The cleanest she’s ever had. No one here except Nam-Gyu knows she was an orphan, nor do they know that she’s almost entirely self-dependent on substances. 

She can feel sweat rising to the skin of her palms, and she anxiously rubs them against her tracksuit pants. No real sense in worrying about cleanliness at this point, she’s covered in gritty sand and tacky blood and messy Halloween makeup. Surprisingly, her hair seemed to have held relatively well. It’s more up than down, at least, which she’s grateful for. She pushes a few strands out of her face, behind her ears, while keeping her other hand perched against her thigh. The woman looks around, hands clutching at each other on her lap. And then she breathes out a sigh, one that appears to be relief.

“Hi,” She responds, trying her best to smile back. It’s just as rough as Seo-Yun’s is, and that makes her feel a little better. Seo-Yun nods at the small empty space on the stair platform beside the woman, a silent question. The woman’s eyes go wide once more and she scrambles to move, allowing more space for Seo-Yun to sit down. Seo-Yun takes the few steps up to her, and then she takes her place beside the woman. 

“Chae Seo-Yun. You?” She knows the woman’s name, alongside everyone else’s, were projected on the giant TV screen before the game. But that feels like a million years ago now. Seo-Yun feels so different, something altered in her that will never go back to the way it was. She’s seen people die. A man died on top of her. That’s more than anyone should have to say, especially someone who’s only 30 years old and just trying to pay off their debts. She hopes desperately to get out of this place alive. But even if she does, she’ll never be who she was before this.

“Cho Hyun-Ju.” The woman, Hyun-Ju, responds. Seo-Yun nods, sending a bit steadier of a smile towards her. She was making a friend, or at least it felt like she was, and something about that made her feel like a small child. It felt like something that was missing was coming to her, years and years too late. But at least it was coming. One missing puzzle piece in what is Chae Seo-Yun is being clicked into place. And this puzzle piece was that of making a friend, naturally, one who would play games with her. It’s hard not to think of that childishly, even if the circumstances of all of this were less than pure. 

There’s a beat between the two of them, neither quite knowing what to say. It would seem that Hyun-Ju is equally as awkward as Seo-Yun. Maybe she doesn’t have anyone, either. Seo-Yun has Nam-Gyu, she has for a few years now, but their relationship has always been complex. Full of fighting and drugs and dependency. Neither can live without the other, but they can’t quite live with each other, either. When they’re not high, they’re fighting. When they’re not fighting, they’re high. Seo-Yun doesn’t know Hyun-Ju’s circumstances, but the two must be similarly alone in the world. “I thought you had a friend?” Hyun-Ju asks, pointing in the general vicinity of where Thanos is laid back on a bed and Nam-Gyu is sitting beside him, picking at the loose threads on the sheets.

Nam-Gyu is watching them so carefully. Seo-Yun hates it. She looks away from him as quickly as she’d looked towards him, heaving out a sigh as she does so. And she nods, because yes, she does have a friend. More technically, she has a Nam-Gyu. They’re more than friends, not quite lovers. They love each other more than platonically but not romantically. They love each other in complex ways. They snort lines together and crunch pills between teeth. But they don’t say I love you. They don’t talk it out after a fight. They don’t convince the other to get sober.

Seo-Yun is Nam-Gyu’s pill after a hard day. 

She doesn’t know how to place what he is to her. A brother, a best friend, nothing and everything all at once. She doesn’t know if she wants to know. “Yeah,” She breathes it out, blinking hard. Seo-Yun reaches her hands up to her eyes, pressing the palms hard into her closed eyelids. “But I needed to get away from that sausage party.” Seo-Yun tries to make a joke. It falls flat immediately, and she can tell by the tension that takes over the air. The way the woman next to her breathes out a small uh.

Seo-Yun’s hands drop to her lap, and she wrenches her eyes open to look at Hyun-Ju. The awkward expression now on the woman’s face is even more of an indicator that something wrong was most definitely said, although she tried to just make a joke. Shit. Seo-Yun tries to blink away the black spots that cloud her vision after just digging her palms into her eyes, and she tries to think about what she may have possibly said wrong there that made that awkward, out-of-place look come across Hyun-Ju’s face.

“You may want to find a different person to talk to, then.” Hyun-Ju raises a hand to rub at the back of her neck, looking down at her lap as she does so. Seo-Yun’s eyebrows furrow, confusion overtaking her. That sentiment makes literally no sense. Except maybe it does, because this woman’s voice is deeper than most, she has a strong build, and she’s very tall. And Seo-Yun connects it all at once, suddenly feeling stupid for not having realized sooner that this woman is trans. It’s honestly just not something that crossed her mind. Not something she cares about, especially in a place like this. Anyone taking the time to be transphobic in this hell hole needs to get their priorities straight.

Her eyes widen and she frantically shakes her head. “That’s not what I meant-” How does she recover from that? Seo-Yun sighs, dropping her head to stare down at her lap. “I can find someone else if you want, but that’s not what I meant.” There’s no way to recover from that. She just has to be wholeheartedly honest and hope that Hyun-Ju believes her, because so far she’s actually really nice. “Tired of annoying ass men.” Seo-Yun mumbles it under her breath with another sigh. She blinks a few times and her mind races. 

“As long as you’re comfortable.” That’s all that Hyun-Ju responds with. Short, awkward. Seo-Yun tries not to be dissuaded as she smiles and nods, looking back up at Hyun-Ju beside her. There’s more silence between the two. Seo-Yun looks out at the room around them, the people down on the floor who are socializing. The ones laying on bunks. The ones sitting on stairs, just like her, waiting for the next step. Whatever the next step may be. A vote, food, bathroom breaks. The staff had said one game per day, so at least that was that.

Seo-Yun’s stomach grumbles. She hopes food comes next.

She tries to make conversation with Hyun-Ju for a bit, just getting to know her. It’s so casual, much more casual than her friendship with Nam-Gyu has ever been. She’s sure it also results in Hyun-Ju knowing much more about her than Nam-Gyu ever has. They talk about their favorite shows and movies, music they like, favorite colors. Anything to pass the time as they wait for the next thing to happen. Seo-Yun shares that she’s here because of drugs and just struggling to live with no family to rely on. Hyun-Ju explains that she’s here to fund her transition. 

Seo-Yun can’t help but think that Hyun-Ju has a much better reason to be here than she does. 

She doesn’t know how much time passes before the doors on the platform are opening again, a buzzer sounding through the room as they do so. Staff members file out, the exact same way as before. This time, it’s four triangles on each side, a square in the middle of it. Seo-Yun’s eyes widen, anxiety taking over again as she watches them enter with their guns. They didn’t harm her, or anyone, before the game. But would that change now that the truth had been revealed? She hardly had time to consider that before Hyun-Ju’s hand was wrapping around her wrist. Hyun-Ju stands, pulling Seo-Yun up with her, and Seo-Yun is tugged to hide behind one of the bars holding up bunks beside Hyun-Ju. 

“You have successfully made it through the first game. Congratulations to you all.” The square guard speaks, his voice coming out robotic as he does so. The anonymity that the staff get is unfair, annoying. Why do they get so much privacy and the players get nothing? They get slaughtered like dogs for being in debt. Seo-Yun would’ve preferred being beaten in an alleyway over the won she owed over this. “Now, if I may have your attention, I will announce the results so far.”

It doesn’t matter. Seo-Yun wants to go home. She wants to go back to before this. 

She realizes Hyun-Ju’s hand hasn’t let go of her wrist. But that’s fine. It’s comfortable, reassuring. The TV screen above the platform begins to trill, and the number 456 goes steadily down. Seo-Yun’s eyes flick up to it, nauseous as she watches the number decrease. She itches for a cigarette, a line, a pill, alcohol. Anything. Anything to numb the anxiety, the fear. The way some twisted part of her enjoys watching the player number go down as the prize number goes up. 

“Out of 456 players, 91 have been eliminated.” So many. Too many. Not enough. Fuck. 

Her brain fights with her. She doesn’t know which side to be on. She knows she needs something, now that it’s all really hitting her. The bodies, the blood. The death and the iron-y smell that clung to her alongside the stain on her jacket. 

“365 players have completed the first game.” Too many.

There’s chaos then, an older woman tugging a man behind her. He shoves at his glasses, gaze swirling around the room as his face flushes with anxiety. Seo-Yun recognizes them, vaguely, in the back of her mind, as the mother-son duo that had come together before all this, fighting over which of them should stay to pay off his debts. Seo-Yun is conflicted as she stares down at the scene of the mother tugging her son down to the ground, her frail form already bent over herself as she kneels on the ground and begs for her son to be shown mercy. For him to be let out of this cruel, dark place, and for her to stay behind. 

It’s terrible that she’s conflicted. Seo-Yun feels bad for them, she really does. How terrible it must be to enter games to pay off your son’s gambling debts, only to be thrust head-first into death disguised as children’s games. Not only that, but said son is here with you, and you know that despite how hard you try to keep the both of you safe, it’s only a matter of time before something happens. So, yes, she feels bad for them. Something in her heart tugs as she watches the son bow to the staff alongside his elderly mother. But something more sour, something that pairs the itch for drugs and the quiet urging for more to die, leads Seo-Yun to be jealous of the sight. Oh, to have parents who care.

Oh, to have a family. 

She had never been given that grace. Orphaned at birth and given no more information beyond her parent’s names. She had to do the digging to find them, only to come up empty handed and reeling, trying desperately to grapple for any sense of family, love, security. In a life full of having no one but herself up until Nam-Gyu came along in the club that night. Seo-Yun can’t help but feel jealous. She can’t help but wish her own parents had fought like that to keep her alive. Instead, they thrust her into the arms of the first person they saw upon entering the hospital.

“Players, there seems to be a misunderstanding.” The square speaks up, but people seem to pay it no mind. It’s not long before the teary old woman and her son are joined. Someone steps out from a bunk, kneeling on the floor and clasping their shaking hands together as they plead for mercy and forgiveness. Another steps out from behind a stack of bunks, bowing as best as they can as their lip trembles and prayers slip from their mouth. More and more come from the woodworks, spilling fearful apologies and pleadings. If only they remembered; they sold their souls to the devil. Each person in this room, from the ones begging to the ones watching the scene, signed their lives away to whoever designed these games. 

The clauses were clear. Players had been presented with a chance to leave before signing. It’s too late now, though. They’ve gambled and come up with the short end of the stick. All that can be done is wait for the vote, and hope it’s on their side.

Seo-Yun does not know whose side she wants the vote to be on. 

“We are not trying to hurt you or collect your debts. We are simply providing you with an opportunity.” The words fall on deaf ears. Soon enough, the pleading and praying of the players kneeled on the floor has become louder than the echoing voice of the square. The teary-eyed figures clasp their hands together and bow as low as they can to the floor, as though that will change anything at all about the situation they’ve gotten themselves wrapped up in. Seo-Yun feels some pity for them. There wasn’t total transparency about these games, after all. But the players did read the contract and sign it, though they did not know what was to come. This is partially their fault.

Seo-Yun knew there had to be some sort of danger and illegality to it all. It just seemed so shady and odd, the copious amounts of money and the fact so  many people were just taken off the streets and seemingly no one noticed. It was all far too organized to be a one-off thing; this has been happening for years and years, and no one has noticed. That almost inherently meant danger, even if it wasn’t clear what kind. 

It’s not long before the older man from before comes to speak up again, voice booming through the large room. “Consent form clause three: If the majority of players agree to stop playing, the games will be terminated.” Of course. Seo-Yun hasn’t stopped thinking about it, about the vote to come. She hadn’t realized that, for the vote to happen, someone would have to specially request it. She thought it was a given, one small right in a place where no one is owed anything. 

This older man is smart, and she doesn’t know whether that’s good or bad. Having a steady head on your shoulders can get you far, but it can also lead into a steady descent into madness. Finding loopholes in everything, trying to carry the weight of the world, it all works well in the beginning. He could very well slip, though. Become the very thing that he’s seeking to destroy.

Seo-Yun doesn’t know whether it’s smart or not to try to at least get on his good side. He’s smart, knows a lot about the games. Too much. He could be dangerous, with the amount of information he holds. Anyone he’s keen on could be walking around with targets on their backs. Or they could be significantly safer. This could be a scheme, someone placed in here to spice things up. To see who will choose to trust him and inevitably be killed for it. Or it could be true, and he could have a good heart with nothing but a will to save everyone he possibly can.

The square nods. Hyun-Ju’s grip on Seo-Yun’s wrist tightens. It’s a steady weight there, tugging just slightly on her arm as she attempts to hide beside Hyun-Ju. As they attempt to hide together, from a threat neither of them can locate. Many people still hold hope inside them, that much is clear from the sigh of relief that echoes through the room at the staff member’s assent. But hope can be deadly. Seo-Yun should keep her guard up, although not too high.

This is an impossible situation to navigate. She wished she knew more people here. All she has is Nam-Gyu. She’s forming something with Hyun-Ju, but it’s difficult to allow herself to fully trust someone she didn’t know before all of this.

The square insists on showing how much prize money has been won from the first game alone, a twisted trick that Seo-Yun can see right through. Yes, you have the right to choose, but look at what you’re losing out on if you leave! It’s sick. It’s genius.

It’s convincing.

The pig lowers from the ceiling, still see-through and glowing bright yellow from the lights that shine down upon it. Seo-Yun almost wishes for it to crash from its place in the sky and take out as many people as it can, just to see that prize money go up. She blinks as she stares up at the pig, numbers flashing behind her eyelids as she does so. The amount of money she has in the negatives. Millions of won. Spent stupidly on baggies and bottles of God-knows-what. Just for a temporary euphoria. She doesn’t know if she regrets that or not, the late nights at the club and even later nights spent rotting on her couch, too high to tell her foot from her ass.

 A sound like something you’d hear in a casino rings from the general direction of the pig as money rains down into its belly. Peppy and electrical, another clever move. It’s a sound you’d associate with winning, with cheering as you pocket your masterfully-won earnings. It’s psychological. Most people here are gamblers. They love that sound, the one that announces how much better you are for getting what everyone else is killing themselves to have - more money. The sound that makes you forget how much you spent just to earn what you clutch in a sweaty palm.

And she falls for it, hook, line, and sinker. Seo-Yun teeters to the edge of the cliff she’s been standing on as she fights with herself between leaving and staying. She’d like to live. But one more game wouldn’t hurt, right? By then, there will be enough. She has to think about herself first. About the amount of times she’d been cornered in the previous months, blood dripping from her nose and into her mouth, as a burly man insults her. Insists on getting money she doesn’t have, or being paid back another way. Seo-Yun has to think about how many times those strong men stated she will pay, either with money or her body - And she doesn’t want to think about whether paying with her body is said in the tune of sex, or organ trafficking.

Seo-Yun would rather die than have her organs stolen. She would also rather die than fuck someone as a means of paying them back. She has done a lot to get to tomorrow, but she would like to keep her dignity about her. 

She feels it again, the way Hyun-Ju’s grip tightens just slightly around her wrist. The woman’s other hand clutches against the bar of the bunk-beds, hair falling against her back as she stares up at the piggy bank. Her fingers flex against the metal bed frame, around Seo-Yun’s wrist. This chip-tune audio and the money falling into the pig’s belly are more than enough to make even the strongest of people question their morals. It must be hard for Hyun-Ju, too. It’s either this, or live in a body she hates.

In a way, debating to stay for Hyun-Ju also means keeping her dignity, just in a different manner.

Maybe that’s what this is for everyone. And that’s what Seo-Yun tells herself even as the voting starts and the players are told to form a group in the back of the room as best as they can. Everyone here is trying to maintain their dignity, even the ones choosing to stay. Many are worse off than her. Everyone is here for different reasons. For many, it’s also about life-or-death upon leaving. Dying here, trying to crawl out of the hole they dug, is much more desirable than leaving and dying at the bottom of the hole without even trying to escape.

The guards roll out one podium, with two buttons on it. A bright blue O and a bright red X. The floor matches the buttons, one side lit up with a red X and a line to separate that side, the other a blue O with its own line. A small pathway is allotted between the two sides for players to walk down for their turn to vote.

It’s torture, waiting for her turn. The players vote from highest number to lowest number, and she’s almost smack-dab in the middle of that. She curses to herself, groaning as she raises a hand to grab at the number on her chest. The slightly blood-stained 287 seems to stare up at her, almost menacingly, as her fingers curl around it. 

People fight, of course they do. A crazy woman on a bunk screams about death being fate, and people having no way of changing their fates. The old man goes first, the scarily-smart one, and he votes to leave. Of course he does. But it's not that simple. The votes go up almost in tandem. For each X, there’s an O to cancel it out. Anxiety curls deep in Seo-Yun’s stomach the longer this all goes on. She looks around the crowd, tries to find the familiar face of Nam-Gyu. She hates crowds, and she hates waiting. She hates all of this. Hyun-Ju is standing semi-comfortingly beside her, but something deep inside her just screams for Nam-Gyu. 

It’s hard to find him in the crowd, but Seo-Yun manages to do it. She catches Thanos’ purple hair to her left, and there he is. Nam-Gyu is right there, arms crossed over his chest as he stares ahead at the voting. Seo-Yun breathes out a sigh, hand squeezing tighter around the number on her chest. Hyun-Ju is there, beside her. But they don’t know each other like that, not really. She needs someone she knows well, someone she knows better. Someone who knows her.

“I’m going back to my friend, okay? But I’ll see you around, Hyun-Ju.” She leans closer to Hyun-Ju as she whispers the words, trying to send a comforting smile in the way of the woman beside her. It’s hard, though. This is all hard. She’s trying to handle it, but some part of her feels five years old, struggling to make friends on the playground. Some part of her hasn’t fully moved on from the feeling of a body on top of her. The feeling of struggling against it, chest trying to expand as she attempts to suck in a breath despite the weight of it. Seo-Yun hasn’t fully moved on from the feeling of blood soaking into her jacket, the metallic scent of it surrounding her as she closes her eyes and tries to accept that that’s it, because she’s far too small to push the man off of her.

Hyun-Ju looks down at Seo-Yun. Her hair brushes gently against her shoulders as she moves, and she frowns for a single second before forcing a smile to paint it over. Hyun-Ju nods, not saying anything. Seo-Yun takes that as her sign to just go, although Hyun-Ju is so sweet. She needs something comfortable. Something she knows well. Seo-Yun needs the only stability she’s had in the coming years. Nam-Gyu.

She shoves her way through the crowd, although it hardly takes much. People surprisingly let her by with little protest. It’s not long before Seo-Yun has reached them, the quiet giggling of Thanos and Nam-Gyu as they whisper some joke to each other. She almost feels like she’s interrupting something, but the moment changes as soon as Thanos’ eyes catch on her. He lights up then, practically squealing as he dramatically wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her into a hug.

God, if that isn’t fucking annoying. Seo-Yun grimaces, trying to push Thanos away as soon as his arms are around her. She distinctly feels his cheek smush against the top of her head, against the updo there. Her arms lift to push him angrily away, but he’s tugging himself away from her before she can do it. “Fiesty, huh, princess? Chill, girl. Chill. It’s okay.” And then she’s being pulled in again, face shoved against the 230 of his jacket. Thanos holds her tight, practically squeezing, as he mutters at her to just chill. 

As if she could chill when she’s being practically squeezed to death by probably her least favorite person. While she’s covered in blood, Halloween makeup, and sand. Oh, right, not to mention she almost died earlier. But yes, let’s be chill.

Someone else is approaching her. There’s one footstep in Seo-Yun’s direction before two hands are wrapping around her bicep. The hands stay there for a moment, only a moment. And then they’re moving to rub her upper arm. It’s sensory overload, the hug and the rubbing. But it’s also nice. And she knows it’s Nam-Gyu’s stupid, boney fingers. So it’s kind-of nice, because she kind-of missed him.

She’s also kind-of missing a pack of cigarettes and a line of blow right now. But she can’t get either of those, so this will do. Nam-Gyu will do.

Her number is called before Thanos’ or Nam-Gyu’s. Player 287. 

Thanos releases his grip on her with a groan, thank God. And then Seo-Yun is moving, almost on autopilot. Numbly, she walks down the aisle between the LED blue and red lights. She’s tense as she approaches the podium, the brightly colored buttons on there. And when she reaches it, it feels as though the world stops for a moment. Seo-Yun doesn’t know what to press. Stay or go? She fights with herself, as she has been for a bit now. Neither seem like good options.

She throws her head back in frustration as she brings a hand up to hover over the podium. Her eyes catch on the glowing piggy bank, the yellow lights and the bills shining inside of it. She bites her lip. Considers. It’s a lot. But not enough. But these games are deadly. The next one could kill her. It could kill Nam-Gyu. It could kill Hyun-Ju.

Her hand moves before she can stop it.

There’s a beep, then the sound of a shutter. The sound of the number flicking on the TV screen to align with her vote. A guard’s hand digs through piles of patches for a moment before one is thrust out to her to align as well. 

Seo-Yun takes it tenderly, as though one wrong move may rip it to shreds. And then, with a sigh, she turns on her heel. She brings herself to the side with the others who voted the same way as her. 

As the next number is called, Seo-Yun’s shaking hands pull the patch up to the right side of her chest. She’s now fully donned with the information that needs to be known about her for any potential alliances, and any games ahead.

Player 287. O.

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

NOT LONG AFTER Thanos has voted, the old clever old man seems to have officially lost it. He steps out from his place in the X crowd, hands raised as he faces the group waiting for their turn to vote. He pleads with them to just think, to just consider what they’re choosing to do. The choice they’re about to make. Seo-Yun sighs, stares down at the blue O on her chest. And she doesn’t know if she regrets it, because Thanos voted the same way. Nam-Gyu is definitely going to vote the same way. So many people have voted alongside her. She doesn’t know that she regrets it because she definitely doesn’t. She doesn’t regret it. She needs the money, they all do. In a way, she’s doing everyone in this room a favor.

At least, that’s what she tells herself.

“If we don’t stop this, they’ll kill us all!” The man exclaims, waving his hands around to annunciate his words. As though he’s changing anyone’s minds. No one can take back their vote, and many in the crowd he’s urging seem to be convinced of their choice. Regardless of what it is, most people’s minds are made up. They’re either willing to go home and live in poverty, or stay here and die trying to make something better for themselves. Seo-Yun would like to do that, she thinks. Red light, green light was relatively easy, considering she had no clue it was a death game. She’ll do much better now that she knows what’s on the line. She knows it. She believes in herself, and she believes that Nam-Gyu will keep her safe. And she will keep him safe, because that’s what they do. That’s what they always do.

“Just focus on getting out of this place.” He holds his hands out to the crowd. Begging. Pleading. “And to do that, we need to win the vote!” He points at the scoreboard. Seo-Yun looks between the begging man and the lit-up screen, teeth gnawing at her lip. Thanos comes to stand next to her, walking overdramatically as he does so. He’s hardly paying any attention to Seo-Yun, though. He was practically pushing through the crowd backwards, a shit-eating grin on his face as he did so. Thanos’ eyes are trained on the begging man. Everyone’s are. “We can stop this here and now!”

The crowd parts, and a much older man pushes his way through it. Graying and beer-bellied, this man is the exact definition of a halabuji. He’s determined as he steps through the parting crowd, finger pointed accusedly at the clever man. “Why’re you egging people on, huh? What are you getting at?” He steps out into the pathway, across from the man who knows far too much about these games. “The game had just started and you were  shouting about getting shot!” And, oh, does that get a reaction from the crowd around the two fighting men. A woman steps out, then, shouting about how right the halabuji is. Seo-Yun doesn’t want to side with either of the men. They’re both right. But most of her is urging her to agree with the much older man. 

The clever one saved lives, but he scared people in the process. Would more lives had been saved if he hadn’t spoken up at all?

Seo-Yun thinks back to it, the way he so dutifully bossed people around to try to save their lives. He put his own at risk to save hers. She shakes her head forcefully, as though that will shake away the thought of the graying man being right. No, the clever one is right. He saved lives. He saved her life, and for that she needs to be grateful. She owes him now, a debt that cannot ever be repaid no matter how much money she earns from these games. The least she can do, even if she voted to stay to save her own ass from debts, is agree with him in this fight.

“How do you know so much anyway?” Another man steps out from the crowd of people who have yet to vote. Seo-Yun analyzes each of these people, their numbers and their faces. It’ll be important to remember what she can about other people. Names aren’t much of a thing here. People are not individuals here. They’re animals, labeled with numbers and slaughtered. Forgotten. 

100. 226. The woman’s is impossible to make out from here. 456. 

“Do you work for these guys?” 226, the one who just stepped out, comes to stand beside 100, the oldest man. Seo-Yun distinctly remembers that extremely old man to be the one in the most debt. 10 billion won. So much that everyone had turned to look at him and gossip when that information was revealed. 226 points angrily at 456, the clever one. Seo-Yun perks up at his question. She’d been wondering the exact same thing, whether 456 was a spy sent to throw people off or if he genuinely had far too much insider information.

“You’re a plant put here to try and trick us.” 100 accuses, jaw clenching as soon as he spits the accusation out there. His hands ball into fists at his side, but he looks almost… Amused? Like the damn cat who caught the canary. He’s got it all figured out, or so he thinks. Seo-Yun is in a terrible position, unable to see more than  456’s hunched back as he goes still. “They hired you to come confuse us all!” 100 moves. He speed-walks towards 456, grabbing the man by his shoulders as soon as he comes to stand in front of him. 100 faces the employees at the front of the room, the ones guarding the voting podium so dutifully. They haven’t spoken up this entire time, but 100 seems to be convinced that they’ll give him answers. 

“Who is this man?” He demands it more than he asks it. 100 releases 456, takes two more brisk steps towards the front of the room. He points between the staff members there and 456, an angry scowl taking over his face as he gets no response. The square is painfully silent. It’s almost embarrassing. And Seo-Yun has had enough of this. Her hands shake at her sides and her stomach growls. She wants nothing more than a nice dinner, a pack of cigarettes, and a full soju bottle right now. Unfortunately for her, she can’t have any of those things. Unfortunately for the rest of this room, she’s very ill-tempered when she’s hungry.

Another man steps out, this one from the X side. 390. “That’s uncalled for. We wouldn’t have survived the game if it weren’t for him!” Seo-Yun nods in agreement with this new man, although he can’t see her. No one is paying any attention to anything but the sight in front of them. She can’t help but yell out her agreement, a small he’s right that the man nods to. Murmurs of agreement from the X side build up faster than they do on the O side, but there are a few O’s who agree with 390 and 456 over 100 and 226. “You should be thanking him!” 390 shouts it as he approaches 226, who is now awkwardly hunched over himself as he scratches at the back of his neck. He’s clearly flustered, that much can be seen even in the bad lighting of the room. The room is lit up mostly by the fluorescent red and blue on the floor, the small bit of lighting that comes from the pig. It’s an odd purple-y color, but it’s enough to show off the flush that takes over 226’s cheeks as he’s called out for being a wussy right in front of everyone.

“Why do you care? You also a plant?” 226 turns his embarrassment into anger. It’s downright childish, really. Four grown men now fighting over whether or not each of them were placed into the games to spice things up. Seo-Yun wanted to know the answer to that very question, but not like this. Not immaturely revealed in a screaming match, a giant pissing contest of old men pointing and yelling to place the blame onto anyone other than them. An older woman rushes from the crowd awaiting to vote, face concerned and anxious as she approaches 226 and 390 in their argument.

She’s the mother, the one stuck here with her son. It’s pitiful. Even still, she’s trying to protect everyone. She rushes out and insists that everyone should listen to 456, that they should vote to get out of here. They’ve been through so much today, it’s time to go home. Seo-Yun wants to agree with the sentiment, but the blue patch on her chest burns at the skin beneath her clothes. It’s pride. It’s anger. It’s embarrassment. She doesn’t know whether to stand true to her vote or not. Seo-Yun doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but she has to look out for herself.

A chant rises from both sides. The X’s scream about going home, and the O’s yell over sticking around for more. The mixed shouts echo through the large room. Thanos is so quick to join into the one on the O side, and Seo-Yun joins as well, after a bit of internal arguing. Players shout, fight, cuss. Sharp insults are thrown to opposing teams. Fists are pumped into the air to match the chanting and arguing. Thinly veiled threats are spat at random people. Seo-Yun does not engage in the more violent behavior, although urgings of continuing slip from her lips. Just one more game. One more, to get a bit more. Closer to what I need.

“I’ve played these games before!” 456 loses it now, hands thrown into the air as he painfully shouts out into the arguing room. His abrupt motion sends everyone reeling, and the fighting ends as quickly as it started. So her theory had been right, partially. He knows so much because he’s done this before. He has insider information because, in a way, he is an insider. 456 tearfully explains how everyone else in his game died, and he was the only one left.

Thanos turns back to face Seo-Yun, head crooking to look over his shoulder. His face is painted with pure amusement, and she tries to respond to that with nothing but contempt. The last thing she needs is for this God-awful rapper to think she tolerates him. His eyes crinkle around the edges as he smiles at her, showing off the pearly whites of his teeth. “Get a load of this shit, babe.” The nickname makes Seo-Yun want nothing more than to peel her own skin off. She clicks her tongue, rolls her eyes, and crosses her arms over her chest. Some part of her feels ashamed for voting O, and the vote wasn’t even over yet. Even still, she had the instinctive urge to hide if. That’s exactly what she was doing.

Seo-Yun does not peel her skin off, despite her brain and heart coming together for once to insist upon it. 

“I dunno. I’m inclined to believe it. He knows a lot, clearly.” She mutters, partially only challenging Thanos as a means of being particularly difficult. Seo-Yun can typically bite her tongue, despite not enjoying it all that much. But she wants nothing more than to be a nuisance upon this purple-haired shit-stain. “I mean, look at him. He’s practically crying up there.” Seo-Yun shakes a lazy finger in the general direction of the chaos in the voting aisle, voice entirely monotone as she speaks. She’s not even lying to draw the attention away from her, either. There’s a clear glisten in 456’s eyes as his claims are challenged by the halabuji. 

Thanos breathes out a laugh, eyes looking between Seo-Yun and 456 up there. “ Damn, dude. What the fuck? Is it that serious?” Of course he wouldn’t think it’s that serious. He’s so high off his ass that he probably thinks everything happening right now is in his imagination. Before Seo-Yun can even try to come up with a feasible response to that question, Thanos is pushing himself through the crowd, towards 456 specifically. Upon reaching the man, Thanos claps a hand on his shoulder as though they’re buddies. He receives a very cold glare, but he pays no mind to it. Or at least, he seems not to.

“Hey, this is good for us! He can help us win.” Seo-Yun is stuck with nothing but a glimpse of Thanos’ back as he speaks, but she can hear a smug smile in the confidence of his voice. It’s fucking stupid. And it just opens up an entirely new cheer, everyone shouting about getting to continue playing. Making money. With a winner in here, it would be easy. Why not continue on? 

Seo-Yun’s eyes drift down to the drying blood on her jacket sleeve. She can think of one reason not to continue.

She should’ve thought of it sooner. The urge to tear the blue patch from her chest is overwhelming.

456 begs and pleads with the jeering players to vote to leave, but his exasperated efforts are futile. He singles one out, hands clasping tightly around the person’s collar as his eyes brim with tears and he tries his hardest to convince the person to vote X. If he can convince just one, he’s won. That must be his goal at this point, since it’s clear he won’t convince everyone. But if he could just get one person on his side, maybe others would do the same. That’s how Seo-Yun would do it. Play the long game. Be patient. Time is not on his side, but he still has to bide his time. 

Heavy footsteps echo along the floor. Seo-Yun pushes herself onto her tiptoes to see who it is - One of the triangles. They descend the steps and walk down the aisle towards 456. The cheer dies down, the people jeering so quick to run off somewhere. Seo-Yun can’t blame them. This guard has a gun, a machine gun, and they’re holding it up. Aiming it at each of the players it passes. A silent threat. An effective one. Everyone backs off to their respective sides. Thanos’ eyes go wide and he darts off into the O crowd. 

The triangle moves carefully, steadily. They reach their target in no time - 456. The barrel of the gun finds its way between his shoulderblades, and he freezes then. Only then does he stop begging. His hands loosen on the man’s collar, but they don’t fully give way. Even still, his body seems to lose all fight as the gun sits there. “Starting now, we will not permit any action that impedes the voting process.” The square speaks up from its place still on the stage. 456 turns around, glares angrily at the triangle and then the square. And then he gives. He raises his arms and backs away, disappearing into the X side as quickly as he’d come from it.

The triangle turns on their heel, slinging their gun onto their back as they do so. The motion is practiced, easy. They do it far too well. “With that, we will now resume voting.” The square speaks again, and then the next player number is called off.

From there, the rest of the vote goes smoothly. Tensely, but with no interruptions. Seo-Yun gnaws at her lip and crosses her arms over her chest, trying desperately to hide what she’d voted. She can’t take it back now, but she’s already ashamed of herself. She was so blindsided by it, by the premise of money, that she was willing to risk the lives of herself and others. It was stupid. It was sick.

Thanos tries to make conversation throughout the vote. She pointedly ignores him, deciding to bide her time by watching the numbers go up. It’s so tense. At neither point is it obvious which side is going to win. Just when one is at an advantage, it seems to fall right back just as fast. It’s impossible to tell which is going to take the lead at any given time. Anxiety grows so fast in Seo-Yun’s stomach, that by the end, she’s sure she’s going to blow chunks all over the floor. She very well may have, if she had anything in her stomach to throw up. Instead, her stomach just growls angrily at her. As though it’s her fault she’s gnawing away at herself. These games haven’t fed her all day. Seo-Yun hopes it won’t be like this the entire time - Full of hunger. She’s been hungry far too much of her life, and she’s learned what hunger can do to someone.

Seo-Yun thinks vaguely of one foster home she’d had. Freshly thirteen, seemingly loving foster parents. They’d been so sweet in the beginning, sweet talking her in the orphanage and giving her a gift on the way to her new home. After about a week, though, things got insane. That had children of their own, children who were allowed to do whatever they wanted. Seo-Yun’s circumstances were much different. No friends, no boys, no bedroom door, food only for meals and a lock on the fridge at any other times - The rest of the family, of course, knew the code. The family seemed to be so sure that she was a bandit, set to destroy their lives. All because she wasn’t truly theirs.

Seo-Yun does not remember trying to be a trouble maker back then. All she remembers is being hungry.

The final player is called up to vote. Seo-Yun’s stomach twists as she eyes the numbers. A dead tie. This man, player 001, is going to be the tiebreaker. 182-182. 

He walks slowly down the aisle, taking in the chants that break out on both sides. She doesn’t know which side she’s rooting for, in all honesty. Whether it’s to continue or go home. She has no fucking clue, because there are two halves of her screaming different things at her. Shame tugs away as Seo-Yun looks down at the bright blue light shining up at her from the floor, but so does excitement. Some sort of twisted happiness that looks forward to tomorrow, to winning more. And this man seems to know that he’s important. He takes his sweet time as he walks, a smug look on his face the entire time. And then, when he reaches the podium, he hesitates.

Seo-Yun has to force herself on her tiptoes again to see him through the cheering crowd of O’s. His back is turned to her, but she can see it. One hand there, sitting in the middle of the podium. As though he’s debating what his choice is. But he’s had so much time to think about it, surely he’d know? He’s the last person to vote, he should have his mind made up by now. He probably does, he’s just being an asshole and keeping everyone on the edge of their seats.

And fuck, is it working.

His hand moves, and there’s the electronic beep of his choice being solidified. The shutter of the number being changed on the screen resounds through the room.

X: 182. O: 183.

The O team cheers as the X team goes quiet. At the edge of her vision, Seo-Yun eyes Nam-Gyu and Thanos as they chest-bump. She scowls, breaking away from the crowd as it disperses. She can’t help but cuss herself out as she leads the way to Thanos’ bed. The people in the room converse and mourn and cheer as they find their beds, their allies. Seo-Yun can’t find it in herself to do anything but be numb. Distantly, she hears Thanos and Nam-Gyu laughing as they celebrate their win behind her, but it’s muffled behind her disappointment. The disappointment she holds with herself, as well as the people around her. The man she called her best friend for the past three years.

She shouldn’t have expected any better from him. She shouldn’t have expected any better from herself. And yet, she did. So here she is, stuck disappointed.

Seo-Yun flops onto a bed to the left of Thanos’. Nam-Gyu ends up on a bed on the other side, and Thanos is there between them. There’s definitely a metaphor there, for the way Thanos has managed to worm his way into the bond she’d forged with Nam-Gyu. She’s too exasperated to think into it. Besides, she was never all that good at English class. All the metaphors started to get to her eventually. Why did the curtains being blue have to mean anything? Maybe they’re just blue.

Her eyes slip closed and she huffs as she throws a hand over her closed eyelids. Seo-Yun is so disappointed in herself, most of all. She’s grown up not relying on anyone other than herself - The only person you can control is you. And yet she was unable to control herself in the face of a promise of riches. She should be better than that. It’s hard to be, though, when your hands shake and your stomach grumbles and you just need a goddamn cigarette. 

She wished, at the very least, she got to keep those.

Although, a line would be pretty nice too. Or a pill. Or literally anything to get her by, to take the edge off of this. Seo-Yun doesn’t remember the last time she’s been fully sober. She’s been high or drunk all day every day for the longest time. 

Not long passes before the lights to the room are being flipped on. Seo-Yun tightens her grip over her eyes, but it doesn’t last long. The scent of food fills the room, even despite how big it is. She pulls her hand from her face, and there it is. Lo and behold, four pedestals stacked with food. Two on the X side, two on the O side. Players are instructed to line up for the food, and Seo-Yun practically trips over herself to get down there. She needs to eat before the withdrawals really start to hit her and she’s unable to stomach anything. From the way bile rises in her throat as the scent of food grows, she thinks that is going to come sooner rather than later.

Seo-Yun is able to get to a pretty high up place in the line. She waits patiently, and soon enough, it’s her turn. The pink-jumpsuited employee tenderly hands off a metal box alongside a bottle of water, and she is more than happy to take it off their hands. She’s practically shaking by the time she makes it back to her bunk, crawling onto the bed and hunching over herself. Saliva rises on her tongue - She’s so fucking hungry. 

Shaky hands pry the top of the metal container off carefully. Rice, kimchi, and sausage, alongside a few vegetables and an egg, are revealed. So fucking good. Seo-Yun doesn’t remember the last time she had something that seemed so tenderly home-cooked. On top of it all is a spork, and she’s quick to snatch up the utensil and get to eating. The method of eating is nowhere close to graceful - Something akin to a hamster shoving its cheeks full - But who can blame her? It’s probably been close to 24 hours since she’s eaten anything at all, and years since she’s had anything home-cooked. Seo-Yun can’t help but shove her mouth full and chomp away like there’s no tomorrow. Fuck, she practically cries when the first taste of it hits her mouth. The fried egg and rice combo has always been one of her favorites, as weird as that may be.

“Damn girl. That good?” Thanos chuckles as he shoves himself into the bunk beside Seo-Yun’s, and her moment is effectively ruined. She groans, throwing her head back as she finishes chewing the bite in her mouth and swallowing. Nam-Gyu is not far behind Thanos, reaching a hand out to shove the purple-haired man on the shoulder. Thanos scowls but he moves, placing himself at the head of his bed while Nam-Gyu makes home at the foot of it. Both of them stare at Seo-Yun, sharing a laugh between each other. She hates it. She envies it. “Fuck off.” She mutters, but the sentiment is muffled behind the fresh scoop of food she’s shoving into her mouth.

“I can think of something be-” Thanos is unable to finish his shitty joke. Seo-Yun doesn’t hesitate to send a dirty glare in his general direction, something completely evil, and it must work - His mouth clamps shut as he pries open his own food container, but he’s still stifling a giggle all the same. Nam-Gyu looks like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream at the joke. He seems simultaneously entertained and jealous. 

“Shut the fuck up, man. Fucking gross.” But there’s that look in his eye as he says it, something completely unreadable. Something completely heated. Something Nam-Gyu has never had in his eyes before. Seo-Yun knows what it is. Love. But Thanos doesn’t look at him the same way. He looks at him in a similarly heated way, but it’s less intense. Lust.

And her heart almost breaks for Nam-Gyu, because as insufferable as the two are, Nam-Gyu is her… Whatever he is. Something she can’t quite live without. So she does feel terrible that his feelings are not returned in the way he surely wants them to be.

Seo-Yun returns her focus to her food. There are bigger things to worry about in here than love.

Her container is scraped clean before she knows it, but she saves the bottle of water. It’s smart not to drink it all in one go. Who knows if they’ll get breakfast, or just dinner every day. Until she knows a bit more about this, it’s smart to keep her resources. She lays herself back on her bed and tries to fight off the nausea that rises now that her stomach is full. The food was good, so good. But now the withdrawals are starting to hit, and hard. Withdrawing from three things at once is probably the worst thing a human could possibly do, especially in the event they find themselves in deadly children’s games.

Seo-Yun has just so happened to find herself in the situation where each of those things are applicable. 

And then there’s the yelling.

Someone yelling some army jargon across the room.

She fully intends to ignore it, but they’re screaming about at ease and all that shit, and both of the male voices involved sound vaguely familiar. So Seo-Yun props herself up on her elbows, eyes squinting as they peer around the room. It doesn’t take long for them to catch on the people doing it - One of the men from the voting fight, 390. And… A guy that looks really familiar. Who is that? 

It connects whenever 390 says his name, voice still slightly raised. Dae-Ho. And then she remembers him. That man from the restaurant beside Club Pentagon, the very friendly and slightly cute one. He still looks the same, even that stupid ponytail on the top of his head.

Seo-Yun sighs. She debates with herself. Should she go talk to him? She should go talk to him.

She crawls off of her bunk. It’s smart to make an ally. He seems trustworthy. Besides, Nam-Gyu and Thanos are too busy sneaking off to fight Myung-Gi. They were whispering about their scheme, but Seo-Yun still heard them. She doesn’t wanna be anywhere nearby when that happens. No thank you. She’ll go play the smart game and make some friends. Dae-Ho seemed nice enough that one time she met him in the alleyway, just awkward. He was strong, too. Strong people are always smart to team up with.

He was also getting along with allies of the really clever old man, 456. Seems like there’s hardly any downsides to approaching this man. If he’s spouting military jargon, he’s probably smart and strong. Handy. Good with weapons and survival skills. A good person to have around.

And if Seo-Yun is slightly biased by him being the slightest bit cute, then who can blame her?

She descends the bunk stairs, pointedly ignoring Thanos and Nam-Gyu sneaking under bunks towards Myung-Gi’s. That’s their business, not hers. Seo-Yun has always thought the whole feud is stupid. Childish. It’s annoying that he stole your money, but what is fighting going to do? Absolutely nothing. 

As she reaches the floor, she hesitates. But it’s too late now. She needs to do this. This is smart. Besides, he was kind before. Hopefully these death-trap games haven’t changed him much just yet. 

With a sigh, she takes a step towards the X side of the room.

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

THE HARDEST PART OF MAKING FRIENDS is approaching them.

Seo-Yun feels that sentiment to be extremely true as she awkwardly approaches the shouting men. Halfway through her venture, she’s off-kilter and out of her element. The blue patch on her chest seems to stick out like a sore thumb on this side of the room, despite there being a few O’s milling about. Most of them are probably better than her. No, definitely better than her. And she’s sure they have much better reasons for being here, for voting O. Only the most desperate, the ones with important debts, should be voting to stick around. People like Seo-Yun and Nam-Gyu and Thanos should vote to go home and deal with their debts, because they did it to themselves with the drugs and alcohol.

The older man, warm-looking even from a distance, happily pats Dae-Ho on the arm. Dae-Ho, in return, loudly screeches out a sir , and that just draws a laugh from the older man. Upon closer inspection, it’s clear that this man was one involved in the voting fight earlier. He’d stuck up for 456. Player 390. He must be a friend of 456. He was so intent on sticking up for the man, they had to know each other before this.

Seo-Yun approaches the group faster than intended. As soon as she’s there, a few feet away from the amy-garbling men, they stop and turn to her. The feeling that overcomes her is far too close to deer-in-headlights for her comfort, but it’s too late to back out now. Besides, Dae-Ho is only staring at her blankly for a moment before a bright smile overtakes him and there’s that confident look on his face, the one that’s just barely masking the awkwardness that rests deep within his soul. 390 looks between the two as he catches the smile on Dae-Ho’s face, and 456 just stares up at her from his spot on the bunk stairs. 001, similarly to 456, stares up at her. His gaze is cold, calculating. Like he’s trying to pick her apart, try to figure out how she ticks. 456’s is closer to something guarded, almost like distrust. She can’t blame either of them for looking at her that way. Picking people apart is smart, and being distrustful of her is equally as smart.

He eyes the blue O on her patch for a long moment, eyes drifting over her form but consistently catching on that patch, the mark branded onto her that practically screams I’m a murderer! His eyes then move, irises taking in the dried blood spot on her sleeve. The spot that shows she’d just barely come out victorious, thanks to his help. Nam-Gyu never would’ve been able to get that body off of her without the man. That very same stain just shows how in debt she is to him, and yet, she couldn’t even do him the decency of voting to leave. A surge of guilt runs through her. She could’ve been the reason they went home.

Instead, she was the reason they stayed.

“Ah! Seo-Yun! It’s been so long!” Dae-Ho breaks the awkward silence, smiling brightly at her as he takes a step towards her. She feels vividly out of place, but his warmth helps her to feel not-so alone, at the very least. He regards her with friendly warmth, a look on his face and tone in his voice that signals they were good friends before this, not merely acquaintances who had only met once in a shady, disgusting alleyway. 390 takes in the both of them, shock overtaking his features. 456 seems to hardly care about the coming together of the two, more interested in suspiciously eyeing Seo-Yun as she tries to send a smile back to Dae-Ho. It’s rough around the edges, but it works.

Dae-Ho, in his overly friendly regard, almost goes to wrap an arm around her. It’s far too friendly for what the two have, though. They’re hardly anything to each other, and they will probably never be anything, because they are trapped in death games and it’s all her fault. So, instead, he pats her on the shoulder, a stilted and awkward motion. Despite the tension of it, though, 390 is breaking out into a smile as he soaks it in, sponging up the friendliness between them. It’s only half-friendly, Seo-Yun is cold and awkward and distant, the demeanor something she has grown accustomed to. “This your girlfriend?” 390 asks, eyes crinkling around the edges as he smiles.

It’s impossible to tell if he’s joking or not. Seo-Yun’s body burns and Dae-Ho blooms a bright red under his line of questioning, both of them exchanging a look before urgently opening their mouths to explain. Dae-Ho beats her to it, hand slipping off of her shoulder just as quickly as it’d arrived. “Not at all! After the marines, I worked in a little restaurant to get by until I got something better. She worked in the club next door.” Dae-Ho’s eyes race between Seo-Yun and 390, almost seeming like a child trying to impress their father. 390 smiles, nods, laughs. And then he’s clapping a hand down on Dae-Ho’s shoulder, a fatherly gesture. Caring. Dae-Ho preens under it, beaming as 390’s hand on his shoulder clamps down ever so slightly and shakes him just a bit.

“Ah, that’s a shame.” 390 clicks his tongue before turning to regard Seo-Yun directly, eyes bright as he pulls his hand from Dae-Ho’s shoulder and holds it out to her. “Park Jung-Bae.” He introduces himself the same way he says everything - warmly, fatherly. Seo-Yun wonders if he has children back home. She bows lightly, eyes slipping closed for a moment as she dips her head at him. A few strands of hair fall from behind her ears and into her face, tickling lightly at the skin as she comes back up and her eyes slip back open. With a smile, Seo-Yun takes his hand with her own, left hand coming up under the wrist of her right as she shakes his hand. The last thing she needs is to get on the wrong foot of anyone here - She should regard everyone with respect, especially those older than her. It’d been a slip in judgement not to show Hyun-Ju a traditional, respectful greeting. Seo-Yun blames it on having been deeply shaken up following Red Light, Green Light.

“Chae Seo-Yun, sir. It’s very nice to meet you.” Not nearly as lively of an introduction as Dae-Ho’s had been, but he was a much more spirited person than she seemed to be. Besides, it was easier for him to get on here - He was presumably an X, and had something in common with this Jung-Bae. They were both marines. That will immediately put him high up on Jung-Bae’s pedestal. Meanwhile, Seo-Yun has to work her way to those places in people’s regards. She’s never been a greatly respected or liked individual, especially not by those older than her.

Jung-Bae’s hand falls away from hers. She turns to 456 next after a bit of internal debating over which older man to speak to now. 456 seems to be the most important person to have as an ally, considering he’s speaking the truth and is not a spy sent into the games to spice things up. Seo-Yun reaches a hand to push the stray strands of hair from her face, bowing lightly to 456 as she does so. He eyes her silently before waving her off, although he does seem a bit warmer once she’s come back up from her small bow. “You don’t need to be all proper like that here.” He pauses for a moment, seeming to consider something with himself. “Seong Gi-Hun.” 

With that, Seo-Yun turns to the final man, 001. He regards her carefully, picking her apart and putting her back together again as he tracks every movement she makes. It’s odd. There’s something about him, something that she can’t put her finger on. He’s careful, almost too much so. Like he needs to constantly be on the defense from others. It’s a given to be cautious in an environment like this, but 001 is stone-faced and sure of himself and the way he watches people is not cautious, it’s defensive. Guarded. 

Another bow. The man holds his hand out to shake, and Seo-Yun does so without another thought. It’s a curt motion that’s shared between them before he’s pulling away. His hand falls back to his lap, nails digging into the pristine green of his tracksuit pants. They’re oddly clean. Not a lick of sand on them, nor a speck of blood. Seo-Yun’s eyebrows furrow ever so slightly at the revelation, but she tries not to stare awkwardly at his lap. Her eyes return to his, brown staring into brown. Maybe it’s not so deep, maybe he was just lucky not to get caught in the carnage like she had. All the other men were relatively clean compared to her, covered in sand and slightly tinged with blood. She’d just pulled a bad card from the deck right from the beginning, it seemed.

Hopefully that wasn’t indicative of her future within these games. Hopefully it was just a shaky start. 

“Oh Young-il.” 

Seo-Yun sends him a curt smile and nod. She’s had her share of introductions tonight. So many new people, so much has happened today. Besides, she has plenty to think about after the events of today, and the day isn’t even over. It’s about time she returns to her bunk and tries to relax until the next step. Hopefully that next step is a bathroom trip, with showers. Seo-Yun needs nothing more than a shower at this very moment. 

But, well… She just approached these men. She approached them. It’d be rude to walk away now… But what conversation does she make when she doesn’t feel like making any at all?

“Have you really played these games before, sir?” She asks, turning towards Gi-Hun once more. He’s stone-faced and almost appearing hesitant to answer when she asks it. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked that question - But she’s trying to make conversation, and she’d rather not talk about herself. It’d be better if no one here knew that she was a junkie. Besides, some selfish part of her is telling her to keep it a secret entirely for self-benefit, because some part of her thinks Dae-Ho is kind of cute, and if they get out of here, she wants a real chance with him. It’s really not the time to be thinking about things like that, but the thought of impending death tends to make someone a bit friskier, she supposes.

Gi-Hun sighs, pairing it with a nod. His fists clench on his lap. “Yes, a few years ago.” He’s vague in his answer. Seo-Yun has to fight with herself not to pry - She knows it’s rude, but she also wants to know what happened. Why he was the only winner, why he’d come back. Clearly he was a good man, so surely it wasn’t for more money..? But really, who knows? The ones who seem nicest can always have a darker side.

Dae-Ho leans against the support beam for the set of bunks directly to his right. Seo-Yun watches the motion out of the corner of her eye as she tries to think of another method of conversation, somewhere else to steer the group to, as clearly this was not a very productive - Or comfortable - Topic.

“If we’re all here, we should get to know each other a bit more.” 001, Young-il, speaks up from his place on the stairs. He smiles, friendly and warm, as he opens a door to a more comfortable set of conversation. He turns his head to face Seo-Yun, bright smile not leaving as he regards her. “Seo-Yun, would you like to go first?” Her chest burns as the attention turns to her. No one speaks up to save her, though. Everyone sits and watches as she works through her mind and tries to come up with a realistic sounding backstory that won’t make them look down upon her.

It’s probably not best to lie, but she’s seriously debating it. 

Just as she opens her mouth, there’s a shout from the O side of the room. Seo-Yun whips around to face it immediately, only half-shocked with the sight she’s greeted with. Thanos on the floor, Myung-Gi on top of him, Nam-Gyu trying to tug the screaming man off of the rapper. She sighs heavily, hanging her head as disappointment rushes through her. It hasn’t even been a full day and Nam-Gyu has already managed to start a fight.

Myung-Gi is allowed little time to try to fight Thanos. Nam-Gyu grabs hold of him and tugs, holding the man back to allow for Thanos to start punching him. Thanos punches Myung-Gi once, twice, the blows landing harshly against the man’s skin as the sound echoes through the large room, and then Myung-Gi is down. Myung-Gi tries to crawl away as Thanos rants about his lost money, but the attempt is futile. Thanos kicks him, hard. He does it again, and again, and again. Seo-Yun cringes at the sight. She’s never been all that good with physical violence. Seo-Yun fights with her words and mind, not her fists.

Nam-Gyu goes in for a kick, but his foot slips just as it comes into contact. He goes down, but he’s only there for half a second before Thanos is grunting and pushing him away. Seo-Yun can’t help but snicker a bit, amusement rising within her. It’s a two versus one and yet Nam-Gyu is useless there. Thanos keeps going in for kicks, cussing over and over as each blow lands and Myung-Gi lets out pained groans.

Dae-Ho, hands on his hips like a curious father gazing upon the scene, is the first in the group to speak up about it. “I wish I had that kind of energy.” He tilts his body to get a bit of a better look. Thanos is the only one that appears to have all that much energy. Nam-Gyu is kind of just standing and watching, after he’d failed at his kick just a moment ago. 

“He might get really hurt. Someone should stop them.” Jung-Bae speaks up, hands also perched on his hips. If they looked alike, Seo-Yun could almost think that Dae-Ho and Jung-Bae were related. They seemed so similar, and they clearly get along. It was cute. Dae-Ho must look up to Jung-Bae. Dae-Ho nods for a moment, but he freezes as Jung-Bae turns to look at him. 

“I think he means you, soldier.” Seo-Yun teases, smirking at him as Dae-Ho’s head races back and forth, eyes falling from your face to Jung-Bae’s. His eyes go wide as he faces Jung-Bae a final time, mouth forming into a small frown at the corners. “You mean me?” Jung-Bae shrugs, playing dumb in response to the question. At that very moment, Young-il stands to push through the three people standing. He walks towards the fighting scene with a purpose, confidence practically smothering each of his steps. Seo-Yun’s eyes track him, confusion rising within her alongside amusement. She does want to be on the good side of these men, especially someone who appears to be cold and domineering like Young-il, but it’s a little comical for him to try to take on the both of them.

Although, Nam-Gyu’s hardly doing anything and Thanos only has the upper hand because he’s kicking Myung-Gi while he’s down, literally. Young-il is walking towards them with seemingly no ounce of fear or hesitation within him. He must be sure of himself in winning this fight, or maybe he’s just stupid. “Boys, what are you doing in the middle of mealtime?” He shouts across the room, and Thanos momentarily freezes. It’s such a split-second motion, though. Soon enough, he’s smiling devilishly and laughing at the gaul of the older man before returning to his fight.

“No fights during mealtime. There are elders present. Mind your manners.” It’s a respect thing, then. Young-il doesn’t really care about anyone getting hurt or fighting, he just holds manners very highly. That’s not uncommon in older generations, exactly why Seo-Yun had tried to approach the group as respectfully as possible. Although, most of them tended to just cherish things such as respect to elders in conversations and such. Ideals of disruptions during dinner and maintaining manners any time elders could be around weren’t exactly commonly held. Young-il must just be old-school. That must explain his cold demeanor with her - He could probably see she wasn’t all that experienced in manners and respect.

Seo-Yun doesn’t really care. She just wants to know what makes these people tick, how to get on their good side, how to stay alive. How to go home after she’d just fumbled her one chance to do just that. 

Thanos pulls away, then. He turns to face Young-il as Nam-Gyu comes to a stand behind the rapper. Seo-Yun hadn’t even noticed him end up on the ground, but she’d also only been halfway paying attention. “And two against one?” Young-il tuts as he approaches the fight, although it’s now broken up. “Aren’t you embarrassed?” Seo-Yun snickers - Of course Thanos is embarrassed. He exists purely for his image, the image that died the very moment he invested everything into a failed cryptocurrency. He’s embarrassed, and that’s exactly why he’s in a shitty, unfair fight with someone who probably had no involvement in the cryptocurrency being a scam.

That’s why he’s here. He’s embarrassed. And that’s why Nam-Gyu’s here. Everyone is here because they’re struggling to live and they’re embarrassed by that very fact. They’re here for one last chance because they are humiliated at being a failure. Even Seo-Yun. Especially Seo-Yun.

She tunes out their words, just watching as they argue for a long while. Suddenly, something Thanos said must’ve hit Young-il just right - Young-il’s hand ends up on the side of his throat. Nam-Gyu approaches, cussing, but it doesn’t last long. Young-il raises his foot to kick Nam-Gyu’s calf, and he goes down. Thanos struggles against the grip on the side of his neck, but it’s clear Young-il is experienced in fighting people. He’s strong, level-headed. He has his moves planned exactly. He must have been something important before this - A police officer, maybe, or possibly in the military. Something that would require strength and brains. 

Nam-Gyu groans, clutching his leg to his stomach as he rolls around on the floor in pain. Thanos is able to relinquish himself from the grasp on his neck, backing away for a single moment as he cusses. He then takes a step forward. His arm swings, but the fist never lands. Young-il dodges, shoots a punch against Thanos’ stomach that sends the rapper reeling. Seo-Yun would be lying if she said there wasn’t something satisfying about watching him get his shit rocked. She’s been wanting that for a long time.

So, of course, she does not interfere. She just stands and watches, smiling to herself as she does so. If Dae-Ho eyes the smile on her face oddly, he doesn’t say anything - And she doesn’t acknowledge it. Seo-Yun is revelling in her moment, the one she’s been waiting for.

Thanos is grabbed by the arm, and the appendage is twisted until his bones crack. Seo-Yun grimaces, bile rising in her throat at the noise of it. Okay… Maybe this is a little far. No, it’s definitely a bit too far. She has never had much interest in Thanos, or much of a like for him, but this is too much. He goes to the floor and Young-il lands a few kicks against him. Young-il crouches down a moment later, hand finding a home around Thanos’ throat, just under his chin. Thanos stares up at him fearfully as Young-il raises a fist.

Seo-Yun, for a split second, wonders if this is it. But surely players aren’t allowed to kill each other? 

Thanos apologizes a few times, but Young-il seems to be unaffected by it. There’s a long, tense moment of silence. Nothing happens aside from a wait. Maybe a wait for Young-il to kill him, maybe a wait for Young-ill to spare him. No one seems to know for sure what they’re waiting on, they’re just stuck there - Waiting for something to happen, for a move to be made. 

Young-il pulls away. Cheers and clapping break out instantly, relief seeming to spread through the room as the fight successfully seems to have been broken up. “What is he?” Jung-Bae asks, hands moving up to clap. Seo-Yun feels like the only one not clapping, although she’d been cheering in her head for a split second. It seemed a little bit too much like Thanos was about to be killed there for her taste. As much as she hates the guy, she doesn’t want anyone to die. Or, at least, she doesn’t think she does. 

“Could he have been in the military?” Seo-Yun turns to Jung-Bae and Dae-Ho to ask her question. Young-il, still in the middle of the bedroom, seems unsure of what to do in light of the cheering and applause. He stands there awkwardly, straightens out his hair, and bows slightly as a small thanks. “Ex-marine, too?” Dae-Ho wonders out loud, also turning to Jung-Bae, who purses his lips for a moment before shrugging. 

“I feel like he would’ve spoken up during your shouting match if be was ex-marine.” Seo-Yun teases lightly, and Dae-Ho flushes just a bit red in light of the teasing. He lets out an awkward ah, hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck under his hair. His head hangs, eyes seeming to much prefer the floor over Seo-Yun standing beside him. “You’re right.” Dae-Ho lets out an embarrassed laugh, pairing it with a shy smile as he looks back up at Seo-Yun.

There’s something cute about it. Maybe even endearing.

Young-il returns to the group, taking his place back on the stairs beside Gi-Hun, who’s eyeing Seo-Yun expectantly. She grows warm under the gaze, unexpecting of it and unsure of what to make of it. “Back to learning about each other?” Young-il asks expectantly, to which Jung-Bae enthusiastically nods his head. “It’s best to be familiar with each other!”

No one seems to disagree with that, unfortunately for Seo-Yun. She frowns, although she doesn’t protest. The bunk beside the stairs the older men have inhabited is empty, so she plants herself there. Dae-Ho remains where he stands for a moment before walking a bit closer to the bunk Seo-Yun resides on. For half a second, she thinks he may try to squeeze his way on there with her - But he doesn’t. He leans his body against the support beam and crosses his arms over his chest. His biceps flex as his fingers dig into the flesh of arms.

“I can go first.” Seo-Yun volunteers, even though she’d desperately like to keep her story a secret. It may be best to just get it out in the open and stop avoiding it. Besides, it’s technically her “turn” anyways. She’d been volunteered to go first, but it was her turn regardless of how it’d happened. Seo-Yun wasn’t going to pussy out and shove it onto someone else just because she hated sharing her story. Besides, it may be nice to connect with someone. Hyun-Ju was very kind earlier, although she just seemed to be a kind person in general. Two of the men in this group were slightly cold and critical, while the other two were warm and welcoming. It was a 50/50 chance of being accepted as she is.

The men’s attention turn onto her. All eyes on her once more, but this time it’s entirely her fault. Seo-Yun flushes under the gaze, fire burning under her skin. She stares down at her criss-crossed legs on the bed and tries to pretend she’s not being death-stared to hell and back right now. “I’m thirty years old, and I’m here because…” She hesitates, teeth catching on the smooth flesh of her bottom lip. Should she really say it?

“I use all my money on drugs. I’m in a lot of debt to dealers, as well as debt collectors. I’ve taken out loans to buy drugs and afford rent for years now.” Seo-Yun can’t bear to face the other men. Shame flows steadily through her veins, she can’t see the look on their faces. The way they’re surely exchanging glances with each other. She stares holes into her sand-covered lap and her fingers find each other there, twisting and pulling and doing anything to distract from the inevitability of being rejected for being a junkie.

She can’t even prove them wrong if they were to say she’s a junkie. By this point, the withdrawals are hitting like a goddamn train. She’s fatigued and restless and just barely nauseous. She’s so dead in these games if she keeps feeling like this. 

There’s a long silence, aside from the conversations other players share and the small ruffles of clothing that come from the group of men outside of the bunk. “Hey, look on the bright side. This is your chance to do better for yourself.” Dae-Ho breaks the silence with his encouraging words. “No one’s perfect - We all have a history outside of these games. This is our chance to turn over a new leaf.” Something about his kindness has a warmth blooming deep in Seo-Yun’s chest. She smiles, ever so faintly, and nods up at him. He smiles back, although his is much more obvious than hers must be. He’s so kind.

“I’ll go next.” Dae-Ho clears his throat, flexes his arms. “Okay, let’s see. I guess just the basics?” He puts on a faux confidence so easily, silver-tongued and easy-speaking when he addresses the group as a whole. His question is not a true one, not one of unsureness. He’s keeping them engaged, getting attention. He’s almost cocky, but not in the same way Thanos is - Not in the way of being a self-assured asshole. Dae-Ho pretends to be sure of himself, and the others don’t see past it. Seo-Yun only does because she does the very same thing. She puts on a courageous front, but deep down, she’s terrified and insecure. “I’m thirty-seven and I used to be a marine,” 

Dae-Ho reaches a hand to take hold of his sleeve, tugging it up to reveal the marine tattoo, as though the group hadn’t already seen it. Jung-Bae looks on proudly, almost fatherly in his gaze on the tattoo. “I was honorably discharged not too long ago. After that, I worked pretty much wherever would take me - Most recently, it was a pretty nice restaurant. I was a waiter. I’m just in debt because of, well, life. I guess.” He stumbles over the ending of his story. The others don’t seem to catch it - If they do, they say nothing about it - But Seo-Yun clocks it. She catches it and internalizes it, considers what it could mean. Why he would stumble over his own life’s story. It could’ve been a simple slip of the tongue, but Dae-Ho is an actor, that much is clear from his brave facades overtop of the anxiety in his eyes.

He’s not telling the full truth.

Jung-Bae volunteers to go next. “I’m forty-eight. I also used to be a marine, but after I got married I decided to settle down. Gi-Hun here-” He slings an arm around Gi-Hun’s shoulders affectionately, a motion that is hardly regarded by the man. “-Tried to get me to start a business with him. It didn’t turn out too well.” He smiles fondly, despite the fact the memory of the business seems to be soured due to it most likely having gone under. “I also used to bet on horse races a lot with Gi-Hun, too. That’s mostly why I’m here.” 

A gambler. Seo-Yun supposed many people here probably were gamblers - They would, of course, believe themselves able to win a series of games, just as they believed themselves able to win their horse races or card games. Gi-Hun’s face goes even more sour, if that’s possible, but Jung-Bae seems to be unaffected by that motion. He uses the arm around Gi-Hun’s shoulder to shake the man a bit, prompting him to go next. 

Surprisingly, Gi-Hun listens. “I used to be in debt because of gambling on horse races. After I won my last games, I paid off my debts and decided to do something good with the money. I came here to save lives.” Gi-Hun shrugs, staring down at his hands when his explanation is finished. He’s much more closed-off than anyone else in the group seems to be, but it would make sense to be that way. If he truly won his last games, he’s seen a lot - Especially if he was the only winner.

Seo-Yun’s head turns towards Young-il, prompting his turn. Dae-Ho does the same, both younger members of the group eyeing him as he comes to realize that his turn has already come. He sighs, seeming to mull over something for a few moments. “Is it alright if I skip, actually? My reason for being here is… Quite personal.” Ever traditional, keeping secrets and believing in private lives in a place like this. In a place where you could die at any time, with the strangers around you being the only ones left to carry on your memory. Seo-Yun purses her lips, simply not responding to his question. Gi-Hun is the only one to answer, giving a curt nod in response before he actually speaks. “Of course.”

Seo-Yun picks at the fibers of the scratchy blanket beneath her. Familiar laughter booms from the other side of the room - She knows exactly who it belongs to. Why he’s laughing is lost to her, but it’s probably for some stupid reason. Regardless, the sound reminds Seo-Yun of the fact she should be returning to her bunk, to the person she knows she can really trust. The only one she’s had for the past three years.

“I should go, I have friends to return to.” She crawls off of the bed awkwardly, stilted motions hindered just a bit by the friction of her tracksuit pants against the terribly-made blanket. The stares of the men she’d approached burn into her, almost so intense that she’s unable to face them. Seo-Yun faces them regardless, fingers digging into the fabric of her tracksuit pants. “It was very nice to meet all of you.” Before anyone can respond, Seo-Yun is bowing and turning on her heel, facing back towards the O side of the room. She approaches it hastily, a speed-walk pace that has her loose strands of hair bouncing beside her itchy-feeling face. She needs to wash the makeup and sand off of her face before she loses her mind.

Nam-Gyu is watching her when she ascends the stairs to her bunk. He’s got a smile on his face, one that perfectly shows off his slight overbite. “Have fun with the loser’s club?” He giggles to himself when he asks it, instantly turning to Thanos for affirmation. They’re in their own respective beds this time around, with Nam-Gyu to Thanos’ right. Seo-Yun takes the bed on the other side of Nam-Gyu, not even entirely sure if that’s her bed, but it’s empty, so she takes it. She doesn’t want to be in a bed right beside Thanos. Nam-Gyu can act as a buffer between the two.

She huffs as his words land within her. “The loser’s club?” Seo-Yun’s eyes slip shut as the exhaustion begins to overtake her now. Her feet hurt, everything seems to hurt. She’s also terribly nauseous and shaky, covered in makeup, blood, and sand. Overall? Miserable. Absolutely terrible. Nam-Gyu giggles again. “Yeah, ‘cause all those X’s are gonna lose.” He draws out the o in lose. Seo-Yun groans, raising a hand to wave him off. “You’re so clever, Nam.” The statement is paired with a yawn. She crosses her arms over her chest, trying to reassure herself in her mind after the day’s events because at least her chest is still moving. That may not be true for tomorrow, but for today, it is. That’s what matters.

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

SEO-YUN COMES TO FIND THAT SHE IS STILL ALIVE when she awakens the following morning, eyes heavy from the previous day’s events despite the sleep she’d gotten. The classical music that had played yesterday is once more echoing through the dormitory area, and it’s already insufferable. If this is going to play every morning, she might just lose it.

She must have slept like the dead - Not even moving through the night - Because she’s still slumped against the back of her bunk, arms crossed over her chest. Her skin has reached an all-time high of itchiness, sand and makeup scratching against her under her tracksuit and on her face. With a groan, Seo-Yun uncrosses her arms, using her palms to push herself into a fully sitting up position. She takes in her surroundings once more, the empty bunks that still remain and the players milling down to the floor, socializing amongst each other. 

Her stomach growls. She turns her head, eyes squinting from tiredness. Nam-gyu’s bunk is already empty, sheets thrown almost completely off of the bed. Thanos, on the other side of Nam-gyu’s bed, is also gone. Both of their beds are empty, although Thanos’ is donned with his 230 jacket, already bloodstained from his actions yesterday. Seo-yun didn’t miss the way he’d been pushing people the entire game of Red Light, Green Light, nor the way his pupils took up almost the entirety of his iris when he returned to the dormitory. He was probably already high off his ass from some smuggled in substance. Could his murderous habits be blamed on drugs, though? Seo-yun has been high plenty of times, and never once did she feel a need to kill.

But… Things are different here. That, she can attest to. This situation is unprecedented. Seo-Yun would be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought about killing to make the numbers go up. 

So, maybe she can understand where he’s coming from.

Seo-yun is abruptly reminded of the fact she’s still staring at Thanos’ empty bunk when a form comes into her view. Nam-gyu plops down onto his bed, grimacing when it squeaks ever so slightly. These beds must be old, if they’re squeaking. Although, they are very sturdy. There has to be at least ten in every stack. So far, none have collapsed. Her eyes track back down to the group at the bottom of the room. Thanos’ bright purple hair stands out starkly against the sea of black. He’s socializing with someone, but it’s impossible to tell who.

“I wonder what the next game will be.” Nam-gyu breathes out, smirking to himself over something that is probably impossible to name. Seo-yun knows him, but not well enough to read his mind. She shrugs, racing her gaze between where he’s propping himself up on his palms against the bed and the people around the room. Most are clustered in the middle, waiting for instructions. Many, though, remain on their bunks. Watching. Waiting.

Someone pushes their way through the group of people, parting them like the Red Sea. Seo-yun hardly pays any mind to it. “Could be anything, but if I’m guessing,” She trails off, turning to face the wall that their row of bunks is propped against. White brick, starkly contrasted by the occasional black line that stains it. “These images may help us guess.” Her finger comes up to a black line painted behind her bunk specifically, nail picking at the paint. It doesn’t chip, even when she digs in and scrapes. 

Nam-gyu shifts on his bed, fabric rustling against fabric. He sighs. “Huh,” He breathes out, and Seo-yun can picture the dopy smile that’s surely on his face right now, overtaking his mouth. It’s a face he makes often, especially when he’s so high he can’t even feel his own limbs. Right now, he’s probably doing it because he’s amazed by her brains, which she really doubts she has. It doesn’t take a genius to see the games on the walls and try to assume that’s what they may be playing. “Smart.” The word slips from his lips in a breath once more.

Seo-yun scoffs. She shakes her head, digging her nail harder into the paint. It serves to do nothing more than send a pain through her nail, into the bones and joints of her finger. Even still, she doesn’t stop. The pain is a sufficient distractor from the withdrawals that wrack her body, the bile that rises in her throats and the shakes that overtake her fingers when she curls them into a fist against the cool brick of the wall. “Hardly. So far, I’ve seen monkey bars and chess. The bunks cover everything else.”

There’s a beat of silence. Her eyes flick against the bright white of the wall, dulled by the shadow of the bunk above hers. “It’s probably going to be a children’s game, I’d say.” A new theory, one she just surmised from thinking on this even more. “Red light, green light is a children’s game. So is ddakji.” It’s connecting in her brain, even if these are just small clues. Definitely going to be children’s games, but that hardly narrows anything down. It could be anything, just going off of kid’s games. Jump rope, tug of war, gong gi, dongdaemun. It could be anything.

And that’s what’s so terrifying about it. The thought sends a shiver down Seo-yun’s core. It could be anything. She’s okay at some kid’s games, namely the ones you can play alone. Gong-gi, jump rope, red light, green light, some marble games. Anything that can be independent, she’s pretty much a master at. But others? Tug of war? She’s fucked. So fucked.

“What’s your gut telling you?” Since when has Nam-gyu cared about her gut? 

Seo-yun’s eyebrows furrow. Never once has she insinuated she has a particularly good gut when it comes to instincts. Never once has Nam-gyu, either. He’s so fucking weird. Maybe that’s a given, though, considering the circumstances. She turns her head to face him. Nam-gyu is still waiting on his bed, feet kicking at the metal of the platform beside his bunk as he stares blankly at her. His palms hold him up in his sitting position, ringed fingers digging into the white fabric of the sheets. 

“Uh…” What does she say? Her gut’s not telling her anything. Her gut’s telling her there are endless possibilities, and most of them are not on her side due to her not exactly ever being much of a people person. The metal stairs by their beds clatter, footsteps pounding against it. Seo-yun pays it no mind, or she tries not to. It’s hard not to be on edge in a place like this, with anxiety swirling storms inside your stomach while bile nips at your throat and pains shoot through your skull. “I don’t… Know..? What kind of question is that?” She groans, flopping half-back against her bed. Her head ends up half-hanging off the side of the mattress, and her body is now contorted weirdly. Her bottom half lays down the bed like a normal person, but her abdomen contorts to the side to accommodate her upper half now hanging off the side.

She lifts a hand to rub at her face, grimacing at the feeling of makeup smearing. Strands of hair stick to her face, gradually getting greasier by the minute. Seo-yun must have missed bathroom calls last night in her time of sleeping, and no one even thought to wake her up. She just hopes there will be bathroom time tonight, with showers. She feels absolutely disgusting right now.

The footsteps against metal stop by her bed. She doesn’t look up, expecting it to be Thanos or something. 

“Seo-yun?”

It’s not Thanos’ voice that echoes in her direction. It’s a different voice, one still manly and familiar. But this one is softer around the edges, kind. Awkward and out of place when it speaks, and it’s followed up by a what the fuck? From Nam-gyu. Seo-yun’s eyes go wide, and her hands scramble to push herself up from her awkward, ugly contorted position. 

Lo and behold, Seo-yun is greeted with Dae-ho’s face when she sits up. He’s crouched a bit, knees bent and hands perched against his thighs. Hair dangles by his face, and he’s got an awkward smile on his mouth when she finally meets his gaze. “Hi,” He breathes out. His fingers cling to his sweatpants, skin and knuckle going white under his grip. “I, uh,” Dae-ho looks around, eyes landing on Nam-gyu. He freezes, then, deer-in-headlights in that very moment. 

A buzzer sounds from below, followed by the telltale sound of the employee door opening. Footsteps pound out, and a voice echoes through the room. “Players, the next game will begin shortly. Please prepare to make your way to the game hall.” The voice is robotic, feminine. The same one that announces everything that the employees don’t announce. Dae-ho turns back to Seo-yun, teeth gritted. She’s growing antsy and impatient. Whatever he needs, he needs to say it. The next game is starting soon, they don’t have long to beat around the bush.

When Dae-ho speaks again, a moment longer, his voice is hushed. Almost a whisper when it slips from his lips. “I know the next game.” His eyes race around as Seo-yun’s go wide. The footsteps of players making their way down the stairs, towards the bottom of the room, echo through the room. Nam-gyu, blurry in her peripherals, pushes himself to stand behind Dae-ho. She shares a look with Nam-gyu, something rushed and silent - But still able to communicate between them. Go ahead. And he does just that, without another question, although he’s clearly not happy about it. Regardless of their fucked up moments, that’s something Seo-yun loves about their dynamic. No questions asked, no matter what.

Except for that night in the apartment, after Seo-yun’s game with the recruiter. But that was different, a lapse in judgement on both their parts. Something that completely broke their dynamic, something that now probably makes sense to Nam-gyu. After that video of every player being slapped to tomorrow got broadcast, it must have connected in his brain. It had to, right? He’s not that stupid. He’d be able to figure out that that’s where the bruise came from.

“You know? How? What is it?” Seo-yun’s mind moves a million miles a minute, going completely one-track even as players file down to the bottom of the room. Even as Nam-gyu descends the metal staircase, becoming little more than a blur in her peripherals once more. Her eyes go impossibly wide even as Dae-ho struggles for an answer, hand coming up to clasp at the metal supports that hold up the next bunk’s mattress. His bicep flexes under his jacket, something so small under the bagginess of the fabric that she really shouldn’t notice it. But she does. 

Dae-ho’s mouth gapes like a fish out of water, lips catching on sounds and incoherent words. No explanation he can come up with seems to be enough, and they’re running out of time. The robotic instructions echo through the room again. No one is left on this side of the bunks except for these two, grasping for answers in their shared moment of confusion. “Just - Pick triangle. Pick triangle.” He offers no more of an explanation. Seo-yun has never had the ask mindset, but she suddenly does now - She wants to know more. She needs to know more. Her eyebrows furrow, mouth twisting into an O as her next question starts to come out. “How-” 

Dae-ho pushes himself off of the bunks with a sigh. Someone calls his name from down below, most likely the kind looking older man from yesterday. What was his name? Jung-bae, that was it. Dae-ho turns on his heel, racing down the stairs just a moment later. The players are starting to file through the blue door, the one that leads them into the staircase room. Seo-yun huffs. She seriously thinks about staying, but she knows better than that. She’ll just be forced to play or get shot for refusing to listen, most likely. Neither of those things would do her any good, she’d just be targeted for being a hardass.

Seo-yun pushes herself from the bed, cracking her back as she descends the stairs. She reaches the bottom and files herself into the back of the group, milling amongst mostly older people. The older woman from yesterday, alongside her son, stick around the back with her. The older woman must move slower, due to her age. Seo-yun chooses to stick by them, somehow feeling comforted by the motherly instincts of the older lady. Even as they’re led to the staircase room, her mind races.

Something inside her chooses not to rule out the idea of an insider entirely. There has to be someone who works for the games here. She’s seen Saw, that’s what any smart leader would do. Put someone inside, have them pull the strings however they want because they’re a mole. At first, she considered that it may be Gi-hun. He knows an awful lot about the games, claiming to have won before. But, if he’d won before… Why come back?

She considers, now, that it may be Dae-ho. He knows something, clearly. And he’s a decent actor, it would seem. Sure, he may have had a job outside of all of this - But that doesn’t completely save him. There’s just something about him. A secret, something he’s hiding even beneath the awkward demeanor that slips out occasionally. Seo-yun didn’t miss his slip-up in life stories yesterday. There’s something he’s not saying.

She’s going to figure out what it is. And if it just so happens that he’s an insider, then she gets a pat on the back from herself.

The players are split into single-file lines and led up the staircases. This interior is all so complex - the bright, childish colors, the impossibility to navigate. She’s sure it’s intentional, a good gamemaker would make it impossible to navigate to prevent people from trying to sneak around or cause trouble. As a player, though, it makes things fucking annoying. The spirals of the staircases, the way they overlap each other, makes it all so terrible to try to get around. Seo-yun starts to feel dizzy after the third spiral around a bubblegum pink pillar. They’re all so crammed together, too. Employees around every corner, at the beginning of the line and the end. Any stragglers are demanded to move immediately, or are threatened. 

Seo-yun doesn’t know how long they go up for. They seem to go up, down, around, and through corners so many times that she doesn’t know which way is right or left by the time they make it to a final hall, still pink. This one is a dead end, though, with just a large set of doors to the line’s right. Seo-yun is one of the final ones to be filed into the room, through a large set of brown, gate-like doors. 

Sand crunches under her feet once more, goddamnit. She was hoping to have gotten rid of the sand after Red Light, Green Light. Clearly, Seo-yun could never be so lucky. She grits her teeth as she steps inside, feeling sand flick up and sneak its way into her shoes. It grits between her toes, under the soles of her feet and in between the skin of her appendages and the bottoms of her shoes. God, does she hate sand. Seo-yun’s eyes narrow in annoyance.

She tries to distract herself by taking in the room. On top of the sand are two large, rainbow painted circles. Each color is about wide enough to fit one person, probably - Walking. The walls are painted like skies, puffy white clouds on a sky blue. She tries to remember Dae-ho’s instructions - Pick triangle.

The only problem? She doesn’t see a triangle. In fact, there are really no shapes in sight.

Dae-ho, that fucking man. Maybe he is the rat after all, getting her hopes up and making her think that she stood a real chance, that he knew what the games were and could help her out here. Instead, he fucked her over. She has no chance what they could be, nothing to help her along. No triangle. Unless this is something that presents as a choice after the instructions, Seo-yun is sufficiently on her own. Anger rises within her, and she eyes the room for Dae-ho’s ponytail.

The robotic voice speaks up before Seo-yun can make a move, or even think any harder into all of this.

“Please divide into teams of five, starting now.”

Fuck. It’s a teams game.

She’s so fucked.

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

THE TIMER BEGINS TICKING just as the announcement ends, a distant ticking from every wall. Seo-yun doesn’t know how she missed it - the fluorescent red of time running through her fingers, numbers going down. Players spring into action around her. Bodies almost immediately mill about, joining their friends or making new ones. More clique-y action, judgemental stares at the girl who cannot find anyone. Men stick together, nervous that a woman may ruin their chances. Women stick together, stating vicariously that they can do this just fine without a man.

Seo-yun just tries to keep an eye out for someone she recognizes. She’s made allies on three different “teams,” if that’s what they could be called. Perhaps not yet allies, but acquaintances. People who may be willing to play a game with her. She considers her possibilities, eyes searching the milling crowds for anyone somewhat familiar. There’s Dae-ho, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, and Young-il. Probably not a viable option. Entirely men, most likely unwilling to have a girl join them. Even if they were, she’s a bit sour about being lied to… And Seo-yun did have a petty streak, she can’t lie.

Hyun-ju was another option. Strong, hopefully smart, kind. Would probably be willing to have Seo-yun join her. She also stuck out among the crowd, making it easy to find her when Seo-yun took the time to search. She was alone, arms cradled against her stomach as she searched for someone who may be willing to take her on. 

Last of all, Thanos and Nam-gyu. Seo-yun frowns to herself as she thinks about them, digging a toe into the sand beneath her with a crunch. Nam-gyu is reliable, although not the most clever. He would always accept her as part of his team, and she knew that. But he may not be the best teammate. Even if he was, Thanos definitely was not. He was cocky and loud and overall annoying. Team games not only meant having people relying on you, but relying on others as well. Seo-yun needed a team she could rely on, and Thanos was very much not that.

Her eyes lock on Hyun-ju’s form, milling about the room slowly. Hesitantly.

Unconsciously, Seo-yun begins to move. Her eyes track Hyun-ju’s motions through the crowd as she moves, pushing through developed teams and searching people alike. A few people attempted to approach her, but Seo-yun walked briskly past them, not a care in the world for potentially making new friends. New people were scary, unreliable, unsafe. She was already going out on a limb here to trust Hyun-ju. She just thinks back to yesterday, to Hyun-ju helping Gi-hun save a man despite the time running down slowly. If Hyun-ju was willing to do that, then she’d surely be a trustworthy teammate. Someone fit for putting your life into their hands.

Seo-yun is approximately two steps away from Hyun-ju, who is speaking to a frail looking girl, when she is abruptly grabbed. A hand, small and bony, wraps around her wrist. Seo-yun knows it instantly. Fucking Nam-gyu. She grits her teeth, eyebrows furrowing as annoyance and desperation bubble up inside her. Of course he couldn’t let her pave her own way. He’d been this way ever since that day she was recruited, gradually growing overprotective and clingy. Before that, it had been a constant hand on her shoulder or sleeve, a sign of his clingy demeanor that seemed to stave from a fear of loneliness and abandonment.

Now, he was becoming suffocating. His hand on her wrist tightens, tugging her abruptly away from Hyun-ju. Seo-yun yelps unconsciously. Anger rises in her throat alongside words she should most definitely not say. She has made it this far in life alone, and only now is she being pulled in a million different directions, with a million different life-saving possibilities. Three potential allyships hang in the balance, and yet, she can’t attempt to develop them. Nam-gyu is always watching, always waiting, always fretting over her. Like she’s a damn pet.

“Here’s our fifth!” Nam-gyu announces just as Seo-yun stumbles into him. As soon as she’s there, shoulder to shoulder against her friend of three years, she tries to tug her wrist from his grip. His fingers tighten around her wrist. She should’ve known it’d be futile. Seo-yun cusses under her breath, the word finding its way into the air of the group around her that they’d managed to develop in her absence. Thanos is there, of course, standing just opposite Nam-gyu. He smiles happily at her presence.

Alongside them is two new people. A woman who seems just about as fed up with Thanos as Seo-yun feels. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and a huff leaves her lips as she regards Seo-yun, then Nam-gyu. Despite the angstiness of this woman’s appearance, the resting bitch face, lip and nose donned with metal, grunge haircut - There’s kindness in her face. She tries to come off intimidating, but she’s a softie. Or at least, Seo-yun hopes she is.

Beside the woman is a pathetic looking man. Sad eyes, mouth contorted into a frown. He stands closely beside the woman, so close that he’s almost behind her. Almost like he’s using her as a shield. Seo-yun raises an eyebrow. These are the people Thanos and Nam-gyu picked? The woman seemed to be relatively strong, someone on par with who Nam-gyu would pick, but the man is completely out of left field. He looks like a kicked puppy.

Before Seo-yun can stop it, Thanos is wrapping her in a hug. She’s starting to get really annoyed with his overly sweet affection. He treats her like a girlfriend, and yet, she’s nothing close to it. Seo-yun’s face contorts into a grimace. Her free hand, the one not clutched tightly in Nam-gyu’s, comes up to shove at Thanos’ chest. “Get off-a me, you fucking idiot.” 

He listens, although a pout dons his face as he does so. Like Seo-yun would even care.

“I thought a woman was too weak for the team? Yet you just hand picked one.” The woman speaks up from her place beside the puppy-ish man. A smirk paints her mouth, one hand coming up to thumb at the ring that pierces through her lip. For half a second, Seo-yun thinks she’s talking to Thanos. But she’s staring right at Nam-gyu, boring holes into him with her gaze. 

But that can’t be right. Nam-gyu has his problems, but he’s never said anything remotely like that. At least, not around Seo-yun. 

“Just shut the fuck up.” He snaps back, venom dripping from his words as they’re thrown at the woman. She chuckles wordlessly. No retort comes back from her, but her face makes it clear that this probably won’t be the end of this argument. 

Seo-yun can only focus on one thing. Nam-gyu didn’t deny it. 

“Oh, so I’m too weak to be here?” In a swift move, Seo-yun is tugging her arm from Nam-gyu’s grasp. He’s unprepared for it, so she slips easily from his hand. The appendage dangles in the air between them for a moment before he’s dropping it down to his side, clearly defeated. Seo-yun stares sharply into his soul. He lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, clearly ashamed of himself and grappling for answers. “No- Just- Other. Women… Are?” Nam-gyu spits it out in pieces, the sentence stilted and awkward and sharper than he means it to be. He tries to seem unsure of himself, but Seo-yun knows better.

She doesn’t reply. Instead, she chooses to sharply nod and fix her gaze in an entirely different direction, eyes racing as they watch the people speaking to their teams about what the game may be. There’s not enough time to find another team. She just has to stick with this and piece together that these games are bringing out someone she never really knew. 

“Team selection will end momentarily.” The grating robotic voice echoes through the room. Seo-yun sighs, pointedly looking anywhere but Nam-gyu, even as his hand comes to land on her bicep. She doesn’t give a shit. If he’s going to be like that, then so is she. She digs the toe of one of her shoes into the sand, breathing out a deep sigh as she does so.

“Looks like someone’s getting the cold shoulder.” The woman states humorously. A moment later, there are footsteps crunching in Seo-yun’s direction. Two sets of them. “Can you just shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch?” Nam-gyu snaps at her then. Seo-yun’s agitation broils to a real anger, and she reaches a hand out to shove at Nam-gyu beside her. She hopes for nothing more than for him to go stumbling to the ground.

“That’s enough. We’re a team. Act like it!” Thanos shouts above the commotion as Nam-gyu’s stumbling footsteps send sand all over the place. The woman comes into Seo-yun’s view, arms still crossed over her chest and finger still messing with her lip ring. She smiles warmly at Seo-yun. “I’m Se-mi. This is Min-su,” She pats the man next to her on the shoulder. He seems to follow her like a shadow. He just nods awkwardly, even as she’s introducing him. “What’s your name?”

At least these two are tolerable. They can cancel out Nam-gyu and Thanos’ annoyingness. Seo-yun tries to force a smile on her face despite the anger rising within her. She knows it’s a rough grimace more than a smile, something that is far too much teeth to actually be happy. Neither of the two in front of her seem to pay any mind. “Seo-yun.”

“What brought you here?” Se-mi can at least lead a conversation, even if it’s small talk. Just as Seo-yun is opening her mouth to respond, the timers on the walls tick down to zero. They beep, a shrill noise that echoes through the game room. “The time for team selection is up.”

The guards wrangle each team into the circles on the floor. Half are placed into one circle, while the other half are placed in the other. They are directed to sit on the sand floor with their teams, and Seo-yun does, although begrudgingly. In an act of pure pettiness, she takes a place at the end, next to Min-su, rather than beside Nam-gyu. Nam-gyu tries to grab her to stop her, but she just brushes him off and does it anyways. In her book, she’s won.

“The game you will be playing is Six-Legged Pentathlon.”

Oh, fuck. So this was going to be more reliant than Seo-yun had thought. This game is going to be entirely based on trusting your teammates not to fuck up the game. She side-eyes Nam-gyu and Thanos from the corner of her eye, the way Thanos bounces on his heels and Nam-gyu digs his fingers into the sand. They’re so fucked.  

Seo-yun breathes out a sigh, anxiety overtaking her as she tries to focus on the instructions being given by the robotic voice. “You will start with your legs tied together. Each member will take turns playing a mini-game at every ten-meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one.” She props her elbows onto her knees, hands coming up to dig at her face. Nam-gyu is staring at her right now, she can feel it. But she hardly gives a fuck, in all honesty. All she cares about right now is the fact she has probably the world’s worst team to be tied to.

“Here are the mini-games. Number one, Ddakji. Number two, Flying Stone. Number three, Gong-gi. Number four, Spinning Top. Number five, Jegi.”

Okay, well, at least she can do all of those. She knows, though, that Gong-gi is going to be given to her or Se-mi. Consequences of being the only girls here, stuck with two very overbearing men. And, apparently, one of them is sexist!

“Your goal is to win all the mini-games and cross the finish line in five minutes.” Okay, so, one minute per game. At least that’s possible, although maybe difficult with the meatheads I’m stuck with. Players around them immediately begin to whisper among each other, definitely deciding who is playing what. Seo-yun props her head on one of her hands, using the other to come down and pick at the sand that she oh-so hates.

“Please decide players for each mini-game.” 

Nam-gyu is the first to speak up. He points two fingers at Seo-yun and Se-mi, although Seo-yun doesn’t miss the way they shake a bit as he points. “One of you can do Gong-gi.” And fuck, if that doesn’t majorly piss her off. Who is he to say what she can play? Just because she’s a girl? Three years of friendship, of him never once saying anything about her being a woman. And now this. Seo-yun digs her fist into the sand, biting her tongue as best as she can so as not to cause a screaming match right here. Nam-gyu has a unique ability to royally piss her off, and she seems to have the same for him. Although maybe that’s just because she’s a girl.

“I’m doing Ddakji.” She’s not all that good at Ddakji, but she can play it pretty decently. Seo-yun is petty, but not enough to get them killed. She wouldn’t volunteer for a game she can’t play just to prove a point. But she can play Ddakji, and that’s exactly what she’s going to do. Nam-gyu tenses his jaw, as though he’s going to fight with her on it, but he doesn’t. Maybe, for once, he knows what’s good for him.

He retracts a pointing finger, leaving one on Se-mi. She cocks an eyebrow, gaze heavy and angry as it stares down the finger. “How about you do Gong-gi, huh? I’m doing Throwing Stone.” She leans back, propping herself up in the sand on her hands. Nam-gyu clearly does not know what’s good for him. His fingers form into a fist, although that fist drops to his side and into the sand. His jaw works for a moment, joints tensing under his skin. And then the fucker has to go running his mouth, just like he always does.

“Fucking women and their attitudes.” He mutters it under his breath, but that doesn’t matter. Seo-yun can still hear it, clear as day. It worms its way into her ears and twists through her brain. Anger broils deep under her skin, firing up every inch of her in white-hot heat. She doesn’t know if she’s ever been this angry at Nam-gyu. Not even that time he stole her money. This is worse. This is pointed and harsh and something she’s never seen from him before. Nam-gyu wasn’t an amazing guy, but Seo-yun wasn’t all that amazing, either. They had their share of problems.

Never once has he talked badly about women before this. “The fuck did you just say?” She snaps, her question more of a demand than anything. A few people in front of them turn to look, startled and wide-eyed from just how loudly she’d shouted. Seo-yun hardly cares. She pays it no mind, eyes boring into the back of Nam-gyu’s skull as he smirks and looks around. “C’mon, big man. You’re such a big strong man, right? Then say it to my fucking face.” 

Nam-gyu just laughs to himself, a small chuckle more than a real laugh. But it’s there. And it feels so much like salt in a deep wound, something Seo-yun has wrapped up and kept hidden for years. It feels so much like when kids at school would pretend to be her friend, just to turn around and betray her. His words stab deep inside her, deepening something that she was just starting to heal. Worst of all? He doesn’t respond.

Seo-yun has to blink away the tears that sting at her eyes at the rough scrape of betrayal. Her heart hurts deep within her chest. It feels like she’s just lost a piece of herself, and at the worst possible time. God, she really knows how to pick them. She gnaws at her lip, teeth digging into the skin there and tugging until she tastes the iron of blood on her tongue. The physical pain, at least, is a nice distractor from the way her chest aches and she feels like she can’t breathe. This is the worst possible moment to be breaking down, especially over Nam-gyu.

She knows she’ll go running back to him. She always does. He’ll give her some bullshit apology and she’ll believe him. They’ll go back to normal. Nothing will ever be resolved, because their relationship is supposed to be transactional. She’s not supposed to be hurt over him insulting women. She’s not supposed to be hurt at the implications of being a weak link rather than a true teammate. He just… Hit something that festered in her chest rather than scabbed over.

The first two teams are called to play. Seo-yun looks up then, and only then. She doesn’t know what the boys decided on games, but she does know that no one got rearranged from how they were already sitting. She sniffles, eyes tracking the motions of the team on their side of the room. Five men, all antsy and scrambling as soon as they’re effectively shackled together and the gun goes off to signal the beginning of the round. They’re smart about it, hooking their arms together and shouting amongst each other so their steps are synced. One, two! They know how to play this. They’re good at it. 

Seo-yun cannot say the same for herself or her team. Her heart stutters in her ribcage. If any game gets her, it will be this one. She should be smooth sailing from here on out, but this one will be difficult for her. Teamwork is not something she has ever practiced. Two of her mates aren’t exactly team players. Hell, they’re whispering to each other right now. Seo-yun doesn’t miss it, the way Nam-gyu begs Thanos for something he has in his cross. Probably drugs. Even worse is, as she watches the colorful pill get deposited in Nam-gyu’s waiting hand out of her peripherals, she debates doing the same. For half a second, Seo-yun debates staving off the shake in her hands and pounding in her head and nausea in her stomach with one of those pills. She debates getting on her knees and begging, offering up whatever Thanos wants. Letting him win just this once, if it means the itching in her brain ends.

She doesn’t do that. She heavily debates it, but she chooses to focus the entirety of her gaze on the men on their rainbow track. They’ve just completed Ddakji. They’re stomping over to Throwing Stone. 

“Seo-yun-ah.” 

Fucking Nam-gyu. She grits her teeth, jaw clenching, and turns to him. Slowly but surely, her eyes leave the men on their track and come to Nam-gyu, the fucking smile on his shitty fucking face. Her eyes narrow, anger coursing through her alongside the anxiety in her veins. His teeth crunch on something, no doubt a pill. The fucker. They almost always get high together. It’s just a thing they do. Another thing he’s ruining.

He leans forward, greasy and unevenly cut hair falling across his shoulders as he does so. His smile grows. He holds a fist out to her, disregarding the two people he has to reach across to do so. His other hand plants itself in the sand, fingers digging into it to maintain purchase so he doesn’t go toppling forward. “The fuck do you want?” Seo-yun spits at him, nothing but venom and anger. The men on the track are shouting about something. She wants to shout too, but that would draw far too much attention. As much as she wants to lash out, it’s best to play it safe and keep any fights as quiet as possible.

Nam-gyu doesn’t say anything. His eyes bore holes through her and he shakes his fist. He leans forward just a bit more, ever so slightly. As far as he can get without falling face first into the sand. Oh, how she’d love to see that. 

Seo-yun’s eyes track down to the fist extended out to her. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? With Nam-gyu’s sense of humor, he probably has a bug in his hand or something. She raises an eyebrow and holds out one of her sandy hands. She’s never been scared of bugs, so whatever. Just as it’s coming to a stop under his outstretched fist, he’s opening his fingers. Something small drops out. Something colorful. Something almost unidentifiable until Seo-yun snatches her hand back to herself and stares it down.

It’s half of a pill. Tiny, red, slightly slick with spit - Probably from Nam-gyu biting it in half. 

She doesn’t even consider it. On reflex, her hand comes up to shove the pill into her mouth. Seo-yun crunches it between her teeth, savoring the bitter taste and the grainy texture on her tongue. It’s terrible, medicinal. But at the same time, it’s beautiful. She leans back on her hands, mirroring Se-mi, and waits for it to kick in. This is just what she needed. And maybe, just maybe, she’s forgiven Nam-gyu now. Funny how that works. All he has to do is butter her up with a pill and it’s like nothing ever happened. It may have only been half of a pill but that sure as hell is better than nothing. It’ll get the withdrawals to back off, at least.

And it does just that. The team on their side of the track loses, one of the men pissing himself in fear. She can’t find it in him to feel bad, too ecstatic as the pill kicks in and adrenaline rushes through her system. Whatever it is, it’s strong and magnificent. It rushes Seo-yun’s veins with energy, with happiness, with something that makes all the colors of the room flood together. 

The time between the next team and her own is a blur of oddly childish memories and feelings. Something in the pill, something about being high in this environment, just makes her feel like a little kid playing games. And Seo-yun can’t help but be happy about it, ecstatic even, because this is the only time she has ever had people to play with. Hell, right now, she has a whole team! And they’re going to play six-legs together. She gets to play Ddakji! 

The pill effectively blocks out the sounds of shooting and blood. It’s not real, none of it is. It’s all a game. There’s no anxiety, no screams as people lose. The clouds painted on the walls shift around on their blue backgrounds. People play, people win. People play, people lose. When they lose, they keel over at their losses and are tied up in pretty pink bows like presents. Almost like Christmas, or her birthday. They’re the presents she never got. They’re the one present she did get, one from a social worker in her orphanage. Some book or something. Something that was supposed to be inspiring, she thinks. She doesn’t remember. She does know that some cruel girl stole it from her and tore it to shreds, flushed the pages down the toilet.

The book had been wrapped up just like these people’s sleeping bodies. Black box, little pink bow. 

It’s their turn. Thanos stands first, like the leader he is. He leads them into battle as the rest of them stand and follow the pink staff member to the rainbow track. Seo-yun’s foot slips in something red, something slippery. Just a puddle. Se-mi is there to catch her, to keep her upright as she takes her place at the beginning of the line. She gets the red part of the rainbow. Se-mi yellow. Min-su green. Nam-gyu blue. Thanos, of fucking course, gets purple. His favorite color. But it’s okay, because Seo-yun doesn’t really mind red. It’d been the color of the pill that made things so much easier. It’s the color of the puddle under her shoes. It’s the color of the stain on her jacket sleeve.

A staff member comes to shackle them together. The cuffs are plastic, but strong. Stuck together by locks. No one could escape no matter how badly they’d possibly ever want to. Seo-yun links her left arm with Se-mi’s right. The guard tugs on each of their cuffs, makes sure they’re secure. And then the guard stands, walks over to the edge of the track. They raise a gun to the sky and a moment later it shoots, starting the round. 

As dysfunctional as the team is, they are now reliant on each other. If one person messes up, they’re all dead. And each of them seem to know this, to accept it. They hook their arms together and they move in sync, counting each step they take as they do so. One, two! 

The first game is Ddakji. Seo-yun is handed a blue square. The pink-suited employee on the sidelines of this station grabs the red one, tossing it down onto the ground. Seo-yun closes her eyes as she works the blue Ddakji in her hands, trying to get it to sit just right against her palm. This is just like that day in the park, the day with that nicely dressed businessman with weird, creepy eyes. If she wins, she gets money. If she loses, she… Well. Gets more than slapped, that’s for sure. But the pill has left her with no fear, just happiness. She can’t bring herself to be anxious even as the blue square slots just perfectly against her palm.

Her eyes slip open and she rears her arm back, almost smacking Se-mi in the face as she does so. Regret only flashes in her mind for a moment. It’s just a hazard of being so close to each other. Space is pretty much impossible to come by when you’re shackled at the ankles. Besides, Se-mi has much more to deal with. They all do. 

Seo-yun’s arm comes down. Her hand releases the Ddakji piece plastered against her sweaty palm. It falls, hits the red piece on the ground. The red piece stutters for a moment. And then it flips. First fucking try.

The team instantly turn to look at the staff member on the edge of the track. The person - A circle, holds their arms above their hand in an O shape. A surge of pride rushes through Seo-yun as their achievement officially rings through the room. Pass.

One down. Four more to go. 

They interlink arms again, and they’re off. One, two! Throwing Stone is next. A small stone is set up by a circle a few feet away, and Se-mi takes the one that is handed to her to throw. She looks down to ensure her foot is not over the line, and then she doesn’t waste any time. She tosses it. The plastic stone flies through the air before hitting dead-on the one set up for them. Pass. 

Four minutes still on the clock. Onto the next game. This one is where Seo-yun’s trust begins to dwindle. She trusted herself to pass Ddakji. Anyone can play Ddakji, that’s probably why they use it to recruit people. Flying Stone is simple too - Yet another game anyone can play and win. The next is Gong-gi… And Min-su is stuck playing that, since neither of the girls wanted to and neither Nam-gyu or Thanos were going to be caught dead playing a “girly game.” Seo-yun should’ve just taken it and not been so petty - She’s pretty good at Gong-gi. It was pretty much the only game she could play alone as a kid.

Well, it’s too late now. The team hooks their arms and moves on to Gong-gi, feet slipping in more red puddles as they go about their motions. 

The instructions are laid out for Min-su as he’s given a small table with the Gong-gi pieces. The team kneels down to allow him to play, although his hands shake as he places the table onto the track. It’s okay, they still have three minutes and some on the clock. They’ll be okay. In theory. They just have to hope that Min-su is a quick learner and steady with his hands.

He tosses the pieces onto the table. Grabs one, tosses it. Grabs another and catches the first. Tosses one of those. Grabs a third, catches the one in the air. He tosses one and goes for his fourth, but fumbles it. 

Min-su starts over, hands shaking a bit more now as he repeats his motions of the first match. Grab, toss, catch. Grab, toss, catch. Grab. Toss. Catch.

He makes it to round two, but the picking up of two stones throws him for a loop. He misses the one in the air and it lands onto the table with a small clack. Nam-gyu loses it, grabbing Min-su by the collar and shaking him as he screams at the man. “You motherfucker!” 

Min-su straightens up his act after that. He plays and wins, although his lip trembles the whole way through, and the final catch is almost lost. His pinky manages to grab hold of the stone that threatens to escape his palm at the last second, and then he holds up his quivering fist to the circle that attends this station. Pass. 

Spinning Top. Nam-gyu, of course, makes it in the first try. His hands don’t even shake as he wraps the rope tight and tosses the top. It spins, spins, spins. Pass.

The final game - Jegichagi. Thanos takes the Jegi from the employee, lip curling up oddly as he tosses it. He kicks. One, two, three, four, five. He doesn’t miss a single one. As the Jegi comes back to land on the floor, into a particularly large red puddle, Seo-yun beats herself up a bit in her mind. Maybe she was too quick to judge these guys’ skills. 

They make it to the finish line with thirty seconds to spare. The uproarious cheer that arises from their side of the room is almost deafening. Seo-yun can’t bring herself to react in any coherent way. She just fists her hand into the back of Se-mi’s jacket and laughs to herself as her victory really sinks in. They lived another day, through another game. Probably the one that would be the hardest for her. It will be smooth sailing from here, hopefully.

The employees undo their shackles as the team on the other side of the room completes their round with ten seconds on the clock. When both teams are unshackled, they’re led out the doors of the game room and back into the stair room. Seo-yun’s eyes watch the ways the colors shift in her inebriated mind, the pastels blending and swirling as she descends the confusing spirals of staircases.

Above all, she’s just glad to have won another game.

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

SEO-YUN TAPS A NAIL against the metal she’s sat on alongside the rest of the group. She’s stuck between Se-mi and Thanos, although she tries her best to lean closer to Se-mi on this metal platform placed in the corner of the sets of bunks. Each set seems to be connected, all three walls of them just parts of a bigger whole. At each corner of the room there are platforms that connect the bunks, and the group has made home on one of them. Thanos sits sideways a step down from Seo-yun, back against the metal framework of one of the sets of beds. Nam-gyu sits a few feet beside him, staring off into the rest of the white bedroom.

Se-mi has made home just to Seo-yun’s left, and even farther left is Min-su, about two feet away from Se-mi. He’s a shy guy, that much is clear. He keeps his distance from everyone and always keeps his head down. He hardly talks, doesn’t fight back. That’s exactly why Nam-gyu isn’t complaining about Min-su having suddenly joined their group - Because he could become Nam-gyu’s bitch.

Right now, Min-su has his knees up as close to his chest as he can manage, head shoved into arms that are propped onto the knees. He just barely peaks out from his hiding place as he watches the few other passed teams socialize. They’d gone on pretty early in the game, so no one really knows who’s still alive. They won’t know for a bit. By Seo-yun’s calculations, they still had about half the game to go.

Also, by her calculations, which may not be reliable due to her inebriated state, many teams have died. More than the amount that’s managed to pass. And that very knowledge makes her heart sink. It makes her feel sick to her stomach even as she’s high on whatever the fuck Thanos has that’s staving off her withdrawals. Her right hand comes up to subconsciously pick at the bright blue O on that side of her chest. She will do better tonight, she promises that. She’ll do better.

Her stomach growls and she winces as hunger stabs into her. If only they could be fed more than once a day, damnit.

“Okay, this might be a dumb question.” Seo-yun is abruptly yanked out of her thoughts as a voice comes from her left side. A feminine voice. Se-mi. Seo-yun raises an eyebrow and turns to face the woman, curious. Se-mi smiles, a small motion that barely overtakes her mouth. She lifts a hand to toy with the metal attached to her lip. Seo-yun notices she does that a lot - It must be a tic of some sort.

Seo-yun holds a hand up to her, gesturing silently for Se-mi to ask away. Se-mi chuckles, drops her head just slightly. “Were you at, like… A party or something? Before this?” The question registers within Seo-yun’s psyche almost immediately. She suddenly remembers how decked out in accessories she is as compared to the rest of the players she’s seen - Makeup smeared across her face, necklaces, a bracelet spanning across the back of her hand, and an updo that was once fancy, now a rat’s nest.

She chuckles shyly, blushing a bit at the question. Surely Seo-yun has to be the biggest mess of all the players, blood on her sleeve and her shoes now and sand all across her tracksuit. “Yeah, I was, actually. That asshole’s Halloween party.” She points a finger at Thanos, the metal of her bracelet shining in the fluorescents of the room. 

“And you had the time of your life! Everyone loves Thanos parties.” He speaks up, snarky as always. His face paints itself with a fucking stupid cocky little smirk, and he gestures both hands to himself. His bright purple hair flutters as he nods to himself, brown eyes slipping closed in satisfaction. He’s so self-absorbed, it’s insufferable. No one exists except Thanos. Or at least, no one matters except Thanos.

Seo-yun scoffs. She decides not to give him any more energy than she already has. “I was forced into it.” Se-mi chuckles, finger still toying with the ring through her lip. 

“I feel bad for you, stuck being friends with Thanos.” She giggles again. Seo-yun rolls her eyes, lifting a hand to run through the strands of hair that have fallen out at this point. She should just take it down, but if she does that before she has a chance to shower - That is, if she gets such a chance - Then her hair is going to end up in an even worse state. Best to keep it in this mess.

“I wouldn’t call us friends. I’m friends with Nam-gyu, and Nam-gyu is… What’s more than friends but not lovers because they’re too insecure in their masculinity to accept it?” And, oh, does that earn her a glare from the great Nam-gyu sitting just in front of her. Thanos seems to be lost in his own world now, smiling to himself as his head bobs to fictional music. “Fuck you. I’m not into guys.” He spits out, words venomous and almost-lethal. They’re aimed to stab, to dig dip into the festering wound Seo-yun has but refuses to show. They don’t, though. She just giggles and chooses not to believe him.

“Anyways. He insisted on going to his idol’s Halloween party, and I go where he goes I guess.”

Se-mi cocks an eyebrow. “You go where he goes?” She asks, a short smile on her face. It’s frayed, though. Not a real smile. Something sarcastic. Fed-up. “Well, I guess-” Seo-yun cuts herself off as she attempts to explain herself, but everything her brain is feeding her just sounds pathetic. Going without substances in death games gives her nothing to do but second-guess her life choices. She finds herself doing that now, as memories of fake words to shitty men in dark clubs flashes through her mind. Sly words that get her a free drink or a little bit of cash if she slips her fingers into their pockets fast enough. 

It’s never sex. She never lets it get that far. The men are scapegoats to her next high, the place between sobriety and infinity. They buy her drink after drink until she’s stumbling enough for Nam-gyu to tell her to just sit in the break room and wait for his shift to be over. Or they look away for just long enough for 50,000 won to disappear. 

Another team enters the room, cheering despite the heaving of their chests and shaking of their hands. It’s Hyun-ju’s team, and Seo-yun’s heart surges at seeing someone familiar survive. Maybe she’s weak to connect with people so early on, but she can’t help it. Just the mere idea of having a friend, a real friend, has her feeling warm inside. And she doesn’t want anyone else to die. She thought she did, but she doesn’t. 

“I don’t know.” She has no explanation for herself. Seo-yun wants to live for herself, in a way that will make her happy. But she’s never gotten to do that. Since birth, she’s been living for others. Whatever makes everyone else happy. At first, it was the kids in the orphanage. Whatever it took to make them like her. When they continued to bully her, it was then adoptive and foster parents. Whatever it took for them to love her. They continued to hate her, to lock away the food from her but allow their biological kids to have as much as they wanted. They continued to scream at her for never being good enough, for not having the best grades in the class or over-achieving aspirations.

So Seo-yun turned to wanting the kids at school to like her. She did her makeup, put her hair up nice, and ensured her uniform looked the best it could. She was nice, studied her life away, and got the best grades possible. Even still, she was bullied. Never pretty enough. Never good enough. Never loved enough.

She decided on men. Men were simple-minded creatures. Make them think you’re wrapped around their finger and they will give into your every beck and call. Make them feel wanted and lusted after, and they will make you feel loved. 

Seo-yun latched so deeply onto Nam-gyu because he was her constant. He was her drug, just like she was his. He made her feel loved and wanted despite the shallowness of their relationship through shared pills after a long day and the vow to always stick by each other’s sides. He made her feel loved because he never seemed to want her body. He never even looked at her like he might want it. Not even on their first date. 

Se-mi clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes alongside the motion. “I got it. Don’t worry.”

But Seo-yun doesn’t think she does. Se-mi doesn’t get it. She could never get what it’s like to be addicted to someone. Especially not someone like Nam-gyu.

She doesn’t protest, though. She just allows silence to blanket over the group once more. Seo-yun’s energy is zapped. 

She doesn’t know how much time passes before the final team enters the bedroom. When she looks up from the area of the platform her shoed feet rest on, Seo-yun is pleasantly surprised to see Gi-hun’s team enter. At this rate, she was convinced they were done for. They’re bloody at their feet and shaking and pale-faced from anxiety, but they’re alive. Gi-hun leads the group into the bedroom, followed immediately by Young-il. Then a small girl, with Jung-bae and Dae-ho at the tail end of it. They all look effectively shaken, but they’re alive. Seo-yun supposes that’s what matters.

Nam-gyu gives it hardly any time. As soon as he watches the group walk across the room and to their respective bunks, he sighs out a groan. The sound serves to effectively light a flare of anger through Seo-yun’s core. He’s agitated over people surviving. These games are bringing out some terrible side of him. Or, maybe, he’s been like this the whole time. Maybe this is just his true colors.

But can that really be true? Can someone be held to truth in a traumatic experience like this?

He slings his head to the side, hands wringing at each other on his lap. His rings clank together as he makes the motions, over and over. “Fuck,” Nam-gyu lets out another sigh as he brings his head up again to stare down at his lap. “Too many people made it.” 

“Seriously?” Seo-yun bites out, teeth gritted as she asks it. He doesn’t respond to her, not verbally at least. She watches the way his jaw goes tense at her response, but he doesn’t even turn back to look at her. He just keeps talking to himself, airing out his frustrations to people who don’t care. He turns to Min-su behind him, jaw still tense even as he speaks.

“How many do you think are left?” Seo-yun grits her teeth just as soon as the question has left his lips. Min-su perks his head up, eyes racing around the room as he processes the question and the potential answer. There’s clear confusion on his face, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed as he attempts to do the mental math that Nam-gyu is requiring of him. It’s unnecessary, though - It will be told to them soon. No need to exert themselves by trying to count or figure it out in any other manner of doing so. Min-su is far too anxious and submissive of a person to counter Nam-gyu’s request, though. 

“What?” He breathes it out, seeming to be confused. As if Nam-gyu asking again could provide clarity. Maybe he’s just trying to prolong the inevitable of being forced to get up and count every warm body in the room. Nam-gyu breathes out something like a laugh, but not quite, lips curling up at the sides. It’s not warm, though. It’s demeaning. “How many roaches do you think we have left here?” Nam-gyu leans a bit closer to Min-su as he asks it. Thanos holds his hands up in a mocking DJ motion, seemingly completely dead to the world besides the raps he has forming in his head.

“Leave him alone, Nam.” Seo-yun can’t help but still be friendly despite the anger broiling in her bones. She kicks her foot out at Nam-gyu, just barely catching him in the side as he leans a bit closer to Min-su. He breathes out another almost-laugh. “Ah, quiet. I’m bonding.” He waves his hand back at her, tone significantly gentler when he speaks to her. She can’t quite tell if he’s talking down on her or if he’s being playful. She used to always be able to tell, but now, she’s not so sure. She doesn’t know this Nam-gyu. Maybe she never did. 

Min-su’s head darts side to side as he tries to find the answer Nam-gyu is looking for. He finds it much faster than Seo-yun had expected, turning back to Nam-gyu with wide eyes. “Looks like around 200.” And that just pulls another almost-laugh from Nam-gyu’s lips as he takes in the way Min-su looks thoroughly overwhelmed at having processed the man’s request. “Yeah? How do you know?”

Min-su looks around again in response to the question, mouth falling open in confusion. He lets out a noise of the very same emotion to pair with the look on his face. “Uh…” 

“C’mon, go count, genius.” Nam-gyu reaches a hand up to swat at Min-su’s leg, urging the other man to get up and do as told. Min-su almost seems to consider it, too, until Se-mi pushes him back down by his shoulder and speaks up. “Ignore him. The guards will come in and tell us a number soon.”

He listens, nodding his head shyly before he shoves it back into the waiting grasp of his crossed arms. Nam-gyu groans, tossing his head back and slipping his eyes shut. “Shut up, bitch.” He mutters, angry and venomous words slipping from his lips. Seo-yun grits her jaw, hands balling into fists against the metal platform before she can even consider the amount of violence she wants to instill on this man. She opens her mouth to shout at him at the very same time as Thanos, but Thanos is just slightly faster. He raises his arms up stupidly as he urges the group - Or maybe just Nam-gyu, considering how he’s staring holes through the man’s skull - To stop it. 

Nam-gyu’s smirk drops. He turns just barely to side-eye Thanos, seeming almost betrayed by the rapper’s audacity to interrupt his fight with the others. Seo-yun runs her tongue over her front teeth, eyes rolling. How does it feel, huh? 

Thanos points first to Min-su, eyebrow cocking as he does it. “What’s your name again?” Min-su looks around as he’s asked the question, eyebrows furrowing to fit in with the clear confusion painted on his face. “Uh… Min-su.” He mutters, voice small and quiet and anxious. Thanos nods, shaking his pointed finger a bit as he does so. “How old are you?”

Oh, great. This is turning into a respect your elders thing. Seo-yun has never really been too interested in that. Of course, she does it to be kind, but she has never forced Nam-gyu to engage in that despite being three years older than him. “I’m 27.” Min-su’s hands move towards his knees, fingers digging into fabric and flesh beneath their touch. “So you were born in 1997.” Thanos responds with, staring off into the distance as he does the calculations. Min-su simply nods, and Thanos must pick up the movement from the corner of his eyes.

“Why do you treat him like he’s your boss?” Thanos eyes Min-su as he moves to point his finger at Nam-gyu, who has turned to face forward. Nam-gyu is oddly quiet now, curled in on himself like a petulant child. “He’s the same age as you.” 

Thanos turns to face Nam-gyu. “Nam-su, right?” He asks, promptly ignoring the correction given to him by the mentioned man. “Yeah, yeah. Nam-gyu. Right?” Thanos nods, clearly frustrated at the correction as he waves it off. Nam-gyu nods, muttering out a yeah alongside the motion. “You’re the same age. Treat him like a friend.” Thanos demands, eyes widening as he looks between Nam-gyu and Min-su. He almost resembles a parent telling off a child, which just feeds even more into Nam-gyu holding himself like a toddler at this very moment. Seo-yun just laughs a bit to herself at the image before her, Thanos lecturing Nam-gyu. As if Thanos is any more of an adult than Nam-gyu has ever been. But Thanos is clearly trying to claim himself as the group’s ringleader, and it’s working. He’s the oldest. He’s famous. He can hold himself like a leader. And Nam-gyu is more than happy to be his bitch, keeping everyone else in line under Thanos’ rule.

This is not going to be a fair group, not a democracy. It is going to be a dictatorship if it’s under someone like Thanos, but there’s no way for Seo-yun to take over as leader. Nam-gyu would never allow it, and neither would Thanos. She may be allowed to be Thanos’ right-hand man, according to the rapper, but Nam-gyu wouldn’t allow her even that. This man clearly needs power, he needs to be at the front of the group. He needs to be a big guy, and there’s only one person he will allow to treat him like the little guy of the group - Thanos.

Their connection is unique. Nothing loving in it. Obsessive, though, yes. Nam-gyu will let Thanos do anything and Thanos will take advantage of that very fact. He can do anything he wants and Nam-gyu will come crawling back because he doesn’t know how to live without Thanos, without whatever it is they do when no one is looking at them. It’s horrifying, because it reminds Seo-yun far too much of herself with Nam-gyu. She always returns to him, no matter what. He is her constant, despite there being no romance between the two of them. She’s reliant on him, she doesn’t know how to exist without him just like she doesn’t know how to exist without the drugs she pumps herself full of alongside him.

For a long time, she thought he viewed her the same way. And maybe he did. Maybe he did, until he was able to get his grip on Thanos and never let go. When he realized he had a chance with his idol, even if that very person was an asshole, he took that chance and ran with it, far away from Seo-yun and her need for his existence within her life.

The thing that separated Nam-gyu and Seo-yun was simply their manners of needing others. He did it for control over his life, for control over others. She did it because she didn’t know who she was without the people around her.

“We’ll work better as a team this way, okay?” Thanos waves his hands around dramatically, and Nam-gyu just listens to him. He retreats from the fight with his tail between his legs, nodding to the command given and lifting a hand to scratch the side of his face. He’s reduced to nothing under Thanos’ command, and it’s not just because of Thanos’ superiority over him. Thanos then turns to begin to ask the two remaining members of the team their ages, starting with Seo-yun.

More specifically, he asks for their birth years. Seo-yun begrudgingly gives it, eyes flitting to stare up at the shining ceiling as she spits the year between gritted teeth. “1994.” He then turns to Se-mi, who is far too quick with her answer. She had just been expecting it, and besides, it’s not like it’s easy to forget your birth year. “Born in 1996.”

Thanos turns away for a moment, cogs in his brain clearly turning as he thinks. “Okay. It’s settled. You two are the same age,” He points between Min-su and Nam-gyu, eyes authoritative and forceful. It’s almost like he’s commanding them. “Se-mi is second-oldest, and Seo-yun is oldest. Call them noona since they’re older.” He moves to point two fingers at Seo-yun and Se-mi, still demanding the boys to do as they’re told. Min-su nods in his true people-pleaser way, giving in to every beck-and-call of the people around him. Nam-gyu provides a bit more resistance. He laughs to himself as if it’s a joke, but it’s clear Thanos is being serious. “Do it.” He demands once more, voice a bit more agitated as he deals with Nam-gyu’s sudden laughing fit.

“Okay, okay. Fuck.” Nam-gyu bites out, only half-angry. He’s partly lighthearted even despite the sharpness to his words, and Thanos seems more than happy to take that as an answer even with the snark Nam-gyu provides. Thanos smiles to himself, lowering his arms to his lap when he receives the answer from Nam-gyu. “Good.” He responds simply, nodding once to himself. Seo-yun sighs heavily, the events of the day beginning to take a toll on her. She bites at her chapped lips and blinks slowly every time a loose strand of hair falls against her exposed neck. She needs to get her hair in check, and quick.

She’s also quite fed up with this group of people, namely Nam-gyu and Thanos. Their superiority complexes are starting to get to her.

Before Seo-yun can even process she’s doing it, her hands perch onto the metal and work to push her to stand. The other members of the group promptly turn their heads to stare up at her, curiosity in their eyes.

“I just… Need some air. Or something.” Seo-yun comes up with, frankly, any bullshit excuse to get away from them. Before anyone can say anything, she pushes her way past Nam-gyu and Thanos to descend the two stairs to the floor. Upon reaching the floor of the bedroom, Seo-yun takes one quick look around and approaches the first recognizable group she sees - Gi-hun’s group.

Even despite the anger that rises upon laying eyes on Dae-ho, she approaches the group across the room. He may have just been mistaken. Even if he was trying to sabotage, it didn’t work. She doesn’t know how he could possibly think it would work. It was very obvious upon entering the game room that there would be no choosing shapes. His “tip” served just to disarm her for a few seconds before she was able to gather herself and make a team. Even if that team was the worst possible option for a game where the point was relying on each other.

When Seo-yun arrives at the group, she comes into the tail-end of Dae-ho seeming to introduce himself once more. This time, it appears to be more in-depth than their introductions of the previous night. He’s just explaining the meaning of his name - Big tiger - When he turns to face Seo-yun approaching. He flinches at the sudden person behind him, a motion so small no one else seems to notice it. She does, though. She notices and she internalizes it, buries that image somewhere deep for further consideration. It’s not like she has anything better to do here except think.

“Ah, Seo-yun! We meet again.” He’s cheery when he greets her, smiling so widely that his eyes crinkle at the sides and narrow into slits. There’s clear embarrassment underneath that persona, though. He bows before he speaks again, ponytail flopping with the sudden movement. “I’m sorry for giving you the wrong answer for the game. Gi-hun said it would probably be Dalgona.”

Ah. That makes more sense. Seo-yun’s anger dissipates and she nods, allowing a small smile to come across her face. “Oh, it’s okay. No one knows what the games will be. Thank you for trying.” Dae-ho comes up from his bow as he allows her words to sink in. He’s still clearly ashamed, but he doesn’t argue about her forgiving him. “Well, anyways, we have a new member of the group! So we were introducing ourselves again.”

Seo-yun allows her mouth to fall into a small ‘O’ shape despite having already figured that out. She closes it just a moment later, lips curling into a small smile. “I see. Can I go next?” She doesn’t exactly feel like socializing and trying to remember what her name means as well as potentially going into more backstory about herself, but it’s better than the fuckass-ery of Nam-gyu and Thanos trying to boss everyone around. At least this team acts like a team.

Dae-ho nods before plopping himself down on the platform his team has made home on. It’s similar to the one Thanos and Nam-gyu had found for their team, just on the opposite side of the room. He waves a hand out, indicating for Seo-yun to go. And so, she does.

“My name is Chae Seo-yun. I think Seo is, like, ‘omen’? And yun is ‘soft’. Something like that.” She feels uncharacteristically shy with all these pairs of eyes on her. Seo-yun leans against a nearby bunk, hands tugging at each other once her introduction was done. The other members of the team pick up where she left off, with Jung-bae going next. Righteous and twice. 

The pregnant girl is next. Kim Jun-hee. Meaning? She has no clue. Seo-yun can’t say anything there, she probably wouldn’t have known the meaning of her own name if she hadn’t gone out of her way to research it once she was old enough. She wanted to know what it meant, why she was given that name by some random social worker. Apparently, it means she’s supposed to be some good, but soft omen. Whatever that is supposed to mean.

Young-il urges her to visit a doctor once she’s out of here before he redirects to his own introduction. He doesn’t provide a meaning for his name, just laughs over how it’s similar sounding to his number. Gi-hun introduces himself last, and Young-il laughs once more over how his last name - Seong - is last name. 

The introductions end there, and Seo-yun lets out a heavy sigh. She feels like such an outsider within this group, but they accept her with open arms all the same. Some part of her wants to join them, but the other part can’t bring her to part with Nam-gyu.

Besides, this team seems pretty finished anyways. Why would they bring her in?

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

SEO-YUN MAKES HOME with Gi-hun’s team. Oddly enough, they let her. They don’t question her when she plants herself on the metal platform beside Jun-hee, where she takes comfort in the only other girl in the group. She doesn’t speak to Jun-hee, something deep in her bones tugging at her and urging her to stay as quiet as possible, as though the group has not yet comprehended the fact she is here to stay. As though, if she were to move, they would realize she has not yet left and shun her from their gathering.

Maybe it’s just from the shitty childhood she had, she supposes. The constant urge to sneak around, to not be seen and not be heard, because being seen was sometimes the worst thing possible. It was easier to hide in the shadows and smooth-talk on the rare occasion she was noticed because being the center of attention meant making mistakes.

The men split off into their own conversations. Dae-ho seems to get along well with Jung-bae, both of them taking any chance they can to show off their marine tattoos and speak of their experiences on the field. In-ho and Gi-hun discuss something quietly, so quiet that not even Seo-yun can hear them from just a few feet away. Jun-hee cradles her stomach. Though she tries to hide it, she’s pregnant. Very pregnant. Too pregnant to be somewhere like this, somewhere requiring heavy activity.

“Why are you here?” Jun-hee finally breaks the silence between the two of them, forcibly dragging her gaze - Heady and angry - From some awkward looking man across the room. He’s too far to fully make out, but Seo-yun knows he looks familiar. If she had the patience to do it, she’d squint her eyes and focus on his face to try to make it out in her memory. She simply doesn’t feel a need to do such a thing, though. She’d rather just focus on the grumbling in her stomach and the stick film of sand and makeup against her cheeks.

Jun-hee’s face visibly softens as soon as she’s torn herself away from the man. She must have bad blood there, but that’s much too sensitive of a topic to ask someone upon first meeting. Seo-yun just hangs her head a bit, a bitter smile taking over her face as she mulls over the question. Why does everyone feel a need to ask it? Why does everyone have to know about the fact she’s nothing but a lowly junkie, and it’s all because of Nam-gyu?

She sucks on her bottom lip for a single moment, teeth catching so hard against skin that she tastes the iron of blood in her mouth not a second later. Fuck. The lip is then released with a pop, and then she’s following the motion with a dart of her tongue to lap away at the blood there, just barely seeping from the newfound wound. “Drugs.” Seo-yun responds with little more. She doesn’t want people to look at her and see some addict, some junkie, someone worthless. They’re all here for their own reasons, they’re all struggling with finances. It just feels much different for Seo-yun. She’s here because of drugs, because she can’t cope with her circumstances, so she has to rely on powder or pills to get her through the day. It’s isolating.

Jun-hee nods, the sound of her hair shifting against her tracksuit enough to pull Seo-yun out of whatever self-deprecating stupor she’s managed to dig her way into. These games have managed to dig out a side of her that she hasn’t felt in a long time. Something that makes her feel like a teenager, someone angsty and miserable and unable to live life without dragging their feet. Maybe it’s the sobriety. Maybe it’s the fact death is around every corner. Whatever upper Nam-gyu gave her does only a bit to dull away the worst of it. For the most part, Seo-yun is on her own with a faint buzzing underneath her skin and colors flowing in her vision, because whatever the fuck it was is making her see shit.

It’s not a new feeling, hallucinogenics. This is just not an ideal place for such a thing.

There’s silence once more. The small sound of fabric scratching as Jun-hee rubs her hand over her belly, a subconscious motion that gives away her condition. She’s trying to hide it but she’s failing, letting her stomach out when she breathes and rubbing her hand over it every so often. Seo-yun is not going to call her out on it, though. It’s not her secret to tell, at least not to the others. 

That doesn’t mean she can’t say it to the girl, though. This girl is young, small, vulnerable. Seemingly a lonely, single mother. Eyebrow studded with metal, hair painted with blonde at the ends. She seems to be perpetually curled in on herself, trying to protect both herself and the baby that rests within her. She needs someone who will know, someone who will care. Seo-yun will be that someone. She will be good.

Seo-yun lifts a hand to thumb at the blue patch on her chest. She is going to be good. 

Voice lowered to a whisper, Seo-yun confronts the subject. “You’re here because of your baby, right?” The words do not draw a very desirable response. Jun-hee clams up immediately, body tensing and face paling. Her head snaps to eye Seo-yun, lip trembling a bit when she opens her mouth to speak. “Did they tell you that? I asked them not to!” Her hands clench into small fists by her side, head cocking towards the rest of the group as she interrogates Seo-yun. Jun-hee can definitely hold some anger, despite her being a pretty small girl. Seo-yun respects it. Maybe this girl has better chances on her own than Seo-yun thought. Honestly, she just might be doing better pregnant and alone than Seo-yun is doing with two groups and very much not pregnant.

Jun-hee’s eyes slip closed, and there is a single moment of quiet between the two of them as she tries to calm herself. Deep breath in, deep breath out, chest moving as she heaves air from her mouth on her final breath out. She purses her lips once she’s calmed, and then she turns back to Seo-yun. “Sorry. Hormones are driving me crazy. But seriously, how did you figure that out? I’ve only told the rest of the group, and that was just so they’d team with me. They promised to keep it a secret. It makes me vulnerable.” She rubs her hand across her belly again. The fact her jacket is far too big for her helps with hiding the bump, but there’s still a shallow hump where the baby is, just there.

Seo-yun nods. To any passerby, it wouldn’t be obvious. Seo-yun, however, has been watching people since the moment she was conscious. She watches their behavior, their body language. She scouts for weaknesses if necessary. She figures out what makes them tick and how to make them like her. It’s just who she is. Seo-yun has always been an observer. Only in the spotlight when necessary, when it benefits her image. At least, her image in the eyes of people she cares about. Just to keep them around. Just so they don’t turn around and walk away.

“I’m good at observing things.” Seo-yun shrugs, providing no real explanation. There’s no need for one, no need to explain how she just watches people. Jun-hee cocks an eyebrow, the very same one pierced with its metal studs. Just as she’s opening her mouth to respond, the doors at the front of the room are sliding open. The bedroom seems to go quiet just as soon as that’s happened, players preparing for the announcement of how many people died, how much money they’re looking to earn now.

The pink-suited employees, donning high-power guns and hiding behind masks, take their typical formation. Four in the front, four in the back, and the square taking on the front of the stage-like platform, ready to put on a performance for all the players watching and waiting for the results of the previous game. 

“Congratulations to all of you for making it through the second game.” The robotic voice starts as soon as the square has taken its place. All the players force themselves to stand as they’re regarded, on the edge of their metaphorical seats in this formation. They’re as close to the stage and the employees as they’re willing to be - And that’s not very close at all. Each player huddles close to their respective bunks, as though the metal of the platforms and beams will save them if the shapes open fire at this very moment. 

“Here are the results of the second game.” Seo-yun gnaws at her bottom lip, biting it bloody as the square lifts his remote and presses a button on it with a click. The numbers on the TV roll down, the familiar electronic pinging resounding through the room as the number of players goes down and the amount of money goes up. The lights of the room flash off and everything, allowing for the players to look at nothing but the see-through piggy bank as it slides from its home in the ceiling. It’s precarious, the way the thing ever-so-slightly swings on its way down, but the pig must be secured. 

Seo-yun briefly wonders what happens if it were to fall. Surely it’s not made of glass, not typical glass at least. That’s far too much of a liability for the creators of these fucked up games. It would shatter if it were to fall, sending money and glass flying everywhere. The scene would become a free-for-all, players grabbing glass to attack each other and the employees despite the machine guns they hold. Most of all, they’d all run to the money. They’d kill each other over it. It would become a pure bloodbath. 

She blinks and huddles towards an empty bunk on her left, trying to rid the image of feral players covered in blood from her mind. It’s becoming increasingly hard to rid the red from her brain as she sees more people get massacred. 

The electronic trilling of money falling into the pig garners everyone’s attention towards the scene above them. Stacks and stacks of gathered bills fall down the chute and into the pig’s belly, just out of reach for everyone standing on the cold floor of the bedroom. It’s dehumanizing, being reduced to nothing under a pile of cash. Pair that with the tracksuits that make everyone indiscernible from each other, the numbers on the chest - Everything about this is meant to make the people in this room forget who they are.

And it’s working. Seo-yun feels that very same tug from the previous night, the itch to keep the process going. Keep this twisted system up and press O, pay off what she owes and then buy herself some drugs to forget all of this. 

But she’s trying to do better. She’s going to do better. She’s going to be good.

She lifts a hand to pick at the O patch on her chest. It’s going to be different this time.

When the sound of the money falling ends, leaving nothing but silence and the glow of yellow light from the pig, the square speaks up once more. “In the second game, 110 players were eliminated.” So many. Too many. “The prize money accumulated up to this point is 20.1 billion won. Since there are 255 players remaining, each person’s share is 78,823,530 won.” So much. More than Seo-yun could ever dream of needing, so long as she gets out of here with her life. She can cover the difference. It’s fine. Even still, there’s that small, terrible part of her. It tugs at her and screams to keep going. Make more money.

Some man from the mass of players shouts his grievances about the money. About how it’s not enough, how it should be over 100 million by now. But it’s not. The shouting, the pure greed shown by this random man, does nothing but make Seo-yun feel worse about her situation. Bile rises in her throat, and she can’t tell if it’s from withdrawals or something else. 

The man’s complaints just bring out more and more shouting from other players, mostly O voters. So many ill-intent people screaming about how it’s just not enough, how more people had to have died. So many people were shot, but it was only 110? Count again!

Seo-yun slips her eyes shut, gritting her teeth and resting her forehead against the coolness of the metal support beside her. The bile in her throat rises again. She’s definitely coming down from whatever Thanos gave Nam-gyu, which was then given to her. Whatever it was, hit hard. Which also means it’s going to kick her down twice as hard. Fuck. 

The nausea comes in waves at the very worst time. Seo-yun wants nothing more than to take another one of those little red pills. Even just half would get her feeling good again like she needs to. Maybe she can coax one out of Thanos if she slips him a compliment or a promise of a date when they get out of here. Yeah, that would definitely work. He’d be just the kind of guy to be motivated by his dick. 

“I completely understand your disappointment.” The square responds neutrally to the complaints, of course he fucking does. He always does. He’s trained to do that, to encourage players to keep voting to stay while also seeming neutral. It’s all a trap to keep this shit going, and it’s going to work. It’s not going to work for Seo-yun, though. She lost the small amount of motivation to keep going when the nausea first hit her. 

“We always keep the door open for you to pursue new opportunities. You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not.” Fuck. Seo-yun feels like she could projectile vomit everywhere if she moved right now. Doesn’t seem like she’s going to have a choice, though. She’s just going to have to power through this. It’s fine. She’ll get back to Nam-gyu after the vote and Thanos will be more than happy to give whatever it takes to get a sliver of a chance with her after these games. 

Employees roll out the voting pedestal as the square finishes off his selling speech. “Whether or not you vote to continue the games is entirely your choice. Please feel free to exercise your right to choose in a democratic manner.” With that, the voting has officially started. Players slowly work their way down to the floor, piling together into a crowd of murmuring voices. Seo-yun heaves out a sigh, tries to tamp down the nausea, and tails Gi-hun’s group down to the floor. Dae-ho is just in front of Jun-hee, but he keeps looking back every couple of seconds. As soon as they reach the milling group, he worms his way between the pregnant girl and Seo-yun.

“Are you okay?” His words to Seo-yun are small. A whisper. Seo-yun doesn’t have the heart or guts to tell anyone she’s still using, so she doesn’t. She just nods and grits her teeth when another wave of nausea roils through her stomach. “Fine. Just dreading… Well, this.” She mutters back, words slipped between tense teeth. She crosses her arms over her chest and tries to level her breathing in any way that might calm the sickness in her bones and the exhaustion that’s overtaking her. “We both know how this is going to end.”

Dae-ho heaves out a sigh, but he nods. He’s an optimist, that much is clear, but at least he seems like he’s trying to be realistic about their chances here. “I figured you’d like that outcome, though.” He responds, head shifting as he tries to find the few people who are taking their sweet time to join the voting group. Nothing starts until everyone is ready, and there’s a few stragglers still climbing down from their bunks. Seo-yun’s eyes slip closed, frustration at the assumption rising within her. Of course he’d think the worst in her. She’s sure everyone in this group is. They’re all the good guys, here because of bad life circumstances or bad business ventures. She’s the odd one out, the selfish addict.

“I’m trying to turn over a new leaf.” And she is, really. She’s trying to push away her selfishness and consider the fact that not just her life hangs in the balance here, and neither does tomorrow’s fix - The lives of hundreds of people are in her hands. They depend on what she votes to do tonight, tomorrow, and for the rest of these games. Seo-yun is also trying to give up the habits, but that is much more difficult than voting to leave will ever be. Voting to go home will result in no real repercussions for her at this point - The money in that pig, even once split, is enough to make due for now. But quitting drugs is making her feel like she’s dying, especially now that she’s gotten herself on whatever it is Thanos has in his big silver cross.

“That’s good. It’s never too late. I’m also trying to.” Dae-ho gestures at the O on his own chest, and Seo-yun just nods. She nods and bites her tongue because she cannot express how she feels that his vote was much more valid than hers. She doesn’t know why he’s here, why he’s in debt, but whatever the reason, it is much more valid than her shitty coping mechanism.

“This time, the vote will begin with player 001.” The square announces as soon as the vote has really started, the antsy players milling about in their group. “Player 001, please cast your vote.” Everyone’s heads turn to take in Young-il, the way he squares his shoulders before he makes his first move towards the voting pedestal. He always moves with such a purpose, steps calculated before he’s taking them. There’s something in him, something cold and smart. Something that plans everything out hours before it happens. Seo-yun doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

Before the voting, Gi-hun’s group had gotten together to make a promise - A promise to vote to leave. Seo-yun pointedly excluded herself from this vote, waving the rest of them on even though they seemed hesitant to do it without her. She just doesn’t want to make any promises to them, doesn’t want to become part of something. She knows they won’t want her for the long run. It’s better to keep this going in spurts, which is also exactly why she will be returning to Nam-gyu after the vote. 

Just as promised, Young-il reaches the pedestal and he doesn’t hesitate. His hand gravitates towards the X button, and then he’s pressing it. The scoreboard above it all flicks with the change of vote. X - 1, O - 0. Maybe it’s a sign of good things coming. Seo-yun’s gut tells her that is not the case. He switches out his patch, and then his turn is over.

The first O comes with the third voter - Player 007. Seo-yun vaguely recognizes him as the son from the beginning of the games, the one whose mother fought tooth-and-nail to convince him to go home.

Nam-gyu is pushing his way through the crowd as Hyun-ju works her way up to the front to cast her vote. He comes to a stop just in front of Seo-yun, ignoring the way he gets odd looks from Gi-hun and his friends. Nam-gyu has this odd, scary smile on his face when he comes to a stop in front of Seo-yun. He tracks the way the comedown has hit her, and she just fucking stares at him and wonders how it hasn’t hit him, too. Maybe it has and he’s just better at handling it.

“Hey. Make a promise to me.” He keeps his words a whisper, but the players around them can clearly hear them. Dae-ho’s jaw tenses in the corner of Seo-yun’s vision, and she knows he’s eavesdropping. It’s hard not to, in a place like this. “One more game. Just one more. And then I’ll vote to go home, and so will the rest of our group.” His scary smile grows. Seo-yun just stares at him. She can’t believe his audacity, to ask favors of her after the shit he’s said to her today.

“If you do this for me, I’ll get you the best shit. Whatever you want. For a month. No- Two months. Two months of the best free shit. C’mon!” He lowers his voice when he spits out his offer. Nam-gyu lifts his hands and places them on Seo-yun shoulders, shaking her as he waits for an answer. She blinks. And internally, she thinks about it. She puts far too much thought into the offer, actually. Two months of the best stuff, anything she wants, all for free - Just as long as she plays another game.

Dae-ho is opening his mouth to say something when Nam-gyu’s number is called. The moment fizzles away just as soon as it came. “Just think about it, okay? For me.” And then Nam-gyu is pushing his way through the crowd, gone as quickly as he came. Seo-yun misses him. She digs her top teeth into her tongue, savors the rush of pain and the blood that sparks on her tastebuds, and she decides not to take his offer.

Nam-gyu votes O, of course he does. So does the pathetic boy in his group, Min-su. That was surprising, but Seo-yun had sort-of been expecting it. Nam-gyu was digging his claws into that poor kid and tearing him to shreds. 

Gi-hun seems to lose it at that very moment. He mutters something to himself before pushing his way to the front of the crowd. He’s just spitting out the word everyone when something else happens - Young-il steps out from the X side and begins to shout as well. “Are you all out of your minds?” 

Gi-hun turns at the sound of the shouting, his raised hands lowering just a bit as he’s caught off guard. He probably hadn’t been expecting anyone else to speak up. The O’s were winning, just by three - But they were still winning. During the last vote, Gi-hun had seemed to be the only one who had cared about that. It seems that more people were being pushed to their limits, though. Seo-yun was just surprised to see that Young-il was pushed so quickly. He seemed a bit stronger than that, more intact. Maybe he was, and this was just another of his strategic moves.

“You still want to keep going after watching all those people die?” He steps towards the O’s, tone accusatory and angry. He’s still so composed, though. Scarily so. There’s something wrong with this man, with the way even his anger is contained and seemingly calculated. “Who’s to say you won’t die in the next game?” Gi-hun turns fully, then, turning away from the crowd waiting to vote and eyeing Young-il. His arms are fully lowered to his sides. He’s lost his fight, because there’s no need to do so when someone else is doing it for you.

“We have to stop. We’ll all die if we keep going!” 

Seo-yun just doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like the way Young-il doesn’t seem fully in his protests. He’s a good actor, but his eyes are dead. Not angry, not violent. Empty of emotion. He’s putting on a mask in front of all these people, but for what reason? There’s no need to pretend to be someone you’re not in a place like this. If he wants to be bad, he can be. There’s plenty of people who will agree with him. Unless he has some bigger plan, something like tearing Gi-hun’s group apart from the inside-out, but there’s no reason he would do that. He hardly knows the guy. 

Young-il turns, facing the people waiting to vote instead of those who have already voted. A much smarter decision than yelling at those who cannot do anything about what they’ve done. The people here, grouped in beside Seo-yun and Gi-hun and everyone else, have yet to finalize their decision for the next 24 hours. There is still time to change their minds. “Come to your senses and leave with that money!” He points up to the pig, the cash stuffed inside of its see-through belly. Seo-yun’s eyes flick up to it. That thing is way too fucking happy for the circumstances.

“You’ve got to survive first, or there won’t be a next step.” 

Seo-yun sighs. As much as she wants to go home, she wishes people wouldn’t fight during the voting. There’s no point, and it just drags this tortuous process on even more than is necessary. The tension grows, the anxiety spikes, and the outcome is the same as it would have been before the arguments. She rubs her hands against her face, trying to tune out the arguing voice of a second man who has now joined this fight. 

“Are you sure you’re fine?” It’s Dae-ho again. She doesn’t even look at him, doesn’t pull her face from her hands. She just nods. “Fine. Just ready to eat.” Her words are muffled behind the cover of her hands against her face, and they’re clearly half-hearted. Her stomach roils in protest as soon as she spits the words out. She cannot stomach anything if she’s feeling like this by the time dinner rolls around. 

“Okay, well, if something’s bothering you then you can tell me. I know you weren’t too happy to see your friend-” She doesn’t know what happens then. Seo-yun just knows she is absolutely miserable, nausea and bile rising in her throat and annoyance flooding her veins at the argument before her and Nam-gyu’s fucked up offer that he knows she can’t refuse. She snaps. She cuts Dae-ho off despite his kind words and the fact he has been nothing but welcoming to her. “Please just fucking stay out of it. You don’t know me!” Her voice is unrecognizable in that moment of her snapping at him. Dae-ho’s eyes widen, the few people around them glance at her and then whisper among themselves.

He doesn’t respond verbally. He seems to shrink in on himself, flinching away from the harshness of her words and reflexively shooting his hands up to cover his ears. It reminds her so much of that day in the alleyway. She feels bad immediately, anger flooding away to fill her body with ice and regret. Seo-yun can’t apologize, though. It’s too late for that. 

Instead, she just wallows in self-pity as players fight over the vote. The men go back and forth until a younger girl begins to cry and beg to leave, to be let out.  Seo-yun taps her foot, gnaws at her lip, and clamps her eyes shut as more men rise to yell at each other and try to convince others to change their votes. 

The voting continues. Jun-hee votes X. When it’s Seo-yun’s time to approach the pedestal, she clutches her stomach and prays to God not to vomit everywhere on her walk down the aisle. Miraculously, she doesn’t. She reaches the pedestal in one peace and doesn’t hesitate before voting X. The pink employee hands her a new, red patch. They take her old, blue one. She joins Jun-hee and Young-il on the X side of the room.

Thanos votes O. Se-mi, the girl from Thanos’ group, votes O. Dae-ho votes X. Jung-bae votes O. Gi-hun votes X.

It doesn’t matter, though. None of it matters. 

The O’s win, 139 to 116.

Chapter Text

‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙

SEO-YUN TRIES TO ACT like her hands don’t shake when the vote ends and the groups on either side of the room begin to disperse. She doesn’t know which side to follow now. Each side seems to have been fully established at this point, not a single X branches off to the O side of the room. But… Nam-gyu is there. He’s waiting on her. And he’s surely stewing on his anger over her voting to leave, but it doesn’t even really matter. The O’s won with such a stark difference that her vote doesn’t really matter in the long run, and they both know it. The O’s were going to win regardless of it all. 

Even still, she’s betrayed him, in his mind. She never promised to vote to continue, but she knows he had his mind set on it. He was convinced she would stick around for one more game. He had it chalked up in his head that they would play another game together and then leave and get high on the very best shit with their brand new winnings. Seo-yun stomped on that idea. She snuffed it out and spit on it for good measure. She doesn’t know if she’s happy about that or not.

She does know she’s in for it if she returns to Nam-gyu. But Gi-hun’s team is just… Not her. They’re not Seo-yun’s style. They’re too good. They’re not meant to team with someone like her. She’s rotten deep down inside, always has been and always will be. She’s going to get out of these games and get high before she can even decipher how much money she’s been given. She wants to be better but she can’t be. All in all, there was no point in her vote. It does not redeem her of who she is, who she is going to be. Something tugs at her stomach to tell her the games are just going to get worse from here, and it won’t be long before she has blood on her hands.

She turns on her heel, eyes racing as they take in the O side of the room. Seo-yun is the only person still left out on the voting floor. The other players have already scattered, reaching their bunks before the fluorescents in the ceiling even flickered to life. But she’s still here, gnawing at her lip and trying to hide the shake in her hands. 

She makes her way to the O side of the room, joining forces with Nam-gyu and Thanos once more. They’re crouched together on Thanos’ bed, whispering something as Thanos fumbles with the cross around his neck. Nam-gyu turns to look up when Seo-yun comes to a stop beside the bed, eyebrows furrowed as he eyes her. His gaze, angry and heavy, lands on the bright red X that has now donned her chest. She itches under his gaze, but she doesn’t retreat to her bunk. Seo-yun stands there, awkward as her fingers pick at the cloth of her pants, and she awaits his words.

“What happened to our promise?” He says it so condescendingly, as though Seo-yun is nothing more than a child. She vaguely clocks it as the way Thanos speaks to him, as though he’s less than. And he’s treating her like she’s less than. He twirls something between his fingers and her eyes shoot to it, drawn by the sudden motion of his hand. It’s a small thing. A little white pill, probably another of whatever Thanos keeps locked in his cross.

Seo-yun doesn’t respond to Nam-gyu’s question. She doesn’t want to, and even if she had, he gives her no time before he’s spitting out more condescending words, dripping with venom and rage and something that could almost be hatred. He’s trying to make her fear him. She doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s working. “What? You think you’re better than me? You think you’re good?” He scoffs, raises the hand with the pill in it to his lips. His teeth crunch on it and Seo-yun has to put real effort into suppressing the cringe that tries to rise to her face. Some part of her had foolishly thought he’d give over a half, just like he had before.

“You’re no better than me, Seo-yun. You and I both know it. We both know that if you had to, you’d kill someone. Everyone in this room is an animal, all willing to kill to save their own asses. All those people over there,” He points the hand not against his face to the X side of the room. “Won’t admit it. Maybe they don’t even know it. But you know you would. And I know I would. So why not embrace it?” He tugs his hand away from his face, tightening it into a fist as it falls against the bed beneath him. Thanos furrows his eyebrows, hand clutched tightly around the metal of his cross. He seems stuck between responding and staying out of it. For once, Seo-yun wishes he would open his big, stupid mouth. 

Her jaw clenches. She wants to say something but she can’t. It’s like her mouth won’t open. She’s just stuck taking these cruel words, letting them dig into the wound inside her that Nam-gyu knows just perfectly how to hit. Worst of all, she knows he’s right. He’s so right. She doesn’t want to die, that’s why she’s here. “I’m here because I’m saving my ass. I’m going to kill to do it if I have to. And you are, too. It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. Just stop trying to pretend to be all high and mighty. I know you.” And he does. He fucking does. He knows her and she knows him despite the fact neither of them have opened up to the other.

They don’t have to. Why would you need to if you’re two sides of the same coin?

“So how about, tomorrow, you vote to stay? I’ll forgive you just this once.” His mouth contorts into something evil and snarky. He knows he’s won. She hates that he has. She’s supposed to be stronger than this, and she’s trying to be. She’s trying to work up the courage to turn down his offer, because he’s being an absolute shithead right now, and right across the room is a team of kind people who would welcome her with open arms.

She pictures it in her mind; Gi-hun, Young-il, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee all kindly accepting her to their team. Maybe Hyun-ju would be there, too. She’d make them her friends, and then they’d vote to leave this place. They’d go home and have dinner together or do whatever it is that real friends do. Over everything, they’d understand her. They’d see her as more than a drug buddy.

Suddenly, something is being thrusted into her view. Nam-gyu’s tightly closed fist. He holds it there for a moment before he’s loosening the grip his fingers hold, allowing them to fall open. There, in his open palm, is nothing other than half of the little white pill he’d bitten into just a few moments ago. Seo-yun’s heart races. Her hands move before she can stop herself, as if she even wanted to. 

“Ah, ah.” Nam-gyu tugs his hand away, just perfectly out of reach. Seo-yun snarls, angry as her reprieve is stolen from her so effortlessly. It’s like Nam-gyu exists to make her life a living hell, to taunt her until she’s so angry she sees red. He cocks his head to the side, pushing his lip out for a moment in a faux-pout. “I need an answer. Yes…” He pushes his hand just a bit closer to Seo-yun. She watches the pill roll in his palm, eyes tracking it so carefully. In this moment, his words from earlier ring so true. She feels like nothing more than an animal, ready to give up anything just so she can have what she craves - No, what she needs. Her next fix.

“Or no?” He tugs his hand back once more, painting a fake frown on his face. And then he stares up at her, awaiting her answer as his mouth falls open. He’s not really curious. He doesn’t need to be. He knows what Seo-yun is going to say. 

“Yes.” She mutters, fed-up and short as she watches Nam-gyu push the hand back towards her. She reaches out to scoop the pill up before he can change his mind.

“Atta-girl.” He’s won, and she hates it. As she eyes the pill in her hand, she considers the future she had conjured up for a single moment, the future of friendship and love from Gi-hun’s group and Hyun-ju. The positivity, the fleeting feeling of being accepted and welcomed despite it all.

Seo-yun pops the pill in her mouth and savors the chalky, medicinal taste of it.

That’s just not how the world works, after all.

Nam-gyu chuckles from his place on the bed. He leans himself up on his palms and smiles condescendingly up at her. Seo-yun blinks, hard, as she runs her tongue over her top teeth and grimaces at the taste of the pill crunched between her teeth. It’s grainy when he bites down, even once she’s swallowed it up, but it’ll be worth it. She can already feel her nausea fading away, washing out to sea as the pill makes home inside of her.

She draws in a sharp breath. Disappointment festers inside of her, but she should have known better. Seo-yun is just a junkie. She will always accept a pill held out to her. 

She stares down at Nam-gyu. For the longest time in their friendship, looking at him felt like looking into a mirror. He is her. She is him.

Now, when she looks at him, she sees a stranger. 

The scary part is, Seo-yun doesn’t know if that’s an effect of the games, or if this is how he’s always been. 

A new form of sickness rises in her stomach as she considers it, considers the possibility that she’s been best friends with a terrible person. Considers that she’s shared a home with him for free, made him food and trusted him. She can’t confront that truth. She can’t confront the fact Nam-gyu is not who she would have ever thought.

Instead, she descends the stairs and wanders off to her own bunk, just one bed away from where Nam-gyu perches on Thanos’ mattress. He watches her, dark eyes boring into her as she throws herself onto her mattress and squeezes her eyes shut. His gaze is predatory. Terrifying. Seo-yun feels like she just made a deal with the devil as she covers herself with the thin blanket provided by whoever has created these games. She knows if she betrays him, there will be hell to pay. 

He said it himself, he’s willing to kill. And for once, Thanos didn’t speak up in her honor. In fact, looking back on it, he almost seemed equally as terrified. Wide eyed and open-mouthed, Thanos had seemed to be just as taken-aback by Nam-gyu’s words as Seo-yun was. No one talked about the possibility of killing up until now. Tensions were high, but not that high - And every game so far seemed to be possible to win without needing to kill.

Nam-gyu was the only one with that on his mind. Seo-yun tries to tell herself it’s the pills, but she doesn’t know if it is.

Dinner comes. She doesn’t know how much time passes, but she does know it’s enough for colors to begin to swirl in front of her eyes. She knows it’s enough for the shake to dissipate from her hands. She knows it’s enough for the anxiety to fade.

Seo-yun makes her way down the stairs, to the food pedestals set up by the guards. Nam-gyu comes in behind her, pawing at her sleeve as she makes her way into the line closest to their set of bunks. Not many people make it there before her, so the wait isn’t long. Soon enough, she’s being handed something in a little package and a carton of milk by some pink guy. Her fingers clutch at the food far too tight, squishing whatever’s in the packaging.

Her anxiety may have faded, but she still remembers what Nam-gyu said. Nothing can remove the chill that penetrates her bones from that. 

She steps away from the line. Someone grabs her wrist before she can turn back to her set of bunks. In all honesty, she’s too tired to fight it. It’s probably Nam-gyu. So, Seo-yun allows it. She follows whoever has grabbed her, squinting her eyes as the number on the back of the person’s jacket blurs in front of her eyes. She does know, however, that whoever it is is tugging her off to the X side of the room. Seo-yun doesn’t care enough to pull away, she just wants to eat.

The person tugs her over to a metal corner of the bunk stairs before they’re dropping her arm. She says nothing. Seo-yun plants herself on one of the stairs and tears open the packaging she’d gotten from the pink man. It’s bread, she thinks. Hopefully good bread, like that red bean bread she’d gotten from a street vendor the day she got recruited to this thing. The milk is just regular ol’ milk, nothing special. She just sets it down beside her feet. Seo-yun’s not a big fan of plain milk, never has been. But she supposes beggars can’t be choosers, especially in a place like this. She’ll drink it in a few minutes.

Seo-yun bites into the bread. Red drips from it, pours down her fingers and stains her nails. It tastes like red bean bread, but it doesn’t look like it. It looks like those little red stains on the floor in pentathlon earlier, and the one she has on her sleeve. It’s good, she just wishes it wouldn’t drip across her hands. Whatever. 

“-Seo-yun?” She looks up as she hears her name. The man with the briefcase is back, right in front of her. One eye larger than the other, creepy smile on his creepy fucking face. He’s got two ddakji pieces in his hand, one blue and one red. This is a lot like that day. She has to look around to make sure she’s not in the park again.

Hell, maybe she is. Maybe she hallucinated everything since the park. 

“Seo-yun!” 

Okay, the voice is definitely not the recruiter. Seo-yun blinks, and then she squints up at the person standing in front of her, hovering over her. Oh. It’s Dae-ho. How long has he been here?

“What! What?” She mutters, grimacing as she chews the bread in her mouth. It’s mushy by now. How long was she hallucinating the recruiter guy for? She could have sworn she was chewing. Dae-ho stares down at her, eyebrows furrowed and a clearly concerned look on his face. He sighs and his eyes race around the room for a second before coming to land back on Seo-yun. 

“You’ve been chewing the same bite for like the past five minutes. Did your friend do something to you?” He crouches in front of her, then, as though she’s a child. Seo-yun scoffs and finally swallows that bite. Her eyebrows furrow - What is Dae-ho implying? Nam-gyu wouldn’t do anything to hurt me!

She takes another bite of her bread to avoid answering the question. Red bean paste fills her mouth once more. 

Dae-ho sighs. His eyes race around the room again before coming to a stop on something to the side. Seo-yun turns her head, trying to see what it is. She has no clue. Blue tracksuits blend with black metal bunks and white mattresses. She swallows her bite and takes another before Dae-ho has the chance to speak to her again. 

“Stay- Stay here for a second, okay? I need to deal with this.” He tosses his own meal, only one bite taken from the bread, onto the stairs beside her. And then he walks off to whatever he was looking at before. Seo-yun stuffs her face full of bread and stares down at the metal she sits at. She pointedly ignores the glances she gets from Jun-hee and Gi-hun and Young-il. 

Seo-yun finishes her bread before peeling open her carton of milk and beginning to sip from it. By the time she gets to it, it’s beginning to warm from the heat of so many bodies in the room, so it’s not great… But it’s better than getting nothing to drink. She has to drink this unless she wants to do without until tomorrow, so she does. She sips at it and thinks of being a kid, drinking banana milk in the orphanage. God, how she wishes this was banana milk instead. That would be so much better.

She’s only drawn back to reality when someone comes to stand in front of her once more. When she looks up she comes to realize it’s Jung-bae, looking very ashamed of himself. It’s only then that she remembers he’d voted O despite promising not to. Whatever, she’s not one to judge. And yet… He still is clearly ashamed. He bows to her when she looks up at him, and then he speaks.

“Seo-yun, I’m sorry.” 

She doesn’t have time to accept his apology, or even question what it’s for. Seo-yun cocks an eyebrow, opens her mouth, and then watches as Jung-bae turns to the rest of the group. Dae-ho stands just behind him, hands on his hips as he looks between Jung-bae and Seo-yun. Jung-bae provides some explanation about creditors harassing his wife and that being the reason he voted to stay. Seo-yun sips her milk and tries to will herself into hallucinating that it’s banana milk.

Instead, her brain conjures up the image of being five years old and sitting at the cafeteria tables in the orphanage. Kicking her dangling feet, teeth munching on kimchi and lips blowing at steaming soup on her tray. The other kids talked while she sat there, chewing her food and wishing she had some friends.

This is not all that different. Jung-bae pleads his case to the rest of the group and Dae-ho watches as he does it. Seo-yun makes a point to not include herself because she doesn’t want to become a part of them. She is not a part of this group. She doesn’t know why Dae-ho dragged her over here, but she is not a part of them and she will never be. She’s high off her ass and no one knows it. She is not good.

Dae-ho takes a place beside her. She doesn’t look up at him. She listens to Jung-bae give his bread to Jun-hee and she sips her milk.

Dae-ho asks for Jung-bae’s milk, if he’s not going to eat. She eyes the scene as Jung-bae turns to look at Dae-ho, silent, before turning back to look ahead.

“Seo-yun.” It’s Dae-ho again. When he calls her name, her milk is empty. How long has it been? These gaps in time are new. Maybe this pill is hitting her differently. No, not maybe. It definitely is. She turns to look at him, eyes heavy. He seems so concerned. She wishes he wouldn’t worry about her, especially not so obviously.

He eyes her for a moment, and then his brows are furrowing. He chews at a bite of bread in his mouth quickly, building up speed, and then he swallows it. “Did your friend give you something?” He tries to keep his words quiet, but it’s hard to keep secrets in such close corners. Jung-bae, just beside Dae-ho, turns to look. That, of course, draws the attention of the other three here. Young-il, then Gi-hun, then Jun-hee. They all stop and look. Seo-yun tears her eyes away from Dae-ho, squeezing them shut, and tenses her jaw.

“No. I’m fine.” But it’s clearly a lie. She’s thrown off by this pill, it’s disoriented her more than given her energy. This is a bad high. Thanos is getting his ass handed to him for this, for giving her a shit high in a place like this. Dae-ho shakes his head in the peripherals of her vision. She pointedly doesn’t look at him, as though that will help her situation.

“Your pupils are huge.” He mutters, seeming almost… Upset by this. Why would he be upset about her using? It’s not a big deal. It’s not even like he knows her all that well. He dragged her over here. She didn’t follow him on her own volition. He started this line of questioning. They could have gone without talking about this if he had just let her eat in peace. She sighs, frustration boiling up inside of her. There’s no real heat behind it, no anger. It’s just a dull agitation at everything. The games, the bad high, the questions from Dae-ho, the way Nam-gyu is acting.

It’s boiling up inside of her, gnawing away at her insides. The pills can only do so much.

Seo-yun shakes her head. She picks at a loose thread on her tracksuit pants. “I’m not high, if that’s what you’re trying to imply.” She spits it out, though she tries to be gentle. It’s not Dae-ho’s fault she’s in a bad mood, and it’s not his fault she’s having a bad high. She just wishes he wouldn’t interrogate her right now. She also wishes she had tugged herself out of his grip earlier.

Dae-ho doesn’t respond. Seo-yun is extremely glad for that. He has no right to be angry about it even if she did say she’s high. She has made no promises to him. She said she wants to turn over a new leaf, but that’s not a promise, and he’s not her friend. It’s not his job to hold her to that. He seems to be trying to worm his way into some sort of friend position, but he’s not there yet. He should stay out of it.

And he does, now. He goes quiet. He eats his food, and Seo-yun crushes her carton of milk in her fingers to pass the time.

Bathroom time comes. Seo-yun follows behind the women into the women’s bathroom. She does her business and then makes home at one of the sinks, turning it on and wetting her hands with it. Thank God. Seo-yun is going to utilize her chance here to clean up. She found out pretty quickly that there’s no showers - Disgusting - But at least there’s sinks. That’s better than nothing, right?

She tugs her hair from the messy updo it has formed itself into, attempting to wash it as best as she can with the water provided by the sink. There’s no hygiene products or anything, leaving her with just her fingers to comb through the knots that have been made. At least it’s only been two days, and her hair was mostly up - meaning it’s not too bad. But it definitely doesn’t feel good when she runs her wet fingers through her ratty hair.

With the bobby pins and hair ties she’d tugged from her hair, Seo-yun fashions a simple high ponytail, just something to keep her hair out of her face and as neat as possible for the next game. These games are not exactly designed to be easy on the hair, she supposes. She shoves the rest of the hair supplies into her pockets and then rinses her face off well, more than happy to get rid of the caked sand and makeup.

When Seo-yun exits the bathroom behind a few slower stragglers, she feels much better. Refreshed and energetic and ready for whatever the games throw at her next.

If she has to kill someone, so be it. At least she’ll still be breathing.