Chapter Text
For what felt like an eternity, for what was only 20 minutes, the dull dormitory of the games was silent.
Lifeless bodies belonging to both guards and players lay untouched on the chilling marble of the floor, cold pools of their slowly drying blood staining their personalised tracksuits beyond recognition. No one dared to try move them, nor even touch them, so there they remained, un-responding and vulnerable, the opposite sides of the games being united only in death.
Bold, black drawings adorned the white walls of the stifling room, almost child-like, almost ironic. The cheerful drawings mocked those who had to rest next to them, once covered by hundreds of beds that had now been reduced to less than 70, the joyful undertones a stark contrast to the vile essence of what occurred beyond the dorms.
From the moment Gi-hun and the others left, the room was encased in an uncomforting blanket of disquiet. The type of quiet no one had the courage to ruin, or maybe no one wanted to.
Mouths opened and closed in futile attempts to break the silence, to pierce the thick, suffocating weight of unknowing that closed in on the players as they awaited an announcement, a punishment, anything from the pink-attired guards that they had grown so sickeningly familiar with in the past few days of the games.
Because that's what they were to a majority of the players, 'games'.
A term only used by those brainwashed by the glamorous, extensive prize of each round, the growing piggy bank a nauseating incentive to keep going. Used by only those who had succumbed to the immoral nature of the death matches, any sense of morality or righteousness ebbing away with each number eliminated. Each innocent person who had been stripped of their name and identity and brutally murdered by those they thought they could trust were simply just additions to the prize money in their sick, twisted view on things.
Unspoken words of anger, frustration and misconduct lay uncomfortably on each players tongue, the bitterness of their words distasteful as they linger, hanging unarticulated yet implied in the tense atmosphere of the room. Talking was useless, a feat that would only fall upon deaf ears as each person argued with their inner conflict, some wishing they'd mustered up the courage to join their likely deceased friends in the rebellion, others thankful they didn't as they glance wearily at the 2 lone survivors of the slaughter.
---
Their presence was loud and inescapable, the 2 panicked figures a spectacle to the other 57 pairs of eyes that stared at them, a mix of compassion and ridicule behind each individual iris.
Hushed whispers of concern and distress come from the far side of the room where the 2 young adults reside, knocked over bunk beds surrounding them like a jail cell, like the shaken up man on the bed was a criminal to be ridiculed. The slightly older woman's voice rose slightly as she hastily looked around for the discarded ammunition, anxiety only slightly showing on her normally stoic face as she spoke to the younger man below her.
"Dae-ho? What happened?"
The woman kneels down to meet the shaky eyes of the curled up marine, his back pressed up against the wall of the bed like it's the only thing grounding him to reality. Greasy, dark brown strands of hair stick to his forehead with a mix of sweat and blood, whoever the blood belonged to a question that had came into his mind and quickly gone again, guilt plaguing him like a disease.
Wide eyes of terror met with ones of concern, and any resemblance of composure drained from his large, inky pupils, like the reality of the situation had just dawned on him. Another wave of grief-filled tears fall from his tired eyes, adding to the mess on his scarlet-stained cheeks as they pass down his face, landing on the taunting green colour of his tracksuit, dampening the fabric with every new drop of salt-laced sorrow.
"I'm so sorry Hyun-ju... I'm sorry.."
Dae-ho speaks fast, like his mind is so dazed and overcrowded he has no time to even think about what he's saying anymore, just spouting strings of apology and regret. The man shook like a leaf as he pointed a fragile finger at the unused ammo, Hyun-ju's slight relief emminent in her dread filled face as her eyes relaxed slightly, turning towards the end of the bed - Full magazines bunched up in a tracksuit, almost begging to be used, yearning to be the final shot that ends someones life eternally. Hyun-ju began to reach for the ammo when Dae-ho spoke again. Barely above a whisper, so quiet she almost missed it.
"I couldn't- I ruined everything. I'm sorry."
His voice faded into nothing as he repeated a sequence of apologies, all the air leaving him as his anguish-filled sobs poured out all at once, like a dam had burst, releasing water and destruction everywhere. Dae-ho let his head fall between his knees as he cried, succumbing to the pure stress and fear of the situation, and Hyun-ju turned back towards the magazines, gathering them in her hands as she replaced the ammo in the gun she had strapped around her shoulder.
She didn't want to leave Dae-ho here, alone, in a state of pure despair and sadness. Matter of fact, that was the last thing she wanted to do, however Hyun-ju knew that they wouldnt last without more ammo. Gi-hun and Jung-bae were stalling well, sure, but they'd already lost over half of their team, and the number of casualties would only grow if they continued fighting without any bullets. They were outnumbered already, and not having anything to shoot at the guards would end fatally.
Dae-ho would only blame himself if anyone got killed because of his failure to bring the magazines, he was fragile. Someone who presents himself as tough and outgoing but really cant handle more than a fist fight when it comes to violence. The guilt would be too much for him to bear. Hell, its too much for anyone to bear.
Hyun-ju knew she had to deliver the ammo, to keep fighting, not just for her, not just for Gi-hun and Jung-bae and the others, but for Dae-ho as well. It didn't matter if she died, or got injured, as long as she did so while saving the others, at least she could give them a chance at life.
Pushing down her nerves, burying them so deep she was worried she'd never feel them again, Hyun-ju stood up. She held the magazines with one hand, cradling them close to her chest like you would with a new-born child, and kept the other hand on her gun, ready to fight, prepared for the worst.
It was in that moment that the everlasting silence in the room was broken, the screeching sound of the doors opening making many wince at the sudden noise. Hyun-ju ducked down, watching as guards walked in, opening fire upon the dorm ceiling as a warning to those left.
Hyun-ju couldn't take them all. She knew she had talent and experience, but she wasn't stupid enough to try and fight the guards when there's one of her and fifteen of them. It was only when she turned back to look at Dae-ho when she realised she couldn't back down. The appearence of pure horror on his face when he looked at the guards with eyes full of tears was enough to convince her. She couldn't let him believe it was all his fault, she could at least try and fight the remaining guards, she had plenty of ammo atleast. Hyun-ju wasn't sure what powered her to stand back up; maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was determination, or maybe it was pure maternal instincts towards the broken down marine that was shivering behind her, but nonetheless, she got to her feet.