Chapter Text
The silence after the fall of player 333 was suffocating. Gi-hun pulled himself up onto the stone platform, breathing heavily. He was tired, dirty, and covered in blood. He stood up and looked to the side, seeing the red button that hadn’t been pressed before. Then he realized what he had to do.
He began walking toward the baby wrapped in the hoodie of player 222 — Jun-hee, her mother, and himself. He pressed the button – there was a quiet click. The diode changed color, and the timer began counting down. He slowly took her in his hands, knowing that her real father wouldn’t hurt her. He slowly walked to the edge, looking at the dark glass – knowing the VIPs along with the Frontman – Young-il – were watching him, watching what he was doing... and what he was about to do.
He didn’t want to part with her, but he had promised Jun-hee that he would take care of her.
This was how it had to end.
He stepped away, crouching down and safely laying the baby on the ground. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at her longer. He slowly leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead. He felt his heart breaking even more, and his hands trembled from the pain. Then he hugged her desperately, closing his eyes for a moment to remember this last moment. He placed her back on the ground, looking at her one last time.
He slowly stepped away and looked up, somewhere up there the VIPs and Frontman were sitting, watching him like an animal in a cage. He clenched his fists involuntarily. He took a step toward the edge. And another. He was turned away from the people watching him.
“We are not horses,” he said firmly, but his voice trembled for a moment. “We are humans... and humans-”
The sound of his voice broke, cutting off mid-sentence, unsure of what to feel toward people. He took a shaky, weak breath before allowing his body to fall.
He was supposed to lie dead among the other bodies. He wanted to – he longed to – no, he had to do it to save the baby. His death was supposed to mean something, it was supposed to be a trade for her life, so the little baby had a chance to survive and win the game.
Just as he was about to take the final step back, a gunshot echoed through the large room, hitting Gi-hun straight in the thigh. He felt terrible pain ignite like fire. He fell hard to the ground, losing balance, hitting the stone plate. He didn’t fall. He lay right next to the edge. His vision was blurred, and the baby was close, yet far away at the same time. He heard her crying. He tried to fight another wave of intense pain, crawling a few centimeters toward her, leaving behind a trail of dark blood.
His breath was short, and his body was failing, he had to protect her. The pain from the gunshot, wounds, and exhaustion began to take its toll. He tried to reach with a trembling hand toward her, but his eyes clouded over, he took one last deep breath before everything went black.
⋅˚₊‧ ‿︵˓ ʚ♡ɞ ˓ ︵ ͜ ‧₊˚⋅
In-ho, dressed as the Frontman, stared through the mask at the screen in the control room, unable to look away. The world around him suddenly felt so muted, as if everything went silent, and the only thing that existed was that one screen. The image showed Gi-hun standing at the edge, and next to him – the baby lying safely. He couldn’t let him give up his life. He couldn’t lose him. Not him. He never thought his faith in people would return. No – not people, one person. The only one who was so similar to him. So close to him.
He stepped quickly to the guard standing nearby.
“Shoot him. In the leg, not the heart. He has to survive, he can’t kill himself.” he said. The modulated voice was firm.
“Yes, sir,” the Square replied, hesitating slightly, clearly surprised. He reached for the communicator, signaling the Triangle who was closest to the platform where Gi-hun was.
In-ho went back to looking at Gi-hun, afraid he wouldn’t make it in time to save him. He knew very well that the VIPs would be furious, would demand explanations, but that didn’t matter now — he’d have to worry about that later.
A shot rang out, and after a moment he saw Gi-hun’s body fall onto the stone platform. He sighed involuntarily, almost with despair and relief he hadn’t felt in a long time. He didn’t fall, he was still alive.
“The coast guard is approaching the island.” the guard said suddenly.
“Begin evacuation.” the pause lasted a moment. “You wait after activating the alarm.”
The Square nodded slightly. He stepped to the station and activated the alarm, waiting for further instructions. An evacuation signal appeared on all the screens.
In-ho didn’t wait, he walked to the main panel. He turned the key and pressed the red button to destroy the facility – 30 minutes remained until self-destruction. There was no time, he had to go get Gi-hun and the baby. Along with the Square, In-ho left the command center. The corridors reflected red lights, and the echo of the alarm rang loudly in his ears. The island was beginning to live its final life.
The two of them walked quickly, making their way to the final game. They reached the top of the stone platform. Gi-hun’s body lay limp, and the wound on his thigh was still bleeding heavily. The baby was crying involuntarily, though quietly, as if she sensed something was wrong. In-ho didn’t wait, he knelt by Gi-hun, checking his pulse — it was weak but detectable. He tore a piece of his gray robe to stop the bleeding for a while. Then, without much effort, he lifted Gi-hun in both hands, raising him from the dirty ground.
“Take the baby,” he said to the Square. The guard silently took the infant in his arms, trying to be gentle.
As they turned back to the elevator, the sound of glass shattering and gunfire echoed. In-ho turned his head toward the noise. From afar, in his room by the remnants of the window, stood Jun-ho — his younger brother. He had finally managed to find the island, but it was already too late. They looked at each other.
“IN-HO!” his name was shouted, cutting through the thick air like a knife. “Why…” confused for a moment, he paused, looking at his older brother, at what he was doing.
In-ho looked at him through the mask for a moment. Saying nothing in his direction. Then he turned away, adjusting Gi-hun’s body in his arms, walking toward the elevator with the guard and the baby.
The elevator went down.
“Brother.” said Jun-ho in a loud voice, standing in place, frozen, no longer having the strength to stop them.
On the roof, near the control room, In-ho’s private helicopter was already waiting. The machine roared loudly, waiting for them. The wind blew at his clothes as In-ho stepped onto the platform. Entering the open helicopter, he carefully placed Gi-hun in a sitting position, so as not to hurt him further. The Square handed him the baby, then stood uncertainly, not knowing what to do next. In-ho placed the baby beside Gi-hun. He turned toward the guard, pulled out a gun and shot him straight in the head. The man in the pink uniform only raised his hands in surrender before his body collapsed to the ground. He holstered the gun and got back on board, strapping Gi-hun in so he wouldn’t fall from the seat during the flight, and took the baby in his arms. He didn’t pilot — he didn’t have to, he had people for that. He sat in the seat next to Gi-hun. The machine took off, flying toward his home.
In-ho removed the black mask, setting it aside. His face was finally revealed, pale, tired, and full of pain that had never been spoken, accumulated over the years.
He looked at the unconscious Gi-hun. So close. His, alive. He looked at him in silence, memorizing him, he was unconscious, wounded, seemed so weak in that moment. He looked briefly at the baby — she was quiet, asleep despite the noise.
His fingers pulled a phone from a compartment, dialing a number that had only one purpose. One ring. Two.
“Hello?” a low voice answered.
“It’s me.” he replied, sounding flat, almost expressionless. “I need you at my place in an hour, gunshot victim, possible internal damage, bring equipment and blood. You’ll also check the baby’s condition. Don’t be late.”
For a moment, there was silence on the phone, and then a short answer:
“I’ll be on time.”
In-ho didn’t reply, he hung up, putting the phone away.
He looked ahead, the baby in his arms and Gi-hun next to him, leaning against his side. The rest of the flight passed in silence.