Chapter Text
—Another cancelled event?
Jiyong couldn't believe it. From being one of the most recognized rappers in Korea, he had become one of the most forgotten. The recent rise of K-pop groups displaced many artists like him, whose contracts were cancelled, leaving them bankrupt and abandoned by the public.
The debt grew out of control. Jiyong never imagined that his golden age would end so soon. He had purchased houses, cars, and luxury clothes that he could no longer afford. His debt to the bank amounted to 9 billion won, that is, about 6 million dollars. He felt that he was drowning in red numbers. He could no longer afford even the people who worked for him, such as his driver or makeup artist; everyone turned their backs on him. The only loyal companion was Tiger, his bodyguard, who despite not receiving a salary, spent his free time accompanying him.
"That's right, Jiyong." The bar owner told me that he won't be able to give you any more opportunities to introduce yourself there. He wants you to pay him every penny you owe him," Tiger reported in a serious voice.
"Give me a moment, I'll just go out to smoke a cigarette," Jiyong replied, although he would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid of what the owner might do to him. He had abused that confidence by continuing to consume alcohol without paying.
The night in Seoul was cold. There were two days left until Halloween and some young people in costume went to the nearest bars, ready to get drunk until they lost their memory. Jiyong missed that golden age of his life, when he drank until his body allowed him, enjoying the company of friends and adventures with girls or boys.
For him, it didn't matter the gender of the person with whom he shared the bed; if he liked them, it was certain that they would have a good night.
A melancholic smile lit up his face when he remembered those times. He was 30 years old, but he already felt old and, above all, lost, with no place to fall dead, dragged to the limit by his debts.
"Nice night, isn't it?" a male voice startled him.
When he turned, he saw a man somewhat taller than him, dressed in an expensive suit — he recognized him because he himself had worn similar suits. He looked carefully at the briefcase he was carrying next to him.
The man looked at his watch, an elegant and expensive accessory that indicated that he was someone with power. Jiyong thought that, if he had to guess, he would believe that it was the CEO of some company. If he was lucky, he was a hunter, someone who could recognize him.
"It’s cute. What do you want?" Jiyong asked with a calm look, thinking that maybe he could have a good time with that attractive man, who was definitely his type.
"I wanted to propose to you to play a couple of rounds of..." While he was talking, he opened his briefcase and took out a couple of paper boxes. They looked like those he used when he was a child to play with his friends, but now he didn't remember the name. Ddakji! If you win, I'll give you 100,000 won; if you lose, you'll have to give me something in return.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't have money. Maybe I could try with someone else."
"Don't worry. Your punishment will be a slap, so it will be fair. So, are you in?" The man smiled confidently.
Jiyong hesitated. He thought it was a scam or that it could get him into trouble, but the desperation for money made him accept without thinking twice.
"I accept, but I hope you're not recording me to humiliate me on YouTube," he joked nervously.
The man let out a perfect laugh, every movement calculated.
"Don't worry, I only play because I don't have anyone to play with," he said, as the rounds began.
It was Jiyong's turn. He threw and failed. He cursed in a low voice while receiving a slap. So they continued, round after round. After ten minutes and seven games, Jiyong had a red cheek from the blows, but he had won 200,000 won.
The man looked at his watch again and said:
"It's almost midnight, I think I'm leaving." He looked in his pockets and handed something to Jiyong. "If you want to play more and earn more money, don't hesitate to contact me."
While winking at him, he took his briefcase and disappeared into the darkness.
Jiyong looked at the card with geometric figures on the front and a number on the back.
"Mmm, maybe it's your company's logo," he murmured.
That night he had been lucky: he had the number of that handsome man, which would undoubtedly be one more of his conquests. Although, now that he thought about it, he didn't even know his name.
When he returned home, he didn't find Tiger. In the kitchen, on the table, there was a note:
/Good night, Jiyong. I'm sorry to leave like this, but my boss called me for an urgent job. I left you food in the refrigerator. I'll call you back when I can visit you.
I love you, friend. Take good care of yourself./
Jiyong took the food and sat down on the couch. His apartment was a mess. Despite being bankrupt, he refused to sell his house. He barely had furniture, only the essentials. He didn't even have a TV and his cell phone was the cheapest on the market.
He took the card out of his pants pocket and dialed the number; he had nothing to lose. He was prepared to hear the sexy voice of the man in the suit; however, a strange voice replied:
"Hello? Are you the man in the suit?" he said nervously.
"Name and date of birth," the voice answered bluntly.
"Is this to enter the games?" Jiyong asked.
"Name and date of birth," the voice repeated.
He sighed and finally said:
—Kwon Ji-yong, 18 August 1995.
—Welcome to the Squid Games. Tomorrow night they will come for you. Thank you for your participation.
The call ended.
---
It was midnight the next day. Jiyong's day had passed normally, trying to contact new agencies to hire him, without success. He was still thinking about the call from the night before. He was afraid, but he thought it was just a joke.
When he was about to go to bed, his cell phone rang.
"Hello?" he replied nervously when he saw that the number was not in his contacts.
"See outside, it's time to join the games," said a firm voice.
Just when Jiyong was trying to give him an ultimatum with his trembling voice, the cold of the night ran through his bones. The street was almost empty, except for a figure slowly approaching. He wore a shrill pink suit that contrasted with the darkness, and a black mask covered his face, hiding any trace of humanity or intention.
"Enough of your jokes, I don't see anything..." Jiyong said, but the phrase was stuck in his throat. Before he could react, the masked person quickly took out a small folded paper and pressed it against his nose. A fine white powder spread almost immediately, and Jiyong felt a strange burning that burned his nostrils.
The world began to revolve around him. He tried to move away, but his muscles refused to obey. The vision was clouded, the street lights became blurred spots of color. His body slowly sank into the darkness, as if he were falling into a bottomless well.
Before losing consciousness, he only managed to hear the sound of a door opening and firm steps that lifted him up with force. He felt how they loaded him and put him in a van whose engine roared with intensity, moving away from the silent street.
The cold of the night was replaced by an absolute void as reality vanished along with his consciousness.
The games had officially begun.