Chapter Text
The sharp slap that was delivered to her cheek stung like a bitch, and she wouldn’t be surprised if that side of her face was purple. Every time the suited man’s hand made contact with her skin it was harsher than the last.
The man came up to her in the midst of the subway, offering to play a game of Ddakji in return for 100,000 won in cash to the winning party. After careful consideration, she agreed. Of course Bong- cha couldn’t pay that, already struggling to make ends meet, so the man proposed a slap if she lost.
Her and her mother weren’t financially stable. Not anymore. After a brutal divorce between her parents, her being only a half-sibling, got sent off with her mother. Her father screwed them over with a financial liability, as if he planned it all accordingly. She was considered “a disgrace to the Hwang family name” according to her fathers words he would so often express.
She didn’t blame him though, she knew she was extremely vile to her successful family's image—-so she kept quiet. Her older brother: Hwang Jun-ho was a renowned detective in Korea's police force, and her eldest brother In-ho was off somewhere in Korea, making billions of won in cash. She truly admired the two, and they kept in touch with her as often as they could.
She did have some skills her brothers didn’t have. For example, she learned Taekwondo all her childhood and teenage years. Her mother wanted her to be able to defend herself knowing the amount of backlash and grimaces she received on her end, being an unsuccessful Hwang. So her mother enrolled in cheap classes located at a sketchy building tucked in the corner of the busy streets of Ssangmun-dong, Seoul.
Bong-Cha needed this money, even if it didn’t seem like much, any amount helped her. The man she played the game with showed up to her when she was on her way home. Bong-Cha had the unfortunate habit of scrounging out things people dropped in the station, looking through lost and founds, and even to the point of pickpocketing. The man was perfect. Almost too perfect. All his actions seemed to be with practiced ease, even if it was simply standing there, smiling, or this stupid game she was playing. He came up to her asking to play, offering the money, and not telling anyone what she was doing. A shitty blackmailer. She picked the blue Ddakji, meaning she had to flip the red (which she learned she was horrible at). So behind the shield that was her arms, she braced herself for another slap. It happened again, and again, until the sound of skin hitting another didn’t come from her cheek. Instead, she peeked up from her arms and at the man who clapped his hands, then what she hoped for when she looked down was there. The red Ddakji was flipped over.
“Yes!” She exhaled breathily in her silent success, her hope getting fuelled greater as the man handed her the won. She was a 26 year old woman, she shouldn’t be so proud of this “accomplishment”, if even that.
“Congratulations.” He spoke without a break in his tone, handing her what seemed to be a business card. “Please, contact the number on the card for a chance of winning a much larger sum of money. This is merely a game to earn some won.” His voice was clean, rehearsed, but friendly, and she was honestly impressed by how cleaned up he was, though she didn’t express it. She didn’t give anyone the time of day if she didn’t deeply care about them
Bong-cha looked down at the business card. It was cheap cardboard, and had a series of shapes: Triangle, circle, square, followed by a number to contact below. She wasn't any entrepreneur but she had to admit—-this business card was pretty lame. Before she could ask any questions, the man was already waving from the moving subway.
She was confused, skeptical, but her intrigues masked over all of that. What sane person would merely give up money? Maybe the man had a gambling problem he needed to fuel, it was common for people she knew. Maybe it was something the rich did—-It's not like she would know.
Bong-cha decided the obvious choice was to accept the offer. What could she possibly lose? The woman could buy some groceries with her hard earned money (Simply flipping a folded paper that took an embarrassingly long amount of time to do so). Though now, the scary part. Telling her mother she was going away for this game.
The plastic from the two grocery bags dug red creases into her wrists when she pushed open the wooden door with her elbow. She kicked off her shoes onto the small mat by their door, and Bong-cha called for her mother. “Mum, come help me!”
Within a few seconds her mother rushed to the door as fast as her aged body allowed her. She was a frail woman in her mid 60’s, and the two weren’t even blood related. Bong-cha was the consequence of a woman her father cheated on her mother with. Yet her mother still took her when her father kicked them out.
“Honey, where did you get these?” The elderly woman gushed in surprise, slowly walking over, taking the bags from the others arms.
Her daughter's response was “I found money at the subway.” Not a complete lie, but one nonetheless.
“Why didn’t you spend it on something you’d like? You're box dye? The blacks fading in again. I want you to focus on yourself!” Her mothers tone engrossed in her decision. She wasn't entirely wrong in her nice way of saying to Bong-Cha: "You look horrible". She had wavy light brown hair, with her black roots taking over the unevenly chopped pieces that sat just atop her shoulders, but went all sorts of directions from her ears down. She had evident eye bags that made a permanent fixture on her face that washed out her blue eyes. She even considered going blonde one time, since she had blue eyes, she could fit into a stereotype and perhaps be respected. Then she realized how stupid that sounded. Changing her appearance wouldn't change who she was. Bong-cha responded. “I wanted to buy this, I like this. We’ll have a nice dinner together.”. She really needed her mother in a good mood as well, to talk about her going away.
Bong-cha only acted like this towards people who’ve earned her trust. Surprisingly, the woman has been called rude by countless people due to her hiding behind a facade of stoicism. Though if you looked closely enough, she talked a lot with the upper half of her face, expression wise. She didn’t waste her kindness on people she knew didn’t deserve it. Nobody ever did.
“Bong-cha! What happened to your face?” Her mother cupped her daughters' cheeks that showed even more signs of "I gave up on looking good", remnant concern lacing over her true frustration of Bong-cha always getting herself hurt. She almost forgot about her bruised face from the man, it was probably extremely swollen considering her inability to be able to feel it.
“I ran into a pole at the subway, don’t worry.” She grabbed her mothers naturally shaky hands as a result of her old age, with reassurance the other seemed to believe.
“Okay, just be more careful. Now I’ll go make dinner. We’ll have your favourite, chicken rice bowl.” Her mother spoke followed by a friendly “tsk”. Bong-cha couldn’t surpass a small chuckle at her mothers obvious notice to the ingredients she bought “conveniently”.
The two sat across each other at the dinner table, silence filling the room after Bong-cha shared her gratitude for the meal. She dreaded the fact of telling her mother she’s leaving for who knows how long, days, months, she didn’t know. She wasn’t about to give up this chance though, this could bring them out of their debt (the sum was in the billions), which they were really far down the rabbit hole of.
“Mum.” Bong-cha spoke, her hesitancy clearly evident at her mothers now given response. “Whatever it is, just tell me. What did you do this time?”.
Her mother assumed the worst, and Bong-cha wouldn’t blame her. She hasn't done anything beneficial ever. She knew she was a disappointment. To the Hwang family, her mother, and herself. So she wanted to give her mother some hope that in these last few days she’ll see her for the unknown time period to come.
“Actually, I found a job.” It was a selfish lie. ” She couldn’t convince herself it was to spare her mothers feelings, it was to make herself look good.
“Really? Where?” Her mother was in disbelief, which was unfortunate as many women Bong-cha’s age had jobs, even careers.
“Actually it’s out of state, but it pays really well.” She could see the hurt in her mothers eyes, that she masked behind the want for me to find myself, to explore.
“Well, then go. It seems like a great opportunity!” her mother ushered her.
“Are you sure?” She asks. “Yes! Go!” She wanted the best for her daughter, even if that meant the day she dreaded of Bong-cha leaving came quicker than assumed, she was happy for her.
“I leave tomorrow. I’ll miss you.” Her daughter spoke, a small crack in her tone, creating the factor Bong-cha’s body needed to cry. Hot , built up tears, streamed down the woman’s face, and her mother immediately hugged her, her fingers entangling in her daughter's hair. “It’s okay, I’ll see you as soon as you finish.” She reassured the girl she raised. It pained Bong-cha to leave her mother here without any help, but it was for the best.
She called the number that evening, getting told to meet at the nearest bus stop during the next day, at 1:40 am. It was oddly specific. Perhaps they had other candidates? Was this some game show? It was oddly cryptic, and maybe that should’ve fuelled her gut to tell her no, but she was desperate. If she was successful, maybe she would be socially accepted.
Bong-cha went to the stop the night after. She wore a black sweater, hood up, that didn’t do a good job of shielding her from the rain pounding against her. The woman herself probably looked sketchy, waiting at a bus top in the middle of the night, as well as in the rain. Oh well. She stood for what seemed like an eternity, before a van pulled up, not taking a second to waste whilst they opened the door.
She walked over, taking a step and pulling herself into the vehicle that immediately moved once she was carefully seated. It wasn’t just her in the van, she was surrounded with people who were hopefully sleeping. She hid her confusion, through her confident facade. What kind of sketchy shit was she getting herself into? She didn’t get enough time to figure it out, before a gas filled the van, and she joined them in their slumber.
Bong-cha was only 10 when her father screamed at her mother, or at least what she's seen of it. Despite her young age at the time, it was that night she remembered vividly. Her mother got sick of her father lying, even after she forgave him for cheating on her (the result of Bong-cha being born), as he cheated on her again. Bong-cha always wondered why her mother chose her, or even liked her, considering they weren’t blood related.
She remembered her mother yelling back at her father. In-ho stood between the two trying to make peace, and Jun-ho was sitting with Bong-cha on the stairs watching, and she regretted not being asleep. That night, Jun-ho presented her a locket since it was close to her birthday (and he probably knew she was beign taken away). That heart shaped metal held the last remains of her family, which was a tiny photo cramped in the tight confines of the silver.
That same night her mother took Bong-cha to a motel, and she thought they were going on a vacation. At least that’s what her mother told her.
16 years later, that vacation hadn’t ended.
Loud. Loud is what Bong-cha was awoken to. The noise was a melody played obnoxiously enough to wake one from their slumber abruptly. Instead of the usual dim light she awoke to in her home, she looked up to a blaring white light, causing her to squint her eyes as she sat up, brighter than the woman was used to.
She noticed numerous of the same teal tracksuit on players as she looked around. They all looked like ants. She must be dreaming. Bong-cha looked at her own articles of clothing— only to find the exact tracksuit that the others' wore, and she saw a number pasted on the front: 335. This was more of a nightmare. The first thing she did was grab at wear her necklace (locket) always rested and was relieved when she felt it there. Now, she didn't have anything to worry about for now. She never really had much, so she was content at the moment. Suspicous, but content.
Most people began flooding to the middle, but Bong-cha stayed seated on her bunk—elbows rested on her knees, and hands pressed together. Multiple soldiers dressed in red stood at the front of everyone, and they began to quiet the players amongst the confusion of the given situation. “Players, we understand your confusion, but please stay calm. You’ve all come here according to your own will, in want for a cash prize that will be determined closer to the succession from the games.”.
Multiple people called out, and Bong-cha didn't blame them, but a few caught her eye.
“Can I get my phone? I need to see how the stocks are doing or my crypto will be useless.” A man even Bong-cha recognized as Lee Myung-gi. A “cryptofluencer” who ended up being the reason for many people's debt. His number read “333”.
One woman spoke up before the guard could respond to the player.. “Did you people strip me when you put me in these? The size is all wrong and I hate the color choice. Can I have the one you guys are wearing instead? The pinks cute as hell.” She followed the last part of her sentence with a pinch of her fingers, only to get a blank response.
“Kang Mina” the red guard spoke, “Player 196. Total debt, 45 million.”.
So suddenly the woman seemed more embarrassed, and Bong-cha stifled a “tsk” from her lips. Then they started to read out more name, and debts ascending to the billions until Bong-cha's name was spoken.
“Hwang Bong-cha. Player 335. Total debt, 17.5 billion.” The guard announced, the familiar sight of her getting slapped by the man, appearing on the big screen. People knew she was here, a Hwang, let alone in almost 20 billion won in debt. Not even here—where everyone was seemingly equal from their debts—-did Bong-cha feel at the same level as them, especially due to some whispers probably targeted towards her.
Some looks she got when people found where she was seated was one she's grown used to so that it didn’t sting at this point. She didn’t care about these people anymore than they cared for her, and she made it known by presenting stoic or cold glares that made most of them look away.
So what if she had the most debt, all of them still had money they owed. That simply fueled as a motivation for Bong-cha to win all the prize money, and maybe for once—finally using her talents to win something in her life.
“Please sign a player consent form at any of the tables, and proceed to the door behind, which will lead to the arena of the first game after taking a photo. Any player who does not wish to participate will be dropped back where they were picked up.”
After everyone got in line, Bong-cha did. Was this some shitty waver that said we couldn’t sue them if we got hurt?
After way too long of a wait, she was finally met with a pen and paper. She was the final player needing to sign the form before the games could start. When she looked at the paper she couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows at one of the few agreements proposed on the clause.
“Participants will be playing 6 games across 6 days. After every game a vote will be held, and if the majority votes to leave—the games will be terminated.”
Bong-cha looked at the red guard in front of her, a hint of skepticism etching her lack of expression. Why would anyone give up this money? They had a choice to be here, and that mindset would carry her through every vote. Either way, the woman signed the waver and heads to get her picture taken.
When she got past the doors, she was met with an array of colorful walls and stairs going to anywhere except what she could find, and it was a sharp contrast to the dormitory they were just in. She was too busy subtly admiring the bright colours. It was that she got pushed by some people who seemed to crowd around this one man.
The man was player 230. A rapper with spiky purple hair, (Thanos) she heard about being involved (or the antagonist) of many scandals. She folded her arms and watched the man with an uninterested, though calculating gaze. Picking him apart, only to put him back together with her eyes. It was something Jun-ho taught her---He said that you could "unravel someone to the point of getting nothing but bare truth.". She continued her focus on the man, and that wasn’t until he spoke that she realized he was speaking to her.
“Yo! Hwang! Want to get in on this? You seem to love staring! You're used to it, huh?” The rapper called out with a lazy smirk that she simply rolled her eyes and walked into the small area to get her picture taken. She heard him mumble boring, but proceeded to get in trouble by a guard. Her only response was a “Tsk” that she alone could hear. Of course she was used to it. Was he not? Apparently he wasn't (at least in a malicious way) because he still had fans. Well, at least he has "Day ones" due to his "charming" being. Bong-Cha was always called "rude", or that she was "inconsiderate", but the woman was just reasonable---pragmatic you could say. She didn't do favours, because when has anybody shown her kindness? Why would she relay it back---wrapped in shitty plastic, topped with a bow, and a smile that nearly reached her ears?
Bong-Cha stepped to get her picture taken and was met with a smiley face on a screen and the words “Smile”. Though the domed camera on top made the smile more unnerving than useful. She simply looked up at the light indicating where she was supposed to watch—the photo getting taken before she had the chance to smile. She was too busy inspecting the presented (odd) scenario, her photo just made her look bitchier and more uninterested than she normally did.
She didn’t have time to worry about it. Bong-Cha was determined to not add a loss onto her roster, especially for something as important as money.