Chapter Text
Storge or familial love, refers to natural or instinctual affection,
such as the love of a parent towards offspring and vice versa.
“Why didn’t you kill me too?” Gi-hun snaps at the guards. He pulls the barrel of their gun to the center of his forehead. “Go on! Eliminate me!” He pulls the trigger.
It isn’t loaded. It isn’t even loaded. Before he can think about the implications, pink guards swarm him, pinning him to the ground.
“Kill me!” Gi-hun begs. “I lost! Eliminate me!”
From his office, the front man watches in his leather throne.
This was what he had been working towards, wasn’t it? To see Seong Gi-hun completely and utterly broken. So why did it fill his chest with this… emptiness?
It wasn’t satisfying, like he had expected. Not one bit.
It was because he didn’t want the game to be over yet, he decided. No, he didn’t want Gi-hun to forfeit. He wanted him to desperately cling to win- cling to survive, like anyone else in his place would. Only then would he be sated. And maybe then, if he were feeling merciful, he would consider letting Gi-hun bow out and die in peace. But it wasn’t Gi-hun’s right to decide when their game was at its end. That fell to In-ho, and In-ho alone.
But to ensure Gi-hun would keep playing, In-ho had to give him a reason to. He pulled out his radio to call his officer.
“I’m going back in.”
Gi-hun stared off into the distance listlessly, only stirring when the doors to the dormitory opened. Mealtime, perhaps? It’s didn’t matter. Gi-hun wasn’t hungry.
No. The guards came in, not pushing a cart, but carrying a coffin like colorful pallbearers. Gi-hun’s attention was instantly drawn to it- as well as the little jingle that played signaling one player was taken from the eliminated pool of players.
Taken out?
Gi-hun never expected something like that to happen.
Immediately, the O players started whining.
“It’s bad enough he’s still alive!” Player 100 said, jamming his finger towards Gi-hun. “Now you’re telling me he’s not the only one getting a second chance? This is rigged!”
When the guards placed the coffin on the ground and walked away, almost immediately it was punched open. It looked like.. like in a zombie movie, when a corpse breaks out of its own coffin. It was frightening. The lid was knocked over, and the person inside sat up.
“Young-il!” Gi-hun immediately called out to him. Immediately, he forgot his misery for a moment and was just so thankful- thankful that his “hero game” hadn’t gotten all of his allies killed. He was hurt, though; there was a large mass of blood blooming from his shoulder.
Young-il’s head snapped towards him. He emerged from his coffin and, without hesitation, started striding towards Gi-hun.
There was a darkness in his expression. Suddenly, Gi-hun became worried. Did Young-il blame him for the failure of the rebellion? Rightfully so, if he did… it was all Gi-hun’s fault. He let so many Xs get killed, and led so many more to their deaths. The odds of getting out by voting were now impossible. They were trapped with no hope of leaving before the games ended- and the blame laid solely on Gi-hun.
Gi-hun shut his eyes and resolved to take whatever punishment Young-il saw fit. It was his fault Young-il would not be able to see his wife anytime soon. If Young-il was angry, it was only right that he take it out on Gi-hun.
Suddenly, arms wrapped tightly around his body. He blinked his eyes open and saw that Young-il was hugging him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Tears sprang to Gi-hun’s eyes, and he brought his free arm up to hug him back.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Young-il whispered in his ear.
“You shouldn’t be,” Gi-hun murmured. “I don’t deserve your worry. It’s all my fault.”
Young-il only hugged him tighter. “You only did what you thought was right.”
Gi-hun felt the tears roll down his cheeks and drip onto Young-il’s shoulder, so he tried to pull away. Young-il didn’t let him.
Gi-hun didn’t deserve this kindness. He choked on the lump forming in his throat, unable to speak. The guards came in and removed the coffin, and more guards entered, pushing the meal carts. Young-il finally pulled away, and Gi-hun mourned the loss of the contact he didn’t deserve.
“I’m going to get us some food, alright?” Young-il told him. Then, the corner of his mouth flickered, like he was trying to hold back laughter. How could he laugh at a time like this? “Don’t go anywhere.”
Gi-hun was shocked. He couldn’t help it- it was just so unexpected, he couldn’t help but scoff. Young-il smirked at him and turned away before Gi-hun could reply. Gi-hun was left sitting there, his mouth agape.
When he was alone with his thoughts again, his mood instantly soured. How could Gi-hun laugh at a time like this? Young-il was different- he had always had an odd sense of humor. But Gi-hun’s best friend- his only living friend- was just murdered in cold blood right before his eyes. How dare Gi-hun allow anything to distract him from that pain? He must be a monster.
He was brought out of his thoughts by the old woman- the mother, Geum-ja, coming to sit by his side.
“I’m glad to see you’re a bit livelier than you were when they first brought you in,” Geum-ja said. “Here, I brought you some food and water.”
“Don’t waste it on me,” Gi-hun said softly, his eyes sliding out of focus. “I don’t deserve it.”
Geum-ja smacked him on his shoulder, pulling him out of his brooding. “Quit it with that! There’s no use in punishing yourself for having tried your best to save us all.”
“Yeah, don’t blame yourself,” her son said from behind her. “Blame Dae-ho. He’s the one who froze when you needed him to bring more ammo.”
Gi-hun’s gaze followed where Yong-sik was pointing. There Dae-ho sat, munching on his sweet potato and stuffing his cheeks like a squirrel.
“He…” Gi-hun started. He didn’t know how to finish his sentence. He was furious and numb at the same time. It would be so easy to push the blame on Dae-ho. Maybe they could have lasted longer if they had the ammo they needed.
Maybe Jung-bae would even be alive right now.
“Well, there’s no use contemplating what could have been.” Geum-ja insisted before Gi-hun could spiral too far. She pushed the potato forward. “Eat something. Get some rest. You’ll need it for what’s coming.”
“You need this more than me,” Gi-hun said softly, pushing it back.
“Nonsense! I’ve had my eye on you, mister, and you haven’t eaten for days!” Geum-ja insisted. “If anything, you need this more than anyone.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Young-il said, holding up two potato containers. Two water bottles were tucked under his other arm. “Because I have his portion right here.”
“Ah, thank you sir!” Geum-ja finally took her potato and water back. Gi-hun was grateful that she wouldn’t go without on his behalf. “I’m so glad you’re here to take care of him.”
Young-il inclined his head, then sat back down beside Gi-hun.
“Here,” he said, shoving a potato into Gi-hun’s free hand. “She is right about one thing. You need to eat.”
Gi-hun stared numbly at the potato. It was warm, but only barely above room temperature. It squished under his hand.
“Aish, dont just stare at it. Are you going to make me feed it to you, too?” Young-il asked. “Because I will, if I have to.”
Gi-hun took a small bite, and Young-il’s shoulders visibly relaxed.
“Good. That’s good, Gi-hun,” Young-il praised him like he had done something impressive, rather than just taking a bite out of a potato. “You need your strength.”
It tasted bitter. There was a distant note of sweetness, but it was barely noticeable. He chewed the tiny bite for a long time and swallowed, grimacing as he felt the lump go down his throat.
“Now take another bite,” Young-il ordered. “We won’t stop pestering you until you’re done, right?” He looked at the group around them.
“Right!” Geum-ja agreed easily. Hyun-ju nodded as well, looking troubled, and Yong-sik frowned but didn’t voice any disagreement. Gi-hun sighed and took another bite.
“I want to apologize to you, Gi-hun,” Hyun-ju said. “If I had gone looking for Dae-ho sooner, then maybe-“
“Not you too!” Yong-sik groaned. “It’s Dae-ho’s fault he didn’t come back with the magazines like he promised. Not anyone else’s.”
Gi-hun forced himself to swallow another bite. He felt sick.
“I can’t eat any more,” he whispered. He looked at Young-il with pleading eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Young-il stared at him for a moment.
“You’ve barely eaten anything,” Geum-ja said, her voice full of worry.
“It’s alright,” Young-il said. “I shouldn’t be pushing you so hard. We’ll try again later.” He ate the last bite of his first potato. “But you have to eat eventually. Even if it’s difficult. Okay?”
“Okay.” Gi-hun said softly. He was exhausted.
“Let’s give him some space, alright?” Geum-ja said, getting up. Yong-sik helped pull her to her feet. Before they all left, hyun-ju turned to Gi-hun.
“Don’t blame yourself too harshly,” she said. “But… don’t blame Dae-ho too harshly either. He was just afraid.”
With that, she left, giving Gi-hun a lot to think about.
Young-il stayed, not moving from Gi-hun’s side. The timer to lights out started, blinking red numbers on the wall.
“You should get some rest,” Gi-hun said to him. “Focus on taking care of yourself.”
“But if I only take care of myself, who will take care of you?” Young-il replied. “You obviously won’t do it.”
Gi-hun didn’t have anything to say to that. A tense silence fell upon the two of them, which Young-il decided to break.
“Tell me, Gi-hun,” he started. “Why did you come here?”
“…I thought I told you,” Gi-hun muttered, his voice pained. “I came here to save as many people as I could.”
“I don’t mean to ask why you came here this time,” Young-il clarified. “I mean to ask why you came the first time. Three years ago.”
“To save my mom,” Gi-hun whispered. A single tear ran down his cheek. “But when I came home… she was already gone.”
There was a pause. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It was a long time ago,” Gi-hun quickly dismissed his pity.
“But it clearly still affects you,” Young-il insisted. “There’s no clear timeline on grieving. Sometimes it never stops hurting.”
His eyes glazed over on the last part, a faraway expression glossing over his face. He was lost in his reminiscence for a moment. Gi-hun wondered who he had lost.
“But, in any case…” Young-il snapped himself out of whatever trance he had been in. “Was there any other reason? Anyone else in your life you needed to win for?”
“There was…” Gi-hun said. “I have a daughter, but I haven’t been able to see her in years… not since her mother took her to America.”
“Well, there you go then,” Young-il said, like that explained everything.
“Huh?”
“You still have a reason to fight- someone to live for,” Young-il elaborated. “So don’t give up, Gi-hun. Keep fighting.”
Gi-hun looked away. “She… she’s better off without me. Her mother and stepfather are giving her a better life than I ever could have given her.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Young-il said decisively. “Even if she has them… She’d be happier if she had you too. I know it.”
“How can you say that?” Gi-hun fought back another wave of tears. “You don’t even know me, we only met a few days ago.”
“I know you’re the kind of person who cares far more for others than himself. The kind of person who would willingly come back to this hell, just in the hopes he can spare anyone else the pain of this place,” Young-il said confidently. “You are good, Seong Gi-hun. You’re the kindest man I’ve ever met. To a fault, even. I bet the reason you never saw her was because you couldn’t stop thinking ‘how can I go live a happy life with my daughter when people are suffering?’ You’re the type who can’t help but feel guilty about things like that.”
Young-il smiled at him bitterly. “It’s something you need to work on, if you ask me. Anyone else in your position would have taken the money and ran. And they would have been much better off for it.”
“I told you why I can’t.” Gi-hun snapped. “It’s blood money.”
“It is. I’m not saying this to fight you on it anymore,” Young-il said gently. “I’m saying it to prove my point. You’re too good, Seong Gi-hun. You’d sleep a lot better at night if you sunk down to the same level as the rest of us.”
“You…” Gi-hun starts slowly. “You act like I’m some sort of Saint, like I’m so much better than you. But you’re good too.”
Young-il raised a brow, doubt evident. “Oh?”
“You helped me in the rebellion, even though it would have been much safer for you to refuse. I wouldn’t have resented you for it- you have a family to go back to,” Gi-hun said. “But you put it all on the line to help me… You even got shot,” Gi-hun gestures at the bloody spot on the other man’s shoulder. “And instead of hating me for leading us to failure, you're comforting me…”
“I’m good to you, maybe,” Young-il admits, bumping his shoulder. “Just you, though.”
Young-il clears his throat. “In any case, let’s get you into bed, okay?”
Gi-hun jangled the cuff on his wrist. “I don’t think that’s going to work.”
Young-il wrinkled his nose, visibly annoyed. “They did lock you in the worst possible position…”
“It could be worse,” Gi-hun said. “They could have chained me to the bunk above and made me stand all night.”
“Here, get up,” Young-il said, pulling him to his feet. “You can still stay on the bed if you lay on your side. Let me grab the pillow for you.”
“I don’t deserve this,” Gi-hun whispered. Young-il’s head snapped back towards him. His face was entirely blank for a moment, until he scoffed.
“None of that,” Young-il said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “There’s no use in suffering just to punish yourself, just because it’s what they-“ he gestured towards the guards, “-want you to do. Do I need to hold you in bed all night just so you don’t try to sleep on the floor because you think you deserve it?”
Gi-hun blinked at him. “What?”
“Here, lay down.” Young-il guided him through the bars and lifted the covers up for him to climb under. “Lay on this side,” Gi-hun let his body be maneuvered into a position that put the least strain on his wrist, tucking his hand under his head. To his surprise, Young-il climbed into bed with him, and Gi-hun looked back at him with wide eyes.
“What are you doing?” Gi-hun whispered loudly.
“Making sure you get some rest,” Young-il said, pulling Gi-hun’s back flush to his chest to spoon him.
“You’re cuddling me…” Gi-hun said without thinking. A lump formed in his throat and his eyes watered. “I ruined everything, and you’re-“
“Shhh,” Young-il shushed him. “Stop. It doesn’t matter if you think you deserve comfort. I want to give it to you.”
This close, Gi-hun caught an odd smell on Young-il’s breath. It was almost like… a hint of alcohol, covered by a minty scent- like he had brushed his teeth recently. Did they let him clean himself up before they threw him back in? They hadn’t given Gi-hun that privilege.
Young-il held him tightly as his shoulders shook, and Gi-hun wept, taking the comfort he was given.
In-ho realized something. Putting Gi-hun back together was far more satisfying than just breaking him. He had become Gi-hun’s key support, his reason to go on. Gi-hun was falling into a deep depression, and In-ho was the only thing keeping him sane. That power was far more intoxicating than just letting him shatter and watching from a distance.
As he felt Gi-hun’s breathing even out when he finally finished crying himself to sleep, he allowed himself to nuzzle closer to Gi-hun’s warmth. He no longer regretted pushing Gi-hun so far. Not when piecing him back together was so fun.
The next day, the music of the alarm came out warbled and distorted. Gi-hun jumped as he realized he had actually managed to sleep.
“You’re awake,” Young-il said from behind him. He reached down for Gi-hun’s untouched bottle of water. “Here. Drink up.”
Gi-hun sat up and accepted the bottle.
A guard approached their bed and stared at them for a long moment. Young-il stared back at them.
The guard leaned forward and unlocked Gi-hun’s cuff. He flexed his wrist, wincing at the soreness. From the corner of his eye, he saw the guard hand something to Young-il. The guard turned and walked away without a word, and before Gi-hun could ask about it, Young-il was doting on him.
Young-il gently took his hand, looking at the bruises.
“When did you do this?” He asked. His voice was hollow. Gi-hun felt guilty- Young-il was so concerned for him, and Gi-hun didn’t deserve it at all.
“Don’t worry about it,” Gi-hun said, and tried to pull his wrist out of Young-il’s grasp. But Young-il was stronger, holding him in place.
“When did you have the chance? I didn’t see you tug on it,” Young-il seemed genuinely distressed that Gi-hun had gotten hurt under his watch.
“It- I’m not proud of it, okay? But it happened before you came in,” Gi-hun said, embarrassed. “It’s my fault.”
“You say that a lot,” Young-il quipped. “What happened?”
“Well…” Gi-hun trailed off. Young-il rubbed soothing circles on the inflamed skin with his thumb. “Before you came back, some of the O players… taunted me. The shaman, in particular. She leaned in too close and I snapped.”
“Snapped?” Young-il prompted.
“I tried to choke her,” Gi-hun whispered, staring at the floor in shame.
“…I wish I had been there to see it,” Young-il muttered. Gi-hun whipped his head around.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry, forget I said anything,” Young-il said, covering his mouth. Gi-hun stared at him incredulously, but before he could say anything else, the square guard at the front spoke.
“The next game will begin shortly.”
With that, the players lined up to make their way through the winding halls. Young-il stayed close to Gi-hun, so when Gi-hun saw it and froze in place, Young-il bumped into his back.
In-ho followed Gi-hun’s gaze to the human chandelier. He didn’t find it particularly interesting. Not as interesting as Gi-hun’s reaction.
Gi-hun looked haunted. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it, it seemed. From the corner of In-ho’s eye, he saw a guard moving forward to try and push them along. In-ho silently shook his head at them, and they stepped back in line. Players walked around them as he and Gi-hun stayed frozen together in this moment.
In-ho looked back at Gi-hun, drinking in the devastation on his face. Cameras never did the rawness of Gi-hun’s emotions justice. He looked beautiful, his eyes glittering with unshed tears.
“Jung-bae…” Gi-hun whispered, his voice cracking. Right as he was about to let out a sob, In-ho grabbed his shoulders and pushed Gi-hun’s face into his neck.
“It’s not your fault,” In-ho lied. It was completely Gi-hun's fault, the inevitable result of his useless little hero game, but Young-il would never say such a thing, so he didn’t. The intercom said it for him.
“Players, what you see before you here is the fate of those who refused to accept the results of our free and democratic voting process by attempting to forcibly put an end to the games through violent means. Let us be clear. We will not tolerate any further irrational behavior, or attempts to violate the fair, just, and clearly outlined rules of these games. Such actions will be punished in accordance with our strict regulations.
We would like to thank you all for your understanding and cooperation."
Gi-hun’s tears soaked through the fabric of his jacket. In-ho relished in it- being here to take in Gi-hun’s pain up close, and to nurture him back to normal.
Only to break him again when he saw fit. In-ho nearly felt giddy at the thought of it.
As the last players milled into the game room, In-ho gently guided Gi-hun forward.
They were the last two to get their assigned colors. In-ho could see that there was one of each in the machine. In-ho went first.
A blue ball. Red would have been easier, but In-ho knew he could handle himself.
In fact, perhaps this was for the best, he thought, looking at Gi-hun across the room.
Gi-hun had drawn red. In-ho wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. As a red player, he wouldn’t be a target. But did Gi-hun want to live badly enough to take the life of another player?
He barely seemed to want to live at all.
After they explained the rules, he went to Gi-hun.
“Do you want to trade with me?” In-ho offered, giving Gi-hun a polite smile.
“No,” Gi-hun said shortly. “I won’t make you a killer.”
In-ho’s face fell. “But are you really willing to become one, then?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Gi-hun replied. “I can take care of myself.”
“Can you?” In-ho asked. “You don’t even think you deserve to eat. I know you won’t think you deserve to live at the cost of another person’s life. Switch with me.”
“No.”
In-ho’s body tensed with annoyance. Then, he forced himself to let go. If Gi-hun failed the challenge, In-ho could find a way around it.
No matter what, he would not let Gi-hun be eliminated.
“Alright,” In-ho agreed finally. “Okay.”
“Blue team. Line up to enter the arena,” The square currently in charge said.
“I’ll see you inside, Gi-hun.” In-ho said.
“How many times do I have to tell you to stop worrying about me and worry about yourself?” Gi-hun snapped back. It was cute, how afraid he was.
In-ho moved into the line. He opened his box and draped the key around his neck.
His hand moved unconsciously to grip the other key in his pocket.
Let the game begin.