Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Don’t worry, Eomma. It’s gonna be okay.” The words left out of my mouth in a hoarse whisper, a cold edge bearing into them as I rested the hot water bottle on my mother’s head.
I kept trying to swallow back tears as her confused eyes stared back at me emptily.
“H-h-h” She rasped, every word a tremendous effort.
I turned to her urgently, meeting her gaze with her glimmering light brown eyes. My hands lovingly folded over my mother’s pale, cold one. “Yes, Eomma? What is it?”
“-h-has your brother come back yet?”
Suddenly, some part of me shattered. It had been happening every day. And every time those words escaped my mother’s parched lips, every ounce of sorrow morphed into a white-hot fury. Yet still, I managed to find a breath, inhaling and exhaling with fists clenched, trying so hard to channel the wild anger that had been my companion for so many years.
Trying to avoid another interaction, I went over to Whisker’s dirty food bowl, pouring another serving of cheap dry food into it.
“He’s not here, Mom. He’s not here.” I sighed, trying not to snap. It wasn’t hard, genuine sorrow revealed itself within the sound.
My mother groaned, a strained noise in her current condition.
“He said he’d come back, didn’t he? And he’s much better at this than you…” Eomma trailed off, her eyelids fluttering shut. I stood abruptly, and, without a backward glance, stormed out of the room.
Ungrateful bitch…
Groaning, I turned to the nearby– and the only–shelf, snatching cold metal keys off its chipped wooden slabs.
“Did you get a job yet?” Mom rasped from behind me. I found myself craving to make some sign of my exasperation, a groan, a sigh. But I didn’t want to communicate even that much with my mother.
“I’m making us money.” I snapped in fury. Mom released a strained yet disappointed sigh from the couch, but I chose to think nothing of it. That was basically instinct at this point.
With a rusty click, the door jarred open. Quickly, I stepped out, not daring to show any sign of my relief.
The hallway outside was almost as shitty as the apartment itself: narrow and claustrophobic, peeling water-stained grey paint, the doors of neighbors looming, watching me as I walked slightly faster than normal just to get out. When I reached the rusty, creaky elevator, a familiar feeling arose within my veins. A sensation of missing it all.
Because the real world could seem even scarier.
I entered the elevator warily, relieved to find that no one was inside. I couldn’t dare show it though. Weakness got you killed, I learned that pretty early in life.
Pushing the thought back down, I punched the button marked ‘1’ in an attempt to release the anger, only for the pale light under the cracked surface to flicker and die.
“FUCK!” I screeched in annoyance, jamming my foot into the metal walls and causing a loud bang to echo through the cramped space. It didn’t hurt anymore, that elevator had many of my dent marks in it. “Fuuuuuuucckkk.”
Very abruptly, a sharp knock sounded from the outside of the elevator, almost making me jump out of my skin. I moaned.
“Hyun-jae, I fucking swear, if that’s you-”
“Open the door.” A serious male voice, one that sounded nothing like my friend’s light and perky one, revealed itself from behind the rusty doors. In fact, it didn’t sound like any of my neighbors at all.
“Why should I?” I snarled. “You tryna scam me? Did Kim recruit some new moron?”
I swear, if the loan sharks are coming here now…
A chuckle. A goddamn chuckle from the guy outside. “It’s not that.”
“I’m into girls, not guys.” Another instinctive reaction. It was probably the wrong thing to say though, I realized that the moment the words slipped my mouth. “S-so go away, bitch.”
I couldn’t be scared.
I wasn’t scared.
Scared was a weakness.
“Choi Min-seon. Twenty years old. You live with your mother, Jang Hyo-sonn. You refused to go to college in order to help treat her cancer, but you don’t have the money. Your brother left you when you were ten years old, and your father died soon after.” Even though so much time had passed, the words still stung. Especially coming from a complete stranger.
Who shouldn’t even know about all of that, I realized with a jolt of apprehension.
“And you’re smart enough to know that someone who knows this information is probably someone who you wouldn’t want to lock in this building.”
Deep down, I knew he was right. God, I hated when people like this were right. “You a loan shark?”
“No.”
Hesitantly, I let the skin on my index finger press itself against the rough button once more. The doors creaked open, unveiling my stalker.
“Miss Choi Min-seon. I assume you’ve played ddakji?”

Chapter Text

“I assume you’ve played ddakji?”
Confused thoughts swirled through my head.
What the fuck?? That kid’s game??? The only one I really remember is Jegichagi…
I nodded sheepishly, unsure why I was even responding to this man. Quickly, my eyes scanned him (yet another reflex that came with trusting no one). He was taller than her by about an inch, and he wore a shiny-clean tux. A black briefcase was gripped in his left hand, which he seemed very protective of yet his hand was still pretty relaxed.
“May I?” He asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Wha-what?”
The annoying-ass polite smirk still resting on his face, the man leaned over and lightly tapped the button marked ‘1’.
After making a few clunk and chunk and creeeakkkk noises, the elevator slowly progressed to the lower levels. If the glare I shot this guy were daggers, the elevator walls would have been decorated a lovely scarlet red and he would still be shitting his pants in hell.

About seven minutes had passed, and I was still stuck in the elevator with the tux guy, who was tapping his foot agitatedly.
“We’ve got time,” He suddenly chirped, resting his briefcase on the ground between them. I leapt slightly, muscles tense.
Why the fuck am I so jumpy…
Without warning, my mind proceeded to whip back to Jegichagi, to the stinging words of my mother, to why I had so much money owed everywhere.
And my mind banished those memories.
At least for now.
“Time for what?” I snapped, establishing her strength by clenching her hands into slightly raised fists.
The man hid his confusion under his trademark infuriating smile that made me want to kick his ass.
“Ddakji.”
He then proceeded to bend over, twirl his fingers around the latch on the briefcase, and open it with a distinct snap. On the inside rested two piles of poofy blue and red ddakji, as well as a separate spot for stacks of cash.
I suddenly felt as if the bills stared back at me hungrily, making me feel uneasy.
My vexated eyes then fixed on the man, who was eyeing me curiously. I scoffed, reaching for my pocket.
“You may be confused.” The man said. “Let me explain-”
I swiftly cut him off with a slug to his throat. Confusion and pain overwhelming him, he stumbled back into the walls of the elevator, banging the back of his head–hard–across the rusting metal walls.
Those goddamn walls. I thought with a slight smirk. Finally they’ve been put to good use.
Before the man could regain his senses, I leaped at him, the switchblade I had pulled from my ripped pants pocket clasped in my hand tightly. The other hand was wrapped around his neck, primed for snapping.
I held up the switchblade–which I then activated the mechanism of–for him to see, chuckling at his horrified expression.
“So you were here for my money, weren’t you shibal saekkiya?”
The man didn’t nod. The man didn’t cry. Instead, to my surprise, he laughed.
The man didn’t nod. The man didn’t cry. Instead, to my surprise, he laughed.
Fuck. Realization dawned. He’s not afraid either.
“Choi Min-seon.” He cackled. “I should write your name down! First to fight back.”
I scoffed, but my trembling hand betrayed the gesture.
Why the fuck isn’t he afraid-
“Ddakji, Minseon-yang. Trust me, it's fun.”
As he pulled away from my grip, as the elevator dinged to signal that our journey had ended, as he picked up his briefcase and left, I just stood there dumbfounded. I’d taken on thugs twice my size and they’d always cowered in my presence afterwards.
So I couldn’t even begin to fathom how this man walked away from that so easily. And for the first time in forever, a feeling itched through me, a raw, unadulterated feeling that buzzed through every nerve in her body.
I was terrified.
Oh Min-seon, what have you gotten yourself into?

Chapter Text

Smack!

The cold palm collided with my cheek, and I stumbled backward slightly, about to fall head first into the poster that read 'Sunset Residences, completed!'.

"One more time," I seethed. "Just one more."

The man smiled, his cold black eyes intrigued and his amusement evident. I quickly clapped a hand to cover my mouth since a cut was beginning to reveal itself on my bottom lip. He couldn't see the scarlet liquid that bubbled up and dripped from it. I wouldn't let him.

Because I can't be weak.

I snatched the blue ddakji from the ground with my jaw set in determination, stepping back a bit before angling my arm once more.

I released the ddakji, my arm sore. It soared in the air, the air within the paper flaps rustling before it struck the red square on the ground.

Please...

The blue one fell next to it, lazily sitting there, repelled by the force. A choke of disappointment sparked in my throat, but I swallowed it down.

A hand then scooped up the red ddakji, easily smashing it to the ground and flipping mine.

The man glanced towards me. He began walking, though it only took three steps to reach me. His arm elevated.

I shut my eyes, mentally preparing myself. The pain was still buzzing in my purple (usually tan) cheeks from the million other slaps.

He lowered his arm.

I felt almost nothing. In fact, the sensation almost felt good, knowing it was nothing compared to ten years ago.

Ten years already...

"Something wrong?" The man inquired. I shook my head. "Good."

A surge of agitation shot through my veins. This man couldn't order me around. He couldn't act like this.

At least, in a perfect world, he couldn't.

In a perfect world, Ma wouldn't have been sick. I wouldn't need money.

I wouldn't need that 100,000 won.

"Give me the blue one." I snapped. He raised his eyebrow. I scoffed.

"The blue ddakji, you bastard. Give it to me."

The man's eyes lingered on me for a second before turning away as he bent down for the item.

I grabbed it from his hand, suddenly feeling power course through mine as I held it.

He stepped back. I stepped forward.

My arm raised, repeating the motion that I had gotten used to the latest half hour of my life.

I released the ddakji, letting it hit its counterpart on the grimy surface.

And it flipped.

Chapter Text

Min-seon whimpered as the other kids shoved her head into the blacktop, jeering laughter echoing in her ears. Blood welled up on her scalp, seeping into the pavement’s cracks with her hot tears.
She clutched her jegi close like a teddy bear, though she knew it was unusual. Ever since her eighth birthday, she had felt some sort of connection to it.
“So you can finally play with friends,” Her mother had said happily as Min-seon unwrapped the gift. “Jegichagi’s fun, right?”
But when the girl had finally worked up the courage to ask her peers if she could join just once, she ended up lying in a puddle of red, shamed in front of everyone.
And honestly, it didn’t seem so bad.

Chapter Text

I didn’t normally react like this. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I had. But there I was, jumping up and down, pure joy smothered onto my face. I felt like I was soaring, the scent of disgusting cheap air freshener blowing past me.

“YEAHHH!!!!!” I yelled, my fist bobbing up in the air. Then I spun around to face the man triumphantly. “MY TURN, MOTHERFUCKER!”

I bolted towards him, my hand raising. But just as it lowered to his cheek, ready to knock one of his teeth out, he stepped backwards. I had barely noticed the motion until I was plummeting, the dirty ground spilling itself into my view.

Instinct. 

My feet skidded to a halt, my ripped Nikes digging into the solid floor.

I pulled myself from the shock, turning my eyes to fixate a furious glare on the man.

“I never miss.” I said, though my stone-cold voice was so light it was more like a breath. “Never.” 

“I know,” he replied. “Your 100,000 won, Ms. Choi.” With that, a stack of bills materialized in his hand, which he held out to me.  

I snatched the money, quickly counting the bills mentally. “Right. I get 100,000 won.” 

This is good, I reminded myself. Even if I had to get slapped to earn it, this will help me get Eomma better treatment. 

“Thanks.” My words came out surprisingly monotone. “I’ll get going now-”

“You know, there are other games where you can get money like this. Even more, actually.” 

I had been walking towards the exit. I still didn’t face him when I asked, “How much are we talking?”

A chill suddenly ran down my spine, and I knew he had to be smiling. “Tens of billions of won.” 

My ears perked up, and my eyes lit a little brighter. Tens of billions…

Under normal circumstances, I would never have trusted his words. But I had about four billion owed all over South Korea, and here I was with 100 grand resting between my fingers. 

“Where… Can I find these games?”

The sound of his footsteps edged towards me, growing louder. In a few elongated seconds, the man was standing right next to me.

“My card, Minseon-yang.” 

His pale hand gestured to my stack of bills. At the top rested a brown business card, black shapes embossed on the front.

Square, triangle, circle. I noted. 

I then turned it over, finding a phone number written in the same black ink.

“So what the fuck-” When I turned to the man, he was gone. Every trace of him had vanished into thin air, like he had never existed. 

Just the money that rested in my hand. And a card with a mysterious number.

Games where you can get money just like this. Even more actually…

I pulled my phone from my pocket, replacing it with the money. My jeans were sufficient enough for the banknotes, at least for now.

My thumb clicked the numbers on the radiant screen, reciting the ones on the card. Once I had entered the eight digits, I held the phone to my ear, my sweaty hand vibrating.

The dial clicked to signal a call had been initiated.

“If you wish to participate in the game, please state your name and date of birth,” a deep voice said on the other side.

“Choi Min-seon. March 19, 2004.” 

Breathing. Just harsh breathing for only a second. 

“The highway. Twelve a.m. Don’t bring anyone.” 

The line clicked dead. I sighed, and for the second time that day a thought poked into my mind.

What have you gotten yourself into?

⏺🔼⏹

The white van reeled into the tunnel with a screech, halting only when it was perfectly centered with where my feet were planted. The driver’s window rolled down, revealing someone adjourned with pink clothing from head to toe and a mask concealing their face. I scanned the mask warily, hoping to spot any sign of a human face underneath the cold, empty material.

A white circle was painted onto the mask, contrasting with the black but still covering any feature.

“Miss Choi Min-seon?” The voice that spoke was flat and deep, showing no emotion whatsoever.

I nodded, an image of the card flashing through my mind. “So you’re all into shapes, huh?” 

They didn’t answer, just turned away and pressed their finger to a button behind the dashboard.

The door to the back of the van slid open, revealing a row of comfortable-looking grey seats. My eyes wandered to the row behind, only to see other people with similar clothes to mine slumped on them. 

Except they were sound asleep. And I guessed they weren’t just all tired. 

Great. I sighed for the last time that day before entering the sketchy-ass car. I quickly adjusted into my seat before the door slid shut beside me, and the masked man rolled the window up.

Those were the last things I observed before my vision went blurry, the chalk-colored sleeping gas seeping into view.

Chapter Text

Da-da-da-da…
Classical music blared into my ears as I snapped my eyes open, shooting up like a sprout in the bed.
Bed? What bed…
Then everything came rushing back like a river on steroids.
Ddakji… card… phone… van… gas…
Money…
Without thinking, my eyes dropped down to my clothes. I wasn’t in the same clothes as yesterday, I knew that the second my senses started to regain themselves.
Instead of the normal black shirt and Nikes (which I wore almost every day), a green jacket was zipped onto my torso, along with matching green and white pants. My gaze then wandered to my right, where the number ‘319’ was sewn onto my jacket.
What the hell?
I had barely noticed the groans that sounded from all directions. Spinning my head around, I saw figures rising from nearby bunk beds, looking almost as confused as I was. I recognized a couple of them from the van.
The soft music rang in my ears, bringing to my attention that my hearing was still pretty disoriented. It seemed so much louder than it actually was, more like the sirens of 25 police cars than an orchestra.
Blinking away the blurriness of sleep, I placed my feet on the ground one after another carefully. As I was stepping out, my head banged against the bed frame.
I winced, rubbing the spot where pain stabbed through my head. One of the many joys of being tall, I thought, my eyes rolling.
Suddenly, the music was cut short, and a door on the far end of the room opened, revealing more of the masked soldiers. Except this time, there were different shapes.
Same ones on the card, I noticed once again.
Murmurs erupted from all around the room as a man with a square mask stepped forward.
“I would like to extend a hearty welcome to you all.” He said, his voice flat and monotone like the one from yesterday. With his words came more confused and slightly afraid chatter from the hundreds of people around me, who I could see were all dressed in the same numbered tracksuits as I was. Only all our different numbers were different.
“Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days.
Quickly I examined the room, noting everyone’s expressions and movements, trying to decipher whatever the hell was going through their minds.
Confused. Angry. Terrified.
The ones in the very front seemed more confident, ready to complain to the masked men and throw their shoes at them out of frustration.
“Those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize.”
Then another emotion arose.
Greed.
“Excuse me,” The woman beside me raised her hand. She towered most of the people here but was about the same height as me. I still had to look up a bit to see her face though, since I was on the step below her. Even then her black bob cut covered it slightly.
My eyes inspected her instinctively. Number 120, I observed when her jacket came into view.
“You said I’d be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me,” She continued. “So how can I believe that?”
Exactly my question, I thought, relieved. At least someone here has some sense.
The masked manager nodded to acknowledge her before speaking again. “I apologize. Please understand that it was necessary to maintain the game’s security.”
I sighed. “Excuses, excuses, excuses.” I muttered in a hushed voice, a tone of disapproval and exhaustion coloring my voice. From the corner of my eye, I saw 120 briefly smile at me.
“What’s with the mask then?” Another woman spoke up, emboldened by 120 speaking up. “Is your face also a secret?”
The man beside her proceeded to join. “Yeah! Why are you hiding your face? Is this some kind of illegal gambling house?”
“Even the dealers don’t cover their faces in those places.”
Murmuring broke out among the players again, anxiety and anger filling the air.
“To ensure fair gameplay and confidentiality, it is our policy not to reveal the faces and identities of staff. Please understand.” The square reassured them, although it would’ve been more believable if his tone matched his words.
Then another voice rose.
“What’s with these shoes? My shoes are fucking limited edition, they’re hard to find!”
I could only see the back of the man’s head, but that voice was so familiar it made my bl00d run cold. A deep fury boiled within my veins, an overwhelming need to lift these bunk beds off their nails and smash the metal into this man’s head.
Because standing there, complaining about his dumb shoes like a jackass, was my older brother.

Chapter Text

“Y-Y-you can’t leave…” The child slumped to the ground, her hands clasped into each other pleadingly. Tears streamed down her tightly shut eyes, the ones that couldn’t look at her brother anymore.
He glanced at her, but not the way he used to. His brown eyes held no sympathy anymore. Just emptiness.
“Cheer up, Min-seon,” he chuckled. “I’ll be back eventually.”
The words echoed in her head. One word in particular. “E-eventually?” She sobbed, raising her pleading expression to her big brother. “That could be anytime. Ever since you took those pills with your friends…” She choked up again.
He sighed, a hand reaching up to his face. The exasperation quickly turned into anger. “Why do you have to do this to me… YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!”
The ten-year-old yelped as her brother’s foot lifted.
Realization dawning, she desperately tried to scramble to get up, but his leg came down faster. A shoe collided with her small, childly face, the red from her wound bloodying its white soles.
“Please…” Min-seon sobbed. Her brother laughed, exiting out the door, his eyes cold.
“Remember bitch, life’s tough. Suck it up.”
Those were the last words she remembered him saying.

Chapter Text

“Are you going to replace them if they get ruined?”
Another voice began to accompany his complaining, a hot girl being a bitch about how she wanted pink clothes instead, but I honestly couldn’t give less of a fuck.
My brother.
In here.
With me.
And creepy ass soldiers in masks.
Honestly, I had never wished to be part of a deathmatch more than in that moment.
“You must be in your uniforms for the games.” I had barely noticed the square’s reply to pink-girl’s inquiry.
“What about my phone?” Another player yelled as I focused on the back of my brother’s head. I’d fantasized about crushing it many times, but even many bunk beds and humans away, all the fantasies just seemed so close.
I desperately wanted them to be true.
“Why did you take my phone and wallet? Give them back, please.”
“We’re keeping your belongings safe. We’ll return them once the games are over.”
“At least give me my phone. I need to check the crypto market. If I lose money, will you compensate me?”
“We will return it to you once the games are over.”
“I need to monitor the realtime prices! Do you know how much I’ve invested?”
Suddenly, the masked man turned his attention to a large screen I had just noticed mounted above his head. “Player 333, Lee Myung-gi.”
He held out a remote that was wrapped in his gloved fingers, clicking one of the buttons with his thumb. It let out a beeping noise that echoed through the room. Suddenly, a video of the man– Myung-gi – lit up the screen. The player dipped his head in shame as the screen revealed a hand slapping him across the face, a hand I had gotten to know just the day before.
“Age 30, used to run a YouTube channel called MG Coin. After convincing subscribers to invest in a new crypto coin called Dalmatian, causing losses of approximately 15.2 billion won, you shut down and disappeared. You’re wanted for fraud and for violating telecom and financial investment laws. Current debt levels, 1.8 billion won.”
I jolted when the man spoke the words. I had tried many ways to get money over the years, and there had been a point when I thought MG Coin would help save Eomma. Clearly, my dumb teenage ass thought wrong.
Shit. I realized. In a place like this, everyone’s going to be after him.
The screen then clicked to another person, this time the hot fashion girl.
“Player 196, Kang Mi-na, 45 million won in debt.”
It clicked again.
“Player 120, Cho Hyun-ju, 330 million won in debt.
The next click went to a face that made me clench my fists even harder, so hard I could hear the red liquid dripping down onto the steps below. A goddamn vape was wrapped in his hand.
“Player 230, Choi Su-bong, 1.19 billion won in debt.”
I smirked. You got famous and I still have more debt than you. It was nothing to be proud of, but at least I had something more than he did.
“Player 198, Jang Do–yeong, 1.4 billion won in debt.” The square manager continued.
“Player 226, Kim Yeong-sam, 1.9 billion won in debt.
Player 444, Kim Nam-du, 2.02 billion won in debt.
Player 343, Sim Jae-seok, 2.89 billion won in debt.
Player 006, Park Mih-wa, 3.1 billion won in debt.
Player 283, Lee Eun-ju, 4.02 billion won in debt.”
The square tried not to flinch as he spoke the last name.
“Player 100, Im Jeong-dae, ten billion won in debt.”
Everyone murmured in surprise, their faces clearly showing their shock.
“Ten billion?” 226 gaped. “Who’s that?”
“What are you looking at? A voice snapped from the crowd. The number 100 was planted on his jacket. Everyone gasped. “Do you think it’s easy to get a ten billion won loan? They don’t lend that kind of money to just anyone!” His words didn’t hide the agitation the old man had around the subject.
“Only those who are capable of paying it back.” He finished with a yell.
The chatter of the players died down when the manager continued in his monotone voice.
“All of you in this room have crippling debts and are now on a cliffedge. When we first came to you, you did not trust us either. But as you know, we played a game and gave you money as promised. And so you trusted us and volunteered to participate according to your own free will.”
Everyone in the room exchanged exhausted glances. I knew we were all thinking the same thing: He’s right.
“You have one last chance to decide. Do you want to live like a piece of trash, running from creditors? Or will you seize the last opportunity we are offering?”
More whispers broke out. I just sighed, glancing towards 120 for reassurance. But she seemed to be holding back tears, so I decided to mind my own business and proceed to glare at Su-bong.
He was completely ignoring what the masked man had said and decided that staring at the player named Mi-na’s ass was a better use of his time. She seemed to be the real prize in his mind, and looking at her, he probably wasn’t wrong.
It still sparked fury within me though, fury like a raging fire.
Pity for Mi-na was also mixed in there, she seemed to be eyeing him too for a second.
Suddenly, the ceiling let out a rumble. The lights in the walls dimmed cinematically. Chiptune music blared out to fill the air, the sound hurting my ears more than the violin. Slowly, a golden piggy bank dropped, stealing all the focus of the money-starved players.
“What you see now is the piggy bank where all your prize money will be stored.”
My heart jolted at the words. Prize money. I shot a glance at Su-bong again, my veins practically boiling.
“After each of the six games you play, the prize money will accumulate in this piggy bank.
I scoffed softly. “Can’t be too hard.” Though somewhere deep within, I didn’t believe my own words.
120– Hyun-ju, I remembered– clearly didn’t either. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she murmured, her deep voice light. I nodded slowly to show my sorrowful agreement.
Another player perked up, I saw from the back that he was numbered 007.
“How much is the prize money?” he demanded.
“The prize money for the games is 45.6 billion won.” The masked man responded.
45.6 billion… My thoughts spiraled, almost intoxicated.
The other players murmured and gasped from all around, the greed growing in the air between us all.
That could cover Ma’s treatment and all my debt! I realized, my eyes lighting up. And I could use it for so much more too.
“45.6 billion won?” Someone gaped. “And one of us will get it?”
And one of us will get it?
Of all the words that spilled in from all around, those seven echoed through my mind.
One of us.
And, breathing in and out heavily to control the surge of anger, I swore only one thing.
One wouldn’t be Su-bong.

Chapter Text

(Frontman POV)

In-ho’s eyes couldn’t stop marveling at Gi-hun’s silence. There wasn’t too much surprise in his strange feelings of awe, only nostalgia. The bubbly player 456 had been one of the most talkative during the previous years. 

Then again, this place cut a lot out of people. In-ho knew that better than anyone.

Yet for all the soul the Squid Games had chipped away from the lonesome Frontman, he still couldn’t help but admire Gi-hun’s courage. Coming to the games willingly was one thing, coming back was another entirely. 

Then, as In-ho was gazing at Gi-hun’s face (the face that he definitely did not find attractive), another player caught his eye. Even from the birdseye view, her anger still made Hwang In-ho’s neck hair stand on end. 

Her hands were scarlet red from her nails digging into her palms, and she didn’t even seem to care. 

Curiosity overwhelming him, In-ho pressed his finger to a button on the remote that rested beside him. The light of the screen that took up most of his field of vision flipped, revealing a picture of a young woman along with footage of her trying to flip–and failing– a red ddakji that lay passively on the ground.

A blurry hand collided with her cheek.

“One more time,” The video hissed.

One more time. In-ho thought, chuckling to himself. They all said that. It didn’t matter how tough they were, how much debt. Those words were always there.

One more time.

Even he had said those words himself.

A body of text materialized next to the video, which abruptly stopped. 

Player 319

Name: Choi Min-seon

Age: 20

Nationality: Korean

Debt: ₩3.9 billion

Gender: Female

Gender At Birth: Female

Mother: Jang Hyo-sonn 

Father: Choi Ji-woo

Sibling (s): Choi Su-bong 

Players of Recognition: Choi Su-bong

In-ho suddenly felt a pang of sorrow. Her brother must’ve been the one she was angry at. 

Images flashed through the man’s mind. His own brother, infiltrating the island in search of his older sibling. His own brother, on the edge of a cliff. 

His own brother, saying In-ho’s name before he shot him in the shoulder, let his legs twist backwards off the rocky edge.

In-ho sighed, clicking the button again.

He didn’t want to be reminded, not today. 

Chapter Text

“We will give you the details for the distribution of the prize money after the first game…”

The masked man continued to rant as intrigued players bombarded him with questions. All the words seem to morph into buzzing sounds though, I was more focused on examining the room for ways to grotesquely murder my brother.

“After each game, you will be given a chance to vote on whether to continue the games or not. If the majority votes to stop the games, you can leave with the prize money accumulated up to that point.” 

The whispers again. God, I was getting tired of the whispers.

Suddenly, a player caught my eye. He was a middle-aged man, and he hadn’t spoken at all yet. Just watched in solitude, his expression pained. 

“Are you saying,” he said, raising his hand, “we’ll still receive the money, even if we leave after the first game?”

The manager’s head shifted slightly, and I could tell a confused expression lay under the unrevealing mask. “That’s correct.”

“YOU IDIOT!” A new voice suddenly cried. The player from before, number 7, turned to face the source.

“Mom! What… what are you doing here?” Squinting a bit closer, I could see that the one he had called Mom–player 149– was a short old lady, though her anger was bigger than all of us here.

Then one glance at Su-bong contradicted that statement.

“That’s what I wanted to ask you!” The old lady scorned. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re embarrassing me.”

“Embarrassing? If you knew what was embarrassing, you wouldn’t be here!”

“Stop it! We’ll talk about this later.”

“No, we won’t. Come on, you’re leaving.” 

The mother clutched her son’s reluctant arm and started dragging him to the left, where it was very apparent that there was no exit. 

They argued for a bit longer, mostly along the lines of ‘you promised to stop gambling’, ‘this is no place for an old lady’, and ‘I came here to settle your debt you shameful bitch’. 

Finally, the masked man seemed to be tired of them too. “If you wish to participate in the games, please sign the player consent form,” he demanded, acting completely oblivious to the bickering. “Those who do not wish to participate, please speak up now. We always give you a chance to leave the games.” 

His monotone words seemed to lift most of the players, but something seemed off about them, at least to me. Still, everyone began to merge into lines, finally bringing some order into the cluster of people. 

“Eomma, you can’t play any games, just go home!” Player 7 urged, reigniting the previous drama and fighting with the frail old lady in their line. 

Those words were so familiar to me.

“If you’re not leaving, neither am I. I’m not going anywhere without you.” The mother stubbornly retorted.

“Will you hurry up?” Someone scoffed from behind them. I peacefully watched from my line, which was right next to theirs.

I was about third to the front when Mi-na, who had just finished her consent form with an indifferent hair flip, walked up to me. 

“Yah. Do you know that guy?” She stuck her delicate finger out to point at none other than Su-bong.

How did she know?...

“You were looking at him weird earlier,” She explained. 

I glowered at her, trying to look as intimidating as possible. “You were in the front, how the fuck did you see that?”

She chuckled, her eyes lighting up. “I see all.” Her expression then turned serious. “Hey… Wanna meet up during the game? We’ll have a better chance to win if we work together.”

The question had been completely out of the blue, and also irregular. Whether this was a Mr Beast challenge or a secret government project, it seemed too early to form any alliances. 

 But under Mi-na’s innocent face, there seemed something else. And if I really did want to beat my brother, she would be a valuable teammate to have.

“Ok,” I sighed, turning back to face the head of some random person. Mi-na happily clapped a bit before walking back towards the bunk beds, a bounce in her step. 

 The line moved up, and I suddenly recognized the face of the person who had just left. 

That’s-

“The amazing Myung-gi from MG Coin? Is that you?” A threat was cut into the player’s voice as they stopped MG Coin in his tracks.

“Who are you?” The soon-to-be victim asked, confused. 

“You may not know me, but I know you. MG Coin.” A second player’s voice, one I didn’t have to check to know the source of, emerged. “I was subscribed to your channel.”

 My fists clenched again, ready to make a scene. A bloody one. 

Minseon-ah, you’re so much like your brother…

Oh, so you’re Su-bong’s sister…

Isn’t your brother that rapper or something? 

The memories swirled in my head, bringing back only pangs of agony. I couldn’t stand to be here, to even breathe the same air as my brother. 

The air that I was using up quickly by panting. 

Luckily, Su-bong didn’t notice, he was more focused on beefing with Myung-gi. That was good for me. I didn’t want his aggressive nature to reignite our fight. 

I wanted to be the one to do that.

“And I lost a shitload of money, asshole.” He continued. 

“So did I,” His new friend added.

I was now intrigued, and watched them closely without revealing my face. 

“You’ve got the wrong person-”

“I watched your content all day, every day. Now I even see you in my dreams, motherfucker.” 

My breathing became even more rapid, memories I’d tried to block out gushing back into my mind. 

Suck it up…

Your brother was so much better…

All the Chois are just fuckups…

The line moved up to my turn, but I barely even noticed. 

“Was your name Nam-su?”

“It’s Nam-gyu.”

The blood was spattering on the ground, dripping down my fists as I raised them. 

Chapter Text

I primed my body for lunging, for the ambush on my brother, for drinking in the joy of watching him cower on the ground like a piece of prey.

Then a hand clutched my wrist from behind me.

“Don’t.” The melodic—yet sharp voice insisted. My heart almost leapt at the sound of it, but I forced the jittery organ to calm. 

“Just sign the paper,” they continued. “It won’t help you to fight.”

Slowly breathing in and back out, the voice calming my fiery rage, I stretched my trembling hand towards the pen. More voices gasped from all around me, I guessed at the sight of my brother threatening MG Coin. But the voice seemed to calm me, giving me the strength to look away and focus.

With newfound confidence, I let myself read the paper in front of me.

PLAYER CONSENT FORM

1. A player is not allowed to voluntarily quit the games

2. A player who refuses to play will be eliminated

3. The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. In case of a tie, players will vote again

4. If the games are terminated, players will divide the prize equally

I sighed. It all seemed so straightforward, why was I skeptical? I needed money. Everyone in the room needed money. And the games would help us earn it.

I glanced down at the line that begged for my signature. Reluctantly, I pressed the pen to the paper, swirling the characters I had been scribbling for so much of my life I could do this blindfolded. 

최민선

As I finished writing my name, a sense of panic boiled in my veins. But I chose to ignore it, I had to.

Chapter Text

16 March 2014

Subong-oppa, 

You’ve been gone for three weeks, but it feels like years. Ever since you left, it feels like everything’s falling apart. Dad is sick now; I think he was drinking too much. Mom hits me more now too. But I’m used to that, it doesn’t hurt as much as when you hit me. That day keeps playing in my head, never letting me forget your words.

You’re never going to get these letters. I know that. But I’ll still write them, I’ll write them when I cry in my room.

I might write them every day.

19 March 2014

Dad passed away yesterday. Instead of going with you to the store to get a bag of candy, the way we always used to on my birthday, Eomma and I had to cremate him.

And you weren’t there. 

1 April 2014

You said you’d come back eventually. But even then, I knew you’d lied. 

And, it’s crazy, but I told myself that I don’t even give a shit if you come back. That I’d probably be better off with you gone.

Except I’m not. And now I’m starting to think, maybe I’d be better off with me gone.

Chapter Text

I sighed in relief as the argument between Su-bong and MG Coin died down, 124 (Nam-su? Nam-gyu?) surprisingly being the mediator. I had been ignoring it, mainly because of the agony it rose in my chest, my heart. Just looking at him made me want to stab my good old blade into at least one of us. 

I sighed again, this time out of defeat. Shibal, they took my blade. 

Suddenly, the music sounded from the speakers again, followed by instructions. 

“Please exit to get your picture taken,” the announcement demanded. “The first game will begin momentarily.” 

My eyes narrowing, I hopped off the mattress I had been resting on and began to make my way over into the said room, which was covered from head to toe in color. Pinks and blues and yellows washed into my vision, bright but not so bright that I had to avert my gaze. 

When I was placed in the line next to my brother’s, that’s when I covered my face. I needed any feature to be unrecognizable, any hint of familiarity crushed down beneath a mask of blue-green cloth. 

People started walking into small booth-like areas, a flash sparking as their image was captured. 

“After having your picture taken, follow the staff’s instructions and proceed to the game site.” The chirpy computer voice rang again. 

Then, as everyone moved up slightly in their lines, one person broke our formation to lean over to Su-bong.

Oh fuck. 

“You’re Thanos, the rapper,” Player 256 marveled, his eyes sparkling. “Oh shit!”

He then proceeded to recite lines from one of “Thanos’ greatest hits!”, which I pretty much naturally tuned out at this point.

“I’m Gyeong-su, big fan, I’ve been to all of your concerts, please take a picture with me!” He begged, hands folded in front of my brother.

“Me too!”

“Me too!”

Players began to materialize from all around Su-bong, dying for just one picture. Yet again, Nam-gyu made the decision to intervene.

“Hang on, guys.” His voice dripped both venom and… care? I turned my head away in confusion and anger as he continued to grasp the attention of the fans.

“Let’s make this easier on Thanos and take one picture together.” I couldn’t help but sneak an amused glance. 

There’s no way those masked fucks will let them.

Nam-gyu turned to Su-bong, his eyes still glinting with some awe. “Would that be ok?”

I turned away again as Thanos agreed, smirking as they all huddled in to face the screen. 

Then another face caught my eye.

Mi-na. 

“Hey.” The brother who left me gestured to her. “I don’t mind having one more person.”

Anger boiled under my skin, the blood coursing through my veins even faster. My heart was pounding just at the sound of his voice. 

Fuck. I suddenly remembered.

Shh… It’s okay, Minseon-ah.

Just breathe. 

He’d always helped me with panic attacks.

“Yah.” My heart leapt, slowing down. “Try breathing.”

I obeyed the voice. The same voice from the line.

“Good. Now go take your picture.”

I forced my feet forward, stepping in front of the screen. The annoying voice beeped. 

“Smile!”

At the sound of the word, I stuck up two middle fingers. The light of the camera flashed, stinging my eyes, but I forced myself to keep them open.

When I stepped off, I turned my head over my shoulder, desperate to see whose voice had the effect no one else had on my soul, on my heart.

Then a hand fell on my arm. 

My bloodshot eyes widened, and my instincts lunged in to attack. I jerked my whole body towards the arm, fists raised. 

I calmed down a bit when I saw who it was. 

“Mina-ssi.” I grunted, attempting to reveal only my agitation and not relief. “Mian. I didn’t know you were there.”

Her hands were up in defense, but her smile didn’t match the motion. “Gwaenchana. God, you’re fucking scary, you know that?” Her chuckles were light, airy, almost.

  I chuckled in response, imitating her exactly. “Yeah, I know.” I could feel her eyes surveying me out of concern when she saw the sweat beading on my forehead, the way my fists were still clenched and bloody. 

I cleared my throat, and she fixated her eyes back onto mine. 

“What?”

“How do you know… that we have to form alliances?” The inquiry had been on my mind, and I pushed it away earlier. But now I had the perfect opportunity, an opportunity to interrogate her until I got the answers I needed.

Suddenly, she was the one sweating, with a clenched hand brushing brown hair out of her face anxiously.

“I told you.” Her voice was hesitant. Shaky. “I know things.”

“Don’t give me that shit.” 

She glowered, but her hand was still trembling. 

“No.”

I twitched, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the urge to wrap my hands around her n3ck right then and there, ch0ke her until I got the answers I needed. But I forced myself not to, after all, she seemed just as scared as I was. 

“If you don’t tell me,” I replied coolly, “you don’t get my help.”

Her stare flicked back into indecisiveness and worry, and she sighed.

“One of the pink guys told me.”

“WHAT?” I gaped, and she clamped her hands over my mouth. A couple of players were glaring at us, though thankfully not Su-bong. “What?” I repeated a little softer once Mi-na had loosened her grip.

“I woke up in the van. One of the circles noticed and whispered something in my ear.”

I raised my eyebrow, begging her to tell me more. When she stayed silent, I leaned in closer. She still avoided my eyes.

“Mina-ya.” I still spoke softly, careful to make sure no one heard us. “What did they say?”

Her gaze finally met mine, filled with anxiety.

“‘Form a team. Your life may depend on it.’”

Chapter Text

Your life may depend on it…

The words echoed and echoed in my mind to the point where I almost threw up. 

“Miss?” Mi-na’s voice whipped me out of my dazed state. “Wae geurae?”

“Nothing.” I snapped in response, turning my back to face her. “Gwaenchana.”

The sound of her breathing sped up, fury laced within every pant, and she grasped my shoulder. I tried to swat it off, but she remained steady, practically squeezing the bone out of my skin.

“Fine.” She growled. “I thought you would be someone who’d stick with me. Guess you’re just like every other shibalnoma here.”

The words left a stinging pain as Mi-na paced away from me, showing off a hair flip in the process. Another player came up from behind me, her shoulder brushing me slightly as she left to join Mi-na.

Player 380, I noted, seeing the back of her jacket. When Mi-na looked back and saw her, her expression was one of both surprise and joy. I wonder if they know each other.

⏺🔼⏹

All the players began to make their way up the nearby stairs, eagerly examining their surroundings with awe-sparkled eyes. All except for me, dwelling on every syllable Mi-na had spoken.

Form a team. Your life may depend on it.

Your life may depend on it.

Your life may depend on it.

The words got more and more distorted as they repeated in my head, throbbing relentlessly like an open, gory wound. 

My life may depend on a team. The team that I just abandoned. I realized, internally scolding myself. Shibal, Minseon-ah, couldn’t you just do something right for once?

Deep down, I knew that would never be.

“Yah.” A calm voice called, immediately igniting a spark of recognition. I slowly turned my head up, my eyes growing wide. 

The voice that had stopped me from killing my brother, the voice that somehow controlled my wild anger, was standing in front of me in the form of Player 380. Her brown hair was straight and short, only curling a little at the edges. Nose and lip rings filled her piercings, which glinted a little in the light. 

Mi-na stood beside the tall girl, her arms crossed in a huffing manner. 

“Eonnie,” she groaned. “Why do we need her? She left me.”

“You said it yourself. We need to have a team, and you said you didn’t want that rapper guy.”

“But that doesn’t mean-”

380 slapped the air in front of them with a hand raised, signaling authoritatively for Mi-na to shut up. The girl scoffed again but said nothing.

“Sorry about my girlfriend,” 380 sighed, her eyes rolling affectionately. “She can get a little… worked up.” She crossed her arms this time, as if to scold Mi-na, and Mi-na made a snarky shrugging gesture as if to show her disapproval of the words.  

I shook my head, my hair covering my face in shame. “No. It’s my fault, I’m sorry. I was the one who overreacted.” I lifted my chin a little, to an angle where I could meet eyes with Mi-na while hair still fluttered into my eyeballs and made them relentlessly itchy. “I wouldn’t have deserved a teammate like you. Either of you.”

Mi-na opened her mouth for a retort, but 380 shushed her again. “You were scared. We all make decisions we regret when scared.” Her voice sounded so pained, and from the way her voice broke in between words and the way Mi-na’s arms fell to her side, the statement seemed directed towards the speaker herself. 

I nodded slowly. “That doesn’t make it right, I had no reason to leave.” If it weren’t for 380, I would’ve left Mi-na for dead. That is, if what she told me is right. 

As I began to turn back, to return to the crowds of players that walked up the stairs in a trance of excitement, a hand fell on my shoulder. 

“I don’t care,” Mi-na said, a light smile in her voice. “You’re stuck with us.”

⏺🔼⏹

The three of us continued up the stairs, with Mi-na and 380’s arms linked while I paced beside them. I silently smiled whenever I heard them speak, grateful I had the pleasure to listen to their endless stories about their three years of dating, to see the way their faces would shift from contentment to joy every time one of them brought up a certain memory that definitely seemed to hold a special place in their hearts.  

Even when they teased each other, it was still nice seeing them laugh. 

Mi-na, especially, surprised me. When I first came in, I never thought Player 196 would be half of a loving relationship. But watching her and 380, seeing her brush stray strands of short brown hair out of her girlfriend’s face or turn her lips into a smile whenever she put a finger to her lip, I couldn’t help but feel a spark of happiness knowing that she was happy too.

I hope they win. 

⏺🔼⏹️

When we got to the top of the stairs, Mi-na abruptly stopped, her hand still locked in her girlfriend’s. At that moment, she turned to her, joyful tears burning in her eyes.

“I’m glad you’re here, Semi-unnie.” She breathed. Then she looked in my direction. “You too, Miss…” 

“Min-seon,” I said. “Choi Minseon-imnida.”

“Min-seon,” she repeated, nodding. Then she released 380’s–Se-mi, I realized her name was– hand, wiping the water away from her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Se-mi stepped in to grasp Mi-na’s arm, which–to my observations–seemed like a sentiment the girl wouldn’t show to many other people. “We can do this. And when we win that money, we can have whatever happy ending you want. I promise.”

Mi-na nodded slowly, then smiled. “You don’t mean that, and you don’t have to.” Just when Se-mi started to retort, her girlfriend shut her up with a quick kiss and moved on through the green double-doors that stood tall in front of us, which were now opening to invite hordes of players in.

When we took a step out to observe, I could hardly believe what I was seeing. Shocked whispers and confused gasps flooded my ears while I stood in breathless silence. 

The room was a vast wheat field, with a large straight track of dirt in the center and the golden plants on either side. At the end was a giant-sized doll painted to look like a young girl, with pigtails and clips and a short little dress.  

What the fuck…

I had almost forgotten Se-mi and Mi-na were there, too drowned in the surreal area to acknowledge them, when Mi-na said something that shot chills down my spine. 

“Sabotoge.”

It was barely a breath, one that shouldn’t have been heard by anyone. Still, it sounded so wrong to hear it spoken by her voice, especially considering the first impression I’d had of her.

Trying to distract my mind’s swirling attempts at finding the hidden meaning, I switched my attention back to the doll. The appearance of it alone was enough to send shivers down my spine, as if someone had tipped a bucket of icy water over me.

The PA abruptly switched on. “Welcome to the first game.” Its voice–melodic yet robotic–seemed to carry through the whole field. 

“Hey, señorita,” A different, painfully familiar voice arose from behind. A fearful impulse tightened and screwed itself into my muscles, making the impulsive decision for me to dash and duck behind Se-mi. I still snuck a peek though, only to draw a bit more blood–this time from stabbing a front tooth into my lip–from seeing him walk up to Mi-na in an effort to flirt. “Don’t you know who I am?” 

Ah shit, not this again. I might’ve rolled my eyes a bit too far into my skull before locking them back into place.  

But my exasperation turned into surprise when Mi-na swerved away from me and Se-mi and engaged in the conversation. “Do I have to?”

“No, you don’t.” He replied. “We can get to know each other,” he continued, spinning to let his eyes–which I suddenly noticed had faint blue-tinted contacts in them, an observation that no one except for someone who’d spent ten years of their life with him would’ve spotted–stare straight into Mi-na’s. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Are you hitting on me?” Mi-na chuckled. She eyed him extremely seductively using a look I now identified as her hot-clueless-girl look. 

He backed away from her a little, their gazes still locked. His lips parted, and what I could only identify as an on-the-spot rap escaped them.

“You and me together, yeah I feel the power

Caught you in the weeds, yeah my beauty flower,

Ppal-ju-no-cho, I’m a legend, Thanos,”

He spoke that last phrase in English, forcing my brain to take a few extra seconds to decipher it. 

“Sweet-ass tracksuit, looking tight,

Hope I get the green light.”

After hearing it, bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down. No need to attract unwanted attention to myself. 

“Come on.” Before I could grasp what was happening, Se-mi had gripped my arm, pulling me away from Su-bong and Mi-na. My feet tumbled one over the other, kicking pale sand into the air, when we came to an abrupt stop among the sea of confused faces. 

“God,” Se-mi muttered, her fists clenched. In an attempt at comfort, I placed a shaky hand on her shoulder, but she brushed it off. 

“The first game is Red Light, Green Light.” The PA voice chirped again. My heart seemed to freeze, refusing to take another beat.

“The kid’s game?” The murmurs started up again.

“We’re playing Red Light, Green Light?”

Se-mi flashed a glance towards me, her widened brown eyes revealing that she was just as surprised as I am. 

“They made me play a kid’s game at the subway too,” she noted, placing a finger near her metal-studded lip again. “What the hell is going on?”

I don’t know, I admitted to myself, but I bit back the words when they started to crawl up my tongue. “Maybe what Mi-na heard was a prank.” I replied instead, feeling some despairing need to reassure her. “They’re probably not dangerous, that might be why they’re kid’s games. To tell us we shouldn’t be scared.”

Se-mi solemnly nodded at the words, but anxiety still made her hands quiver. I could tell she didn’t believe my claim, and if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t believe it either. 

“You are allowed to move when ‘it’ says Green Light, and stop when ‘it’ says Red Light.” 

It must’ve referred to the doll. 

“If it catches you moving on Red Light, you will be eliminated. 

Let the game begin.”

Chapter Text

People were confused, but they obeyed nonetheless. After all, it was just a kid's game, right? 

I didn't believe that. I couldn't. Even if I'd tried to ignore the sensation of crawling dread, my brain probably would've popped out of my skull and slapped me. 

Slapping…

The man with the ddakji. Anger boiled in my veins and blood bubbled in my cheek, still sore from the previous day. He had gotten every player here into this mess. If Mi-na was right, and that we were going to die… 

Shut up, Min-seon. You crazy ass woman… 

Almost on cue, a man rushed out from the crowd. He weaved his way through the masses of green until he was about 8 feet in front of the rest of us. Everyone stared at him, the sudden movement bringing more shock than the announcements had. 

“Listen carefully! This is not just a game!” He yelled, facing the players. His brown eyes —so brown to the point they were black—looked almost like one of those cartoons where the character has hit their head or gone crazy. He looked more like the latter.

My blood ran cold. My heart skipped beats at a time. I turned to Se-mi, sweat beading on my forehead, hoping for her reaction to be laughing at this old psycho fuck.

She wasn’t. She looked just as terrified as I felt. 

“You’re weak.” A familiar yet distorted voice seethed. “You’ll never be anything. I’m glad I had the guts to leave you and Eomma, since any minute spent with you is worse than prison…” 

I glanced towards Su-bong. He was a lot closer to the rambling man than I was, so the words could not have come from him…

It’s in your head, Min-seon. I tried to remind myself. It’s not real. 

Just true. 

The man resumed when he was sure he had everyone’s attention. “If you lose the game, you die!” 

There. The words I had feared ever since Mi-na uttered her cryptic message, now spoken into the air. Se-mi’s hand jittered within mine, and our intertwined fingers just became a fleshy lump of trembling anxiety. 

 The other players burst out laughing, like the idea of the shady van kidnapping us and taking our belongings for a death game was completely foreign to them. If Mi-na hadn’t told me about the mysterious guard, I probably would have joined them in their guffawing and chuckling. 

“Hey!” Player 283, that boastful old woman, yelled. “What are you talking about? We’re gonna die playing Red Light, Green Light?” 

“That’s right!” 456 responded, sweat swelling up on his forehead. Maybe he knew no one would believe him, or maybe he was fueled by some dumbass drive to save them all. “If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They will shoot you!”

Another voice caught my awareness, one I doubted anyone except me and Se-mi would notice. 

“That guy must be drunk,” Mi-na commented to Su-bong. Her expression was so mellow and amused, it was almost hard to fathom that she knew of the deaths all along. “He says they'll shoot us if we lose!” She added with a convincing hint of a laugh. 

Su-bong tilted his head towards her, his eyes still fixed on 456. “He sounds like my old man, when he gets home drunk and starts talking crazy.”

Agitation burned in my gaze, consuming my other feelings and sparking up memories. Waking up and finding Eomma sobbing, crouched beside a closed-eyed c0rpse. The short black dress I wore to the funeral, listening to someone who didn’t even know him rambling about what ‘good of a man he was’ when I could practically feel the sting of every time he hit me…

Writing a tear stained letter that night.

I wanted to push through every person in my way, find Su-bong and just hurt him. I didn’t care if it was a broken ribcage or a measly punch, I just wanted to make it hurt somehow because he couldn’t be talking about my father, the one I watched drink himself to death, much less in the present tense. 

I didn’t notice the tear rolling down my cheek until Se-mi’s hand brushed it away.

⏺🔼⏹

Patient First Name: Min-seon

Patient Surname: Choi

Sex: F

Date: 20 June 2016

The patient reported seeing her deceased father grab a bottle of beer, smash it, and then proceed to stab her multiple times with said bottle. According to Jang Hyo-sonn (Patient’s mother), Patient was screaming on the sidewalk outside of their apartment building when Ms. Jang found her. The patient, however, said that her brother–who supposedly left home about 2 years ago– found her before repeatedly telling her she was a failure. 

Possible diagnosis is schizophrenia.