Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Legacy. What is a legacy? It’s planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. —Hamilton

When Gayeong comes back inside, her friends have trailed into the front room, looking at her in concern.

"Jenny?" Alejandra asks. "What's up? Are you okay?"

Mr. Seong Gihun has passed away.

Gayeong returns to the box the man had given her, staring down at the bloody tracksuit jacket and gold debit card. This—this can't be right. Surely that man made a mistake, these belongings are someone else's.

Except, her dad's name is on the card. Seong Gihun.

Before he died, he left these things for you, Gayeong.

She expects to cry. But it's not sorrow that strikes her first, it's rage.

How dare he. How dare this man show up when she was finally accepting the fact that her dad didn't want to be in her life. How dare her dad die and act like he had any right to send her anything with his passing. How dare he—he—

Gayeong bursts into tears. She grabs the box, tossing it across the room with a scream. It hits the wall and everything falls out, but it brings her no satisfaction as she curls in on herself and begins to sob.

Alejandra is the one that comes closer, wrapping her arms around Gayeong as she looks up at Ariel. "Go get her mom," she orders the other girl.

Ariel nods, immediately turning to rush into the kitchen. Eunji is already halfway there when she hears Gayeong scream, and she follows the girl into the living room only a moment later, immediately switching to Korean when she sees Gayeong.

"Gayeong, what happened? What's wrong?"

Gayeong pulls away from Alejandra and throws herself into her mother's arms. "Dad—dad's dead," she whispers.

Eunji's grip on her tightens. "What are you—oh. Oh, Gayeong." Her mother guides her to the couch, petting Gayeong's hair gently as Gayeong lays her head in her lap and sobs. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm so sorry."

Though they never talked about it, Gayeong knows her mother had mourned her ex-husband long before today. After Gihun had promised to call her when he landed in Los Angeles, only to never reach back out, Eunji had, perhaps understandably, assumed something had happened to Gihun. But she'd never said it outright to Gayeong, not wanting to crush Gayeong's hopes that one day her father would reach out with an apology and an explanation for his disappearance.

It makes it easier for Eunji to process; because in a way, she's already mourned the loss of Gihun twice over. Once in their divorce and the man Gihun had been before the Dragon Motors strike, and then again in their new life in Los Angeles.

Gayeong, though. Eunji had been forced to watch as Gayeong's hope turned to anger, but still she'd never stopped longing for her dad to actually reach out. For years after she'd last spoken to her dad, she would receive calls from an unknown Korean number. And though the person on the other end had never spoken, Gayeong knew it had to be him. Even those had stopped six months ago.

In stilted English, her mother tells the other two girls they should probably go. She asks if they need a ride, but they both shake their heads. Alejandra brushes Gayeong's hair out of her eyes before she goes, kissing her on the forehead.

"Call me if you need anything, okay? I love you."

Gayeong cries harder, until her throat is so choked that she can't speak at all and she can only nod.

The tears seem neverending as Gayeong lays there in her mother's lap. She cries until she wears herself out and falls asleep right there. She doesn't know how long she sleeps, but she wakes up to the sound of her dad coming home from work. The thought brings a fresh wave of tears and an old, aching, familiar feeling of guilt.

When Gayeong wakes again, she's alone. Her mother has tucked a pillow under her head and draped a blanket over her shoulders, and she can hear her parents speaking quietly in the kitchen.

When she can finally force herself to sit up, she sees that someone has stacked everything together that she'd thrown aside in her earlier anger: the tracksuit jacket, debit card, and…a letter?

Gayeong inhales, reaching for it frantically. It must have been tucked under the jacket. Was it…a letter from her dad?

She tears the envelope opening, her shoulders falling when she realizes it's not a letter from her dad but, presumably, the man who had delivered the news.

Dear Miss Seong, the letter begins.

I should apologize to you for many things. First and foremost, for having to deliver the news of your father's death.

Most importantly, however, I apologize for my part in keeping him away from you.

Her grip on the paper grows so tight that it begins to crumple. Tears drip down her cheeks and land on the page, where they begin to blur the ink. Gayeong gasps, frantically wiping the tears away before it's unreadable.

The truth is, I think he would be angry with me for even delivering this news to you. Though I can't say for certain, I believe he thought you were better off without him. Above anything else, I believe he wanted you to live a free, happy life with your mother and step-father, unaware of the truth of his disappearance.

If I were a better man, perhaps I could have stayed away and honored his choice. But I've always been selfish, and I couldn't bear the idea that you might go the rest of your life believing the worst of him.

Your father was by no means a perfect man, but I can say with certainty that he was the best man I've ever known.

Five years ago, your father entered a competition in order to earn the money to pay for your grandmother's diabetes treatment. He hoped to use the money to stay with you, as well.

What I am going to tell you next may sound impossible, but I hope you will continue reading with an open mind.

You see, though he didn't know it at the time, this competition was one in which those who lost were killed.

I know these things because I was the organizer of this competition, on behalf of many very rich clients.

At the beginning, your father barely even stood out. No one believed he would be the one to win in a competition where it was strength and greed which propeled players to victory.

But he did win. And he did so despite the fact that by all accounts, he shouldn't have.

At the time, I thought it was luck. But as I've rewatched his games, I've come to realize that it was as if the universe was rewarding his kindness.

Before I met your father, I'd been involved in this competition the previous four years and rewatched the footage of the years before that, as well. I can say definitively, there had never before been a player to win without spilling blood. More than that, there had never before been a player who made it so far only to willingly choose to give up the obscene amount of prize money in order to preserve the lives of the remaining players, but your father did. And until the very end, he never stopped trying to make that choice to save the people around him, no matter how undeserving they were.

I have never known another person with a greater strength of will or unrelenting faith in humanity.

The day he won, I told him to pretend it was a dream. I truly hoped he could move on with his life and bring some good to the world. To you.

But the games have a way of carving themselves into a person's very fibre. They don't create winners, they create survivors. I believed that survival could only come through numbing myself to the greed and selfishness of humanity. I told myself they deserved it, that I was doing a service to the world. But Gihun…he sought survival by trying to make sure no one else ever hurt the way he'd been hurt.

Looking back, I wish I could say I had tried to help him. But the truth is, I only tried to tear him down.

Your father wanted to stop the games. That was why he turned around that day in the airport. I watched him as he stepped onto the jet bridge, moments from boarding the plane that would take him to you, before he turned around to chase after ghosts instead. I truly believe it was a selfless desire, but that doesn't erase the hurt that it did to you. I imagine that was why he could never bring himself to reach out to you again.

You have every right to be angry with him. Feel what you need to feel. I won't ask you to forgive him, but to me, Seong Gihun was a man with endless grace to give to everyone but himself, and I hope you can come to understand in time why he made the choices he did.

The jacket I've left you was his. I hope it can bring you some comfort. The money I've left you was his, as well. I hope it can bring you stability.

The world is a darker place without Seong Gihun in it. And although I told him once that until the world changed, the games wouldn't end, if I can swear to you one thing, it's this: his death won't be in vain.

There's no name at the bottom.

Gayeong flips the paper around twice, but there's truly nothing else. She crushes it in one hand, but the moment it's done she feels her heart give a lurch and she frantically smoothes it out before anything is damaged.

She doesn't let her parents read the letter. She doesn't even let them touch the jacket. Her mother grimaces at the blood, but it's clean. The blood is only a stain. When Gayeong puts it on, she can't help but touch the stains, wondering if the blood was her dad's or someone else's. An entire story is woven into the fabric of this jacket, but it's a story she's unable to read.

Gayeong pretends that it smells like him, that she even remembers what he smells like. The truth is it smells like nothing more than generic laundry detergent.

Gayeong doesn't leave the house for a week, despite her parents' best efforts. The bank card goes into her side table where it remains. Her friends visit, but she sends them away without seeing them. Even weeks later, she cries off and on, set off by the most innocuous of triggers. When she goes out, she thinks she sees him in the crowd, her hopes dashed every time an unfamiliar man turns around in his place.

But things get better. She gets better. She goes one day without thinking about her dad, then two. She slowly stops sleeping in his jacket, if only because summer comes with a vengeance and it's too hot for her to wear, even at night.

Two months after that man's visit, she asks her mom if they can return to Korea to hold a funeral, but her mom tells her they can't afford it.

She tries to accept the answer, but she can't. That man seemed to care about her father, but had he hosted a funeral? What had happened to her dad's body?

That's when she remembers the bank card in her dresser. She picks it up, staring at it for a long time before she gets up and slips it into her pocket.

She asks her mom if she can go to the mall with Alejandra. Eunji, so relieved to see Gayeong returning to any semblance of normalcy, agrees without question. She offers to drive Gayeong, but Gayeong lies and tells her that Alejandra's mom will pick her up.

She walks down to the convenience store instead, hunching over the outdated ATM as she pushes the card in and it prompts her for a pin. She stares at the screen for several long seconds before she punches in the first number that comes to mind.

0456.

The screen reloads, asking her if she'd like to withdraw cash or check her balance. She hits the latter button and waits for the receipt to print.

She inhales sharply as she reads the number, the exessive zeroes. She's never seen this much money in her life. Surely this must be a mistake, or a misprint, or—

Since she's bought herself so much time with her mom, Gayeong flips the card over and looks up the nearest branch before she calls an Uber to take her there.

"How can I help you today?" the clerk asks politely when she approaches the counter.

Gayeong clears her throat.

"I just need to…check my balance. I think there must be a mistake."

The woman nods. She types something on her computer and nods to the card reader. "Go ahead and put your card in." Gayeong does as she's told and enters the pin. There's a pause before the woman glances at her. "You were concerned about an issue with your balance, miss?"

Gayeong nods. "Yeah, it just…seemed wrong."

The woman hums, typing something else. "I see here the money was converted from South Korean won to the US dollar about two months ago, is that the issue? It looks like you had…₩41,356,880,040. At the conversion rate two months ago, that would bring you to…$30,015,512.52. Does that sound right?"

She feels faint. She doesn't remember what she says as she leaves, but she takes the bank card and drifts outside.

The letter said a competition for money, but thirty million dollars?

She sits outside the bank for nearly thirty minutes in a stupor before a wave of determination settles over her. She takes her phone out to text her friends.

Jenny S. has added Alejandra R. and Ariel B. to the group. You can now begin messaging!

[Jenny S.]
I need your help with something.

She buys a one-way ticket to Incheon for Friday night. Alejandra and Ariel arrange a last-minute sleepover, and Gayeong's mom drops her off at four in the afternoon with a backpack on and a pillow clutched in her arms. Her dad's jacket is buried at the bottom of her backpack. They time it so Alejandra's parents won't be home until later, and as soon as Eunji drives away Gayeong is calling an Uber to take her to the airport.

"Are you sure about this, Jenny?" Ariel asks nervously.

"Of course she's sure about it," Alejandra says, wrapping an arm around Gayeong. "Stop freaking her out."

The truth is, she's not sure about it. But she needs to go back, even if she doesn't know what she's searching for.

"I'll be okay, guys. It's not like I've forgotten how to speak Korean. And I'll come clean to my mom after I land."

"Just, please be safe," Ariel says. Both girls hug her as the Uber arrives, loading her into the car and sending her off with well-wishes.

At four pm on a Friday, the drive to LAX is a nightmare that takes nearly an hour and a half. She bounces her foot in place, anxiously checking the time every two minutes. Her flight leaves at 7:15, direct to Incheon.

It's her first night away from home since she found out about her dad's passing, and she can tell her mom is anxious, too, when she texts Gayeong while she's on the tarmac.

[Mom]
How's it going?

[Seong Gayeong]
Good! We just ordered pizza :)

[Mom]
Alright, have fun. I love you.

Gayeong swallows down her guilt as she responds in kind.

[Seong Gayeong]
I love you, too.

She switches her phone to airplane mode before her mom can reply. With a twelve-hour flight, she should be able to make it three hours after landing before her mom even expects to hear from her. If she plays her answers right, she might even get a few more hours from there before she'll have to admit where she really is.

She sleeps fitfully through the flight, and when they land it's less than an hour until midnight.

It's only as she steps into the terminal and reads all the signs in Korean that it fully sets in what she's just done.

"Mom is going to kill me," she whispers to herself.

But it's too late now to turn back, so Gayeong keeps walking towards the exit. She finds a taxi to drive her to Seoul, and everything goes fine until she gets to the hotel she'd looked up online, only to realize she can't book a room without a credit card.

"You don't have any available rooms?" she asks as panic begins to rise in her chest.

The concierge shakes her head, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, miss, but we reached capacity this evening. We typically recommend that guests make reservations at least two weeks in advance." Frustratingly, she gets a little lost in the Korean and the unfamiliar terms, but the concierge seems to sense her confusion, because she adds, in a slightly slower voice, "there's another hotel around the corner, and one up the street. Try those."

Gayeong bows twice in gratitude.

She tries not to think about how intimidating it is to walk down an unfamiliar street at 1 am, but thankfully the walk is short and uneventful. Her mom texts her as she's dropping her backpack on the ground of the hotel room.

[Mom]
How's it going, sweetheart? What time should I pick you up?

Gayeong brushes her teeth and plugs in her phone before replying so it doesn't look too suspicious.

[Seong Gayeong]
Good morning! Would it actually be okay if Ariel's mom took us to the mall?

Eunji calls her almost immediately.

"Good morning," Gayeong greets her.

"Good morning. Are you sure about going to the mall, Gayeong? That's a lot of activity in two days."

"I'm okay, mom."

"Okay, well, you text me if that changes, alright? And I don't want you out later than six, alright? Text me if Ariel's mother can't drive you home. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Gayeong takes a deep breath after she's hung up. She's bought herself another eight hours.

She ends up falling asleep for five hours against her will, waking up around 6:30 in the morning. She takes a shower to wash off the feeling of travel before she heads out for Ssangmun-dong.

She starts in the area she recalls vaguely that her grandmother lived in and wanders from there. The street stalls are just beginning to open, men and women chopping cabbage and beets and fish for another average day.

She approaches several people without success before she finds her first lead. Even though most of the folks recognize her dad's name, and even a few that recognize her with a bit of prompting, they all seem to say the same thing: they haven't seen Seong Gihun around for years.

It's only at Sangwoo's Fish Shop that the old woman pauses and says, "oh, yes, I think my grandson saw him recently."

Gayeong feels her heart skip a beat. "Is your grandson here now?" she asks urgently.

"Sure, sure.

"Cheol!" she hollars through the door that leads to the upstairs. "Come down here!"

"Coming, grandma!" A boy calls back.

He comes downstairs two minutes later and Gayeong sees he's around her age. He's dressed in street clothes, but the mess of his hair suggests he'd rushed down here, and when Gayeong tries to hide her giggle, he blushes and frantically starts to finger comb.

"What's wrong?" he asks his grandmother.

The old woman looks at Gayeong. "I'm sorry, dear, what did you say your name was?"

"Seong Gayeong, ma'am."

"Oh, you're Gihun-ah's daughter, aren't you?" she coos.

The boy's eyes widen. "You're Mr. Seong's daughter?"

Gayeong looks at the boy—Cheol. "You know my dad?"

"Sort of. I'm…" he glances at his grandmother, who gives him an encouraging nod, and he forges on. "I'm from the North. I came here with my sister when I was eight. She disappeared about five years ago. Mr. Seong was the one who brought me to grandma." He smiles at his grandmother, who pats his arm. Gayeong can tell there's a lot more to the story, but she leaves it be. "And about two months ago he got my mom over the border."

Two months ago? Was it possible that— "Did you see him?" Gayeong asks quickly.

Cheol shakes his head before she can get away from herself. "No. He paid the broker back in October and told Mr. Park to call me if he couldn't reach him."

"When…when was the last time you saw him?" Gayeong asks hesitantly.

Cheol thinks for a moment. "I think it was sometime at the end of last year," he says finally. "No, it was a little before then. I remember it hadn't snowed yet. And I only saw him briefly. He would come by sometimes, to check on us or leave us more money, but he would usually keep his distance and try not be seen. Sorry, I know that's not very helpful."

"No, it's okay," Gayeong says as she shakes her head. "I'm just…" Her breath hitches. She can go most days without crying at this point, but thinking about her dad too deeply still manages to set her off. "I'm just trying to learn whatever I can. T-two months ago a man came to my house and told me he was dead."

Cheol's eyes widen, as does his grandmother's. "I'm so sorry," he tells her softly.

Gayeong tries to swipe at her eyes as subtly as possible. "Thank you," she says politely. "He left me a bunch of money and a—a strange letter, and now I'm just trying to figure out what it all means and I thought I'd start around here."

"Cheol, you should help her," his grandmother volunteers on his behalf.

"What, no—grandma I was supposed to help you with the shop today!"

His grandmother waves her hand. "Bah, I can handle it. Go, go!"

Cheol turns to look at Gayeong uncertainly, who shrugs in response. It can't hurt to have someone else with her.

"Okay, fine," he concedes. "Just give me a minute." He runs back upstairs and comes back a few minutes later. His hair's been properly brushed and he has a wallet that he slips into one pocket as he hugs his grandmother goodbye.

"Do you mind if we stop and get some coffee before we keep searching?" he asks.

Gayeong's stomach growls, reminding her that she hadn't eaten that morning. "Yeah, I guess I should probably eat something," she says with a small laugh.

Cheol brings her to a coffee shop where she orders a muffin and they sit at one of the tables outside as the morning rush begins. She's halfway through her muffin when she feels her phone vibrate. When she takes it out of her pocket, she sees her mom is calling.

"Oh no," she says.

"What's wrong?" Cheol asks when he sees the look on her face.

Gayeong stands up, heart pounding. "My mom doesn't know where I am right now." She answers her phone before Cheol can reply, putting on a bright voice. "Hi, mom—"

"Seong Gayeong, do not 'hi, mom' me. Tell me where you are right now."

Geyeong glances at Cheol nervously. "Um…"

"And don't you dare say the mall. I texted Ariel's mother—" Dammit, she'd hoped to use the language barrier to her advantage "—and she said she hadn't taken you girls anywhere."

Gayeong swallows. In a small voice, she finally says, "I'm in Ssangmun-dong…?"

"You're—oh, you are grounded until you graduate when you get home—!"

"I'm not ready to come home yet, mom…I just…what if dad didn't even get a funeral?"

She feels herself beginning to tear up, and perhaps her mother can hear it because some of the heat leaves her voice. "Oh, sweetheart…alright, where are you staying?"

"I found a hotel…"

"Send me the address. Do not leave until I get there."

Gayeong's eyes widen. "You're…coming here?"

"Well, I'm certainly not going to let my fifteen-year-old daughter run around alone."

She can't help her smile as she nods. "Okay. I'll see you soon."

"Gayeong," her mom says before she hangs up. "Words can't describe how angry I am with you right now, but I still love you, alright?"

"I love you, too," she whispers.

When she hangs up, she avoids Cheol's gaze.

"Where is your mom coming from?" he asks.

"Los Angeles."

Cheol's eyes widen. "You live all the way in America?" Gayeong nods. "I thought I heard an accent."

"What? I don't have an accent!" Gayeong protests immediately.

Cheol grins behind his coffee cup. "You kind of do. It's okay though, it's cute." As if realizing what he's just said, Cheol's eyes widen and he coughs. "Um, we should. If your mom's coming, that only gives us one day to find what we can. We should go."

Gayeong nods in agreement and the two of them set off.

They search Ssangmun-dong and the nearby neighborhoods for two hours before they find their next lead.

"Seong Gihun?" A man around thirty says to Cheol as he lifts a cigarette to his lips. "Oh, yeah, I worked for him last summer through Sunshine Capital."

Cheol motions Gayeong over from her own conversation with someone.

"What did he hire you to do?" he asks as Gayeong joins them.

"Tch, it was the weirdest shit. We were patrolling the subway for some guy that was supposedly playing ddakji with people."

Gayeong and Cheol share a look. What…?

The man shrugs. "Dunno. I was getting paid enough to not care."

"Do you happen to know where Mr. Seong was staying?" Cheol asks politely.

"Hah! As if. But you can try Sunshine Capital, there's probably someone there who can help." He eyes both of them. "Although you might be a little young…"

With a little more prompting, the man gives them an address that's twenty minutes away. Gayeong's heart is pounding when they get off the subway at the right stop and make their way to the office.

"…Did my dad ever mention anything about where he got the money?" Gayeong asks Cheol quietly after a few minutes of walking in silence.

Cheol glances at her out of the corner of his eye. "What do you mean?"

"You said he would send you money and he paid a broker to help bring your mom over the border. The last time I saw my father, he was barely able to hold down a job. I don't know how much debt he was in, but I know he was getting threatened by loan sharks. The first time he disappeared, I was scared they'd finally killed him. But…the man who told me he'd died. He left me a letter saying my dad, like, won it in this competition or something."

Cheol shakes his head. "The only thing he said about the money…was the first day we met. When he left, he left grandma ₩100,000,000 and a note that said it was the money he owed her son."

"When was this?"

"Um, that was January…2022, I think."

Gayeong goes quiet. "That letter I mentioned, the man said that my dad was trying to stop the competition that he won. I just…is that really it? Why couldn't he have at least called?!"

Cheol nods sympathetically. "I don't have a good answer. I just…understand how you feel."

"How could you possibly understand?" she snaps before she can think better of it.

Cheol looks at her blankly. "I told you. My sister disappeared five years ago. I tried to find answers just like you are, but…" he shrugs. "I never found anything."

She wishes she could shove the words back in her mouth. "Oh my god, Cheol, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay." He gives her a polite, distant smile. "Look, the front door is there. Let's just go inside."

He picks up his pace. Gayeong frowns, but she lets him change the subject and jogs to catch up with him.

The men at Sunshine Capital don't know anything about where her dad is, but they do tell her he used to live at the PINK motel and add that one Choi Wooseok worked with him more than anyone, other than the boss. They tell her that Wooseok is renovating the motel these days and suggest she go ask him.

It's a fifteen minute walk, but this time the silence between Gayeong and Cheol feels deafening. She tries to speak a few times, but Cheol gives her short, distant answers and eventually she gives up trying.

When they get to the PINK motel, Gayeong doesn't see any construction on the outside, and the front door is open.

"Maybe the finished the renovation…?" Cheol suggests slowly.

His suggestion is quickly shot down when the elevator dings and a man comes out carrying armfuls of thrashed upholstery.

"Sorry, we're closed!" he says cheerfully when he sees them. "But come back in two months for our grand re-opening!"

"Um, I'm actually looking for Choi Wooseok?"

"I'm Choi Wooseok," the man says. He drops the upholstery—what looks like a seat cushion and some curtains—carelessly on the floor and looks them over. "Can I help you…?"

Gayeong takes a step forward. "My name is Seong Gayeong. I'm trying to track down any information about my dad, Seong Gihun…?"

Wooseok's eyes widen. "Oh shit, you're Mr. Seong's kid! I dunno how much I can help, but I'm happy to do what I can. Mr. Seong was a real good guy."

"So you knew him? Personally?"

Wooseok nods enthusiastically. "Well, I worked for him for about two years before we met properly, and even then you know how serious and no-nonsense he is, so we never really bonded the way the boss and I did, but—what?" Woo-seok stops, frowning at the expression on her face. "Did I say something wrong?"

Gayeong frowns. "You said serious?" she repeats skeptically. "Are you sure we're talking about the same person?"

Wooseok's brow furrows. "Uh…yeah? I mean, I think so, anyway. Tall, skinny guy? Used to have a lotta debt with my boss before he paid it all off and hired us, instead."

She chews on her lip. That certainly sounds like her dad.

Cheol nudges her lightly. "Do you have a picture of your dad?"

"Oh!" she gives Cheol a look of surprise and nods, reaching for her phone. "Yeah, good idea."

She scrolls through her camera roll until she finds a picture of the two of them at the arcade, their faces pressed together as they both beam at the camera. She stares at it for a moment before turning it around to Wooseok, who barely glances at it before he's nodding. "Yup, that's Mr. Seong alright." His expression falls when he realizes this is Seong Gihun's daughter.

"Shit, I'm—uh. Real sorry about your dad, miss."

She swallows and nods. "Do you…we were directed to Sunshine Capital, but they told us to come find you and said you worked with him more than they did."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," he agrees, scratching his ear awkwardly.

"Can you…tell me anything else? What did he hire you for?"

"Eh…" he makes a face. "It's kind of a complicated story. He hired Boss Kim and Sunshine Capital back in 2022 to help him track down this guy that challenged people to ddakji on the subway—"

Gayeong and Cheol share a baffled expression as Choi Wooseok continues.

"—So we finally found the guy after two years of searching, back in September last year. But he—" the man starts to choke up looking down at his hands. "He killed—" he shakes his head. "Sorry, you two are just kids, you don't need to know about that. The—the point is that guy was a recruiter for these really fucked up games where they would—"

"Kill the people who lost?" Gayeong finishes quietly.

Cheol turns to look at her in alarm. Wooseok just looks surprised. "Yeah! How'd you know that?"

She shakes her head. "It's…a long story. Please continue."

"Well…originally we were planning to kidnap the guy in charge so we could, y'know, talk to him. Except he managed to outsmart us. Your dad was trying to stop these games, so he volunteered to go back. We were supposed to be able to track him, but they found the tracker and..." Wooseok trails off before he sighs. "The truth is, even though we found the island where it all went down, we never found your dad. I'm sorry."

Gayeong swallows thickly. "I see," she says distantly.

"To be honest, I wasn't actually there on the day Junho found the island, so you should really be talking to him."

"Junho?" she repeats.

"Oh, yeah, I guess you wouldn't know who he is, huh?"

Gayeong shakes her head.

"Well, Junho is the guy to ask. Made it to the island twice and lived to tell the tale."

"Do you happen to have his address, sir?"

He seems to get a kick out of being referred to as 'sir,' and he gives them Hwang Junho's address easily enough, wishing them luck as they leave.

"Should we go?" Cheol asks when they're back outside.

Gayeong nods without hesitation. "Once my mom gets here, I'm going to be on lockdown. Let's do it."

Hwang Junho's apartment is thirty minutes away by subway, but Gayeong can tell immediately when they get off the train that the neighborhood he lives in is nicer than Ssangmun-dong.

When they get to his apartment, they can hear a baby on the other side of the door. Cheol and Gayeong share another look before Cheol knocks.

A harried man in his mid-30s answers the door with an infant in his arms. He glances between the two of them, frowning. "Can I help you?'

Gayeong takes a step forward and nods.

"Hello, sir. My name is Seong Gayeong. I was directed here by Choi Wooseok and I—"

"You're Gihun's daughter, aren't you?" he says with an inscrutable expression.

Gayeong swallows and nods. "Yes, sir. Are you Hwang Junho? I'm trying to track down any information I can about my dad's disappearance and I was hoping you could help me."

Junho glances between the two of them, bouncing the baby idly on his hip. He looks exhausted, dark circles under both eyes, and the baby doesn't stop crying.

"Come in," he says finally. He turns around without waiting to see if they follow.

Gayeong steps inside without hesitation, toeing off her sneakers as Cheol trails behind her with a bit more trepidation. The apartment is a mess, but even more than that it seems barren of any personal affects that aren't the baby's.

"Sorry," he says tiredly. "I wasn't expecting guests. Tea?"

Gayeong glances at the man again. "Oh. Yes, please. Would you like me to hold her?"

He looks surprised, then grateful, handing the baby off to Gayeong before going into the kitchen.

Gayeong begins to bounce the baby the way he had been, cooing to her as she follows Junho. "What's her name?"

Junho looks up from the kettle with another inscrutable expression. "…She doesn't have one, yet."

Gayeong frowns slightly before she turns her attention back to the girl. "Well, that won't do, huh, sweetheart?"

The baby stops her crying, staring up at Gayeong with wide, tear-filled eyes. Slowly, one of her hands reaches up to grip a strand of Gayeong's hair, tugging lightly. Gayeong giggles. "Okay, okay, be gentle. Gentle."

The click of the electric kettle pulls her attention back up, but Junho is distracted, watching them with a frown. When Gayeong mets his gaze, he turns back to the cabinets and brings out three bags of green tea.

"We can sit in the living room," he offers.

Gayeong nods, taking the lead with the baby and finding a seat on the couch.

"You're good with her," Junho observes as he hands a mug to Cheol. The boy takes a seat next to Gayeong.

Gayeong smiles. "My half-sister is eighteen months old," she tells him.

Junho's expression goes through a quick series of complicated emotions, but all he says is, "ah," as looks down at his tea.

There's an uncomfortable pause before Junho sighs and looks up at her. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions. I can't guarantee I'll be able to answer them all, but I'll do my best."

"Thank you," she says, giving him a grateful smile. "When I spoke to Mr. Choi earlier today, he told me that the two of you worked with my dad trying to track down the games that—"

It's like a switch is flipped as soon as Gayeong says the word games. Junho's eyes widen and he slams his cup of tea back down on the coffee table, fixing her with a hard stare. "Stop," he says sharply.

Gayeong shuts her mouth, swallowing.

"I'll answer any questions you have about your dad, but I won't help you chase these ghosts. You need to stop looking into this."

I won't help you chase these ghosts. That was how the man had described it in his letter, too. He turned around to chase after ghosts instead.

Junho's brow furrows as his gaze lowers to the baby. "The games you're referring to ruined your family and mine. If you keep digging into them, they'll ruin you, too. Do you understand?"

"With all due respect, sir, that's not your choice to make," Cheol says for the first time.

Junho turns to look at him. "Who are you?"

"Kang Cheol," he answers with a partial bow in his seat. "I think my sister may have played in these games, too." He turns to look at Gayeong. "They were played for money, right?"

Gayeong gives him a wide-eyed stare as she nods.

"Mr. Seong…the day he came to find me, he told me that he knew her," Cheol continues.

Junho furrows his brow, glancing between the two of them now before he sighs. "You're right. I can't stop you. But please, take this advice from me. I lost five years of my life to these games. I lost my brother, and I lost your dad. I don't want to see them take anyone else."

"So he did die there," Gayeong says quietly.

Junho clicks his tongue. "…I can't say with certainty. When I got to the island, it was evacuated and everyone was gone. But he never came back. All his things were left in the motel he owned. Everything except his cash, which disappeared."

Gayeong frowns, thinking back to the bank card she'd received with her dad's name on it. Was that…the same money?

"You said his things were left in the motel? Are they still there?"

Junho shakes his head slowly. "No. They're here, in my closet."

Gayeong looks up, pulled from her thoughts. "Can I see them?"

Junho frowns slightly, but he nods nontheless. "There's not much, but…yeah. Wait here."

He leaves the room while Gayeong continues bouncing the baby in her arms. She finds that the movement soothes her just as well as the little girl as she waits for the man to return.

He comes back after only a minute or so carrying a medium moving box. "There's one other one," he says before he returns to his bedroom.

Gayeong stands up, slowly approaching the first box as Junho brings out the second one and sets it beside the first.

"I can take her back," he says.

Gayeong passes the baby back to him as she opens the first box.

'Personal affects' is a strong word for it. The box is filled with multiple maps of Seoul's subway systems, a 2024 calendar with the days crossed out with bright red Xs, which end in October. Several security cameras, pill bottles, a half-smoked pack of cigarettes. This is all that's left of her dad.

Random scraps of notes have fallen to the bottom of the box, and Gayeong picks them up, ravenous for any hint of Gihun.

Kang Saebyeok

Abdul Ali

Cho Sangwoo

Han Minyeo

?? Deoksu

The names are written on the back of a piece of receipt paper with no other context.

"Cheol," she says softly. He's standing beside her, digging through the box as well, but he looks up at his name and over to what she's holding. "Is this your sister?"

She watches the way he pales when he reads it, letting out a shuddering breath as he nods. "…Yeah," he confirms without looking at her. "And…Cho Sangwoo? That's the name of my grandmother's son. He disappeared in 2020, too."

Gayeong swallows and tucks that one behind the others. The next page is water-stained and looks like it's been torn out of a notebook.

Today is Gayeong's birthday.

She inhales sharply when she sees her own name.

I tried to call her again, but I chickened out before I could speak. Again. It's like every time I try, I lose all the breath in my lungs.

I haven't spoken to anyone since Mr. Kim was last here a week and a half ago. I think I might be going crazy.

Gayeong swallows. She can smell the cigarette smoke and spilled soju on the page.

"Can I keep these?" she asks carefully, turning to look at Junho.

Junho nods. "Of course. Take whatever you'd like."

Gayeong nods, setting the small stack aside before she opens the second box.

This one seems to have actual personal affects.Clothes, the worn out baseball cap her dad is always wearing in her memories, a picture frame pressed face-first against the side of the box. And…

"It's a present," Cheol says. Gayeong licks her lips. "It must be for you," he continues after a moment, looking at Gayeong.

"We don't know that," Gayeong argues, but Cheol gives her a flat look.

"You should open it," he suggests.

Gayeong wants to argue—that it could be for someone else, or that she'd rather do it alone. But after a moment she nods and reaches in to take it out. As she begins to unwrap it, she moves carefully, like she doesn't even want to tear the gift wrap. Gayeong lifts away the lid of the gift box and sets it aside, gently moving the tissue paper aside until she sees the small handgun and feels her throat get tight.

"Holy shit, is that—" Cheol stares at the gun with wide eyes.

Junho's eyes are wide, too, clearly not expecting that. "You should give that to me—" he starts, before Gayeong pulls the trigger and watches as a small flame comes out of the muzzle.

Her eyes begin to burn.

"I'm sorry," she says in a sudden rush, hastily throwing the hat and the notes and an old t-shirt into the present box and cradling it to her chest. She can feel herself seconds away from breaking down as it finally sets in that she's never going to see him again."I can't be here right now—"

Cheol calls after her as she rushes out of the apartment, but Gayeong doesn't stop. Not until she's back outside, where she drops down onto the curb. Gayeong clutches the present box to her chest as if it's the only thing keeping her grounded as she begins to sob.

She doesn't care about the passersby that stare at her as they pretend not to. For a moment she doesn't feel like she'll ever care about anything ever again.

And then she feels a hand on her shoulder.

And when she turns around, Cheol is there, his eyes gentle as he sits down next to her and opens his arms to offer her a hug. Gayeong falls against him gratefully.

"I know," he whispers as he rubs gentle circles against her back. "I know. Let it out."

Cheol holds her for nearly ten minutes while she cries.

"Thank you," she says when she can finally catch her breath and sit up. "You're really good at that."

Cheol smiles. "Thanks. I want to go to SNU when I graduate in order to become a social worker."

"A social worker?"

Cheol nods. "What I really want to do is open a resource center and home for homeless teens when I'm older," he says after a moment. "I like to imagine that if my sister'd had more resources, she wouldn't have had to resort to whatever—whatever it is she had to do."

He reaches behind himself and turns back to face Gayeong with the picture frame she'd seen upstairs in one of her dad's boxes. He turns it over slowly, revealing a picture of the two of them. It must have been one of the last ones they'd ever taken together. Her dad grins up at heras a nine-year-old Gayeong kisses him on the cheek.

Gayeong's eyes begin to burn again and she swallows thickly.

In the bottom corner, tucked between the glass and the frame, there's another, smaller photograph that Cheol removes slowly.

It takes her a moment to realize what she must be looking at. The young woman in the picture is unfamiliar, until she sees the somber expression on Cheol's face.

"Is that…your sister?" she asks hesitantly.

Cheol nods, turning it slightly so Gayeong can see it better. It's a beautiful young woman with her arm around a boy around ten years old. Gayeong can tell it's Cheol when she leans in a little closer. At this age, Cheol only looks a couple years younger Kang Sae-byeok.

"She was beautiful," she says softly.

Cheol nods again, but he doesn't respond, his expression going distant. She watches Cheol swallow the lump in his throat, his eyes going misty. "…If she played in those games, it was only so she could get the money so we could—be together again. If I'd known, I n-never would have—"

He breaks off, unable to continue, and Gayeong rests her hand against his back. "I know," she whispers. "It's not your fault, Cheol."

His breath hitches in his chest and he ducks his head to let his hair cover his face. His shoulders tremble, but he doesn't make a sound as he cries.

Gayeong itches to do something, to solve a problem that can't be solved, but all she can really do is sit here with him like he'd done for her. Tentatively, Cheol reaches out to take her hand. Gayeong reaches back and doesn't let go.

They sit there quietly for about five minutes before Cheol squeezes her hand and finally pulls away, sniffing as he sits up and wipes away the tears under his eyes. "Thanks," he whispers hoarsely.

"Of course," Gayeong says softly.

Cheol offers her a weak smile. "Of course I always hoped my sister would come home, but I've known what the odds were for a long time. In a way, it's just a relief to know even this much. Thank you, Gayeong."

"You're welcome."

They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, two strangers connected by the people they loved.

Gayeong turns her head to look up at the sky.

"…I don't know what I want to do with my life yet," she admits after a moment, thinking about what Cheol wanted to do with his life. "I dunno. I think a part of me was always hoping my dad would come along and tell me it was okay if I didn't want to be a doctor or an accountant like my parents want."

She turns to face him again.

"My dad left me a lot of money. Like, a lot of money. If you're serious, I want to help you pay for school and then help you get a place set up."

Cheol's brow furrows. "Really? You're serious."

Gayeong nods. The more she thinks about it, the more sure she is. "Yeah. What you want to do, I think it's really important."

Cheol's entire face lights up and he hugs her quickly as he jumps up to his feet. "We'll figure it out together. It'll take time, but I'll handle the logistics, okay?"

"Okay," she agrees. Cheol's excitement is infectiious. She grins.

With no further leads to chase, the two of them take the subway back to Gayeong's hotel before Cheol returns home to Ssangmun-dong, but they make sure to trade numbers before he leaves.

"Text me when you get home safe," Gayeong requests.

When she gets back to her room and closes the door, Gayeong feels like the weight of the entire day collapses onto her shoulders. She sets the present box delicately on the bed so she can go through it again. In addition to the lighter, she finds a small pair of diamond stud earrings that make her bite her lip. She recalls, vaguely, lamenting to her dad about wanting to get her ears pierced, but her mom had said no. She wonders if her dad assumed she must have gotten them pierced in the time since they'd last seen one another, or if…he'd hoped to be the one to take her.

She sets the earrings and the lighter aside before propping up the picture frame on the hotel bedside table. Cheol had taken the smaller picture of himself and his sister, so now it's just Ga-yeong and her dad.

Sometime during her investigation with Cheol, her mother had texted her the details of her flight. When Gayeong checks the time, she sees that her mom is probably boarding the flight now.

After a brief hesitation, she texts her mom to have a safe flight before she decides to take a shower. Even though it's still daylight by the time she gets out, she feels so exhausted that she can barely do more than pull on the t-shirt she'd taken from her dad's things and curl up under the covers. She stares at their picture until she falls asleep.

All I ever wanted was to be a good dad.

The day I didn't get on that plane…it was the hardest day of my life, but I couldn't walk away. I couldn't go to America and pretend I didn't know what I knew about the world. I couldn't face her knowing that somewhere, there was another girl just like Saebyeok, brave and smart and independent and she would be dead by the end of the day.

But I can't burden Gayeong with this, so all I can hope instead is that she lives a good life away from me.

I'm sorry I couldn't stay out of trouble like you asked me to.

Gayeong stares down at the note, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Her mom's plane is due to land in two hours, which means Gayeong probably has about four before she arrives at the hotel. She'd decided to spend the time reading the notes she'd taken from Hwang Junho's apartment.

Most of them aren't even real notes, just take-out receipts or newspapers; half-baked thoughts or even, a handful of times, small doodles. She clings to all of them, the way they outline the shape of Seong Gihun, and moves on to the next one.

You people are horses.

Gayeong furrows her brow. What…does that mean? The tone completely different than the rest, and yet it feels pointed. She sets that one aside and picks up the next, rubbing the paper idly between her fingers as she reads.

"What does a perfect world mean to you?"

Somebody asked me that, a long time ago. I think it was a union meeting or something, a year or two after the strike. I don't remember why I went. Those years were almost as bad as the ones after I won in 2020.

But I do remember one of the answers somebody gave.

"It's something that we can never achieve, nut we have to keep fighting for it as if it is, anyway."

When I think about the strike, these games…these people want to tear us apart, they see us as nothing more than horses to bet on. Their entertainment. But when we help one another and stand together…it scares them. If we can just help one another, like the man on the street that day, I really believe it makes people the best versions of themselves.

Gayeong inhales, unable to set this one down. Instead of setting it down in the same pile as the rest, she stares at it for a long time before she finally she tucks it into the glass of the picture frame on her bedside table.

"Seong Gayeong, don't you ever scare me like that again, do you understand me?" are the first words out of her mother's mouth when she sees her.

"I'm sorry mom," Gayeong mumbles, staring down at her feet.

She brings her mom back upstairs to her room, and Eunji wastes no time, rounding on Gayeong as soon as the door's closed.

"I know I raised you better than this, Gayeong. You are fifteen years old, what if someone guessed you were traveling alone at the airport and followed you to your hotel, or you got hurt and I didn't know where you were—"

"Alejandra and Ariel knew where I was," Gayeong protests weakly.

"Do not start with me right now, young lady. Your dad had to take time off work to take care of your brother and sister while I flew all the way out here and—"

"I get it!" Gayeong snaps. Her face goes red, on the verge of tears already. "I'm sorry! I know I messed up, but I'm begging you please not to lecture me right now! I just need my mom!"

Eunji stops short, lips parting, before she pulls Gayeong into a hug. That's all it takes for Gayeong to break down completely, clinging to her mother like she's six years old again.

Eunji pets her hair and rocks her gently in place, shushing her gently. "It's alright, baby. I have you."

Gayeong cries herself out and only then does she pull away to look at her mom. "I am sorry for lying to you, but I had to come and you'd already said no. I just…I had to know what happened."

Eunji sighs, leading Gayeong over to the bed and sitting her down. "I understand why you felt like that. Next time I will…try to listen if it's something you really care this deeply about."

Gayeong nods. She looks down at her hands and takes a fortifying breath; there's really no better opportunity than this. "There's…one more thing," she says softly. "I want to hold a real funeral for dad."

Her mom's expression pinches. "Gayeong…I understand why you feel that way, but funerals aren't cheap and we just don't have the money for something like that."

"Then I'll pay it," Gayeong says immediately, looking up. "I just need help figuring it all out, but you don't have to do anything else, okay?"

"And how are you going to pay for it?"

Gayeong bites her lip. "…Dad left me money."

Perhaps understandably, Eunji's expression shifts quickly from surprise to suspicion. "Gihun did?"

Gayeong nods.

"And no one's come around bothering you about it since you got here?" she clarifies.

If anything, it's been the other way around, Gayeong thinks to herself, but she doesn't say it aloud. She shakes her had. "No. One of his old loan sharks told me he paid off his debt."

"One of his old—" Immediately, Eunji looks concerned and Gayeong realizes she probably shouldn't have said that, but it's too late now. "You talked to his loan sharks?"

She nods meekly.

"Gayeong, do you have any idea how dangerous that could have been?"

"I wasn't alone," Gayeong protests. "I made a friend who's my age, and he was with me."

"A friend," Eunji repeats. "And what was his name? How exactly did you meet him?"

"He's the grandson of one of grandma's old friends. His name is Kang Cheol."

Her mom rubs the bridge of her nose. "Okay, well…at least you weren't alone." She heaves a deep sigh.

"Does this mean you'll help me?"

Eunji sighs again. "How much did your dad leave you?"

Gayeong starts to fidget again, avoiding her mom's gaze.

"Gayeong…"

"Um. A lot."

Eunji raises an eyebrow. "How much is a lot?"

Gayeong takes out her phone and opens the bank app so she can turn it around to show her mom. "Like. A lot."

Once Eunji recovers from the shock, she reluctantly agrees to help Gayeong with funeral arrangements. She calls around to a handful of funeral homes before she makes an appointment for the following morning.

"My condolences on your loss," the funeral director says to her mom when they arrive the next morning. He bows to them both.

Gayeong expects her mother to deny the condolences, but Eunji just nods with a sad smile and thanks him.

He brings them back into his office, offering tea and water before he asks if Gihun had a photograph he wanted used for his portrait.

Gayeong nods immediately, taking out the picture frame she'd taken from her dad's things. "Would—would this work?" she asks, turning it over to show him the picture of the two of them.

"Hm." He lowers his reading glasses to get a better look at the picture, frowning mildly. "It's a tad unorthodox given it's not a portrait," he says. Gayeong's expression falls, and the funeral director licks his lips before he adds, "But I think it would be lovely nontheless."

"Thank you," Gayeong says. She turns it back towards herself as she stares down at the picture.

"I can either use this copy or you can email me a digital copy," he continues.

Reluctantly, Gayeong sets the frame on his desk. "I'll get it back, right? This is my only copy."

The old man nods. "I'll take good care of it," he says solemnly.

They discuss food and incense and he walks them through the funeral hall to give them some familiarity with the place before they finally discuss timing. While he directs his questions to Eunji initially, her mom continues to re-direct him to Gayeong, telling her that it's her choice to make.

They make arrangements for the funeral to be held in two days. They have no body to bury, but that matters less to Gayeong, grateful to even have a ceremony.

She texts Cheol the information, who confirms that he and his family will come before he adds, 'I'll pass it on, too.'

She replies with, '???' but Cheol doesn't respond.

She wants to wear a hanbok for the funeral, so her mom takes her out the next day to find someone that sells one in black.

On the morning of the funeral, Gayeong tries to put makeup over the dark circles under her eyes. She fixes a small white ribbon in her hair, but when she begins to get dressed she finds that she can't recall how to properly tie the ribbon. She fumbles through it three times before giving up with a scream of frustration.

"Don't cry," she orders herself. "Don't cry, it's okay. Just look it up on YouTube."

There's a knock on the bathroom door and then her mother's voice. "Gayeong, are you alright? Can I do anything for you?"

She tells herself not to cry again as she opens the door, and then the moment she looks at her mother she feels tears begin to well up. "Mom, I forgot how to tie my jeogori."

Eunji gives her a sympathetic look. "I'll help you," she says. She guides Gayeong out of the bathroom and centers Gayeong in front of her, absently straightening the jacket and smoothing out the wrinkles. Unlike Gayeong, Eunji is wearing a simple black pencil skirt and suit jacket.

She smiles faintly.

"What?" Gayeong asks.

Her mother shakes her head as she folds the jacket properly across Gayeong's chest and begins to tie the ribbon. "Nothing," she says. Unlike Gayeong, she finishes tying the knot with deft hands. When she's done, she touches Gayeong's hair and then her cheek, smiling mournfully. "You remind me of him."

Gayeong presses her lips together. "I do?"

Eunji nods. "In your big heart. In your ability to read people. In your smile. In your inability to get anywhere on time."

"Mom!"

Eunji chuckles. "Sorry. I'm proud of you, Gayeong. I know how hard this must be, but I'll be right beside you."

Gayeong swallows and nods. She gets the urge to tell her mother about the letter, about everything, but something stops her. If her dad was really in as much danger as it seems, she wants to keep her mother safe.

"And speaking of being late," Eunji continues, giving Gayeong a pointed look, "we should leave now if you want to make sure everything's been set up properly."

Gayeong nods.

They take a taxi to the funeral home and Gayeong spends the drive lost in thought as she stares out the window.

She's quiet when they arrive. Her mother walks with her to the altar and lights a stick of incense, bowing alongside her to Gihun's smiling photograph before Gayeong steps away to make sure everything is in order with the funeral director.

She's not expecting a large turnout. Her grandmother passed away years ago and her father didn't have any siblings. She knows Cheol and his family will attend, but she puzzles over what he meant about 'passing it on.'

Cheol arrives with his family first, walking slowly to keep pace with his grandmother. He offers her a stiff bow as Gayeong says, "mom, this is Kang Cheol, the boy who kept me company the other day."

Cheol blushes and bows to her mother. "Hello, ma'am. I'm sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances."

Eunji seems reluctantly impressed as Cheol steps aside and his mother comes forward to give Gayeong a deep bow. "I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Seong. I regret never getting to meet your father after all he did for me."

Her mother doesn't speak, but Gayeong can feel her glance at the other woman curiously.

Cheol's grandmother can only give a small bow, but she smiles when she looks at Gayeong. "Ah, look at you! I still remember when you were just a baby! I'm sure your father would be proud of you."

"Oh," her mother says, eyes widening. "Ms. Cho, I'm so sorry, it's been so long I barely recognized you."

Ms. Cho smiles. "That's alright, Eunji-ya. I'm glad you came back for this. Gihun was a good man. I'm sure Sangwoo would have been here if he could."

"He was," Eunji agrees. Her voice gets hard and Gayeong knows her mother is trying not to cry. She reaches out to take her hand and give it a squeeze.

"Gayeong," Ms. Cho says before she steps away, passing over an envelope.

Gayeong's lips part. It feels wrong to take the condolence money, but she knows refusing will be even ruder, so she accepts the envelope with a small bow. "Thank you, grandma." She waits until Cheol's mother and grandmother have stepped away to slip him the envelope back.

The door at the end of the hall opens and Gayeong looks up to see as Hwang Junho comes inside with Choi Wooseok and one other man around their age.

Gayeong glances at Cheol. "Is that what you meant by passing it on?"

Cheol shrugs. "I got his number before we left the other day, and I thought he'd want to come. Is that okay?"

Gayeong nods. "Yes," she says softly, grateful to see that someone else has come to mourn her dad. "Thank you."

Cheol smiles. He gives her arm a squeeze before he joins his family at the altar.

"Gayeong-ah," Junho says as he approaches. "Thank you for hosting this. It would have meant a lot to your dad."

Gayeong nods, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Thank you for coming, Junho-oppa."

Junho looks briefly surprised before he smiles faintly. "I'll make sure to give you my number before I leave. If you ever need anything, give me a call."

Choi Wooseok bows as well, though it's a little hard with the baby strapped to his chest. Even despite the somber mood, Gayeong smiles down at her. "And hello to you, too, little one," she coos.

"Man, it's nice to see someone else who knows how to talk to kids. Junho and Kim here are so serious all the time they're gonna give her frown lines before she's ten! Oh, but I'm—I don't remember if I said it the other day, but I'm sorry for your loss."

Beside him, the other man, Kim, nods. His expression pinches. "My condolences as well, Miss Seong. I only knew your father for a brief time, but he was a good man. I'm sorry I couldn't do more for him."

Gayeong thanks the man and the three of them move to sign the guest book as Gayeong hears the front door open and another man comes inside, this one with a young girl around four or five walking beside him.

"Are you…Seong Gihun's wife and daughter?" he asks when he's closer.

"Ex-wife," Eunji corrects quickly.

"Ah, my mistake." He bows to them both, before he looks at Gayeong. "To tell you the truth, your dad and I didn't really know each other, but he…saved my life." He glances towards the altar.

"Hwang Junho told me you were hosting a funeral and I felt like it was only right if I pay my respects."

"He saved your life?" Gayeong repeats. Immediately, she wants to know everything. "Please, what happened, sir?"

"It's...difficult to explain," he hedges.

Gayeong wants to press him further, but she can't while her mother is beside her.

She bows her head. "Whatever your reason, I'm grateful you did."

He smiles at her as he gently tugs his daughter over to the guest book. "Come on, Nayeon."

"That was strange," her mom observes behind her as they both watch the man.

Gayeong doesn't answer.

There's a brief lull as several of their guests move beyond the altar and into the small dining room beyond. The long table has been laid out with food for their them, but suddenly Gayeong isn't sure if they'll have enough. She hadn't expected so many people.

"Did you know this many people were going to come?" she asks Cheol when he rejoins her. His mother and grandmother go into the dining room.

"No, I swear. I just invited Junho. I thought he might invite Wooseok, but that was all. Sorry. Is it...a problem?"

Gayeong shakes her head. "No, not at all. It makes me happy to see so many people cared about him." Gayeong turns to look at her mother. "Mom, you don't have to stand here with me greeting everyone."

"It's alright, sweetheart. I'm okay," Eunji assures her.

"Mom, I know you didn't eat this morning. Please go."

Eunji hesitates for a few more moments before she glances between the two of them. Perhaps sensing that Gayeong wants to speak to him in private, she finally nods. As soon as she's gone, Gayeong turns back to Cheol.

"The man with the little girl, he said my dad saved his life and it was 'complicated.' He also said Junho was the person who told him about this. I think he might know about the games."

Cheol's eyes widen and he turns around to look at the man who's fallen into step with Junho. The group walks to the dining room as the man gestures to the baby that's been handed back to Junho. "Really?"

Gayeong nods. "I'm going to talk to him," she says.

Before she can, someone new opens the door at the front. It's a woman this time with a young girl around seven or eight who grips her hand tightly.

"Noeul!" someone calls from outside as the door closes. The woman stops, though she doesn't open the door.

A man comes through next, breathing heavily as if he's just been running.

"Are you here for Mr. Seong?" he asks the woman—Noeul. "I didn't realize you knew him." He lools down at the girl holding Noeul's hand and he softens. "You must be Noeul's daughter. Your mom never gave up looking for you, you know."

The young girl looks at the man and nods, her expression the same blank look that her mother wears. She doesn't answer, but they fall into step together as they approach Gayeong.

"That's Park Mancheol," Cheol whispers to Ga-yeong. "The broker who helped us find my mom."

"You must be Mr. Seong's daughter," the broker says when he reaches them, bowing politely to Ga-yeong. "I'm sorry for your loss. Cheol, it's good to see you."

When he leaves, the woman approaches next. She doesn't speak beyond a simple, "I'm sorry for your loss," and when she bows it's stiff. She doesn't even sign the guest book, but Gayeong can hear her speaking quietly to the little girl. She tries to subtly move closer, pretending to review the guest book when they approach the altar.

"Noeul-eomma, who is the man in the picture?"

She has an accent that's hard to place—not quite Northern, but something else.

When Noeul speaks, her voice is quiet, but it commands attention. "His name was Seong Gihun. When I was at my lowest, he reminded me that there were still good people in the world. Good people like your foster parents who looked after you when I couldn't."

The little girl nods solemnly and bows to Gihun's picture.

"I'm going to head to the dining room," Cheol says before she can hear the little girl's response. He touches her back softly to get her attention. "Do you want to join me?"

Gayeong turns to look at him. She puts on a smile and shakes her head. "You go on ahead. I need a few minutes."

Though his brow furrows in concern, Cheol nods and leaves her be. The woman and her daughter leave as Cheol crosses to the dining room.

With one last glance at the woman, Gayeong moves to her father's altar and sits on her knees.

Though she had a moment to pay her respects earlier that morning before the funeral began, she hadn't been able to linger as long as she wanted to, pulled in several other directions to make sure everything was running smoothly. Gayeong can hear as their guests begin to grow louder as they become comfortable and get to know one another, laughing and sharing stories.

Without a body, there won't be an interment. Her mom has booked their return flight home for the following night.

Tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She feels so angry and helpless, like everyone else is moving on and she's just stuck here alone in her grief.

How is she supposed to move on?

When she feels someone sit beside her, her first thought is that it's Cheol coming to check on her again. But when she turns, it's not Cheol, it's—

"It's you," she says in surprise. The man who brought Gayeong her father's things, the man who left her that letter.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he says quietly. His gaze is downcast, focused on his lap. Gayeong watches the way his fingers curl in the fabric of his slacks.

Gayeong turns away from him, looking up at her dad's photo again. She thinks the man to her right does the same.

They sit in silence for a few moments before Gayeong speaks again. "You said…you were acquaintances?"

"We were…" the man pauses. "We could have been friends." There's something heavy in his voice. When she turns to look at him, he's staring at her dad's picture.

"…He stopped smiling like that," he adds after a moment. "After he won in 2020, he stopped smiling like that."

Gayeong feels a lump in her throat, but this time she doesn't try to stop the tears when they come. With this man, she no longer feels like the only one grieving.

"All I ever wanted was for him to be safe," she whispers through her tears.

She feels the man finally turn away from her father's photograph to study her. "…Even if the cost was someone else?" he asks with an edge of curiosity,

Gayeong scoffs, wiping her tears away. "So what? That person meant nothing to me. All they did was take my dad from me."

He doesn't answer immediately. His gaze searches her face for a few seconds before he turns back to look at Gihun.

"…I've never met someone who felt as deeply as your father," he says finally. His voice is quiet. "He felt every death he witnessed so personally.

"But I think you're wrong, Gayeong-ah. That person didn't take your dad from you. He made the choice to help someone else, because that was how he wanted to be defined: in his choice to continue helping others, even when it was hard."

He turns back to her and offers a slight bow in place. "My apologies. It's not my place to lecture you. It's alright if you don't agree with me. I don't even think I agreed with me until…until it was too late." Carefully, he pushes himself to his feet.

Gayeong reaches for him before she can think it through, grabbing hold of his hand from her place on the ground. The man freezes.

"How?" she whispers. "How am I supposed to move on and just accept a life without him?"

His lips part and he stares at her for a beat before he moves to one knee so they're eye-level and takes her hand in his. "It's not about accepting it. It's already done. Life will continue to move forward, just like it did when you believed he had abandoned you. Your only choice is whether it will do so with or without you." Despite the seemingly harsh words, his eyes and voice are gentle.

He holds her gaze for a moment longer before he squeezes her hand once and rises to his feet again. This time, Gayeong follows suit. She expects him to leave then, but he lingers.

"Hwang Junho," he says abruptly. His gaze turns away from her and towards the dining room, like he knows Junho is there. "Has he named the child yet?"

Gayeong wipes quickly at her eyes, trying to hide the ruined mascara underneath. "Um. No, he hasn't," she says, taken aback by the non-sequitur.

The man considers that for a moment, still watching the dining room.

"Jinyeong. Jin meaning precious, or perhaps genuine. Yeong meaning hero. I…think he would haved liked it."

He leaves before she can reply. Gayeong watches him until he's gone, but he never looks back.

Chapter Text

The man is right: life goes on, with or without Gayeong.

She stops tugging on the threads of Seong Gihun's story in search of a goodbye she won't find. She focuses instead on the people she's found along the way: she texts with Kang Cheol near-daily, sending each other memes and life updates. They both keep in touch with Hwang Junho, who accepts Gayeong's name suggestion almost immediately.

He's not good about sending Gayeong pictures of little Jinyeong's growth, but Choi Wooseok more than makes up for it with pictures of her alongside his own daughter around the same age.

They make sure that her Korean doesn't go unused, and she teaches Cheol a little English, too, so they can better watch American tv shows together.

With her dad's money, she pays off her parents' house and sets up college funds for her closest friends. Her step-dad helps her invest the rest. And as time goes on, she thinks she understands the other thing the man said that day. He made the choice to help someone else, because that was how he wanted to be defined: in his choice to continue helping others, even when it was hard.

She tries to carry that mentality forward as best she can. It's not always easy, but she hopes that wherever he is, her dad is proud of her.

As they get closer to high school graduation, Gayeong and Cheol discuss again how she can help him set up a social program for homeless teens.

She applies to university in Korea.

It feels like the only natural choice. As much as she loves her friends and family in Los Angeles, her heart tugs her back home. Besides, it's not as if she doesn't have the money to visit whenever she wants.

Two weeks after graduation, there's a knock at the front door.

Her dad's at work and her mom's out with her siblings, so Gayeong is the one to answer the door, but no one is there.

Her brow furrows when she sees the envelope tucked into the security door. Warily, Gayeong steps outside and picks it up as she looks around. Her eyes widen when she sees several drops of blood on the walk-up and she quickly leans over the railing, catching sight of someone as they turn the corner of a narrow alley down the hill.

"Wait!"

Gayeong runs down the stairs barefoot, heedless of the dangers of Los Angeles streets. She clutches the envelope in her right hand and feels something small and hard inside, but she can't lose focus if her visitor is injured.

Gayeong turns the corner of the same alleyway, looking around frantically. She almost misses him in her haste to reach the other end of the alleyway, catching the heavy breathing beside the dumpster at the last second.

"You're hurt," she breathes when she sees him. It's the man from before, his hands press to a wound on his stomach. His white dress shirt is soaked in blood.

"I'm sorry," he says through a labored breath, "that I didn't return your father to you when I had the chance. I've regretted that moment every day since."

Gayeong shakes her head. "Please, mister, conserve your energy. I'll call an ambulance—"

"No," he says before Gayeong can even reach for her phone. "No ambulances, or they'll track me here, do you understand? They already know I've taken it, they'll be on high alert."

"Taken what? Who is 'they'?" Gayeong asks quickly.

He shakes his head, holding her gaze. "Everything is in there," he says, nodding to the envelope in her hand without ever taking his eyes from her face. "What's most important is that you get this information to my brother." He gives a quiet scoff of laughter that quickly dissolves into a coughing fit, and he holds one hand up to keep her at bay when she moves to come closer.

"I'm—sorry—" he says again as he catches his breath. "I didn't intend to draw you into this again. Gihun…really won't forgive me now." He rests his head against the wall and breathes as deeply as his stomach wound will allow.

"Please, just—" he winces— "help me to my car, right over there, and I'll be alright." He nods jerkily to the other end of the narrow street where a car is idling, but when Gayeong looks back at him, she can't believe him when he says he'll be alright. Her hesitation must show on her face, because his expression pinches. "Please," he repeats. "Everything in that envelope is worth more than my life, and they won't hesitate to kill you if they figure out I gave it to you.

"I would have kept you out of it completely, but I had no one else in Los Angeles that I could trust. Just get it to Junho."

Junho? Hwang Junho?

The man forces himself to his feet before she can ask, and Gayeong only has a split second to make her decision.

She wraps one arm around his waist when he starts to stumble, guiding his arm around her neck to help him to the car.

"Can you even drive like this?" she asks nervously under his weight.

He laughs again, weakly. "I probably shouldn't be, no. I'll be careful, I promise. No one who saw me is still alive, but they'll get suspicious when I don't return. I just need to get far enough away that it doesn't lead back to you."

Her expression pinches in concern, but she doesn't argue.

"Listen," Gayeong says after a few beats of silence. Something compels her to tell him everything; perhaps it's as simple as the moment they'd shared mourning her dad the day of his funeral.

His car is about thirty feet away now, but right now that distance feels like a football field.

"You were right. I'm not angry, anymore. I think I finally understand why he would do it."

He takes several deep breaths before he answers. "Do what?"

"Choose to help other people, even when it killed him. Because losing that hope that people can be better—that the world can be better—was worse to him."

They get to the car before he can respond. Gayeong opens the door and helps him into the driver's seat. His skin is clammy and pale when he opens his eyes and looks up at her. He smiles, just barely. "I still don't know if I agree with him, you know. But it took losing him to realize it didn't matter. It didn't matter who was right or wrong, because I should have been trying to protect the last good thing in my life. If this brings me even one step closer to making it up to him…then it will have been worth it."

Gayeong chews on her bottom lip. "Are you sure you can drive, mister?"

His smile doesn't fade. "I'll be alright. Thank you for worrying. And please…tell my brother none of it was his fault. Tell him I'm sorry for hurting him. All I ever wanted was to keep him safe."

She swallows and gives him a somber nod. "I will, I promise."

He goes quiet and lets his racing heart settle, but still he doesn't leave, staring at Gayeong.

"…Thank you, Gayeong-ah. I had almost forgotten what his eyes looked like."

He reaches out with effort, grabbing hold of the door and pulling it closed. Gayeong helps him automatically, even as she tries to process his words.

"What…?"

It's spoken too late, after the door is closed. A moment later, he begins to drive and Gayeong watches wordlessly, but he makes no swerves or sudden stops. If she hadn't know any better, she wouldn't have guessed someone so injured was driving.

She stands there long after the car is out of sight.

She doesn't know what to expect when she opens the envelope, but inside are several pages of notebook paper folded in thirds. Tucked between the pages is a small USB drive.

The first page is just names, dozens of them crammed onto the page to fit them all. Some of the names she recognizes. Most of them she doesn't, but when she grabs her phone and starts to Google them, they all have one thing in common: an appearance on Forbes' Real Time Billionaires list.

933, 82, 751, 2,709, 258, 331—

And on they go.

Gayeong swallows, setting that page aside for the next. This one is another list of names. Most of them have check marks next to their names; a handful have an X, and those have been crossed out, as well. Several of them have question marks instead, but as Gayeong begins to search them online, she realizes most of these names are journalists. A handful are politicians or other people in positions of power, and she deduces that Junho's brother must have determined those with check marks were safe to trust. The people with their names crossed out he'd determined otherwise, though she doesn't know if that was a hunch or if he'd confirmed somehow that they were involved. On both lists, the names are global, not just Korean or American.

Carefully, she sets both pages aside and plugs the USB drive into her computer.

When she opens it up, there's two text files and over a dozen folders named after different countries and regions: Brazil, Canada, China, European Union, India, Indonesia, Japan, MENA, Mexico, Pakistan, Russia, Saudi Arabia, South Korea, South America, United Kingdom, United States. One text file contains the same list of billionaire financers, another text file is 16 lines of coordinates labeled Facilities.

She opens the South Korea folder first where even more folders begin to pop up. Gayeong stares at it for a moment before clicking into one of them at random, where hundreds of files populate. They're titled in some kind of shorthand that she doesn't know how to read: KSA05D1, KSA05D2, all the way until KSA24D6.

She clicks one at random, KSA15D1. The video opens to an empty field. In the distance are three doors that look like they lead to stables, until they open in sync and hundreds of people dressed in green begin to filter into the field.

The camera cuts to one of the people as he points off-screen.

"What the hell is that creepy doll?"

A nearby woman follows his gaze and clicks her tongue while the camera shows the giant doll at the other end of the field. "Aw, I think she's kind of cute. Look, I think she's supposed to be Younghee."

It's almost filmed like the reality TV her mom watches to learn English. A female voice announces the rules of the game they'll be playing, Mugunghwa kkochi pieot seubnida. She has vague recollections of playing the game back during primary school. The players line up along the start line.

When the song ends in the first round, everyone stops running. One man is slower than the rest, and a moment later a loud crack makes Gayeong startle as he drops to the ground. The second gunshot comes only seconds later when the woman next to him startles just like Gayeong.

That's when the screaming starts, and her stomach turns. She has to pause it after nearly thirty seconds of gunfire and push her laptop away. The screen stays frozen on a pile of bodies where stragglers try to climb over them in order to flee. It's impossible to put into words how different it is to witness true death, a visceral, clawing horror that no movie or TV show could ever capture.

Gayeong stumbles away from her laptop and over to her closet, where she stores most of her keepsakes from her dad in an old shoebox, including the letter Junho's brother had left three years ago.

She rereads the words she's long since memorized as she warily returns to her laptop.

This…was this what Junho's brother had meant by a competition where the losers were killed? It's barbaric.

And this was what her dad had gone through?

Gayeong closes the video player and returns to the previous folder. She can't watch another video, but there's thousands of other files. She pokes through the South Korean folder and finds player profiles by year, employee profiles, schematics of the facility. When she backs out and opens one of the other country folders, she sees it's even more of the same for those locations as well. Her head starts to swim with it all and she has to stop and take a deep breath.

She returns the letter from Junho's brother to the shoebox and gently replaces the lid as her mind races.

She should call Junho, but she finds that her instinct is to call Cheol first. She gets up and begins to pace as she dials his number. Chews on her thumbnail as she waits for him to answer.

"Come on, come on…" she mutters under her breath.

"Hey!" Cheol says brightly on the fourth ring. Gayeong can hear him cooking in the background. "Have you bought your plane ticket yet?"

She ignores the question. "Cheol, thank God. Listen, everything we thought we knew? It's so much bigger."

"What? What happened?"

Gayeong opens her mouth to tell him, then stops. Can phone companies record private conversations? Or what if her phone is bugged? Maybe it's paranoia, but Junho's brother had risked his life for this information and told her they wouldn't hesitate to kill her, either. She's seen what billionaires can do when their power is threatened. She needs to be careful. "Um—sorry, it's—I shouldn't—nevermind."

"What? What's going on? You're worrying me."

"…Sorry," she says after a beat as she takes a deep breath. "It's…I don't think I can talk about it over the phone. I'll…text you when I book my flight."

"Wait, Gayeong—"

Gayeong hangs up before Cheol can finish whatever he'd been about to say. She sits down on her bed in a daze as the reality of her situation sets in.

She can't call Junho. It was pure luck that she called Cheol first, but if they can access her phone records, that's less suspicious. She also can't book her flight immediately. Junho's brother said he couldn't stay or they would know he'd come to her, which implied that they knew about her and where she lived. If she booked a flight to Korea the day the files went missing, she could draw their attention right to her.

Right now, all she can do is wait.

She texts Cheol and apologizes again for worrying him and says that she'll explain everything when she can. She tries to keep up her usual rhythm of texts with Junho and Wooseok, nothing out of the ordinary.

It turns out that the anticipation is the worst part about the wait. She can barely eat over the next few days and she never lets the USB drive out of her sight. She stops going outside for anything unless she has no other choice, and when she does she slips the flash drive into her purse and keeps it tucked tightly to her side.

Was this what her dad felt like, when he was trying to stop the games? Paranoid and always looking over his shoulder, never able to fully relax or think about anything else for more than a few minutes at a time?

This isn't living, and she only has to make it a week or two. She can't imagine someone existing like this for years.

After a week, her mother begins to pester her more about going out with her friends. Gayeong can tell that she's worried, so she forces herself to make plans with Alejandra and Ariel. They decide on dinner and a movie. When Gayeong gets home thirty minutes after curfew, her mom doesn't even get mad, which is how she knows that she's concerned.

She stills on the threshold of her room. Something feels…off.

Gayeong grips the strap of her purse as she looks around. It's silent and nothing immediately appears out of place, but she can't shake the feeling of wrongness. Her brother coughs in the room next door and it makes her jump.

Gayeong takes a step backward and turns to walk back to the kitchen where Eunji is doing dishes. "Mom, did you clean my room while I was gone?"

Eunji looks up. "Hm? No, why?"

Gayeong shakes her head. "It's probably nothing. You didn't go in there at all?"

"No, you know your rooms are your own responsibilities. Besides, we went out for frozen yogurt."

Gayeong feels herself go cold and she tries to keep her voice even. "All of you?"

Her mom gives her a strange look. "Yes…? Should we not have?"

Gayeong shakes her head. "No, sorry, it's nothing. I'm—gonna go to bed."

She speeds back to her bedroom and closes the door, ignoring the look of concern her mom gives her as she leaves.

She checks everywhere she can think that someone could be hiding: the bathroom, the shower, the closet, under the bed. There's no one. It calms her, but only somewhat, because she still can't shake that feeling of wrongness.

Had she left her dad's jacket draped exactly like that on her desk chair? Had she strewn her clothes on the floor just so and rumpled the bedspread like that? She's panicking enough that she can't remember.

Had someone been in her room?

If her entire family had gone out, someone watching the house could have easily snuck in and out without notice. She curses the fact that her family doesn't have a smart doorbell like every other American household.

Gayeong begins to dig through her purse to confirm that she still has the envelope Junho's brother gave her. She feels more settled just seeing it, but before she takes it out she hesitates. Is it possible they weren't just looking for something? What if they'd planted a listening device or worse, a secret camera?

She sits down on her bed and immediately starts to Google how to spot hidden cameras. Reddit comes to her rescue, as usual.

Do a visual scan first to check places you're not likely to look often, like fire alarms or lamps. She does a full walkthrough of her room and doesn't find anything, then turns off the lights and closes her blinds and does it again while recording a video on her phone to check for infrared light. When that comes up empty, too, she finally starts to wonder if she's going crazy and imagining things that aren't happening. She nearly starts to spiral before she opens her closet and notices the shoebox that's been left just slightly askew.

Gayeong stares at the shoebox. It's something her mom doesn't know about, because five years ago, before Gayeong had known the truth of Gihun's disappearance, she'd told her mom that she'd thrown it all out. When she thought her dad was nothing but a deadbeat who didn't love her anymore. She knows better now, but most of the keepsakes had remained in the box. When she'd first met Hwang Junho and gone through her dad's things in his apartment, this was where she'd eventually put everything. And she knows she closed the lid properly.

So. She's being watched. Do they know she has the files, or are they just being overly cautious?

She wants out of their crosshairs immediately, but now that she knows she's being watched, it's more important than ever that she continues to act normally.

She waits another week to book her flight to Korea, four weeks after her graduation. She books the flight for two weeks out, and in the meantime she starts going to the library and using the Incognito browsers to look into similar cases. Highly secret or classified files that the people in power have a vested interest in remaining secret.

Edward Snowden, the Panama Papers, Jeffrey Epstein.

She looks into the journalists and other individuals on the handwritten note, collecting email addresses where she can find them online.

The day of her flight, she keeps everything in her carry-on, watching anxiously as her bag passes through TSA, but they make no move to stop her or search her bag.

She's jittery the entire 12-hour flight to Korea, unable to focus on the book she brings or the movie she tries to put on. Finally, she caves and takes something to make herself sleep.

Cheol and Junho are waiting for her at the airport when she arrives.

Gayeong throws herself into Cheol's arms, and for the first time in two months she finally starts to feel safe again.

"Unnie!" Jinyeong cries, dropping Junho's hand to run to her. And though Gayeong just wants to sit in Cheol's arms a little bit longer, she laughs and pulls away so she can pick up the little girl and give her a spin.

"Look at you! You're so much bigger than the last time I saw you! How old are you again?"

"I'm three! Three and…" she trails off, looking down at her fingers to count. "Eight months! That's almost four!"

Gayeong laughs, setting her back on the ground. "That is almost four," she agrees.

She continues to chat with the girl as Junho leads them back to his car. Gayeong holds Jinyeong's tiny hand in her own as they cross the street to the parking garage.

It feels like there's an elephant in the car with them when Junho starts heading back to Seoul. Cheol glances at her several times, and though Junho is much more subtle about it, she can feel the weight of his gaze, too.

"Junho-oppa," she finally says as he stops at a red light.

Junho glances at her in the rearview mirror. "Yeah?"

Gayeong glances at Jinyeong, who's fallen asleep in her car seat. She takes a deep breath before she meets his gaze in the mirror. "Your brother gave me something to give to you."

Instantly, Junho turns around to look at her. "You spoke to my brother? When?"

"About a month and a half ago."

"Why are you only telling me now?" Though he doesn't snap at her, she can feel the edge of his words.

"I had to be careful. The information he gave me…he told me they would kill me if they knew I had it. I couldn't draw their attention by coming to you too quickly."

"He gave you something on the games?"

The car behind them lays on their horn before swerving around their car. Reluctantly, Junho turns back around to drive, but he continues glancing at her in the mirror.

"No," she says quietly. "He gave me everything on the games."

Junho's apartment is beautiful. Gayeong has seen it in pictures and videos, but it's different in person. He had moved Jinyeong and his mother into a new place two and a half years ago, a high-rise apartment with a doorman at the front. There's floor-to-ceiling windows against one wall that are enough to give her vertigo and separate rooms for all three of them. It's a far cry from the tired apartment she'd visited the first time she met him.

Gayeong takes her laptop out now in Junho's new apartment. It's a new laptop, one she'd purchased in cash before her flight to Korea. She'd purchased an external hard drive at the same time, copying everything from the flash drive onto the hard drive to ensure she had a back-up. She'd even figured out how to encrypt it before she left.

She plugs the original flash drive into her lapttop now before moving aside to let Junho scoot closer.

He does, but he doesn't touch the laptop yet, still studying Gayeong. Now that she knows they're related, she can see the similarities. They both stare at people so intensely, as if they're unaware of how it might come across.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't understand why he came to you," Junho says, searching her face for some kind of answer.

Gayeong fidgets with the zipper of her dad's tracksuit jacket, She has one leg pulled up in her chair and she wraps her arm around it there. "Your brother, you said his name was Hwang Inho?"

Junho nods.

"…He was the man who told me my dad died three years ago, and that's when he gave me this jacket and my dad's money."

Junho's brows furrows, but he doesn't interrupt.

"He also left me a letter. In it, he…apologized for his part in my dad's death. I think…" she trails off, thinking back to the second time she met Hwang Inho, the day of her dad's funeral. We could have been friends, he'd said.

"I know he was…involved in running the games."

Junho's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. "He told you that himself?"

Gayeong nods. "Yes, in that same letter. But despite that, I think he cared a lot about my dad. He…I could tell he was hurting. And he came to my dad's funeral. Did you tell him about it?"

Junho's lips part before he presses them into a thin line. "I haven't seen my brother in almost four years. Not since the day the island was destroyed. And I haven't had a real conversation with him in a decade. Everything you're telling me now…I don't know what I'm supposed to think. Every time I think he's done with me for good, he does something like this. Why didn't he bring it to me himself?"

Gayeong feels a lump in her throat. "Junho-oppa…I…don't think he…" she trails off, grimacing. "He wasn't in any condition to travel. He was wounded."

"Wounded? Where? How bad did it seem?"

She doesn't want to tell him, but he deserves the truth. "He seemed…pretty bad, oppa. It was a stomach wound, but it looked like it was bleeding profusely, and he couldn't walk straight. I think he was injured trying to get that information out. He said he hadn't intended to involve me, but I was the only person in LA he could trust. Maybe his original plan was to come to you himself."

"Did he say anything else?"

She nods again. "He told me to get it to you, and he…" she trails off. "He asked me to tell you…nothing was your fault." Junho looks like he's been struck, but Gayeong continues. "He apologized for hurting you and said that…all he wanted was to keep you safe."

Junho scoffs, crossing his arms. "Funny way to do that."

Gayeong nods in understanding, looking down at her lap again. "…In the letter he left me, he told me that he thought my dad felt too ashamed to face me," she whispers, unable to look at him through the personal admission. "Perhaps…he felt the same way my dad did."

He takes a quiet breath and his expression turns contemplative. "You said he came to Gihun's funeral?"

"Yeah. When I saw him there…" She picks at the fraying fabric on the knee of her jeans. "I dunno. It felt like I wasn't the only one still grieving him, I guess. It—I mean, it sucked, obviously, but it was nice not to feel alone, you know?"

Junho turns back to the computer. "And then he gave you this."

"Yeah. I mean—three years, later, but yeah. He said in his letter that even if it killed him, he would finish what my dad started."

Junho frowns and begins clicking through the files. He seems to be looking for something in particular, moving directly into the South Korea folder and looking for the 2015 player profiles. They're all in a single PDF and he begins to flip quickly through them. Gayeong doesn't understand what he's looking for until she does: he stops on player 132, and Gayeong sees Hwang Inho's picture. He looks more than a decade younger, but it's still unmistakably him.

"He kept it in," Junho mutters to himself. He closes the player profiles and scrolls through the files for something else, stopping at a list of winners.

Gayeong swallows when he opens it. Her gaze goes immediately to the line for 2020, staring at her dad's name when she hears Junho inhale quietly. Gayeong blinks, quickly looking through the other names. 2015, Inho's year, she sees that, yes, Hwang Inho was the winner. But nothing else stands out.

She glances over to him in confusion. "What is it?"

Junho shakes his head without taking his eyes off the screen. "He removed the 2024 winner," he says slowly.

She looks up at the top line. On the line for 2024, all that's included is player number 222. No name.

"Is that…significant?" she asks uncertainly.

Junho hesitates and glances at Jinyeong's closed door, making sure she's really asleep, then back to both of them. "Jinyeong…isn't mine," he says after a moment.

The seeming non-sequitur throws her for a moment, and Gayeong blinks, trying to make the connection.

"The day the island was destroyed…my brother was holding a baby. I was confused, but—well, honestly I felt like I had more important things to worry about." He chuckles wryly.

"Then, around the same time Inho brought you your dad's belongings, he broke into my apartment and left Jinyeong. You remember, she wasn't named yet. All he left was a card that said she was the winner of the 2024 games, player 222. He left me a debit card with—with her winnings, and a tracksuit jacket for player 222. I don't know how, but I assume the real player 222 gave birth when she was there and didn't survive."

Cheol speaks for the first time since they returned to Junho's apartment. "So Jinyeong…won in her mother's place? How is that possible?"

Junho shakes his head, glancing over at Cheol. "I don't know. But despite 'winning'—whatever that means—he left her off the list of winners."

"Why would he do that?" Cheol asks.

They all go quiet. Gayeong speaks first. "To protect her. Both of you."

Junho presses his lips together. Burned so many times that he can no longer be sure if that's truly the answer.

Gayeong interrupts his thoughts. "Jinyeong."

Junho looks up. "What?"

"Her name, it was his suggestion, not mine. At the time, he said…he said he thought my dad would like the name."

Junho eyes her contemplatively, considering that before he finally looks back at the computer. "There's video footage on this flash drive?" he asks, even when he already knows the answer. Gayeong nods. "Then we'll watch it. I'll watch it," he amends when he looks between the two of them. "You two are still just kids—I wouldn't ask that of you."

Gayeong swallows. She'd been putting it off back home, unable to watch any more alone after the minute that she'd seen, but…her dad had played in 2020 and then again in 2024. There would be recordings of him. She could learn the truth, she could hear his voice—can she really afford to give up this chance?

Cheol is quiet when they leave Junho's apartment.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay with us?" he asks as they approach the subway station, rising from his stupor.

Gayeong shakes her head. "No, thank you. I appreciate it, but you're already looking after your mother and grandmother. I don't want to be a burden."

"You're never a burden," Cheol says quietly. She swallows and looks away, her face going warm. Her plan is to stay in a hotel until the dorms open up in three weeks.

Thankfully, Cheol changes the subject before she can reply. "Can I ask another question?"

"You already did," she teases him, bumping her shoulder against his. "But go on."

He doesn't continue right away, taking a few more moments to formulate his thoughts. "My sister…do you think she's in those files?"

It's a question and it's not. They both know which answer is most likely, but perhaps he just needs support like Gayeong does.

"We could check," she offers gently. "I made a copy of everything just in case something happened. If you want, you could come back to my hotel with me and we could…face it together."

Cheol swallows nervously, but he nods determinedly. "Okay. Let's do it."

Her hotel is only three stops from Junho's apartment, but it's spent in silence as both of them grapple with what they're about to do. Gayeong has more of an inkling than Cheol does.

After she's checked in and brings him up to her room, she turns and faces Cheol before he can move past the entryway, putting a hand on his chest.

"Cheol. Whatever you think you know about this thing…it's bad. It's…probably worse than what you've imagined."

He presses his lips into a thin line.

"I just mean—this isn't a movie or a video game and these videos…they're just hard to watch, so brace yourself. Seeing real people get hurt and—and killed—" she falters. "There's just nothing that can prepare you for it."

"Okay," he says solemnly. He holds her gaze for a moment before Gayeong nods in acceptance and turns to continue into the room. She pushes her suitcase against the wall and grabs her laptop from her other bag, setting it up at the small dining table.

"We'll start in 2020," she says as she begins to navigate to the correct folder. "Since that's when they both disappeared the first time."

The number on her father's track suit finally dawns on her: there were over 450 players in his game. Was that the normal number of people for these competitions? How could over 450 people go missing in Korea—in any of these countries—every year without someone noticing?

"That's weird," Cheol says, pulling Ga-yeong from her thoughts.

"Hm? What is?"

He points to the screen. "It's just. There's no player one."

He's right, the player profiles start at player 2.

"Maybe he just missed that one," she says uncertainly. They begin to flip through the player profiles quickly, and Cheol's sharp inhale tells her when they've found her.

Player 67. Kang Saebyeok.

Gayeong stares at the young woman's picture. She glances at her birthday, doing the quick math in her head. It makes something twist in her stomach, to realize that Cheol is only a year younger than her now. That in two years, Cheol will have grown older than his older sister.

She looks over at him slowly, trying to gauge how he's feeling.

His eyes remain locked on the small portrait of Saebyeok in the player tracksuit, likely the last photo of Saebyeok ever taken. She sees the tears as they start to well in his eyes, and before she can overthink it, Gayeong reaches out and takes his hand.

Cheol startles, glancing down at their linked hands and then up at her face.

"…Thanks," he says softly. Gayeong nods wordlessly.

She lets him sit on that page as long as he needs. She won't be the one to close it before he's ready. After five minutes, he takes a deep, steadying breath and flips the page.

"Let's keep going. We still haven't seen your dad's."

They end up working through every single player profile; Seong Gihun turns out to be the final player of the 2020 games, player 456. They pause on player 218 briefly, Cho Sangwoo, confirming their suspicions that the son of Cheol's grandmother played and died, too.

When they finally reach Gihun, Gayeong stares at his picture just like Cheol had stared at his sister's. He looks so much like the man she remembers, his eyes crinkled as he grinned at the camera. Was he aware, when this picture was taken, of what was at stake?

No, she doesn't think so. He'd been horrified by the games, she can't imagine such a carefree smile if he knew the truth.

"…You said there were videos, right?" Cheol asks quietly, breaking her from her train of thought.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Did you…want to watch? Like I said before, the one I saw was pretty brutal. You know now that she was part of this, you don't have to watch it."

Cheol shakes his head. "I…I think I do. Is that strange? It's not that I want to watch my sister…you know. But if there were other parts that I could see of her…I don't know."

"I can't tell you whether it's strange or not, but I get it. I feel the same way."

He gives her a shy smile. "I'm glad I met you, Gayeong-ah," he says quietly.

She bumps her shoulder against his. "You mean you're glad I found you?" she teases.

Cheol ducks his head, still smiling. "Yeah."

Geyong looks away and takes a deep breath. "Okay," she says, redirecting her attention to the laptop. She chews on her lip as she navigates to the 2020 videos. Though she hasn't watched anymore since the first one, she's poked through the files enough that she finds them easily. "I watched one of them," she confesses to him. "Or. A minute of one. I couldn't watch any more alone."

Cheol nods and squeezes her hand once. Gayeong takes a fortifying breath and opens the file for the third game, figuring it's the midway point. If Kang Saebyeok is already…then they can work backwards, but this way they can hopefully avoid the blood bath that's the first game.

She pales as the rules of the game are explained and the camera shows a multi-story set-up for tug-of-war. The camera pans over all the players sitting on the floor, but it's too hard to make out either Gihun or Saebyeok in the brief clip. She skips ahead to the first round, studying every player until she's sure that neither 456 or 67 are in the line-up.

It doesn't ease the nausea in her stomach as the first group is pulled over the edge and a guillotine cuts the rope, sending them plummeting to the ground.

"Oh my God," Cheol whispers. Gayeong puts a hand over her mouth, fighting the rising wave of nausea. She thinks she has it under control until the second round is called and she sees that number.

456.

She slaps the spacebar to pause the video, scrambling out of her seat and rushing for the bathroom. She makes it to the toilet just in time for her lunch to come back up.

"Gayeong?" Cheol calls softly. She can feel him more than see him as he follows her into the bathroom, crouching beside her and carefully pulling her hair out of her face. "It's okay. Take a few deep breaths."

"How?" she moans weakly, resting her forehead against the rim of the toilet. God, it's probably disgusting, but she can't bring herself to care enough to move. "How could people do that?"

He swallows. "They had to, if they wanted to survive. You can't fault them for that."

But Gayeong shakes her head. "Not them. The people in charge." She closes her eyes. "The people running the games, or the ones funding it, whatever—my dad said they would bet on players. Like it wasn't real people who were dying."

"I know," he murmurs. She feels him brush a hand across her lower back before he begins to rub soothing circles. "I know. It's okay."

She doesn't throw up again, thankfully, and after five minutes she feels strong enough to stand up and rinse her mouth out with water. She brushes her teeth while Cheol retreats to the bedroom to give her some space, and she takes the opportunity to splash some water on her face.

"It's okay," Gayeong whispers to herself in the mirror. She knows her dad will survive, but even still, the nausea returns when she thinks about those other people who are going to die on camera in front of her eyes.

Cheol is sitting in front of the computer waiting for her when she finally returns.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"No," she says honestly. "But let's keep going, anyway."

He studies her for a moment longer before he nods and presses play again.

All told, the tug-of-war match hardly lasts any time at all. Her dad is at the front of the line, and she can see Cheol's sister near the back, as well. They'd been on the same team together.

He's nearly pulled off the edge, holding on by a single foot before his team pulls him back to safety and they collapse on the ground. She skips forward when it's over and they return to the elevator, fast forwarding through the rest of the games. There's additional footage at the end of some kind of player dormitory, cutting between different conversations between players.

"Do you trust me then?" Saebyeok says to a man sitting near her and Gihun. "I don't trust one person here."

Her dad stands up, looking around the group. "Alright, I think…let's still do something. Before the lights go out, let's create a barricade. It might be good to make sure we have cover."

The camera angles are narrow shots of parts of the dormitory, and the video jumps between members of their team breaking down the bunk beds to build a barricade just like Gihun suggested before a grimy looking man with the number 101 on his chest approaches the group.

"Hey, Ssangmun-dong," he calls to her dad with a rakish grin. It feels wrong in a place like this. "Hey, I appreciate the work you're doing. Nice. But do you think this will do anything?" he scoffs. "We can get through all of this easily."

Gayeong stares at her dad's face, the way he doesn't even falter when the man laughs. "You're not worried at all?" Gihun asks. 101 looks amused; curious. "Those scumbags you got on your side over there? They're people you trust?"

And now, she can see the way doubt begins to creep into 101's expression, his grin falling.

"If that was me there? Once the fighting starts to happen, you'd be the first person I'd go for. You're the strongest person here."

And then he moves one of beds between them, and she watches as the camera pans out to show 101 walking back to his team to tell them they're taking the night off.

Gayeong pauses the video. She and Cheol both sit in silence for a moment, processing everything. It's not a side of her dad she got to see often: how well he could read the people he spoke to, when he had the mind to. And the easy way he'd said it, without threat, just a statement of fact. As Cheol skips ahead more, it seems like his play had paid off.

"…This means," Cheol begins suddenly, pulling Gayeong from her train of thought, "that the players weren't just competing against the games but against each other, too. There was in-fighting."

Gayeong frowns. "You mean…?"

"They were killing each other," he says grimly.

Cheol closes the video and moves to the next one, skipping past the game so they can see the survivors. The room looks empty this time, every player silent and despondent. Both of them search the group, and Gayeong can hear the quiet inhale when Cheol finds his sister.

"There's like twenty people left," Gayeong murmurs despite herself. Cheol grimaces.

They do the same thing with the fifth game, jumping to the end just in time to watch 218, Cho Sangwoo, shove a man in front of him over the edge of the bridge they're walking on. Gayeong inhales sharply, but Saebyeok and Gihun are still there. They were both finalists.

The timer beeps just as her dad reaches the end of the bridge and Gayeong gasps as the bridge explodes behind them and glass rains down on the three remaining players.

The dormitory, when the camera cuts to it, is barren. Three beds against three walls, every other bed stripped out during the course of their game.

Her dad grabs Sangwoo's shoulder and the wide-angled camera zooms in as best its able to focus on Gihun's face.

"Why'd you do that?"

"You wanna say something to me?"

"Why go up and push that guy?"

Sangwoo scoffs and it sets Gayeong's teeth on edge. "You got lucky, choosing the back of the line. It made it really easy for you, didn't it? What if that guy ended up wasting our time on that tile like the one before him? Would you have done nothing?"

"But he was on the last tile. He would have moved to the next one soon."

"No, you don't know that! That last guy could tell the tempered glass apart the whole time, but he just watched all those people fall through and die."

"The only reason you and I even made it is 'cause he could tell the tiles apart."

"That's bullshit! I don't know about you, but I am not still alive because of that guy. I'm still alive because I worked hard to make sure I stayed alive in this place."

"Stop with the excuses, I'm not buying it. You still killed someone. His blood's on your hands."

"You're delusional! We have to kill everyone else anyway, to leave here with all that money. You should be thanking me that you don't have the blood on your hands."

Her dad is silent now, staring at Sangwoo with that same steady gaze. "…And if it were me on that tile?"

"For fuck's sake! Gihun-hyung! Do you know why your life is so pathetic? It's because every time you open your mouth, you say something idiotic. Because you're an absolute fucking moron who's too slow to keep it shut. You couldn't even tell shit from soybean paste unless you ate it."

Gihun steps closer, until they're inches apart. "…Okay. That's right, that's how I got caught in all this. Because I was slow, crazy incompetent. Just a dimwit who lives off his mother, but you're with me in this place. Isn't that interesting?"

Gayeong swallows, feeling a burning in her eyes as her dad describes himself.

"Why is that? Ssangmun-dong's golden child, the genius Cho Sangwoo, who went to SNU. Why is he here? Rolling around in this shithole, slumming it with us simpletons, huh? Is it my fault that you're here?"

An alarm blares in the video and the camera cuts away from the two of them. Gayeong exhales a shaky breath as Cheol turns down the volume.

"Do you want to take a break?" he asks softly.

Gayeong shakes her head. She doesn't want to make Cheol wait longer than he already has. As hard as it is to watch, it's easier knowing that at least her dad is going to survive this. Cheol can't say the same.

Still, something uncomfortable settles in her stomach. Three players left and one game, but…they've shown now that they're willing to kill one another for it. Will her dad?

What if…what if her dad is the reason Cheol's sister is dead?

Cheol seems to reach the same conclusion she has, swallowing nervously. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I can keep going if you can."

Cheol nods, tearing his gaze away from her to turn the volume back up. The three finalists have been given fresh clothes—suits, by the look of it, though their player numbers remain emblazoned on their chests. The video had shown one of those anonymous pink guards speaking to them before it cuts to her dad again, now standing in the darkened room next to one of the beds. And—Saebyeok, difficult to make out in the dark.

"You're not holding up too well, huh?"

"No, it's okay, I feel fine," Saebyeok says distantly. Gihun sits down on the floor next to her bed.

"Then how come you barely touched your food earlier?"

"It wasn't very well cooked, that's all."

"Stop lying, please."

"And if I'm hurt? Are you gonna try to treat it? You need to think about yourself. Just leave me, I'll be okay."

She hears it when Cheol makes a quiet sound, and Gayeong reaches out to take his hand again. He squeezes once, grateful.

In the video, Gihun turns to look at the young woman. "Hey, Kang Saebyeok. We should stick together. We can beat him. Whatever the game, we'll help each other get through this as teammates. Show that psychopath what we can do. Share all that prize money and just run away..." His gaze moves skyward, as does the young woman's, lit in a warm gold.

"And do you know what you're gonna do with all that money once you get out?" Saebyeok asks.

"I'd pay my debt off first. And buy a nice, clean store in the city for my mom. She always hoped to run a real store, not just a cramped little stall. And I would..." his voice breaks, and Gayeong feels her breath hitch in her chest. "Finally start being a dad to my girl...for once in my life."

"How old's your daughter?"

"She's ten."

"That's also how old my little brother is." Cheol inhales, too, his grip on her hand tightening.

"And where is your brother staying now?"

"An orphanage. I promised that he'd get out of there soon. Our mother is stuck in the North right now. I said I'd get her once I was able to make enough money, and I'd get us all a house."

"There's so much in there. I think even with half, you'll have plenty." There's a pause before Saebyeok speaks without looking at him. "Hey, Gihun. I think you and I should make a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"Just in case either of us...can't actually make it out of this hellhole somehow, we'll look after each other's loved ones, okay?"

"Don't say that, come on. We'll beat Sangwoo, and then we'll get out of here together."

Gayeong can feel it as Cheol begins to tremble beside her, crying in earnest now. All she can do is press closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. He turns his face into her hair, hiding from the video as it continues to play.

"I still want you to swear, though," Saebyeok tells Gihun. "I need you to swear that you'll look after him."

Cheol lets out a sob.

Gayeong makes the executive decision to stop the video.

"Cheol, I don't think you should continue watching," she tells him gently.

Cheol shakes his head. "N-no, I—I owe it to her t-to—"

"You don't owe that to her, Cheol," Gayeong tells him. "She wouldn't want you to to hurt yourself for her sake. Come here, let's go to the bed, okay? These chairs kind of suck."

He laughs through his tears and lets Gayeong guide him away from the laptop to settle on the bed. She leans back against the stiff pillows as Cheol lays his head in her lap.

Cheol is a quiet crier, but that's alright. Gayeong cards her fingers through his hair, and they stay there until Cheol finally calms down enough to breathe easily again.

Cheol leaves without returning to the computer, for which Gayeong is grateful. After he's gone, she brings her laptop to the bed and curls up under the covers, connecting her headphones and returning to the video. A part of her feels guilty, even though Cheol never told her she couldn't watch it. Besides, this way if he wants to know, she can tell him without subjecting him to the video itself.

She hits play as her father brings a finger to his lips, shushing Saebyeok. She doesn't understand at first, until he climbs to his feet, his eyes trained on the figure across the room.

It's hard to tell from the distance of the camera, but she assumes that her dad sees something she doesn't. That Cho Sangwoo has fallen asleep, perhaps.

She bites her lip and feels her pulse thunder as he reaches into his pocket. Is he…?

And then, Saebyeok's faint voice: "Don't do it."

Gihun freezes in place, and she continues. "That isn't you. You're a good person at heart."

She tastes copper and Gayeong realizes she's bitten through the skin of her lip.

Saebyeok lists to the side.

Gayeong runs her tongue across the wound, probing it, irritating it.

Gihun turns and rushes back to Saebyeok's side.

"Hey. Hey, what's wrong? Hey, you're—you're—what happened? When? When did you get hurt?" The camera is too far away for her to see like this, but she can hear it in the fading of Saebyeok's voice.

"Mister…I think I wanna go. I'd like to go home now."

Gayeong recalls the way their team had built defenses one night, still working together. How easy it would be for her dad to turn on her now, while she was injured and weak. But he doesn't. He doesn't hesitate, or even seem to think about how much money must be at stake.

"Hey, hold on, Saebyeok. Stay here. Don't let yourself go, just keep on holding this. I'll go get someone, okay?"

Her dad gets up, running to a set of metal doors on the far wall and pounding frantically.

Gayeong digs her teeth back into the wound.

"Hey, hey! We need help. She's lost a lot of blood! Somebody get in here!

"There's a badly injured girl!"

Gayeong inhales. Her dad continues screaming at the door, but she can't hear him anymore as Cho Sangwoo sits up. He looks, only briefly, in Gihun's direction before he slips off his bed with a weapon in hand.

Saebyeok doesn't even move when Sangwoo approaches. When he stands over her and—

Gayeong swallows the lump in her throat as the flourescent lights in the video turn on. A buzzer sounds, and then those pink guards march in carrying a—a—

A coffin.

Gayeong's breath hitches, and then again as she watches her dad's eyes follow the casket. The moment he turns and realizes what's become of his friends.

He runs. He runs as if it's not already too late, as if there's still some chance that she might—

The camera angle changes, captured from the body camera of a guard as Gihun lifts the girl into his arms. Gayeong stares at the blood smeared across her face until tears blur her vision and all she can do is listen to the desperate way he repeats Saebyeok's name, over and over again.

"No. Oh, no. Oh, Saebyeok."

Gayeong begins to sob, just like Gihun. She curls in on herself and bows her head, unable to catch her breath as Gihun pleads with Saebyeok. As he stops and turns his head towards Cho Sangwoo. She feels another sob torn from her throat as throws himself at Sangwoo, angry. Heartbroken.

He's struck by a guard, pinned down, and all Gayeong can do is listen to him sob as they lower Kang Saebyeok into her coffin.

Gayeong watches the final game, unable to resist the need to know.

Gihun glares at Sangwoo as they both enter the field. Gayeong can feel it, the burning anger that must have boiled in his chest.

It starts as a game until suddenly it's not. Suddenly it's a terrible brawl as the men strike one another and swipe with the knives in their hands. Gayeong's entire body is tense as she watches them, crying out when Sangwoo swings his knife at Gihun and her dad catches it with his hand.

It goes straight through his palm and even at a distance, Gayeong has to look away.

She puts her hands over her face, peaking through like it's just a horror movie and not the fight of two mens' lives.

And then…Gihun wins.

It's brutal, but he doesn't kill Sangwoo. He stands up and turns, seemingly returning to the game.

The camera moves and Gayeong realizes it's more bodycam footage. A sliver of pink enters the camera's view as the guard points his gun at Sangwoo.

"I wanna end here," Gihun abruptly says off-screen.

The guard turns until Gihun and Sangwoo are both in the frame. Her father is a wreck: his face is bloody and the pouring rain makes his hair cling to his face. He clutches his injured hand with the other. Gayeong's heart aches.

"Clause three of the agreement. The players are able to end the game when the majority agrees… so if we both give up now…you have to end it, right?"

Everything is quiet but the rain, and then Gihun says his friend's name.

Gayeong can't even believe the man is still alive, but he is, somehow. He says something to Gihun, but Gayeong can barely hear it over the rushing in her ears.

Gihun offers his hand, offers to leave billions and billions of won behind.

Sangwoo slits his own throat.

Gayeong closes the video, unable to watch her dad's reaction, but now she's hungry for more, desperate to see how four years had treated him.

She goes to the 2024 folder and opens the video for the first day. She tries to skip through it for any sign of her dad, rewinding quickly when he appears almost immediately. Within the players' dormitory,

Gihun glares at the camera as if he knows it's there, and Gayeong pauses the video to stare at him. He looks so different from the previous games, his long hair shorn off and his face gaunt.

She understands now what Hwang Inho meant when he said that this competition created survivors, not winners.

Gihun doesn't say anything and the video moves on, highlighting interesting or noteworthy conversations. Gayeong skips ahead again until the players are taken to the same field they started on in 2020. She rewinds when she sees someone push through the crowd with 456 emblazoned on the back or their track jacket.

"Everyone! Everyone, listen up! Pay attention!" he yells. The camera is too far away for Gayeong to see him properly, but she recognizes his voice. "Listen carefully!"

Gayeong holds her breath as Gihun speaks, terrified that one of the snipers will kill him for revealing the games' secrets ahead of time.

"This is not just a game! If you lose the game, you die!"

A murmur builds in the crowd as people react to that. Gayeong realizes as she sees a couple people laugh that they don't believe him. She digs her nails into the palms of her hands, glaring at the people on the screen. How dare they laugh at him when he's trying to save their lives.

He keeps trying despite their obvious dismissal.

"No matter what happens, do not panic and start running!"

He stays in place as the timer begins and Younghee begins singing, trying to keep the others calm and level-headed.

They make it nearly two minutes without a single death. Gihun reminds them to freeze before Younghee is finished singing each round.

Gayeong doesn't know what causes the first death, but after it begins nearby players start running away just like they had in the first video she'd watched. Her dad doesn't stop yelling for everyone to freeze. And though she can't say by how many, the initial wave of eliminations is visibly less than the video she'd watched of 2015.

The remaining players start listening to Gihun then. He takes control, running to the front again and telling them to line up in a formation. And they listen, working together to avoid getting caught. It works for the most part, other than a man with purple hair who appears to sabotage the others. It makes her sick to her stomach as she watches him skip forward without a care for the people he's just killed.

After they return to the dormitory, Gayeong tries to gauge how many people survived. Her efforts are unnecessary when the guards return to announce the results of the first game.

She realizes she almost feels hopeful when Gihun calls for a vote, that maybe these people will get out.

That's what she thinks until the guards tell everyone about the prize money. The camera pans across the entirety of the dormitory as a golden piggy bank is lowered from the ceiling. It's absurd, and yet every player in the room lifts their gaze, and Gayeong just knows they have no intention of leaving.

The voting process appears to have been edited down for time, but even so, Gayeong begins to skip ahead after her dad casts the first vote. She almost closes the video before she sees player one striding between the two groups of players.

She stares at him, because it can't be, but it is…

Hwang Inho.

The next morning, Cheol texts her.

[Kang Cheol]
Did you watch it?

Gayeong doesn't have to ask to know what he's referring to.

[Seong Gayeong]
Yes.

The speech bubble pops up and disappears for nearly a minute as Cheol struggles to find what he wants to say, so Gayeong tells him without his needing to ask.

[Seong Gayong]
She didn't suffer. It was fast.

It takes nearly five more minutes for Cheol to respond.

[Kang Cheol]
Thank you.

Gayeong stares at the texts for a long time before she finally replies.

[Seong Gayeong]
I'm going back to Junho's today. Do you want to come with me?

[Kang Cheol]
I think I'm going to stay home today. Is that okay?

[Seong Gayeong]
Of course.
Just text me if you need anything, okay?

She doesn't wait for a reply before changing. Though she doesn't like to wear her dad's tracksuit outside, she wears his baseball cap most places these days, and she slips it on before she pockets her room key and heads out.

When she gets to Junho's apartment and knocks, Jinyeong is the one who opens the door, her hands raised over her head to reach the doorknob.

"Unnie!"

"Did you open that door all by yourself, Jinyeong-ah?" Gayeong asks, alarmed. She comes inside and closes the door behind herself as Junho comes out of the kitchen.

"Jinyeong!" he snaps. "You cannot open the door when I'm not with you."

Jinyeong pouts, reaching for Gayeong's hand. "It's just unnie," she whines.

"You didn't know that until you opened the door. If it was someone bad, then they could grab you right out of the house."

Jinyeong squirms uncomfortably in place. "Sorry, papa."

Junho flinches, just barely. If Gayeong hadn't been looking for it, she wouldn't even have noticed. "It's okay," Junho tells Jinyeong, "just try to remember to wait next time. Now go on, your breakfast is on the table."

He sighs when she goes into the other room and gives Gayeong a faint smile. She can see how tired he always looks these days.

"Did you watch any of the videos last night, oppa?"

Junho shakes his head, but he's prevented from replying as his mother comes out of her room.

"Oh, good morning, Gayeong-ah. It's so wonderful to see you again."

Gayeong smiles at her and gives a small bow. "Good morning, grandma."

"Ma, are you still good with taking Jinyeong today?"

Malsoon waves one hand dismissively at her son. "I may need your help around the house these days, but I can still take my granddaughter out for a nice day. We'll go to the park and the library."

Junho nods. "Call if you need anything."

They can't say much else until Malsoon and Jinyeong are gone, but Malsoon lures Gayeong into a discussion of her graduation and upcoming school year during breakfast. Afterwards, Gayeong starts cleaning up as Junho helps Jinyeong get her shoes on.

The apartment is quiet after Jinyeong is gone. Gayeong stacks the dirty dishes together on the dining table as Junho begins washing them.

"Inho was…in the first game in 2024," she says after a moment.

Junho drops the plate that he's holding and it clatters loudly against the other dishes, splashing water up onto his chest. "What do you mean?" He turns to look at her. "You saw him?"

Gayeong nods. "Well, not in the game itself. But I saw him during the player vote. He was dressed like a player and everything."

"You can show me when we're done."

Gayeong nods and finishes bringing him the dishes.

Junho finishes quickly and brings his laptop out of his bedroom, setting it on the kitchen island and plugging in the flash drive. Gayeong skips past the first game and most of the vote, stopping on player one's vote. Even from the longer range of the camera, they can see his face.

Junho frowns, leaning forward in his seat.

After the vote's wrapped up, the workers bring in food for the players. The cameras skip around between conversations of interest before it stops on a shot of Inho with a crowd gathered behind him as he speaks to Gihun.

"Sir, you know what's next, don't you?"

Player 390, sitting next to her dad, sits up. "Oh, yeah. You won this whole thing before so you know what game to is. So what are we playing?"

"The second game we…we played was dalgona."

A man Gayeong can't identify speaks next. "Dalgona? Like, the honeycomb you carve the shape out of?"

"That's right. We had to pick one out of the four shapes they showed us."

"Okay, then. So, of those, which one was the easiest to do?" 390 asks.

"The triangle."

"And which was the hardest one?"

"Umbrella."

Inho speaks again. "Umbrella?" He scoffs. "What…so players actually picked umbrella? They had no idea what the game was so I bet they were totally screwed, right?"

"Wait," someone else says. "That means we all just need to pick the triangle. I feel like everyone should be able to get through this one, right?"

"Hey, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, quiet." Player 100, an older man, pushes his way to the front of the crowd. "If all 365 of us survive, that means the prize will stay the same. We'd have risked our lives to play another game for nothing."

The crowd behind Inho whispers in agreement, though he doesn't speak, turning his gaze on Gihun to gauge his response.

"Good," 100 continues at a whisper. "We keep this quiet. It stays between us so that means we're the only ones who know. Sound good?"

"We can't do that," Gihun disagrees immediately. "The only reason I'm telling you this now is because I wanna try and save everybody. When I'm positive dalgona's the next thing we're playing, then I'll tell every single player here what I just told you people."

100 scoffs as the rest of the group disperses in frustration, but Inho stays and the group continues to speak until a fight breaks out on the other side of the room.

Inho stands up, pushing between 390 and 388 to approach the fight.

"Hey, kids. What makes you think you can behave like that? Especially while people are eating. And in front of your elders, too. It's bad manners, not to mention it's two against one. Shame on you guys."

One of the guys turns around to face Inho, and Gayeong recognizes his purple hair: player 230, the man who'd pushed people in the first game.

"You're in here just like everyone else. So cut the lecture, grandad. How about instead of yip-yapping at me, you go back home to your own kids, you yell at them?"

Gayeong can't see his face, but she can hear the quiet intake of breath from Junho to her left. "What'd you say?"

"I said save the lecture for your own kids."

Before the words are even fully out of his mouth, Inho grabs the kid by his neck. His relaxed posture doesn't even change despite the vice-like grip.

The other young man who'd been involved in the fight, with long, greasy hair, comes to his friend's defense. "Hey, get your fuckin—"

Inho kicks him viciously despite the slip-on shoes inappropriate for a proper fight, and then again to knock him to the floor.

He shoves the first kid with purple hair backwards. He doesn't antagonize the kid, doesn't even make a move to follow up his attack until 230 comes back at him. Only then does Inho strike him twice more, but this time he doesn't give 230 another chance to walk away. The kid puts one hand up in surrender, only for Inho to grab his hand and twist, using 230's momentum against him to throw him to the ground and kick him again and again.

230 moans on the ground and tries to push himself out of reach as Inho stalks his movements so casually, like a shark to the blood of an insignificant fish in the water. It's cold and dispassionate, telling 230 his place is beneath Inho.

Inho grabs his throat, ready to hit him again. In the silent room she can hear, just barely, as the kid tries to apologize around Inho's chokehold, and Gayeong doesn't know, for a moment, if he'll let go. She holds her breath, half-convinced he'll kill the kid right then and there, but after a moment he finally lets go and stands up. He stares down at 230 as the other players begin to applaud, taking a couple half-steps back as he seems to come back to himself and remember that they're not alone. He gives a small bow and laughs almost bashfully, rubbing the back of his head, and both ends of the spectrum feel foreign to the man Gayeong's known.

Gayeong looks at Junho to gauge his reaction as the video moves on. Her stomach twists uncertainly as she sees the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

"Is that…what he's usually like?" Gayeong asks hesitantly.

Junho looks away from the video to glance at her, his expression becoming something more neutral. "Only to the people who deserve it."

Gayeong isn't so sure about that, but she doesn't argue. It helps her reconcile a little better the man she'd met and the things he'd told her in his letter, his role in these games.

The video ends in the night as the players go to sleep, lingering on a few notable players before the screen goes black.

Junho reaches out to start the next one wordlessly.

This video begins in the play room for the second game, nothing significant seemingly have happened in the night. The players filter into the room as the announcer asks the players to break into groups of five.

"Dalgona's not a team game though, right?" she can see 390 say next to her dad.

"It is dalgona, isn't it?" Player 100 asks.

"Uh…I don't think it is, no," Gihun says quietly.

"If not dalgona, then what?"

"I don't know what we're playing."

Gayeong watches as 100 begins to get more aggressive. "What? You said you'd done this before. With the triangle, remember? Or were you lying?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?! Not as cocky as you were yesterday. What are you gonna do about everyone who voted to stay because of your crap? How are you gonna make it right?!" Gayeong's hands ball into fists in her lap as a flush of rage rushes through her. How dare he blame her dad for his own choices?

Inho steps between the two of them before Gihun can reply, inches from 100's face. Even from the camera's distance, she can see the old man's wariness to challenge Inho after the previous night's fight.

"That's enough," Inho says quietly. Player 100 takes a half-step backwards and she can't help the vicious thrum of pleasure it gives her.

The assembled group seem to decide Inho's not worth the risk, making a few more snide comments before they disperse to find a team.

Gayeong frowns at the screen, trying to puzzle out Inho's motivations as her dad apologizes and Inho tells him, "For what it's worth, I still trust you."

By his own admission, Inho had been trying to stop her dad from sabotaging the games. Was this an attempt to monitor him from up close?

Teams begin to form as the players mill around the room, the wide camera angle far enough away to capture the entire room and watch the timer count down while audio of the players' conversations is shared.

When less than two minutes remain on the clock, Gayeong sees 388 return to her father's group with a fifth teammate, but before anything can be decided, she sees a young woman approach the group, her number hard to read from this distance.

"Excuse me.

"Do you think I could join you guys?" she asks when she's closer.

"I'm sorry, we got our fifth player a second ago," Player 390 says.

"Please help me. I—I'm pregnant."

Gayeong inhales, turning to look at Junho as they come to the same conclusion: this is Jinyeong's mother.

Gihun is the one to agree after a beat. "Of course you can join us," he says without giving the others a chance to say no. "Whatever the game is, we'll help you get through it."

Most of the teams are formed by this point, though player 044 makes a show of offense for not being approached sooner by a group of four others, completing one of the final teams. The teams are split into two groups and directed to sit within the two rainbow tracks as the rules are explained. It's a six-legged pentathalon with mini-games: ddakji, flying stone, gonggi, spinning top, and jegi.

A murmur breaks out as the teams begin to decide amongst themselves who will play what game.

The first two teams fail. One of them gets stuck on the second game. Gayeong draws her knees to her chest and hides her face as 198 tries again and again. Her stomach turns as she watches the other team continue to move farther and farther, but even they only make it as far as spinning top before the time is up.

"Gayeong," Junho says when he sees her reaction, lowering the volume. "Are you sure about this? You don't have to watch."

She nods with her face still against her knees, and looks up a moment later. "I'm not stopping now."

Junho studies her, frowning, before he finally nods. "Alright."

Something happens in the second round. As the two teams move along the track, the rest of the players get swept up in their success, cheering them on through each game won. The energy is infectious, starting with one or two until it grows. By the time player 044 makes it through spinning top, the entire room is on their feet cheering the team on. When player 120 asks the others to look away before she starts the final game, they do, and as they cross the finish line—the entire room erupts into screaming cheers. The camaraderie of the players is unlike any other game that she's watched thus far, and for a second time she finds herself swept up in the energy, thinking to herself maybe this will be enough. Maybe after this they'll vote to leave.

Her dad's team is one of the final two. The first three players—Jinyeong's mother, 390, and 388—all pass their games within the first minute and a half. And then they get to spinning top, and Inho fails. Gayeong finds herself surprised, though she supposes that running the games doesn't necessarily mean he would be good at all of them, but then Inho ushers Gihun out of his space for the second toss and Junho's brow furrows.

Gayeong glances from him and back to the screen. "What? What is it?"

The second attempt fails, too, the top somehow launching backwards as Junho says, "he's using the wrong hand."

"What?"

Junho rewinds to confirm that yes, both initial attempts had been thrown with his right hand, and he glances at Gayeong fleetingly before he looks back to the screen with a thoughtful look on his face. "My brother is left-handed."

Gayeong frowns. "Why would he do that?"

He shakes his head slowly with consideration. "…My guess is to run down the timer," he says after a moment.

She nods, accepting the answer. Inho picks up the spinning top and the team begin marching forward again. This time, the top barely makes it a foot from the team.

Her dad is the one who picks it up off the bloody floor, holding it out in offering to Inho. "Okay now we really are cutting it close n—"

"Pull it together, what the hell?!" Inho screams suddenly, startling her. When he starts slapping himself, she jumps in alarm, looking to Junho again for understanding.

"You piece of fucking shit! You ruin everything! You're worthless!"

Her dad bodily stops Inho from hitting himself again, interrupting his hysterical screaming. "Hey! No one's blaming any of this on you! Now, take a deep breath, okay? You played this when you were a kid. Try to recapture how that felt. Good, now deep breaths."

Inho does as Gihun instructs as he continues guiding him through the next throw. This time, when he throws the top he throws with his left hand. It hits the ground spinning, and Junho purses his lips.

With twenty seconds left on the clock, they get to jegi with only enough time for one attempt. Inho is the one to save it at the last second when the jegi goes wide, shoving his and Gihun's shackled feet so far forward that he stumbles. But it touches, just enough. They cross the finish line with less than a second to spare.

All five of them cheer, cut short only by the sound of gunfire as the other team is gunned down. In the silence, Gayeong looks to Junho again.

"I don't get it," she says, frowning. "Why waste all that time if he was going to help my dad in the end?"

Junho weighs his words carefully as he speaks, but despite the fact that Gayeong is so much younger than him, he finds that she's easier to talk to than—well, than most people these days, at least about Inho. His mother remains unaware of the truth of her step-son's disappearance, and Wooseok and Kim, though close friends—they'll never really be able to understand Junho's complicated feelings about Inho. Even all these years later, he finds himself reluctant to voice his anger and resentment for Inho because he doesn't want Wooseok and Kim to develop a biased, one-dimensional view of him.

But Gayeong—Gayeong has met him. And not just that, she seems to harbor…if not affection, then at least some level of respect for him. In a way, he imagines it's similar to the complicated feelings she holds for her father, and it means that Junho can be honest with her without fear that it might turn her against Inho.

He realizes he still hasn't answered her question. "…Before he was let go, Inho was the best detective in the SMPA. He was good at knowing exactly what to say to get someone to confess.

"I think…he wanted to see what your dad would do," he concludes. "If Gihun would blame him for failing. But I…don't think he genuinely wanted his team to die. They were the last players there, so if they had failed, the guards could have shot everyone else and left him alive to return to his role. He wasn't in any danger, so the choice to help Gihun at the end…"

He trails off, but Gayeong thinks she understands, sort of.

Back in the dormitory, the players vote to stay for another round. Inho switches his vote to an X, but player 390, her dad's friend—he changes to O.

That night when they go to bed, Gihun makes sure they build a barricade. But the night is peaceful, and day two ends quietly.

Gayeong wants to ask Junho if they can take a break, but he opens the next video like a man possessed. She can't blame him, not when she'd felt the same way about watching her dad last night. But something about seeing him now, so much quieter and with such sad eyes—it's hard to watch.

Inho plays in the third game, too. His partnership with Gihun seems well-cemented by this point, and their team of five stick close to one another as they climb onto the platform for Mingle.

When the lights go out and the platform begins to spin, the sound of children singing is overlaid.

Everything is chaos when the numbers are called and it's nearly impossible for Gayeong or Junho to see what's happening. The camera cuts between the guards shooting the players outside the locked rooms and anything it finds noteworthy inside—groups with the wrong number of people, the fights that start to break out between the players trying to claim the same room, a mother and son reuniting between rounds.

On the final round, a player's voice is cut over the aerial view of the room.

"What number do you think we're gonna get next?"

And then, Inho's voice: "Two.

"We're at a hundred and twenty-six people, and there are fifty rooms. Even if there's two in every room, then there's still only enough for a hundred of us. If you don't find one fast, you're done for."

The platform stops and the announcer calls the number two, just as he'd "predicted." Everyone begins running as the lights begin to flicker, disorenting them. As it cuts between rooms, the camera stops on Inho's room.

Three people.

"Out," Inho orders the man in the corner. When he protests, Inho doesn't give him a second chance, advancing on the man and grabbing him in a chokehold.

The crack of the man's neck as the announcer reaches two is deafening in the apartment.

Junho pauses it. "Gayeong, maybe you shouldn't—"

"I told you already, I'm not stopping," she tells him decisively. "We're in this together now."

Junho grimaces, but he doesn't argue further.

The rest of the video is that night's vote, which ends in a tie. The players are told they'll have the opportunity to vote again in the morning. As they sit around before lights out, the cheerful announcer begins to call out player numbers.

Gayeong watches the way her dad slowly stands up in the crowd as everyone else looks around in confusion.

Players begin to filter into the room saying that a fight broke out in the bathroom. They split into their two factions, Xs and Os, and begin to do a headcount. But the rest of the video is...strange, jumping abruptly around.

Her dad's voice plays over footage of the timer counting down to light's out. "Once the lights go out, the ones who wanna stay are gonna try and come for us."

It goes dark and the screaming starts only a few moments later, but at the end of the fight as the main doors open and the lights come back on, the video ends.

Gayeong furrows her brow and exchanges a look with Junho, who seems just as confused. She checks the timestamp, but it really does appear to be the end of the video.

If she's expecting an explanation in the next day's video, she's sorely disappointed. When it starts, the crowd has thinned out and her dad—her dad sits on the floor, handcuffed to one of the beds. His gaze is angled downward, the camera too far away to see his expression.

Junho frowns, leaning forward in his seat to study the video closer.

"They lost a lot of people in the fight that night," Gayeong says quietly.

"Yeah," Junho says distantly, but he doesn't sound convinced.

"What is it?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not sure, something feels off. The way it's edited just…looks like something was intentionally left out."

Gayeong frowns and looks at the video, trying to see it through Junho's eyes. "Like what?"

"I'm not sure. But…don't you think it's strange they the didn't show us the results of the riot in the dark?"

"Yeah, I…guess so? But what would they be trying to hide?"

He shakes his head again. "I don't know. Maybe Gihun did something that Inho was worried would displease the VIPs, so he cut it out."

Gayeong glances back to the screen as the players are ushered into the room for the next game: hide and seek. "Inho isn't here, either," she observes.

"He probably snuck out during the fight in the night."

Gayeong nods, falling quiet as the rules are explained to the players. Hiders must hide or attempt to escape the maze; seekers must kill one hider to pass. She swallows hard when she sees her dad is a seeker.

Is this it? Will her dad be killed when he refuses to kill another player?

Though Gayeong wants to skip ahead, Junho seems content to watch the video in its entirety, so she refrains, pinning her hands under her thighs as she chews on the inside of her lip. Their playing field is some horrible amalgamation of a basement and a primary school, cement walls and floors decorated with children's drawings. The ceilings are low enough to make Gayeong feel claustriphobic as she watches.

The video seems to focus on two young men for the most part, players 124 and 333. They're both seekers, but even after they pass they continue searching for the more hiders to kill.

Intermittently, the camera cuts to Gihun.

He looks like he's hunting for someone, an intense look on his face that she's never seen before. He finds several hiders, but none of them seem to be the person he's looking for, because he lets them go every time.

The camera returns to Jinyeong's mother, as well: player 222. She's a hider, and when Gayeong sees that she's being helped by two other women, she has to blink back tears.

When player 222 tumbles down the stairs, Gayeong gasps, raising one hand to cover her mouth in horror. There's a man chasing the three of them, player 226, and he stalks closer as Jinyeong's mother moans on the floor.

And then—player 120 stands between the Jinyeong's mother and the man.

"Just move," he tries to tell her. "Okay, listen. The little bitch is the only one I'll kill.

"Or…you just hand me grandma instead."

Player 120 doesn't move. She puts her hands up to fight.

It's quick and brutal before 120 throws 226 over her shoulder and slams him into the ground. She shoves her knee into his throat and wrestles the knife out of his hand so she can force it down into his chest until he's dead.

She stumbles to her feet when she's done, staring down at the body of the man she's just killed for a moment before she looks around for the other two women. They're sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, but Jinyeong's mother's foot seems to be badly injured from her fall. When they help her up, her limp is prominent.

With fifteen minutes left on the clock, Jinyeong's mother goes into labor. The old woman she's with helps her lay down and drapes her own jacket over her knees. Gayeong brings her hands to her mouth, holding them there as the camera watches on dispassionately and Jinyeong's mother bites down on the sleeve of her jacket to muffle her screams.

Abruptly, the video cuts back to her father standing in the middle of a stairwell, gazing down at player 044.

"You egotistical moron," the woman says. "You couldn't hurt me no matter how hard you try."

Gihun doesn't respond. He doesn't even blink, taking one step down the stairs, then another, closer. Player 044 backs up until she hits the wall, cornered.

"Don't, please. I'll clear your bad karma."

Jun-ho scoffs beside her.

"No! You want him, right? The player who betrayed you? Player 388?" In these narrow halls, Gayeong can see the unnerving expression on her dad's face. Wide, intense eyes. An expression she's never seen on him before. "I saw him back there. Down the hall, a moment ago. He injured his leg. A trail of blood will show you the way. Kill him."

Her dad turns to look in the direction she points. "Kill the traitor. If you kill him now, all your bad karma will be cleared."

Gihun moves through the doorway in search of player 388.

When he walks through the halls, his place is sedate. He stares down at the trail of blood, just as the woman said there would be. Eventually, the blood leads him to another stairwell. Gihun climbs the stairs halfway before he turns around and walks back to the door, slamming it shut.

She can't see him at first, but slowly another man slides into the view of the camera from where he'd been crouching. Player 388.

The traitor, the shaman had called him. But how? Had he attacked her dad during the fight in the night?

"Hyung," he says, and Gayeong realizes how young he truly is as he puts his hands up and tries to move out of the corner. His voice trembles as he pleads with her dad. "I—I—I really tried to do my best, all right?" His entire body trembles as he flinches away from the slightest sign of aggression from Gihun.

"I—I wasn't a marine, okay? I lied about that. Also, I never even served. I never fired a gun. My tattoo—my tattoo's fake, too." His voice trembles. Gayeong grips the neck of her t-shirt, bringing it up to her mouth in some semblance of protection. "I lied, so I could team up with you.

"With you guys, maybe…even a fucking loser…would have a chance to survive."

Her chest aches as his lower lip trembles and he begins to sob. Surely her dad can't attack someone so defenseless.

"…It's your fault," Gihun says, and she realizes it's the first time she's heard him speak in this video.

"Hyung! Please, I s-swear. I was really—I was really going to return with those magazines. I swear I gathered the ammo, and I was gonna take t-them…But then, I just—I jus—I got freaked out and couldn't move."

"It's all your fault!" Gihun screams, shoving 388 into the stairs with his knife raised. Player 388 screams, but Gihun doesn't relent. "You killed them!"

"Please!"

"You fucking killed them all! You did!"

From this angle, all she can see is the way Gihun leans over the man, unable to see if he strikes with his knife.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," 388 continues to plead. "I'm sorry! Please don't kill me!"

She can see then as her dad raises his right hand, the blade poised to drive straight through 388's heart, but still he doesn't strike; his hand trembles.

"Don't, please! I don't wanna die…"

And then, suddenly, 388 slashes at her dad with something he seems to draw from his pocket, forcing Gihun to stumble off the stairs and into the corner, clutching his arm where he's been slashed.

"It's my fault?" Player 388 snaps, his desperate tears no where to be seen as he gains the upper hand and holds her dad at knifepoint. "You think it's my fault?

"What about you? Why are you the only one who's still alive?

"…It's you. It's all 'cause of you, isn't it? You tricked us so you could win the game by yourself. Huh?"

A desperate whimper forms in the back of her throat as 388 begins to laugh hysterically, and Gayeong pulls her legs back into her chair so she can wrap her arms around them, her expression pinching as she tries so desperately not to cry at the accusation, not when she knows how hard her dad has tried, over and over again, to help the people here, and for what?

"You killed them. You killed them all. You're a psycho! They're dead 'cause of you!" 388 yells.

Both men scream as her dad shoves 388 against the far wall, jamming his forearm under his chin and bearing down. It's too hard to see their scuffle until 388 tries to crawl up the stairs and Gihun grabs hold of him and pulls him back down. Her breath hitches in her chest.

Player 388 kicks him off and climbs the rest of the stairs as Gihun stumbles to his feet and follows him.

The camera angles shift as the video follows 388 through the maze. He opens a door, prepared to rush through before he stumbles backwards, and she can see from the angle that the door has opened to a drop of unknown height. A few seconds later, her dad runs into view of the camera.

"Stay away. Back off!" Play 388 shouts. He takes his shoe off and holds it as a weapon;. In any other situation it would almost be comedic, but right now Gayeong just feels nausea rolling through her in waves.

The two of them begin to fight. At some point, her dad loses the knife in his hand and then they're both unarmed, grappling at one another.

"Die!" 388 screams, wrapping his hand around her dad's throat. "Die!"

Gihun punches him hard enough to throw him off, then hard enough again to send 388 sprawling on the floor, and then he's on top of him, hitting him one—twice—and wrapping his fingers around 388's neck.

Player 388 grabs at his arm, desperate for purchase. Gihun doesn't let up.

When 388's hands go limp and fall to his sides, Gayeong inhales raggedly and watches as her dad slowly sits back, his hands falling away from the man's neck.

Her vision blurs, and Gayeong has to blink back tears as her dad returns to himself and realizes what he's done.

The camera goes to another player, but Gayeong is crying too hard to pay attention to what's happening, even as she registers distantly that it's Jinyeong's mother. She gasps unevenly for breath, her chest heaving, and she wishes—selfishly, she wishes Cheol were here, that he hadn't taken the day for himself so he could hold her hand and tell her it was going to be okay.

How will it ever be okay?

And then—she hears a baby's cry. Gayeong swipes frantically at her face until she can see again as the old woman holds up a baby for her mother to see. "Oh," the woman says, a glimpse of awe even in this moment. "A baby girl."

Jinyeong.

Gayeong begins to cry again, silently this time.

When the timer sounds and the game is concluded, the video returns to Gihun. He's in the same location; he sits against one wall as he stares blankly ahead, the body of 388 to his right. Gayeong feels the lump in her throat return as she stares at empty expression on his face.

Daddy…daddy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't help you.

And then, just barely loud enough for the camera to pick up, she hears him speak.

"It's all my fault."

Gayeong sobs, hiding her face in her knees as he lifts a blade to his throat. It's shot out of his hands by one of the pink guards before he can do anything, and Gihun is struck unconscious.

Wordlessly, Junho stops the video. He doesn't speak, just letting Gayeong cry as long as she needs.

"Why?" she bites out with a swell of rage. "He survived the fight, so why—why can't I stop crying?!"

She feels a hand on the top of her head and she finally looks at Junho.

"It's okay," he says softly. "These things don't always make sense."

Junho's acceptance makes her cry harder, until she wracks her body trying to breathe between the sobs.

"Come here," he says in that same soft voice, helping Gayeong to her feet and leading her into the living room. "Come on," he continues, helping her lay down on the couch. "Take a deep breath."

He sits on the coffee table directly in front of her as she slowly begins to calm down. It's touch-and-go as she thinks she's calmed down only to break into tears again moments later, but even she can't cry forever. As her heaving slows, Junho touches her hair again and stands up.

She stares blankly at the black screen of the TV as he goes into the kitchen. She can hear the sounds of tea as it's made, but she can't seem to find the effort to sit up.

She feels—she feels like the first day she found out he died.

Junho returns to the living room with two cups of tea that he sets on the coffee table.

"You should drink this," he says, his voice still gentle. "You're probably dehydrated from crying."

She doesn't speak, but somewhere she finds the strength to sit up and accept the mug. She only takes a few small sips, but she focuses on the way the mug burns against her palms, letting it ground her.

They sit in silence. Junho sips at his tea while Gayeong stares into hers.

"…Did Jinyeong's mother survive?" she asks eventually, finally lifting her gaze. She hadn't been able to see through her crying.

Junho nods. "The old woman protected her."

Gayeong nods, too, returning her gaze to her tea. "…Good," she says distantly. "That's good."

They lapse into silence once more. Junho doesn't seem in a rush to break it, something she's always appreciated about him.

When she finally speaks again, she can't look at him. "I think…you might be right," she whispers. "I'm not sure if I can keep watching."

"That's alright," Junho says. He sets his mug aside and watches her for a moment. "Why don't you rest your eyes for a bit, alright? I'm sure Jinyeong and my mother will be home soon."

Jinyeong.

Her heart clenches in her chest and Gayeong is suddenly desperate to pull the little girl into her arms and hold her there without ever letting go.

"Okay," she whispers, nodding slightly. She leans forward to set her mug back on the coffee table, and Junho stands up as she lays back down and fingers the edge of the throw pillow under her head. A moment later, she can feel it as he drapes a soft blue blanket over her.

A tear trails down her face as she grips the edge of the blanket and pulls it close.

Gayeong doesn't expect to fall asleep, but the next thing she's aware of is the sound of the front door unlocking.

"Papa!" Jinyeong squeals as she runs into the house. Gayeong sits up as Junho comes out of the kitchen and crouches down. When he picks her up, Gayeong can see how tightly he clings to the girl, kissing her temple and holding on like he never wants to let go.

"Hi, baby," he whispers.

"Jinyeong-ah, come take off your shoes," her grandmother reminds her. Jinyeong whines as Junho sets her down, but like a true child, she's over it by the time her shoes are off.

She runs to Gayeong next, jumping up onto the couch beside her. "Unnie!" she shouts, and Gayeong smiles as she pulls the girl into a hug.

"Hi, Jinyeong-ah. Did you have a good day today?"

Jinyeong nods emphatically, launching into a babbling story about her day as Gayeong holds her, unwilling to let go.

It lasts for several minutes before Junho comes around the back of the couch. "Okay, I think it's naptime, hm?" he asks as he picks her up. Jinyeong whines without much credibility as Junho carries her into her bedroom.

Junho's mother watches them with a soft expression as Gayeong observes her. She wonders what the woman knows about her step-son; how much Junho has told her.

The old woman sighs, turning to Gayeong. "How are you doing, Gayeong-ah?" she asks gently. "You look tired."

"Oh, I—" she hesitates, looking down at her lap. "I'm okay, I guess. I just…learned some unfortunate stuff about my dad, is all."

What Gayeong does know is that Malsoon knows she's the daughter of one of Junho's colleagues who was killed when they were working on a job together. If she thinks Gihun was another detective, Junho doesn't disabuse her of the idea.

Malsoon nods. After a moment, she moves to sit next to Gayeong on the couch with a small groan, and she looks at Gayeong with the quiet wisdom of an old woman.

"You know, my late husband…he wasn't a very good person." She sighs, glancing in the direction of Jinyeong's closed door where Junho puts her to bed. "And he wasn't a good father, either. Too busy with work and too strict when he was around. My eldest—" she falters briefly, and Gayeong realizes she's talking about Inho. "He was twelve when I first met him, and he was already so independent. Accustomed to looking after himself without help from anyone else.

"He was sixteen when Junho was born. I had a difficult pregnancy you see, and from the beginning Inho was always there to look after his little brother when I couldn't… sometimes, I worry he was a better parent to Junho than I ever was."

Her eyes glisten with unshed tears before she blinks them away and turns to smile at Gayeong. "I'm getting distracted. My point was…my husband wasn't a good person, but he was good to me. When we were together, he never so much as raised his voice to me. It took me a long time to reconcile those two things. Every person we love is a human being, just like us, with all our flaws and contradictions. I still love my late husband and I resent him for how he treated the boys. Sometimes, two opposing things can both be true.

"Too often these days people want a clean, easy answer. This person is good, that person is bad. But you know…sometimes there isn't an easy answer. Humans are complicated and messy."

Gayeong looks down at her hands, nodding slowly. "I guess…I sort of knew that," she says after a moment. "Like, I resent my dad because he wasn't around when I needed him. But I'm proud of him at the same time. Because he was trying to help people. And—and I—" her voice begins to waver and she sniffs, scrubbing at her face with one hand. "I still love him so much and when I think ab-about him dying, I'm so scared that—that he died thinking he was alone, or he failed, or he was a bad person. W-what if he died thinking I was ashamed of him?"

She bows her head, her shoulders beginning to tremble as she finally puts the words to why that video had made her so upset.

There's a gentle touch against her free hand and Gayeong looks up at Malsoon and tries to wipe her tears away. "He knew you loved him," she says softly. "I'm sure he knew."

Gayeong cries harder and lets Malsoon pull her into a hug.

"I imagine you've had this pent up inside of you for a long time," she says soothingly, rubbing her hand against Gayeong's back in calming circles. Gayeong nods against her shoulder.

"That's alright. You let it out now, sweetheart."

They stay like that until the door to Jinyeong's bedroom opens and Junho steps out, pausing in the hall when he sees them. "…Should I give you two some space?"

Gayeong laughs wetly and shakes her head. "No, I'm…I'm feeling better."

"Good." Malsoon squeezes her shoulder before letting Gayeong go. "I'm going to make dinner. Everything is harder to do on an empty stomach."

"Ma, you don't—"

"Please, Junho. I want to."

Juno sighs, knowing a losing battle when he sees one. "Okay, fine."

After dinner, Junho sends his mother to rest with no room for argument.

"Honestly, Junho, you treat me like a child sometimes," she huffs.

"That's because you don't know when to stop and you overextend yourself," he says without contrition.

Gayeong smiles to herself as she listens to them in the other room.

"Sorry about her," he sighs a few moments later as he returns to the kitchen. He frowns when he sees her standing at the sink washing up. "You don't have to do that."

"It's okay. I want to." She sets a plate in the drying rack and Junho takes that as his signal to finish drying the dishes and put them away.

They work in companionable silence for a minute before Gayeong speaks again. She keeps her eyes trained on the sink. "Oppa. Thank you for inviting me into your family."

She can feel Junho stop what he's doing and turn to look at her, but she doesn't meet his eye, embarrassed by the vulnerability.

He's quiet for a few seconds before he responds, turning back to the plate he's drying. "You don't have to thank me for that. After everything? As far as I'm concerned, you are family.

"You and your dad both."

Gayeong smiles faintly.

"On that note," he continues after a beat. "Did you…want to continue watching still?" Gayeong lets out a slow, deep breath, but doesn't respond right away, so he adds, "I skimmed the final two games while you were asleep."

Oh, Gayeong thinks to herself, feeling something warm in her chest. He did the same thing for me that I did for Cheol, so I wouldn't have to watch.

"What did you think?" she asks neutrally.

Junho considers the question. Unlike her, he doesn't fidget when he contemplates his words; he's eerily still in a way that's reminiscent of his brother.

"…Jinyeong's mother. Her name was Junhee," he says finally.

Junhee.

"She died in the fifth game," he continues. Distantly, Gayeong wonders what was played, but she can't bring herself to ask. "Your dad wanted to help her, but with her injury from the previous game…" he trails off. Gayeong swallows. She doesn't need him to spell it out: getting injured in a previous game is an all but guaranteed death sentence in a place like this, just like Saebyeok.

"I think he would have tried anyway, but before she died…she asked him to look after her daughter."

Junho huffs quietly in laughter. "I think I'm starting to understand your dad."

She gives him a curious look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean...I think he was at his best when he had someone to protect. Something to fight for. After Junhee died, he was the only thing standing between Jinyeong and the other players."

Gayeong goes quiet and turns off the faucet. She remembers, vaguely, the way her parents used to argue, before their divorce. When her dad had been laid off at his factory job, he'd rallied together with the other workers to get their jobs back. From what she'd read about it when she got older, the owners of the company called the cops in. They'd beaten and assaulted the workers for weeks and tried to turn them against each other. Though her dad never named it directly, Gayeong realized as she got older that he'd been suffering from PTSD ever since, his horse racing and smoking nothing more than coping mechanisms.

But...perhaps Junho was right. Perhaps the PTSD hadn't been all of it. Perhaps, too, Gihun had been adrift without a cause to champion.

She can't help the old, familiar bitterness such a thought brings, that she couldn't be enough for him. But with time and age, that feeling isn't quite so overpowering now, something she can look directly in the eye. It's like Malsoon said: sometimes there isn't a simple answer, and two opposing feelings can be true at the same time.

"I think you might be right," she says in a soft voice.

They're both quiet for a beat.

"Are you angry with him?" Junho asks.

Gayeong shakes her head. "No. Not anymore. l think...l just want to make him proud."

"You already have," Junho says. "But, if its still something you want, I think you can handle watching it. Maybe…it can give you closure. It's not…" he trails off, searching for the right word. "Graphic. Not like some of the others."

She nods. "Can we…do it tomorrow, though? I don't think—I'm not ready yet."

Junho puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes lightly. "Take as long as you need. I'll be here."

Gayeong stays until Jinyeong wakes up from her nap, playing with the little girl while Junho prepares her dinner. Afterwards, she returns to her hotel.

She really doesn't think she's ready to watch the video yet, but when she goes to bed that night, she can't fall asleep. She tosses and turns for hours before something compels her to fetch her laptop and open the video for the sixth game.

It's night when it begins. The players are all asleep—everyone except her dad, apparently. She can see him where he stands over the bassinet that was brought into the dormitory for the baby.

After a moment, he turns and begins to walk across the room, heading for the bed on the furthest left. In his right hand, he grips a weapon—not a used steak knife like the one he'd carried into his final game in 2020, but a true and proper dagger. Was it something he'd gained in the fifth game she hadn't watched?

When he stops beside 100's bed, she decides it doesn't matter how he got the knife. She holds her breath, watching as he presses the blade to the old man's throat, who doesn't even stir.

Gihun grabs the dagger with both hands, trembling. He's unable to press it any closer no matter how long he stands there, and finally—he stumbles away.

She lets out the breath she'd been holding as the video fades into the headshots of the final nine players. It's the first time Gayeong sees Jinyeong's mother up close, all the other videos of her taken from distant angles.

Junhee, Junho said her name was. She was beautiful.

The headshots fade out and the camera cuts to a top-down view of the largest room Gayeong has seen yet. Three pillars stand in the center with meters separating them: a circle, a triangle, and a square.

As the video goes on, the players emerge from somewhere on the bottom floor before they're loaded into an elevator in the center of the square pillar as the announcer begins explaining the game; they have to push a minimum of one living player off each pillar to advance to the next round.

Rage courses through her veins, her face flushing hot. This isn't a game. Not like the others where even in their cruelty, they paid homage to a real children's game. This is cruelty for cruelty's sake.

"All right, all right. We should think this through," player 100 says, raising his voice enough to be heard even by the cameras. She wrinkles her nose when she realizes the man has made it this far. "And try not to panic. Look, we all know where pushing and shoving will lead. If we do that, we could all end up dead, agreed?"

There's a murmur of agreement from the other players before he continues in a blatantly fake tone, "Hmm. Now this is tough, but all things considered, I think the best option at this stage is lose one each round, so we can keep the rest alive. Wouldn't you say so?"

"Well said," one of the other players says.

"I agree," says another. Someone even claps, as if player 100 has said something revolutionary.

But that means we still have to figure out how we pick the guy who's getting the axe," player 336 says; his voice sounds as fake as 100's. "Ah, that's a tough one, isn't it?"

"I say we vote," someone proposes. From this distance, it's hard to tell who's talking all the time. "After all, it's how we decided to keep playing in the first place, right? Voting on who to eliminate in each round is the democratic option."

The democratic option. It makes her sick, makes her…it makes her want this man dead. Gayeong tries to live her life as someone her dad would be proud of, but right now, she doesn't care if Gihun would disapprove. To act as if you can just vote on who to kill, as if being the majority gives them that right.

Player 203 claps, and Gayeong presses the ball of both palms against her eyes. For once, the tears that prick in the corners of her vision are tears of fury, not sadness. "Yeah, I like voting. Nice and fair. I say we do that. Huh?"

"Well, if we really want to be democratic, we should nominate a player and thoroughly discuss the option presented, then vote to see what happens."

Incredulous laughter bubbles in her throat. Thoroughly discuss the option presented? God, did these men believe their own fucking bullshit?

"Makes perfect sense to me. Hey, this is the guy who said he was a teacher on the outside, huh? Ah, no wonder he's so smart."

"Okay, great. Since there's no rush yet, I think we should start thinking about who we want to eliminate."

There's a beat of silence before Jinyeong begins to fuss, and Gayeong sucks in a deep breath as the players turn to look at her dad. Though it's hard to see from this distance, Gayeong thinks she can see on Gihun's face as he comes to the same realization she does.

Someone finally says aloud what they've all been thinking. "I, uh, think that, uh…that player 222's the one we should eliminate."

"Why choose the baby over everyone else?" 100 asks.

"Well, I mean, just think about it," the first man continues. "The mother was eliminated, and now it's the last game. And she's not even here, but her kid gets to continue? I just, you know, don't think it's fair."

"I agree," the man next to him says. "Allowing 222 to come back to the game as her child was wrong in the first place. That thing isn't able to vote on its own or play the games. If we eliminate 222 now, I truly think it'll make both the game and the voting process a whole lot fairer for everybody."

Gihun's expression sets in determination.

"Look, I don't talk as good as you. But that lump you're holding…" 203 begins walking towards Gihun, motioning to Jinyeong in his arms. "Say it gets out of here alive. What the hell's it even supposed to do? Its mother's dead. And I'm pretty sure dad's out of the picture. So who's gonna take care of that little baby? Use your brain. It's got no chance of making it…Can't you see that?"

But he's wrong. Gayeong thinks about Jinyeong, living and thriving with Junho and her grandmother. Loved, cherished…so smart that she's already beginning to read, and so kind that whenever a playmate hurts themselves on the playground, she always takes their hand and brings them to her dad to help.

On screen, Gihun takes a step backward from the guy. Slowly, the others fall in behind him as her dad is walked into the corner of the pillar.

"If no one objects, I say let's vote to see if player 222 is our final pick," 100 says definitively.

"Wait," player 333 interjects suddenly. It's the first time he's spoken. "I object."

The group of players begin to whisper amongst themselves, too quiet to be heard by the cameras. They glance in Gihun's direction a few times, who watches them warily. But after a minute of talking, they all turn to look at player 125 instead. He looks young, barely even in his 20s. Player 333 calls him a drug addict, and now that he's said it, Gayeong can see the sheen of sweat on his face and the white pallor of his skin and thinks 333 might be right.

When 100 calls for a vote, all six men in the middle of the platform vote for 125.

125 begins to plead with them as they fully turn away from Gihun and begin to advance on him. They talk about coming together and coming to a democratic decision as the young boy continues frantically apologizing, beginning for them not to kill him.

"I'm sorry, but…we need you to die now."

"Go to hell!" 125 screams. The others take a wary step back as he starts ranting in place, insisting that he hadn't meant for this to happen, hadn't known it would turn out like this. Gayeong has to look away uncomfortably.

"Enough of this!" 203 says. "There's no talking to this guy. Just push him off the edge!"

But nobody moves, and that's when Gayeong realizes—they're cowards, all of them. Not just selfish enough to willingly kill a newborn to save their own damn lives, but so scared of death that no one wants to approach 125 and push him because they're scared he'll fight back or pull them down with him.

They stand around uselessly for nearly two minutes before 333 finally pulls out the metal pole in the center of the pillar so they can push 125 from a distance.

"I'm sorry, Semi," 125 says through tears. They're his last words before he falls.

The other players don't even take a second to mourn him, congratulating 333 on his smart thinking as player 125's elimination is announced over the speakers.

A small bridge to the next platform extends from the pillar, and the announcer asks the players to step across to the next one. Gihun is the last, walking warily between the platforms as all the other players watch him like vultures.

333 stops 100 from pressing the button and starting the timer on the game in order to give them extra time to discuss.

They nominate Jinyeong as the next player to die.

"Alright. That's six votes out of eight. Which means that after a fair and democratic vote, the majority has come to the decision that player 222 is the next to go."

And then they have the audacity to try and rationalize themselves to her dad.

"Look, I know how you feel. No one wants that little kid to die in here. I'm a parent, I got two of my own."

"Sir. Look, we all feel bad. We do. We're human beings, just like you."

"And…its mother's gone. Don't you think it'd be right if we just, you know, ended its life now, painlessly?"

It certainly wasn't how they'd been talking just ten minutes ago. It makes her sick to her stomach.

"Here, sir, look. No need to do anything here. Just hang it on this pole, and…and we'll do the rest. We'll send it…off to a better place. Come on, you don't have to watch when it happens." Gihun doesn't move, and 353's mask starts to slip. "Just give me the baby—or else I'll have to push you both off!"

Her dad speaks for the first time, cutting straight to the heart of fear in all of them, just like he always has. "Yeah? And what will you do if you kill me and the kid? You gotta pick another one to die next round." He looks away from 353 and back to the other men. "And say that's what happens. Will you all draw lots? Or maybe…" He makes eye contact with 353. "They'll simply pick the easiest target."

A buzzer interrupts them as 203 steps on the button and the second round is announced.

353 hesitates, but slowly he continues advancing on Gihun. Gayeong can see that her dad continues to speak to him, maintaining eye contact, but she can't hear the rest of his words.

Whatever it is, it's enough to make 353 break and return to the others, replacing the pole in the center of the platform. The men begin arguing amongst themselves, their illusion of civility beginning to fracture as they're unable to come to a consensus.

203 is the one to make the first overt threat amongst their alliance.

"You want me to push you instead?!" he screams at 353.

The others of the group try to separate the two and calm things down, but it's player 333 who again announces he has an idea. The group start to whisper again, too quiet for Gayeong or even Gihun to hear them, but she assumes it's something to separate Gihun and the baby.

They begin tying their suit jackets together to form a rope. Player 336 is the one to approach her dad this time, while 333 stands close by with the metal pole.

When they finally tell Gihun their plan, it's drawing lots. Gayeong wrinkles her nose, skeptical of their honesty even as they offer to let Gihun go first and pick the order.

Her dad knows it, too. They try to urge him back to the center of the platform but Gihun tells them to bring the lots over and he'll draw his where he stands.

"O—oh, Oh, oh,okay. Just a minute. I'll just count them again to be sure," 100 says.

There's a moment of quiet before 336 rushes her dad, and Gihun draws the dagger he'd had with him the night before, but they're not—they're not trying to push him off, they're trying to pull him in.

Gayeong expects him to attack 336, but he doesn't. He uses the knife to cut the sleeve of one of the suit jackets they're using as a rope. The other man fall, and 336 puts his hands up and stumbles away from Gihun as he raises the knife defensively in his direction. 336 starts begging Gihun not to kill him, but behind Gihun, 333 continues approaching with the pole—to slip under the jacket Gihun is using as a sling for Jinyeong?

"Just fucking do it!" someone screams, and then 333 screams—

"Out of the way!!"

Gihun turns, stumbling out of the way as 333 rushes 336 and uses the pole to shove him off. Gihun and 333 look at one another as Gihun raises the knife. And 333—he says something. Gayeong is sure the camera picks it up, rewinding and increasing the volume on her headphones until she can hear it.

"I'm with you."

Her brow furrows, but…she thinks he's telling the truth. He'd yelled at Gihun to move out of the way, and on the first pillar—he'd been the one to talk them into pushing player 125 instead.

For whatever reason, she believes him; and for the moment, Gihun does, too. As the four other men scramble to their feet, player 333 and Gihun both point their weapons towards the group rather than each other.

There's only one last round, now. Gayeong swallows, terrified her dad will volunteer to jump to save Jinyeong, and these horrible men will get to reap the benefits. That they'll get to go on with their lives, completely untroubled by the people they've killed.

"I was trying to save the child," player 333 says when the men start accusing him of betrayal, telling her dad that 333 was the one who came up with the plan to kill Jinyeong first. "'Cause I…I'm the father."

Everybody goes silent; even Gayeong. Player 333…could it be true? Immediately, she opens up the player profiles as the video continues to play, scrolling past every other page uncaringly until she gets to player 333.

Lee Myunggi.

He looks to be around the same age as Jinyeong's mother, and according to his profile he was a popular crypto influencer on YouTube before the creators of the coin he promoted were charged with financial fraud, along with Myunggi himself. He'd ended up on the hook for 1.8 billion won and shut down his YouTube channel and disappeared.

Gayeong stares at his picture, searching for Jinyeong in his features.

She has his ears, Gayeong thinks.

"What are you doing!?" someone says in the video. Gayeong pulls it back up quickly and her eyes widen when she sees three of the men have surrounded player 039.

"Hold him tight," 203 says before he punches him over and over again. Gayeong flinches, bringing a hand to her mouth as she looks away in discomfort. What are they doing?

They drop player 039 to the floor and begin kicking him instead as player 100 looks at Gihun and Myunggi.

"Okay, everyone. Check it out. I just found us the solution to the game! We'll pack us a lunch box!" he declares.

What…?

"First, we beat him half to death, then we drag him over there to the circle, hit the button, then we go and we toss him off the edge. Game over!

"And then, us five—uh, right—uh, six, including the baby—the six of us will each get our share and then get out of here. 7.6 billion! How's that sound? I'd say pretty good!"

He turns back to 039 in delight and begins kicking him with the other two.

At some point, the three men stop. Player 039 crawls away from them, looking up at Gihun as he pleads for help, but 203 kicks him hard enough in the face to knock him backwards before he can go any further. He orders one of the others to grab 039's leg, and Gayeong thinks at first that he's trying to pick him up to carry him across as they'd discussed.

When he slams his foot down on the man's leg hard enough for Gayeong to hear the crack, she screams and immediately covers her mouth with both hands.

"There," player 203 says, crouching down beside 039 as he struggles to breathe. "Our lunch box." He pats the man roughly on his cheek and Gayeong squeezes her eyes shut, unable to watch the man's twitching any further.

"All ready to go." He laughs. He has the audacity, such lack of empathy, to laugh. "Now all we need to do is carry it over there. Huh?"

"Get back," her dad says, and when Gayeong opens her eyes, he's come closer, pointing his knife at player 203. Everyone is quiet enough now that she has to increase the volume back up, holding her breath.

"What?" player 100 has the gall to say. "Is something wrong?"

Gihun doesn't answer, but his gaze lowers to the man on the floor. "…This isn't the right way."

"Then what the hell do you suggest?!" player 203 snaps, his voice loud enough to make her flinch.

Gihun looks back up at the three of them. "…We will draw lots. Just like you said. Nobody has an edge.

"All except the child."

"Holy shit, come on. Are you for real?"

"We could end the game right here. Why the hell are you doing this to us?"

Gayeong feels that increasingly familiar rush of righteous anger. As if Gihun had done any of this to them, as if he hadn't been the one trying to get them out from the first day.

"Come on now, 333. This man's a menace, he's gonna turn on you! You can't side with that lunatic!"

Gayeong can see the way Myunggi falters, his grip on the pole shifting uncertainly as he looks at Gihun, but 203 surges forward before he can do anything, trying to grab the knife from Gihun.

Player 353 dives for the pole Myunggi is holding, attempting to yank it from his grasp as 203 and her dad fall to the ground and continue wrestling for the dagger.

Player 203 gets it out of Gihun's hands, and Gayeong inhales sharply at how close they're fighting to Jinyeong. Player 203 swipes at Gihun once and then again, and Gayeong watches in awe as Gihun deflects to blow by swiftly knocking the man's hand to the side. The two men continue to roll across the platform, and it's so chaotic she can't truly see what's happening until Gihun grabs 203's hair and uses that to force him off himself.

Myunggi falls to the edge of the platform at the same time 203 rushes Gihun again. Her dad does a similar move as before, deflecting the blade, but this time he grabs the man's arm and twists it around so he stabs himself with the momentum.

Myunggi kicks 353 off the platform out of the corner of her eye, but all she can focus on is the way 203 tries to choke her dad. Gihun wraps an arm around the man's neck, but he doesn't pull him off, he pulls him down, further onto the blade.

She can't hear it, but she sees the moment 203 stops struggling.

Jinyeong begins to cry.

Gayeong closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as Gihun stumbles to his feet and goes to the girl.

Player 100 is still standing, and he takes a nervous step backwards when Myunggi turns to look at him and begins to walk forward.

"Nice work! Well done, you two!" player 100 says, as if he can persuade Myunggi to stop if he uses just the right words and sings the right praise. "It's amazing watching you! Those dirty rotten assholes, they should've died a long time ago." Myunggi continues advancing.

"Uh…okay. There's only five of us left, right? Uh, okay. So, um, let's see. Oh! The lunch box!" As if that dehumanization hadn't been what started all this. "If we just drag him over there and throw him off in the next round, then the three of us—oh, right, the baby. Then four. Let's see, we'd get, um…11.4 billion!

"Then, that way, we all get a happy ending, right? Sound good?"

Myunggi doesn't stop.

"Wha—what's up? Is that still too low? That's fine. Ten billion won, that's all I need! I'll give you the rest of it, okay? 1.4 billion." The man is beginning to cry, and while Gayeong's stomach turns at the idea of killing someone when he's not attacking, she can't help the small flash of pleasure she gets as the man finally begins to experience the terror he'd put so many other people through.

Gihun is watching them, but he doesn't move to stop Myunggi. She wonders if perhaps he felt the same way she does.

"T-then you can sh-sh-share it between yourselves. It's all yours! Okay? I…"

His feet hit the edge of the platform..

"We'll get 15.2," Myung-gi says, "if I push you off."

And then he does.

Gayeong closes her eyes as she listens to him scream.

The buzzer sounds as the announcer calls the end of the second game and announces the eliminated players.

Even now, Gayeong feels guilty for the wash of relief she feels that 039 is alive to sacrifice. She thinks maybe, no matter how hard she tries, she'll never be as good as her dad; but then she remembers Hwang Inho—he'd thought the same thing, but in the end…he'd realized what was more important was trying. That's all that really mattered.

"I'm sorry, but I…I really don't want to be your lunchbox."

Gayeong's eyes fly open.

"Wait a minute!" Myunggi shouts as 039 sits at the edge of the platform. "Stop, it's okay. It's okay. We weren't thinking like that. Right, sir?" he looks to Gihun for support, who just stares back at him. Gayeong thinks he's probably trying to understand what's running through Lee Myunggi's head right now.

"So just stay right where you are, okay? Let's talk about it."

"…You guys can talk to each other all you want…I'm done with this." And 039 lets himself fall off the edge.

Gayeong closes her eyes again. Three left.

They stand in silence for a long time, until finally— "Is the kid okay?" Myunggi asks quietly.

Gihun looks down. He doesn't answer, but Gayeong thinks she sees him nod slightly.

"All players, please proceed quickly to the next round," the announcer says cheerfully. Another bridge extends from the triangle to the circle.

Gayeong looks between the two of them. They both look so tired, Myunggi's shoulders slumped. She thinks about the way her dad had held that knife against his own throat in the fourth game and lets out a shaky breath.

Myunggi crosses first as her dad reties the makeshift sling to carry Jinyeong across, but Myunggi picks up the pole and walks back over to the edge before he can.

"Hand the baby over. You're going to stay put."

"…Are you sure?" Gihun asks, staring at Myunggi. Trying to figure out his intentions? "You know the rules, right? That means in the next round, you're gonna have to…choose to kill yourself or your own child."

Myunggi doesn't move. "…I know that."

Gayeong doesn't need to see her dad's face to know what his reaction will be. "Don't tell me…

"You'd seriously kill this little child? Just so you could have the cash all to yourself?"

"Hand the kid over."

Their stand-off holds for nearly two minutes before her dad makes the first move across the bridge. Myunggi steps forward, too, adjusting his grip on the pole as he points it at Gihun.

"If we don't make it across the bridge…" Gihun says. "You're screwed, too."

"Then why don't we all die together?" Myunggi snaps.

Gihun doesn't move, and the stand-off continues.

As the timer ticks closer to zero, she can see Myunggi shifting nervously. "I said hand over the baby!" he yells eventually.

And Gihun says what she's been expecting all along. "I tell you what…I'll let you kill me instead."

Myunggi stares at him for a moment, and Gayeong knows Gihun means it, but Myunggi—he's too far gone, too paranoid. "Screw you, man. You think I'll buy your bullshit? The second you're over the bridge, you'll push me off and take the prize money yourself." He scoffs. "You said you won before. No wonder; you're good. I almost fell for your stupid little act just now."

"I meant it," Gihun says, just barely audible to the camera.

"That's total shit, man! Do you know why I chose to go to this fucking hellhole? 'Cause I was constantly getting fucked over by guys like you."

And how sad, to think that once Myunggi might have been more trusting—that his trust in other people had screwed him over so many times that he'd decided selfishness was the safest way to move forward.

Gayeong thinks about her dad after the strike at his factory. After he'd been lied to, or mugged and stolen from, or hit by another driver who'd left without giving their information. The way he would always smile and laugh for her.

"That's how life is sometimes, Gayeongie. What other people choose to do is their choice, but I'm not going to let their decisions be the thing that changes mine. I don't know everyone's story. But if someone approaches me and tells me they're hungry, what does it say about me if I choose not to help them, just because they could be lying?

"What if they're not, and I've turned away from someone that needed me? I think that's far worse."

She remembers Eunji hated it. Maybe not in the beginning, when they'd been young and in love, but as time went on—as Gihun lost more and more money to gambling and gave the rest away to people she thought were taking advantage of him—it was no longer endearing but aggravating, a point of argument every time Eunji saw Gihun do it.

She doesn't blame her mom for feeling that way, but…Gayeong thinks she was wrong.

"Trust me, please," Gihun persists. "Save yourself and save your child."

"Yeah? Why should I fucking believe you, huh?"

"I made a promise. I swore the child would be safe."

"You swore? To who? Junhee?" Gihun nods. "Why were you so obsessed with Junhee? Did you know her outside of here? Did something happen between the two of you?" He scoffs, beginning to spin a story aloud of the two of them with some grand secret together there in the games.

Finally, Gi-hun caves. He slowly crouches down and sets Jinyeong on the bridge before Myunggi orders him to step back. He uses the pole to pick her up and walks backward onto the final platform.

Gihun crouches down and reaches behind himself carefully, pulling the dagger from 203's dead body—and as the timer counts down to zero and the bridge begins to retract, he breaks into a sprint and leaps onto the final platform with him.

"You said you'd sacrifice yourself," Myunggi reminds Gihun. "Changed your mind already?"

"You're not worth that much."

Their fight isn't as brutal as Gihun's fight with 203, but it…hurts. It's harder in a different way. Gayeong feels a lump in her throat as they both attempt to disarm one another—as they hit the ground at the edge of the platform and the pole goes tumbling off; as Myunggi scrambles for the dagger and Gihun grabs him from behind and pulls him away. And then—

Myunggi grabs Jinyeong and dangles her over the edge.

"Stay the fuck away!" he screams. Gihun freezes in place.

Gayeong can hear Myunggi crying by the sound of his voice. "If you get near me…then I'll just drop the kid, I swear!"

Jinyeong screams, upset and confused and hungry. What a terrible place to come into the world.

"Don't do it," Gihun says. "Don't, please."

"You fucking think I won't do it?" And she can see it now, as his body trembles from the strain of holding back his sobs. "I'll just let go!

"I can do it!"

He orders Gihun to throw him the knife and Gihun does it instantly without taking his eyes off of them.

Gayeong's heart is in her throat until she sees Myunggi set Jinyeong back on the ground. Her dad sheds his suit jacket, already reading Myunggi's plan before the younger man has even grabbed the knife. Gihun wraps the jacket quickly around his left arm several times as Myunggi lunges at him with the knife, and then—and then all Gayeong sees blood.

Gihun screams as red blooms on his stomach, and then Myunggi stabs again through his left arm before Gihun pulls the dagger out by sheer force of will. They're so close to the edge now and Gayeong's heart stutters in her chest. The struggle only continues for a moment more before they both go tumbling over the edge.

Gayeong gasps, but they don't fall—the camera angle switches to show her dad clinging to an exposed pipe on the faux-weathered building. Myunggi clings to the suit jacket in Gihun's grasp, even as it unravels, and still Gihun doesn't let go, trying to help him. He holds the other end until the seams of the jacket can't bear his weight any longer, and Myunggi plunges to his death.

When Gihun climbs back onto the pillar, lifting his entire weight by only the single arm, Gayeong lets out the breath she'd been holding.

For just a moment, she thinks that he's done it. That her dad managed to win these horrible games not once, but twice. For the briefest moment, she thinks maybe he's still alive, that somehow she's just gotten it all wrong, before reality comes rushing back.

The button in the center of the platform is red.

The timer remains unstarted on the wall.

For a long time, Gihun just stares at the button after he's climbed to his feet, and the first tears begin to slip down Gayeong's cheeks.

Eventually, he begins to walk slowly across the platform. He stops at the button, hesitating for only a moment before he steps on it and continues forward.

Gihun picks up the baby—picks up Jinyeong—so carefully. And Gayeong knows already what her dad will do, without a doubt in her mind.

He stands there at the edge of the platform for a long time, letting the timer run down. Jinyeong cries for several minutes, but Gihun quiets her softly until she settles down.

When he lifts his gaze directly to the camera, Gayeong lets out a sob. It's like he's looking at her through time and space, reminding her not to look away from the worst the world has to offer. Reminding her to keep believing the world can be better, even when it feels impossible.

As the timer reaches the two-minute mark, Gihun looks back down at Jinyeong one final time before he takes a step away from the ledge and turns around. He kneels down, pressing one gentle kiss to her forehead. Gayeong buries her face in her hands as Gihun brings the newborn to his chest for a final embrace, pressing his cheek against her. And finally, he slowly places her on the ground and rises to his feet once again.

He doesn't turn around, his back to the camera

"We are not horses. We are humans. And humans are…"

He doesn't finish his sentence, and lets himself fall.

Gayeong doesn't pause to think about it before she's stumbling out of the hotel and onto the subway to Junho's house. It's only when she's knocking insistently that the time dawns on her, but by then it's too late and she can hear the sound of someone unlocking the door.

"Gayeong," Junho says as he takes in the state of her: wide-eyed and still dressed in her pajamas. She'd only thrown on sneakers and her dad's jacket before she'd left.

Junho surmises what's happened. "You watched it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't—I wasn't thinking, I'll go—"

He reaches out to catch her arm before she can flee. "Stop. There's no use going back to your hotel now. You can sleep on the couch."

She nods distantly, trailing Junho into the house before he closes the door behind her. Grey, pre-dawn light filters into the apartment through the windows.

Another door opens, and a moment later Jinyeong appears at the end of the hallway rubbing one eye.

"Unnie?" she mumbles.

Gayeong swallows, staring at the girl as Junho moves around her to pick Jinyeong up.

"It's alright, Jinyeong-ah. Unnie just had a nightmare and wanted to see us."

"Oh." She yawns, dropping her forehead against Junho's shoulder as she begins to suck her thumb. "Are you still sad?" she asks Gayeong

Gayeong lets out the small breath she's holding. This is the girl her father chose to die for. To have a face, a name, rather than some far-off, distant concept of a person—it makes it different. When she thinks about a world without Jinyeong—without Junho, or Cheol, or anyone else she's met because of her dad…

Gayeong gives a watery laugh and comes close enough to hug both of them. Jinyeong hums with pleasure at the attention and Junho wraps an arm around Gayeong. She lets herself feel safe.

"Not anymore. You managed to cheer me right up, Jinyeong-ah."

Jinyeong pats her shoulder. "If you want, I'll share my bed with you tonight, unnie."

Gayeong laughs again, suddenly feeling so overwhelmingly grateful. "Thank you. You're a good girl; don't ever stop being kind, okay?"

"Okay," Jinyeong agrees easily; the way of children who don't yet understand just how difficult that can be. It makes Gayeong's bottom lip tremble, but this time, she doesn't cry.

This is how it goes: the next morning, Gayeong, Junho, and Cheol sit down together to discuss what their next course of action is. Despite how much Junho wants to take the information to the police, he worries that it will be too easily buried.

Already, the edges of a plan have begun to take form in Gayeong's mind.

"…I think I have an idea," she says.

She presents the other two with the list of names that came from Inho. She's added her own notes to the sheet of paper, scribbled in cramped handwriting in the margins.

Sitting at Junho's kitchen table, Gayeong sends Sarah Barton, investigative journalist, an anonymous email requesting the start of an encrypted conversation.

There is a worldwide criminal network responsible for the deaths of thousands of people a year. Dozens of the world's richest individuals are bankrolling the operation.

The woman responds with just two words.

Send proof.

She includes another email address, encrypted, and Gayeong's heart begins to pound as she looks across the table at Cheol and Junho. Once they do this, there's no turning back.

She doesn't send all the files. For this, she needs to be focused, so she searches through the flash drive until she finds what she needs: video footage of the American games. She doesn't linger on the footage, opening the video just long enough to confirm she's sending the right thing.

When the story drops, they need the focus on the American games, first, if they want to avoid suspicion.

Barton responds twenty-four hours later, when Gayeong is back at her hotel.

This was gruesome, but if you're telling the truth, I need more proof that this isn't edited, Barton responds.

Gayeong digs through the files for more, coming up with the list of players from that year's game as well as a video of the fifth game. When she opens the video file, there's less than 20 people in the game and her stomach turns when she remembers the hundreds of people in the first video.

It never gets any easier to watch. There's nothing to compare it to, no slasher film or gorey movie can capture the feeling of watching a real human being die before your eyes.

As terrible as it makes her feel, Gayeong begins to cross-reference the names and numbers of the remaining players before searching them online.

Over half of the people have virtually no online presence, which makes it difficult, but she finds missing persons reports for two of them and the Instagram and TikTok accounts for another who appeared to be an up and coming influencer who posted daily until eight months ago when she'd abruptly stopped posting.

She sends Barton the file of player profiles as well as the video of the fifth game.

You're welcome to look into any of the names in the file, but here are three that can be seen more clearly in the fifth game.

This time, the response is almost immediate. We're going to need a lot more people on this.

Barton ends up bringing in three other investigative journalists from amongst the members of the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists. She proposes a fourth name that Gayeong finds on Inho's list with his name crossed out, and she vetoes him.

Of the other three, Mordechai Kehler has a focus on human rights violations, Siobhan Snyder focuses on financial fraud and other white-collar crime, and Julian Ellsberg is an expert on cybersecurity and digital media who can scrub the videos to confirm they're real.

They email almost daily for three months. Gayeong writes under the simple moniker S. Thankfully, when Barton asks for her source, she accepts Gayeong's answer of an inside man without pressing for further details.

It's slow-going, but it's progress. Gayeong moves into her school's dormitory as the summer winds to a close, but it's hard to focus on classes while she waits impatiently for the story to break.

Their team gets ahold of dozens of missing persons reports from the police, dating back years thanks to a police contact of Barton's.

While Gayeong does her best to keep the focus on the American games, they end up digging into the Korean games, too, when the files reveal that the original creator was a Korean man named Oh Ilnam.

And though Gayeong is hesitant about it, their ace comes when Sarah Barton finds a previous winner willing to speak to them.

Eight months after Inho leaves Gayeong the files, they post the story. Barton posts the article on The New York Times website, a scathing exposé on the process and its creator as well as an interview with an anonymous former winner. And at the bottom, she includes a link to WikiLeaks where every single file they have has been uploaded. Coordinates, employee profiles, videos. One of Barton's colleagues gets ahold of financial records that show the direct line between eight different financiers and the games, and they post that, as well. They also include the list of other billionaires Inho named, even if they're unable to confirm a connection.

One hour later, the story has been reposted by Associated Press, Reuters, and five other news sites.

Two hours later, Snyder has posted exposés on all eight of the confirmed investors.

And just in case any of the information is somehow deleted, they email copies of the evidence to thirty different contacts within law enforcement agencies worldwide.

After the story breaks, dozens of eyewitnesses come forward, individuals who claim to have played Red Light, Green Light before their cohort voted to leave.

Within 24 hours, there are fifteen explosions across the world at each one of the documented facility coordinates. Worldwide, the police organize an international taskforce which begins to investigate each of the sites for any evidence they can find, regardless. Simultaneously, they begin to launch investigations into the named investors. In a few cases, the additional evidence is added to ongoing investigations.

Thirteen arrest warrants will be issued over the course of the next five years.

It's not a perfect victory. #SquidArchives trends worldwide for less than a week before something new comes along and overtakes it. In the end, most of the investors in the games buy their way out of prison, though a handful commit suicide under suspicious circumstances. Two are sentenced to prison: one in France and one in Japan.

Gayeong doesn't hear from Hwang Inho again.

It's not a perfect victory, but it's enough. With every facility destroyed and the financiers under heavy scrutiny, the games are over.

And perhaps it won't last. Perhaps Hwang Inho is right, that until the world changes for good, the games will never truly end. Perhaps someone will come along and attempt to rebuild their empire.

But for now, it's enough.

Gayeong visits Gihun's gravestone when she can. It's a recent purchase, something she hadn't cared to arrange before without a body to cremate. After Junho had chosen to erect a gravestone for Hwang Inho beside his wife, she'd discussed it with him and decided to purchase space for Gihun beside them.

She hopes that he wouldn't hate the idea, but she doesn't think that he would. She thinks more than any grudge he could hold, any harm that was caused, what Seong Gihun cared about most was the answer to one simple question: are you trying to be better today than you were yesterday?

She places flowers for all three of them before she stops in front of her dad's nameplate. She smiles at the picture of the two of them, their faces smushed together as they grin at the camera, and presses a kiss to two fingers before pressing them to the stone.

Wherever he is, she hopes he's proud.

"You did it, dad."