𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞

***

— "All players, please proceed to the game zone! The next game will start soon!" After the announcement from the loudspeaker, the players began slowly lining up near the exit from the common room. Ahead of them awaited a new challenge — another brutal game wrapped in naive, childlike rules. Having finished his breakfast, Gi-Hun slowly got up from his seat, letting out a nervous sigh as he stepped toward the line of people and the armed guards standing nearby, overseeing the entire process. His gaze was fixed somewhere on the floor, as if he were searching for invisible signs that might answer the countless questions swirling in his mind. It seemed that any moment now, he might break down, scream aloud from the pressure that had been building inside him all this time. Yet now was not the time to falter. Deep down, he still held on to a faint hope — that the second game might resemble the one from three years ago, something familiar. In-Ho kept his eyes on Player 456, silently following behind him in his usual calm manner. Silent. Masked. A presence that hid his true identity. He could see Gi-Hun’s fear of what might come next — in his slow, hesitant steps, in the way he breathed, in the tension in his shoulders. And he remembered: there was only one chance to pass that game round. Gi-Hun... what will you do when you realize your assumptions were wrong? All the players walked one after another, ascending and descending the colorful corridors filled with countless stairs. It was a truly eerie and surreal place, where the bright colors clashed harshly with the dark intentions of the organization behind it. Gi-Hun was still lost in thought, but suddenly something inside him stirred — an anxious jolt. A name. I never told him my name... The thought made him slow his steps slightly, as a chill crept through his chest. His mind raced, trying to replay their breakfast conversation in his head. Yeong-Il had, in fact, called him by name — and he sure had said it with surprising confidence, as if they were already acquainted. And that alone was unsettling. But then came another realization, even stranger: And how do I know his name...? He hadn’t introduced himself either. Not yesterday. Not today. Not even once. This... was very strange. Still wrapped in this troubling thought, Gi-Hun didn’t even notice he had reached the game room — where all the players stood in confusion, staring at two enormous rainbow-colored circles, whispering to each other in growing panic. — Are we really supposed to play Dalgona this way?... — This sure doesn’t look anything like the original game… The elderly Player 100 suddenly cut through Gi-Hun’s thoughts with a loud shout. His face flushed with anger as he forcefully shoved his way through the crowd. — Mr. player 456! So you call this a game of Dalgona?! This is complete nonsense! His bewildered, accusatory gaze practically burned right through Gi-Hun. — You think calling yourself a hero, a past winner, will let you fool us so easily? Hoping to grab the money and walk out again? Well, dream on! — That’s enough, — In-Ho said calmly, stepping forward sharply and placing himself between them. His voice, though quiet, held such confidence that the angry player instinctively backed off. Gi-Hun flinched. He blinked in surprise, not fully realizing what had just happened. Yeong-Il. Quiet, mysterious, distant — now stood between him and a boiling storm of anger, like a shield meant to protect him from heavy blows. Was that… protection? No one here had ever stood up for him. No one, except Yeong-il. — Fighting and conflict won’t help us right now, — the Frontman continued in the same even tone. — If we want to win this game, we all need to stay calm. — And why are you stepping in? You on his side? I knew something was off with you, you silent freak! Tch, Dalgona… and this is who we trust? — the old man muttered angrily under his breath, turning back toward his group, who were still whispering among themselves. Gi-hun remained where he was, staring at In-ho in astonishment, as if seeing him for the first time. — Thank you… — he finally said softly, exhaling with relief. — Yeong-Il… thank you. He simply nodded, as if it were nothing special. Still calm, still composed. But even so, Gi-Hun noticed something new in his eyes — determination. — Um..you know… — player 456 continued slowly, furrowing his brow, — I never told you my name. And you never told me yours either. But… we both know each others names. But...how? In-Ho froze slightly, as if rapidly cycling through every possible answer in his mind. Did I just give myself away…? — This morning, behind your back — your friend… Jung-Bae, mentioned your name. I assumed it was okay to call you that too, if you don't mind... do you? — It’s fine, I don’t mind at all, — Gi-Hun replied with a nod and a faint smile. And yet something inside him stirred. That tight tension he had carried since the day before slowly began to loosen. Was it trust in Yeong-Il? Or simply the relief that someone had finally stood up for him and defused the growing conflict? He remembered: right, that morning he sure had heard Jung-Bae joking behind his back — maybe even throwing Yeon-Il’s name around too. And yet… something about that name exchange still felt important. As if something already existed between them. The Frontman looked away, staring off longer than usual. He said nothing. I’ve gotten too close to him again. And he’s starting to suspect something… but still, he didn’t pull away. Do you really trust me, Gi-Hun? •••TO BE CONTINUED•••