𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞

***

Before the fourth game, the soldiers announced breakfast, rolling carts of food into the room. The players lined up. — Yesterday it was a boiled egg, today we have only sweet potatoes? — Jung-Bae muttered in annoyance as he grabbed his portion. — Have they completely lost their minds? Gi-Hun was served last, staring in surprise at the two small sweet potatoes in the cardboard box. In his other hand, he held a bottle of water. This place never stopped shocking him. Every day the rations grew smaller, while the fear pressing down on the players grew heavier. Many complained of hunger and stomach pains: malnutrition was already taking a toll on their health. Meanwhile, the games only became more brutal, demanding the very last ounce of strength and focus from the participants if they didn't want to be sent to their deaths. How was anyone supposed to stay alert and coordinated on this kind of diet? Gi-Hun frowned. How had he even managed to win the last time? How had he endured all of this and stayed alive while eating no better than now? Perhaps it would remain a mystery. The human body, it turned out, was capable of much more than one might expect: enduring impossible strain, surviving stress, clinging to life even when it seemed there was nothing left. He sighed, watching the others with pity. An elderly woman with player number 149, standing near Jun-Hee, looked exhausted, yet still found the strength to share half of her tiny portion with the pregnant girl each time. And what about Jun-Hee herself? In her condition, this kind of diet could harm both her and her unborn child. Player 456 knit his brows, trying to push away the anxious thoughts. But his eyes inevitably slid toward In-Ho sitting nearby. The Frontman ate silently, without looking up. His calmness was both irritating and magnetic, as if hiding an untouchable secret. And then Gi-Hun remembered the dream again — too vividly. The soft touch of lips that shouldn't have been real but still lingered as though it was. He quickly dropped his gaze back to the sweet potato. Yeong-Il. We're... friends, right? Aren't we? Then why can't I forget the tenderness of that touch on my lips, even if it was only in a dream? Tell me, Yeong-Il... Gi-Hun couldn't help but wonder: what had In-Ho felt then? Fear for his life? Concern? Or... something more? His heart quickened, thoughts tangling until he could barely focus on his food. Ah, Yeong-Il... Catching himself replaying the name over and over in his head, he swallowed hard. What nonsense was this? Why these thoughts? Nervously, Gi-Hun picked up a sweet potato, trying to distract himself, though his hands trembled slightly. — Gi-Hun? — a calm voice spoke beside him. — Are you alright? Startled, he jolted, the potato slipping from his hands and thudding dully to the floor. — Ah... damn it... — he mumbled under his breath, quickly leaning down, trying not to meet In-Ho's gaze. As soon as he picked it up and accidentally caught his eyes, warmth flooded his cheeks. — Y-yeah, I'm fine... — he muttered, lowering his gaze back to his meal. — It's just... I had a bad dream again. — I'm sorry the nightmares haunt you, — In-Ho said softly, placing one of his own sweet potatoes into Gi-Hun's box. — Here. You need to eat properly. — ...Thank you. Watching Gi-Hun chew slowly, his hand still trembling, In-Ho fought with everything he had to keep his turmoil from showing. You're suffering, and I can't do anything about it. If I let myself show more emotion than I should, they'll use it against us. Against you. He burned with the urge to pull Gi-Hun close, to whisper: "please don't worry, I'm here, your friends are here, can't you see?..." The more the Frontman thought about it, the stronger the rage grew inside him. If not for the cameras, if not for those damn VIP-guests... I'd show you just how much you mean to me, Gi-Hun. Meanwhile, Gi-Hun kept eating, though he felt that same strange warmth again — comforting, confusing, all at once. He clenched the box with the potatoes a little tighter. Somewhere deep inside, Player 456 was starting to recognize a long-forgotten feeling: a soft warmth filling his chest, making his heart race wildly whenever he was near. Gi-Hun realized he was slowly falling in love. Irrevocably. And in this world of fear and endless anxiety, that love became a beam of light, a fragile hope for something good waiting for him ahead. Yeong-Il... what do you feel for me? Jung-Bae, watching, opened his mouth to say something but felt a gentle tug on his sleeve. It was Jun-Hee. — Please... don't, — she whispered softly, barely moving her lips. — They need to talk. Her eyes carried the quiet understanding that something important was happening between them, something that shouldn't be interrupted. Jung-Bae only shrugged, biting into his potato thoughtfully. — Seems like something's going on between them, — he murmured, glancing toward Gi-Hun. The girl said nothing, only lowered her gaze, lost in her own thoughts. Silence spread through the room, as if the atmosphere itself was preparing for the next game. Gi-Hun still held the sweet potato in his hands, but his thoughts wandered far away — between fear and the warmth he felt whenever In-Ho was near. The Frontman sat motionless, controlling every gesture to avoid shattering the fragile moment. Yet both of them knew: what lay ahead was not only a fight for survival, but also a trial of their very selves. Which would prevail — cruelty of the system, or faith in humanity? Neither Gi-Hun nor In-Ho knew the answer. — "All players, please proceed to the game zone! The game will soon begin!" — the familiar female voice from the loudspeaker broke the silence. The players slowly rose and headed for the exit. Descending the countless pink stairs, the Frontman looked around, as if to reassure himself he'd see the bullet-riddled walls from the night of the riot. But everything looked new: no holes, no peeling paint — like the horror had never even happened. I really did manage to prevent what I myself once set in motion... He held his breath, watching the back of Gi-Hun's head as he walked ahead. So if everything goes according to plan... you'll stay alive, Gi-Hun. In-Ho clenched his fist, something painful tightening in his chest. And if you live... then maybe there's a place for me in this world too. Then my existence will mean something. That meaning is simple: to see you, to hear you... He swallowed nervously, inhaling deeply, as if bracing himself for a terrifying but vital confession that still remained locked in his mind. ...to be near you. To stay by your side. If you let me stay, of course... If I ever earn your forgiveness. With a quiet sigh, he lowered his gaze and stepped toward his group as the players entered the next game room. Before them stretched a vast, dimly lit hall with children's drawings on the walls, like a real labyrinth. Every shadow, every corner looked unpredictable. — Hey... what do you think this is? — Jung-Bae asked in a hushed voice, leaning toward Gi-Hun. — I don't know... — Gi-Hun muttered, glancing around, trying to figure it out. — Looks like a maze, — Dae-Ho suggested, scanning the walls. — It's... bigger than it first appears. What are we supposed to do? — Nothing but survive, — In-Ho said flatly, lifting his gaze to the surveillance cameras. VIP-guests... are you satisfied now? The players exchanged uneasy whispers. This new arena seemed even more terrifying than the last, and the dread in their chests grew heavier. — "The fourth game is called... Hide and Seek!" — the woman's voice thundered again from the speakers. — "Players must split into two teams: red and blue. Each player on the red team must kill a player from the blue team! If a red player fails to kill within the time limit, he will be eliminated!" The soldiers led the participants to a large machine filled with colored balls, each randomly assigning a team. When Gi-Hun's turn came, a soldier handed him a red plastic ball. His chest clenched for a moment: red team. That meant he'd have to kill someone with his own hands. The thought made his blood run cold. Next was In-Ho. Slowly, he reached into the machine, pulling out a blue ball. The Frontman tensed-different teams. Gi-Hun. Too honest. Too vulnerable. Too kind to kill anyone on purpose. In-Ho stepped closer, fists tightening. His heart beat faster, his breath unsteady. But his voice remained calm, though inside, everything burned with fear and determination. He held out the blue ball. — Take it, — the Frontman said softly. — Let's trade. Gi-Hun froze, staring first at the ball, then at In-Ho, as if trying to understand what drove this calm, steady, yet strangely troubled man. Inside the Frontman, everything tightened. Any refusal meant danger for Gi-Hun: if he didn't kill at least one blue player, he himself would die. But the decision was already made. No matter what - I will protect you, Gi-Hun. •••TO BE CONTINUED•••