𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞

***

During the team assignment, the guards handed each player a vest according to color. Gi-Hun held a blue vest in his hands, staring at In-Ho with slight confusion. His thoughts were tangled. — Just why are you giving me your vest? — he whispered, his voice trembling. — What are you planning? In-Ho slipped on a red vest, fists clenched. Outwardly, he kept his usual calm and composed demeanor, but his piercing gaze locked on player 456 betrayed something deeper. — Gi-Hun, — he began firmly. — Are you really capable of hurting someone here? Of course, player 456 could never deliberately stab another player in the heart. He had come here to save people, to stop these disgusting games, to avoid sinking to the level of those who would sell — no, kill their own mother for a handful of bills in that damned piggy bank. — But... Yeong-Il... — he murmured, nervous and conflicted. — Could you really...? — If it's necessary — I'll kill, — In-Ho replied coldly, eyes fixed on Gi-Hun's. — For our survival. For our survival. Gi-Hun squeezed the vest in his hands, unsure how to respond. His heart pounded violently in his chest. Yeong-Il. Why do you keep trying to protect me? Why?... He remembered Yeong-Il arguing with the guards, risking his position. He remembered being pulled into the room at the last moment, saved from certain death. And now — once again. — Our survival? Or... mine? — his voice wavered. — You always step in for me... Is this all just to protect me? For a moment, In-Ho froze. Something raw and personal flickered in his eyes, sharp enough to cut. It seemed as if he was about to tell the truth — the truth Gi-Hun both feared and longed to hear. But suddenly the corner of his lips twitched. — Do you always wear clothes backwards? — ...What? Gi-Hun blinked, losing track of his own thoughts. He looked down — indeed, his vest was on inside out. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. — Are you making fun of me? — It's just an observation, — In-Ho replied calmly, but too quickly. His voice was steady, but his gaze lingered far longer than it should have. Three years, and nothing has changed... Even in little things, you're still the same. The same Seong Gi-Hun I remember from the very first time we met. Gi-Hun felt something clench painfully inside. He wanted to say: "Yeong-Il, please, don't dodge the question... tell me the truth". But his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Instead, blushing, he hurriedly pulled the vest off, trying to hide the tremor in his fingers. Tell me the truth. Because in these games, no one saves anyone for free. No one cares about someone else's life. But you... you care about mine. The silence shattered with angry voices. — And how the hell are we supposed to kill the blues — someone from the red team barked. — With bare hands? What if they attack first? — And what about us?! — the blue team erupted in confusion. — All players have been assigned to teams. Each team has been given a special gift, — one of the soldiers announced. By order of the staff, the players lined up again. The guards began distributing items: to each red team member, a dagger — a slim, gleaming blade, complete with a ridiculous pink ribbon tied around the hilt. Gi-Hun glanced at In-Ho, who calmly examined the weapon. The dagger was far too sharp to be a toy, and far too toy-like to be taken seriously — which only made it more terrifying. The blue team, meanwhile, received keys. Small, fragile things — but they could unlock freedom. Each key ended in the shape of a triangle, circle, or square. — "Each player on the red team has been given a special weapon. Each player on the blue team holds a key to the exit, which they must now find," — the female voice echoed from the loudspeaker. — "The blue team has two minutes to explore the labyrinth before the red team enters. Players, proceed to the entrance. The game begins now!" A timer lit up: 02:00. 01:59. It's time. Now. — Let's go. We need to find the way out, — the Frontman said quietly to Gi-Hun. — And please... don't do anything reckless. At the entrance, Dae-Ho and Jung-Bae were waiting. — Damn it, we're all in blue! — Jung-Bae grumbled. — Only Yeong-Il's in red — this is bad... — We can go together! — Dae-Ho exclaimed, clutching his key as if it were a weapon. — That way we can protect each other, and Yeong-Il can pretend to catch us! — But the maze is too big. We'll only get in each other's way if we all stick together, — In-Ho said coldly. — It's smarter to split up. That way we'll find the exit faster. He scanned the players, as though his mind was already made up. — Jung-Bae, Dae-Ho... you go left. — Split up? Seriously? — Jung-Bae frowned, his lips twitching in irritation. — We're supposed to be on the same team! — Look at the keys, — In-Ho cut him off sharply. — They're different. That means the doors will be different. And the traps too. If there were only one exit, the blues wouldn't have a chance. Jung-Bae fell silent, crossing his arms and stubbornly looking away. — Why is it always him calling the shots? — he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Gi-Hun to hear. Gi-Hun felt a lump rise in his throat. Jung-Bae had a point: In-Ho was always the one deciding. And yet... a strange, heavy relief washed over him when In-Ho paired them together. — I don't know, — Dae-Ho whispered, still staring at his key. — Yet I trust him. — It's time, — In-Ho said dryly. — Let's go. Jung-Bae tugged Dae-Ho toward the left side of the labyrinth, while Gi-Hun headed right. He glanced back briefly, as if to ask: "Are you coming with me?" But In-Ho's eyes were fixed on the timer, his expression calm, his presence unshaken. Yeong-Il. You're always calm. No matter the situation. As if you already know it will be fine. Gi-Hun's heart pounded wildly, his breath quickened. He pressed himself against the cool stone wall, nearly swallowed by the maze, when the Frontman called out. — Gi-Hun. He turned, locking eyes with In-Ho. — You'll make it. I believe in you. Gi-Hun took a deep breath, nodded, and disappeared into the labyrinth. The Front Man's gaze lingered after him. Silence fell once again, broken only by the monotonous countdown. 00:59. 00:58. 00:57. In-Ho stood motionless. His face remained calm, his eyes cold, but behind his back his fist clenched tightly. 00:45. 00:44. With each passing second, In-Ho's nerves frayed further. The echo of the countdown rattled inside his skull, leaving a throbbing headache. Gi-Hun. I hope you find the exit in time. Sweat dotted his brow. He glanced at the electronic display, then at the red team. The purple-haired player shifted restlessly beside his friend, barely restraining himself from acting on impulse. In-Ho knew: Thanos carried pills in his chain, and under their influence, those two would do anything. They didn't care who they cut, who they strangled — the world looked different to them. 00:30. 00:29. The closer the timer ticked to zero, the tighter the knot in Frontman's chest. Gi-Hun. What if they reach you before I do? His face no longer carried its usual composure. His eyes darted between the timer and the maze's entrance, lips trembling as they silently mouthed the countdown. 00:10. 00:09. His heart raced. Gi-Hun's face rose in his memory — so vivid, so alive, as if he were standing right there. 00:01. 00:00. In-Ho bolted. He no longer looked like the cold, composed Frontman — now he was a man driven by sheer fear of losing what he could no longer afford to lose. The guard at the entrance flinched, as if to stop him, but froze instead, dumbstruck, watching as his commander vanished into the labyrinth. — Damn, look at him... — Nam-Gyu smacked Thanos on the shoulder, nodding toward In-Ho. — What's he on, drugs? — Nam-Su, - Thanos muttered, shaking his head. — Let's go. Player 124 grinned softly. — Gyu. Nam-Gyu. In-Ho was already running, deaf to every sound behind him. •••TO BE CONTINUED•••