𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞

***

Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, and the air immediately thickened. The red players had entered the maze. Their appearance felt like a sentence: the steps reverberated like a verdict, followed by the screams and frantic stomping of the blue players, who scattered in panic after the countdown had ended. They ran like trapped animals, desperate and lost, not knowing where to go. Time is up. They are here. They will find us. Right now, a man in a blue vest was running for his life, trying to escape the looming embrace of death in the form of a man in red. His leg was injured, blood seeping through the green fabric of his pants, but that was the least of his worries. Turning a corner, he spotted a door. Could it be… the exit? With trembling hands, he jammed a key into the lock, twisted it sharply, and yanked the door open, clinging to a desperate hope for salvation. But before stepping forward, he looked ahead — and froze. Beyond the door was nothing but empty space. One wrong step and he would plummet from a deadly height, crashing onto the cold, concrete floor below. Terror made his legs go weak. His heart pounded so hard it echoed in his temples. He hadn’t even moved when the enemy reached him faster than he could utter a single word. A sharp, cold pain pierced his chest — something metallic slid inside. A dark stain slowly spread across the green fabric. The man screamed, staggering as he clutched the doorframe, but darkness closed in, and he slipped forward — falling into the abyss beyond the door. Silence filled the corridor. The red player casually wiped his bloodied dagger on his sleeve. No glance downward, no emotion. The dead player was just another number, another pile of bills added to the prize fund. The more dead, the higher the stakes. Nothing else mattered now. — "Player 235 has been eliminated." Not far away, hiding in the shadows of a narrow passage, Dae-Ho and Jung-Bae clung to the cold wall. Dae-Ho’s heart pounded so loudly it felt certain the killer would hear it even through the stone. His hands shook, fingers digging into his own forearm. — S… sir… what do we… do?… — he whispered, suffocating in panic. But Jung-Bae immediately clamped a hand over his mouth. — Shhh! — he hissed woth his brows furrowed. — Be quiet! The corridor itself seemed to shrink around them, turning every step into a trap. Every sound—the creak, the scrape, even their own breathing — echoed double in their ears, multiplying the fear. The air grew thick, as if impossible to breathe. — We need to move, — Jung-Bae breathed, glancing back toward the place where the scream had just rung out. — Otherwise we’re done for… I hope Gi-Hun’s still alive — he’s out there alone! They crept forward, stepping so softly it seemed even silence could betray them. Every corner turned into a test of courage, every shadow a threat. Their hearts pounded so hard it felt certain they’d be heard. Their legs trembled, breaths caught in their throats. What if the next turn hid an enemy waiting in the dark? Suddenly, hurried footsteps thundered nearby. Then came a desperate scream, cut off as quickly as it began. The cold female voice of the loudspeaker pierced the air: — "Player 441 has been eliminated." The world froze for a second. — Damn, this is bad… this way, hurry! — Jung-Bae whispered, pointing toward a fork in the path. — We can hide there for sure! But before they could move, a low, satisfied chuckle rose behind them. It was too confident, too predatory — the laugh of someone who already knew his prey was cornered. Dae-Ho’s chest tightened, a chill ran down his spine. His legs bolted on their own. — Run! — he shouted, yanking Jung-Bae forward. They sprinted, death at their heels. The air sliced their lungs, their throats constricted from lack of oxygen. Each footfall thundered in the empty corridor. — Faster!.. — Jung-Bae rasped with a breaking voice. They ran as though death itself breathed down their necks. Another turn, another — and then Jung-Bae slipped. His foot caught on the uneven floor, and he crashed down hard. — Sir! — Dae-Ho cried as his friend hit the concrete. Jung-Bae tried desperately to push himself up, but only meters away the killer appeared. His steps were steady, heavy — he wasn’t rushing. He knew the prey had nowhere to go. The dim lamp light glinted off the blade in his hand, and the cold shine made it even more terrifying. — Get up! Hurry! — Dae-Ho grabbed Jung-Bae’s hand. — Run! Don’t you dare stop! — But…! — The words choked in Dae-Ho’s throat. — I SAID RUN!!! — Jung-Bae roared, his voice began to crack. — RUN, OR YOU’LL DIE TOO! Dae-Ho swallowed hard, backing away before his legs carried him off in a frantic sprint. His ears rang, footsteps pounded, and even his breath was drowned out by a deafening silence. Only one sound broke through it — the voice from the loudspeaker: — "Player 390 has been eliminated." Jung-Bae… Please, forgive me, sir… Only after running far enough did Dae-Ho collapse in a dark corner, pressing his back to the wall. His knees shook uncontrollably, and he slid down to the icy floor. His vision blurred, the world seemed to waver. His lungs burned, every breath was pain. He had never been so afraid. Because before, he had always had his friends with him. With them, he feared nothing. Jung-Bae… forgive me… A faint rustle jolted him. Someone was approaching. — Dae-Ho?.. — a trembling voice broke through the ringing in his ears. He snapped his head up, wiping at his wet eyes. It was Jun-Hee. She stepped closer, one hand pressed to her stomach. She looked just as terrified as he was. Their eyes met. — You’re alive… I’m so glad, — she whispered in relief. — Get up. It’s dangerous here. Let’s go together. For a moment Dae-Ho just stared, as if afraid to believe she was real. Then he nodded and pushed himself up, leaning against the wall. They moved on carefully, almost silently. — I’m sorry about Mr. Jung-Bae… — Jun-Hee began softly. — We were running from a red guy, — ae-Ho answered hoarsely. — He slipped… When I reached him, he yelled at me to run. Said I’d die if I stayed… He swallowed hard, his lips trembled. — If only I could have— Jun-Hee looked up at him. — It’s not your fault, Dae-Ho, — she said gently, but firm. — He saved you. But then they heard footsteps. Heavy, measured, getting closer. Dae-Ho froze, his heart plummeting. He grabbed Jun-Hee’s hand so tightly she flinched but said nothing. A door stood ajar nearby. Next to it lay the corpse of another player. They darted inside, pressing to the wall as if they could disappear into the cold concrete. Jun-Hee clutched his hand even tighter. The footsteps grew louder. That slow, confident gait carried the same predatory superiority as the laugh still echoing in his mind. Someone was pacing just outside, inspecting the door. — Hey, Thanos! — a familiar voice called. — Yo, it’s already open… let’s head back. — Sheesh,  am so angry, man! — the rapper’s annoyed shout followed — and the footsteps receded. Jun-Hee pressed her hand to her chest, trying to calm her frantic heartbeat. — He was so close… — she whispered with her lips barely moving. Dae-Ho nodded slowly, sweat running cold down his back. — Let’s go, — he breathed. — At least, we still have a chance. Jun-Hee nodded, staring into the darkness ahead, where more dangers waited. Their eyes met again, silent agreement passing between them: they had to survive, no matter what, and make it to the others. And as they walked, leaving this nightmare just barely behind them, one thought burned in Dae-Ho’s mind: Mr. Gi-Hun… Mr. Yeong-Il… Please… make it to the end alive. And even in that darkness, that terror, a tiny spark of hope flickered within him — just the thought of their presence somewhere out there gave him the strength to keep moving. •••TO BE CONTINUED•••