𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞

***

Time passed. Gi-Hun and In-Ho sat close together, hardly moving. The world around them seemed to dissolve: the pounding of feet, loud cries, and the commotion beyond the walls of the room briefly ceased to exist. Now the silence was different — not alarming, but heavy and dense, creating the feeling that it was shielding the two of them from all the cruelty happening outside. Player 456 felt In-Ho breathing slightly faster beside him, felt a shoulder brush against his own… saw those perpetually calm eyes lingering on his face, again and again checking: is he here, is he alive. It was as if they had been transported back to yesterday. To that same cramped room where they had sat shoulder to shoulder, foreheads almost touching, while outside, the defeated were mercilessly eliminated. — Yeong-Il… — Gi-Hun whispered softly. — Let’s stay here. In-Ho raised an eyebrow in surprise, looking at Player 456 with mild confusion. — Why? You just want to sit? — There’s nowhere else we need to rush to, — Gi-Hun said, lowering his gaze to his hands, letting out a heavy sigh. — Jung-Bae and Dae-Ho… — But Jun-Hee is still alive; her number wasn’t called… — the Frontman pondered. — That means we can still find her. Most likely, she’s already close to the exit of the maze. Gi-Hun nodded. A mixture of feelings stirred inside him: exhaustion, grief over lost friends, anxiety for the next day, and a small, almost forbidden desire to simply sit next to In-Ho, savoring that rare moment of calm and harmony amid all the chaos around them. In-Ho rose, brushing the dust off his pants, and offered his hand to Gi-Hun. Somewhere nearby, a loud shout rang out. — Let’s go, time is almost up… — he said shortly. — It’s getting dangerous here, too. Gi-Hun stood, taking his hand. — I’m not afraid, — he said, holding In-Ho’s gaze and barely smiling. — You know… with you, I feel safe. With you… I definitely feel safe. The Frontman paused for a moment, reflecting on Gi-Hun’s words. Deep down, he was glad to hear them, yet troubling thoughts still gnawed at him. How long will you be able to trust me like this, Gi-Hun? When the truth comes out — will you still want to sit next to me? The noise outside the room grew. In-Ho clenched his teeth, pushing the thoughts away, and nodded: — It’s time. They stepped cautiously into the corridor, moving forward. A few blue players rushed past without noticing them. The flickering lights cast strange shadows on the walls — at times it seemed as though someone was lurking around the corner, waiting for the right moment to strike. Player 456 led the way, nervously gripping his key and scanning their surroundings. Behind him, In-Ho followed, ready to shield Gi-Hun at any moment if a red-team player attempted an attack from behind. Gi-Hun. I won’t let you wander these corridors alone anymore. I can’t afford to lose you. Every rustle echoed, making their hearts race faster. The tension grew, but they moved as cautiously as possible, as if each step could be their last. Hearing a loud pounding from a nearby corridor, In-Ho sharply grabbed Gi-Hun by the elbow, pulling him close. — Be careful, we could be seen, — the Frontman whispered. — But… how do we sneak through unnoticed? There are so many people… — Gi-Hun murmured, nervously swallowing. In-Ho glanced around and noticed a fork ahead. One path differed slightly from the others — just enough to guide them safely. Of course, he knew all the maze’s routes, as befits a Frontman. He could easily have led Gi-Hun through a hidden corridor, bypassing danger, and safely to the finish… yet he continued to act as if he had “accidentally” found the solution. — That way, — he said, leading Gi-Hun toward the suspicious corridor. After walking a bit, they spotted a staircase to the lower level. Descending cautiously, In-Ho surveyed the area. Ahead stretched a narrow corridor, with an opening in the left wall leading to a small room. Peering inside, the host saw Jun-Hee sitting on the floor, tightly holding a newborn. Next to her, an elderly woman put an arm around her shoulder. Seeing the red vest, both women flinched sharply: Jun-Hee held the baby closer in fear, and Mrs. Jang gripped the girl’s hand as if to shield her. But when Gi-Hun’s familiar face appeared behind the host, their tension eased. — Jun-Hee? Mrs. Jang? You’re alive! — Player 456 exclaimed with relief, stepping inside. Jun-Hee gave a faint smile, tears glinting in her eyes. Mrs. Jang smiled too, bowing low. In-Ho paused, looking at the baby, and quietly said: — Congratulations, Jun-Hee. It was said dryly, almost detached, yet Gi-Hun caught the warmth hidden in his tone, the warmth the Frontman desperately tried to conceal. — Did you see Hyun-Ju? — Mrs. Jang asked anxiously. — She went to find the exit… — No, we were alone, — In-Ho simply shook his head. Jun-Hee looked at Player 456 with regret, as if sensing her guilt over the deaths of his friends. — Sir… — she whispered. — I’m sorry about your friend… A brief silence fell over the room. Gi-Hun looked away, trying to keep his breathing steady. His chest tightened at the thought that his best friend was no longer alive. Jun-Hee tried to stay composed, but tears glistened in her eyes. She recounted what had happened after they split up: how Jung-Bae protected Dae-Ho at the cost of his own life, and then Dae-Ho himself held off a red player so she could escape. Each word came with difficulty, each memory ripped anew from her heart. Gi-Hun listened silently, not interrupting. He already understood enough to know that his friends had died with honor, sacrificing themselves for one another. Their hearts had kept humanity and hope alive until the very last breath. — Everyone sacrificed themselves for another’s life… — he could only whisper. — Jun-Hee… they would be very happy to see you with the baby now. In-Ho merely stood at the room’s entrance, absorbing every word. Over the years, the Frontman had grown accustomed to countless deaths — whether eliminated players, suicides, or fatal fights. New participants came and went, their faces fading from memory faster than blood could cool on the concrete floor. He didn’t care if they lived or died; he didn’t care who would get the prize and who would be killed on the final night, deprived of the chance to fight in the last game. These people had never meant anything to In-Ho. He understood: just mention a large sum, and they were already in his hands, ready to do the most despicable deeds to grab a piece. It had always been this way. But Gi-Hun… Gi-Hun was someone different. Seeing him suffer, watching his heart break before his eyes, the Frontman himself felt sharp torment, concealed behind his familiar mask of composure and cold-bloodedness — one that burned hotter than any fire. It suffocated, broke, and crushed from within. In-Ho lowered his gaze, as if afraid Gi-Hun would notice the crack in his flawless facade. I don’t want you to see how much it hurts. At that moment, the sound of pounding feet came from outside. Someone was clearly running toward them. Gi-Hun snapped his head toward the entrance; Jun-Hee held the baby closer. Hyun-Ju appeared in the doorway. — Hey! I found the exit! Hurry! — he shouted in haste, out of breath. — It’s just ahead! Jun-Hee’s gaze flicked to Hyun-Ju, and for the first time, a spark of hope appeared. The girl tried to stand but could barely keep her balance — the ankle injury made it hard. Gi-Hun and In-Ho supported her on both sides, helping her to her feet. — Mrs. Jang, — the Frontman said, looking at the elderly woman. — Please take the baby from Jun-Hee, quickly! And only when everyone was ready did Hyun-Ju look at those present and take Mrs. Jang by the hand. — Quick! Let's go! — she shouted shortly. They all rushed toward the exit together. •••TO BE CONTINUED•••