𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞

***

6 AM. The gradually increasing volume of the morning alarm echoed through the room, pulling the participants of the game from their dreams and almost relentlessly dragging them back into the cruel reality. After the fourth game, the number of players had significantly decreased. There were fewer beds now, which made the room, previously lacking its usual cramped feeling, seem unusually spacious. Gi-Hun opened his eyes, squinting against the bright light. The first thing he realized was that his head was resting on In-Ho’s shoulder. The second thing — his palm was gently covered by another, almost by accident. This gesture — so simple, yet unimaginably significant — made Gi-Hun’s heart beat faster. How long have we... been sleeping like this? The Frontman soon stirred and raised his head. Gi-Hun slowly shifted his gaze to In-Ho, who, despite his usual cold demeanor, now seemed somewhat uneasy. Player 456 wanted to ask all the questions that had been building up inside him, so that In-Ho couldn’t evade the answers. But In-Ho just adjusted himself more comfortably, not even trying to move his head off his shoulder. This wasn’t a coincidence — it was something more. — Did you sleep well? — the Frontman quietly asked, catching Gi-Hun’s curious glance. — Yes, — Gi-Hun replied, yawning involuntarily. — Um... sorry... if my head caused you any trouble. In-Ho didn’t look his way, merely giving a brief nod, still absorbed in his thoughts. — I’m glad you weren’t tormented by nightmares today. Suddenly, the door creaked open, softly but irritably, and two soldiers entered carrying a black coffin in a rectangular shape. The lid was adorned with a neatly tied pink ribbon. With the arrival of the coffin — this cruel reminder of inevitable death — a heavy silence filled the room. The players, already accustomed to such scenes, still couldn’t shake off the anxiety. Each of them now asked themselves a silent question: "Who’s next?" — Someone’s dead... — Gi-Hun said quietly, watching the hustle. He gently freed his hand from In-Ho’s grip and slowly stood, feeling the cold begin to stiffen his body. Stepping forward, Gi-Hun approached the players gathered around the coffin. In-Ho silently followed him, not saying a word. The soldiers approached one of the beds, their steps losing all meaning. Pulling back the blanket, they lifted the body — one by the shoulders, the other by the feet — and slowly carried it to the black box with the pink ribbon. Over the years, their movements had become so precise that even in this cruel process, there was nothing human left. Here, even death wasn’t given a humane farewell. — Who died? — In-Ho asked with restrained curiosity, to a passing player. — An elderly woman, — the player replied with a heavy sigh. — The girl with the baby says she didn’t wake up. Apparently, she had a seizure during the night. Player 456 glanced at Jun-Hee, sitting apart with the baby in her arms. Her eyes were red from crying. Gi-Hun wanted to approach, to say something comforting, but he couldn’t — words in this horrible place now seemed empty. He simply clenched his fists, unable to do more, and looked away. For a while, a heavy silence hung in the room, broken only by the footsteps of soldiers carrying the coffin. When the door closed again, the players began to disperse. Some sank onto their beds, some stared silently at the floor, others turned away as though desperately hoping to forget what they had just seen. After a while, the soldiers brought in food, announcing the start of breakfast. The players lined up, silently awaiting their meager portions. — Damn, are you out of your minds?! — player 100 shouted, gripping a potato in his hand. — Not only is it that damn potato again, but it’s also raw! The crowd gasped, checking their portions — they had indeed been given raw, tough, completely inedible potatoes. Gi-Hun swallowed nervously, accepting his portion. His stomach betrayed him, growling, and it felt like more than just hunger — it felt like real physical pain. — And what about tomorrow?!” another player cried. — Are we just going to get a bottle of water? The staff silently handed out the portions, completely ignoring the players' angry shouts. The soldiers didn’t care about their exhaustion, pain, or fear. They didn’t care. — Do you even hear us?! — someone from the crowd yelled. — If you care so little about our lives, how do you think we’re supposed to play after this kind of food? The last to get his breakfast was In-Ho. The soldier in the mask looked at him longer than necessary, as if implying: "Mr. Frontman, you don’t have to eat like everyone else, but you chose this path." But In-Ho, hiding his irritation behind a mask of calm, only squinted, not paying attention to the silent signals. He nervously grabbed the bottle and the box of raw potatoes from the soldier’s hands and silently walked away. Approaching Gi-Hun, he sat beside him, biting into and struggling to chew the tough potato. The Frontman seemed to try his best to convince those watching them through the cameras that he, too, could endure these harsh conditions, gnawing on raw food like any other player, feeling the bitterness in his mouth. As if for Gi-Hun, to show his bravery, he was ready to endure any humiliation — in front of his own staff, the VIP guests, anyone. Shifting his gaze to player 456, In-Ho couldn’t help but notice how Gi-Hun had slightly paled, as though the nightmares were still tormenting him even in the waking world. The Frontman’s gaze remained cold, but something inside him tightened with concern. Leaning a little closer, his hand hovered in the air as though In-Ho wanted to touch Gi-Hun’s shoulder, but, catching himself, he pulled it back, unwilling to take that step. — Young-Il... — Gi-Hun spoke quietly, not lifting his gaze, as if his words were coming with difficulty. — What do you think... what game awaits us today? — Another cruel elimination game, — the Frontman replied shortly, his voice giving no hint of doubt. — Why do you ask? — I remembered... three years ago, when I first came here... — Gi-Hun swallowed, unable to hold back the tremor in his voice. — They told us to split into pairs. And only when the game began did we realize we had to play against each other. In-Ho listened carefully, his gaze once again lingering on Gi-Hun. He noticed how tightly Gi-Hun was gripping the potato in his hands. — Everyone picked those they communicated with the most, — player 456 paused briefly before looking at the Frontman, their eyes meeting. — If it’s a paired game today, please don’t pick me. I don’t want us to play against each other. In-Ho hesitated before replying. He knew that Gi-Hun probably still carried the fear and pain of those memories, and he was puzzled by how to respond. The Frontman’s gaze remained calm. Gi-Hun. Today’s game would be unpredictable. This time, no one would have the chance to avoid their choice, and it would be far harsher than any pair games. And the scariest part — I won’t be able to save you. In-Ho briefly turned his gaze away, hiding his thoughts. Then, he reluctantly nodded, softening. — Alright, I’ll play with someone else. A few minutes later, the silence in the room was broken by the familiar female voice over the loudspeaker: — "Attention all players! Please proceed to the game zone! The game is about to begin!" The players slowly began to move towards the exit and line up. In-Ho glanced intently at Jun-Hee and her baby, who was already dozing in her arms. — Jun-Hee... — the Frontman spoke in a lowered voice so that the other players wouldn’t hear. — It’s better to leave the baby here. He won’t survive these games, and you’ll be in danger if you take him with you. The girl froze, holding the newborn tighter to her chest. Her gaze darkened for a moment, and her lips trembled slightly. She didn’t want to leave him alone, even if the room would remain empty during the games. The baby was everything to her, her only hope for survival. But she understood: In-Ho was right. There was no place for a tiny, defenseless baby in this game. After a moment’s hesitation, Jun-Hee sighed heavily and finally nodded, laying the baby on her bed. — Okay... you’re right, — her voice was soft, almost soundless. — I don’t want him to suffer with me. In-Ho watched her, feeling how difficult this decision was for her. — He’s safer here than out there, — the Frontman nodded. After everyone left the common room and the door creaked closed behind them, the participants silently made their way down the corridor, not exchanging a word or a glance. Each of them knew that ahead of them awaited another cruel trial — the fight for their own lives. •••TO BE CONTINUED•••