“Boss… I Don’t Know How You Do It. All I Could Do Was Obsess Over Revenge… Doubting My Comrades

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CHAPTER 07 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

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You woke up to the sound of classical music playing over the speakers, as you stretched your arms out. You seemed to sleep comfortably, feeling energetic. You didn't worry too much about the next game, in fact, you were ecstatic.

You rubbed your eyes as you climbed down your bed, greeting Gi-hun and Jung-bae. You looked around to find In-ho, seeing him across Gi-hun's bed who was already sitting up on his bed. You carefully walked over him as he noticed you.

"Hi," you said shyly, giving him a small wave.

In-ho shot you a look, raising his eyebrow. "Do I know you?"

You tilted your head in confusion, furrowing your eyebrows. You couldn't deny the feeling as if your heart was stabbed. Did he really have no idea who you were? You knew he heard you last night, your eyes meeting knowing that something was there, that you go way back. He held you during the voting process, the same way that he did back when you were kids.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. In-ho stood up and walked past you, his arms brushing against yours softly, but brief. You looked at him, seeing him interact with Gi-hun and Jung-bae. You stared at him intently, trying to figure out if he didn't know you at all, or if he was pretending not to.

The alarm buzzed, a voice on the speaker echoing through the room. "Attention, please. The second game will begin momentarily. Please follow the instructions from our staff."

You shook your head and fixed yourself up, walking down the stairs just when Dae-ho calls out to you. "Miss, you should join us. Let's go up together."

You felt In-ho's eyes on you but you kept your gaze at Dae-ho, whose eyes were jolly, despite the brutality of this place. You gave him a nod as Gi-hun, Jung-bae. In-ho, you, and Dae-ho fell in line out the door.

Players started to walk up the labyrinth stairs, hearing Jung-bae mutter "triangle" in every step. You couldn't help but feel your heart heavy as you made your way upstairs, knowing you were just behind In-ho. You tried to keep your distance or at least not trip, or you would bump into In-ho.

You were led to a room that seemed like a play area, the ones you would see in school. You looked around as if you were in the middle of an activity center in an elementary school. Two circles were formed in the middle, bordered with rainbow colors. You tried to look for any signs if this would be the Dalgona game, but you didn't see any small containers.

"Welcome to your second game. This game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes."

You see Gi-hun's mouth drop in shock, his eyes with a hint of worry. Jeong-bae spoke up, "Is Dalgona a team game?"

"It shouldn't be," you said, sighing. Though you've already foreseen how the games could be different now, but you couldn't help but feel guilty for Gi-hun, knowing how the other players depended on his words.

Suddenly, Player 100, who you know as Jeong-dae, appeared from behind, his tone harsh. "Aren't we playing the Dalgona game?"

"No, it doesn't look like it," you noticed Gi-hun's lips tremble a bit, looking down in defeat.

"What's the game then?" Jeong-dae asked rudely, his voice starting to raise.

"I'm not sure," Gi-hun replied, his voice evident with worry.

Jeong-dae snapped as he talked to Gi-hun. "What? You said you'd done this before. That triangle was the easiest. Was that all bullshit?"

"I'm sorry," Gi-hun looked down, not knowing what to say.

"Sorry won't cut it!" Jeong-dae continued, earning the attention from the other players as he raised his voice. "You talked like you knew everything. All these people believed your bullshit. What are you going to do? Will you take responsibility?"

"Hey, hey!" You raised your voice back, much to the group's surprise. "Stop blaming him for everything. You demand too much. You should've thought that the games were gonna be different this time."

"Then you can go and die here, lady," Jeong-dae retorted. "Why don't you just go suck his dick as you're kissing his ass already?"

You glared at him as he tried to walk towards you, only to be blocked by In-ho's body, his eyes staring intently to Jeong-dae as his fists clenched. His voice was low, but enough to be commanding. "That's enough."

Jeong-dae seemed to be taken aback, flinching as In-ho kept his gaze at him coldly. You kept your glare at Jeong-dae as you clenched your jaw.

"Please divide into teams now," the voice on the speakers instructed, a digital timer ticking.

"Yeah, just drop it," the other players said, pulling Jeong-dae behind. "Don't waste your time talking to these nutjobs. We shouldn't have fallen for his nonsense."

Jeong-dae eyed you from up and down, a smirk forming in his lips. You shot him a disgusted look. You noticed In-ho stood still, his eyes not leaving Jeong-dae. The old man scoffed as he brushed Gi-hun aside. "Previous winner? What a lunatic." He stopped in front of you as he glared at you. "Whore your way out of this game."

Your eyes flared with anger as you followed your gaze to Jeong-dae. You felt a hand on your shoulder, his thumb circling around it. You looked up and saw In-ho, looking at you. You averted your gaze and removed his hand from your shoulder. If he could act like he didn't know you, then you could too.

"I'm sorry," Gi-hun turned to you and In-ho, looking down.

"I still trust you," In-ho said as Gi-hun looked at him, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'd like to play the game with you, if that's okay?"

Gi-hun nodded and turned to you, giving him a nod back to let him know that you'll be joining. Jung-bae and Dae-ho joined as well, completing the team of five. You could see In-ho looking at you, but you tried hard not to meet his gaze, as you didn't want to deal with his mixed signals. If anything, your life in this game depended on it, and you had to stay focused.

The time seemed to pass by fast as you see players forming groups. You noticed Player 120 still looking for a team. You looked up the time, there was only two minutes left. You cheered for her on your head, hoping she would at least form a team to win.

"Excuse me," a young woman approached you, as you felt a poke on your shoulder. "Can I join you?"

Jung-bae looked at her worriedly, his fingers counting your group. "Sorry, we've already got five people."

"Please help me," her voice pleaded as she touched her belly, earning a small gasp from you. "I'm pregnant."

You needed to think fast. You couldn't risk a pregnant woman to join the other groups. You wouldn't know how the other groups would react if a pregnant woman joined them. She was fragile. If something happens to her, especially her unborn child, the guilt would eat you up to your grave.

"You can join them," you spoke up, as Dae-ho stared at you in horror. "I can find another group. I see Player 120 who doesn't have a group yet, I'll join her instead."

"Are you sure?" Gi-hun asked, a hint of worry evident in his voice.

You touched his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I'll manage." You turned to the rest of the group, giving In-ho a subtle glance. You noticed him looking at you intently, but you started to speak. "Take her in."

You gave them a wave, making your way towards Player 120 who was with Player 095 this time. As you were about to approach them, someone grabbed your arm from behind, stopping you on your tracks.

"What are you doing?" The familiar voice said, knowing it was In-ho.

"Go back," you said, looking at him in the eye, but you wished you didn't. You forgot how narrow his eyes were, illuminating its brown color, close to a coffee bean. You swallowed, trying to compose yourself. "There's only a minute left. Let me go."

You removed his hand from your arm and walked away, successfully approaching Player 120 and 095.

"Hi," you said, giving them a small smile. "Will it be okay if I can join you?"

Player 120 nodded. You gave Player 095 a smile. You noticed your team needed two more people. Looking around, you saw Player 149 and 007 approaching your team, their faces catching a hint of hope as they noticed you only needed two from your team.

"Come join us," you extended your hand, motioning for them to join. Player 149 sighed in relief, a wide smile forming in her lips.

"Time for team selection is up," the announcer's voice echoed through the room. Each teams formed a line from each circle. To your luck, your team went at the back of In-ho's group, his back facing you. "The game you will be playing is Six-Legged Pentathlon. You will start with your legs tied together. Each member will take turns playing a mini-game at every ten-meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one. Here are the mini games, ddakji, flying stone, gong-gi, spinning top, jegi. Your goal is to win all the mini games and cross the finish line in five minutes. Please decide players for each mini game."

Player 120 turned her head to you, your eyes hinting a bit of shock when she spoke. "I'm Hyun-ju. Choi Hyun-ju. What's your name?"

"Y/N," you said. "I'll play what you pick for me, Hyun-ju."

Hyun-ju nodded as she turned to the others, asking what they were more confident in playing. 149, who introduced herself as Geum-ja, will be playing gong-gi. Yong-sik decided to play flying stone, then Young-mi wanted to play ddakji. Jegi was picked by Hyun-ju, leaving you with spinning top.

"We're all set," you said, giving them all a reassuring nod. "Let's do this."

You felt Geum-ja's hand rubbing on your back, bringing comfort to your spine. She gave you a smile as you smiled back. "Thank you so much for letting us join you, Y/N. You're an angel."

"We're here for each other. It's the right thing to do," you said. "Are you sure you can play gong-gi?"

"I played gong-gi with bullets back in the Korean War," Geum-ja said with determination in her voice, which you chuckled. "These stones are nothing."

You bowed your head and turned to the set in front of you, seeing the first two teams gather in front. Though you couldn't help but see In-ho despite his back turned to you, stealing glances at him. You see his head turned to Gi-hun, hearing them strategize.

"That leaves jegi and spinning top," you heard Gi-hun say. "Which are you good at?

"Well, I'll play what you pick for me, Gi-hun," In-ho replied, earning a confused look from Gi-hun.

"You know my name?" Gi-hun widened his eyes, much to his shock. You noticed In-ho glancing at you as he pointed his finger at you.

"Oh, your friend was calling you by your name, so I thought I'd try it," In-ho said as you squinted your eyes a bit, confused with the sudden acknowledgement. "Does it bother you?"

Gi-hun sighed softly, shaking his head. "No, it's fine."

In-ho shot you a brief look as he kept his attention to Gi-hun, waiting for Gi-hun's decision on which game he'd like to play. You hear Gi-hun say that he would be playing jegi, leaving In-ho with spinning top. You felt a bit of butterflies on your stomach, a small smile forming in your lips as you thought the both of you would be playing the same game. You quickly shook your head to suppress those thoughts. You were in a dangerous place, playing a deadly game. Instead, you turned your head to the players who were setting their locks to their legs. All players motioned their bodies to the first two teams to get a better view. That meant you and In-ho sat side-by-side, his knee brushing a bit against yours.

The first two teams lined up in each circle with each guard positioned with the games. Five games for each player with a five-minute timer. You calculated that each mini game should be completed in a minute, much better if less than of it. You see the players holding each other as their legs were locked. Their movement should be precise, with one wrong leg, everyone could stumble, eating more of their time.

Communication is key in order to complete this game. You figured gong-gi would be the most nerve-wracking game of all. You were never good at playing gong-gi despite In-ho teaching you back then a lot of times.

"Let's go!" You hear Thanos shout, the sound of a gunshot echoing through the room. Both teams chanted as they walked towards the first mini game, ddakji. The first team flipped it on the first try, the other team failing to do so. You can't help but feel a shack of nervousness into you, wondering what would happen if the other team doesn't make it on time.

A thought sprang on to you. This game is played by groups, meaning it would also be a group elimination. You stared in horror as the second team still failed to flip the paper, cheering for them internally as you hoped for them to make it out.

The first team made it out to the second mini game, flying stone. The announcer instructed to not step on the line, seeing the team move back a bit. Player 198 aimed at the stone as he threw it, only to not reach the stone. You heard the other players gasp, as he asked the guard for another stone, only pointing to the one he threw.

You figured you had to move fast. If you had to pick up whatever game you failed, you had to do it fast. You felt the pressure build on to you, knowing how you have to spin the top in just one try. You were confident, sure. But the last time you played spinning top was with In-ho.

You didn't realize the second team already made out ddakji and flying stone already, advancing them to the third mini game, gong-gi. The first team continued to miss, eating more of their time. You knew right then and there that they wouldn't be able to survive, knowing how the three remaining games can take too much of their time.

This is where you realize how time truly is of the essence. Back when you were kids, you played the whole day and enjoyed every single bit of it. Right now, you were playing to survive, to see more of the light outside.

You couldn't see much of the players playing gong-gi, as it was played on the ground with a small table on it. You only heard the sound of stones being raised and thrown. If you had to play this game on your own, you would require silence. The thought of having to play that in a room where all eyes were on you would definitely end you up dead, a relief washing over you that you wouldn't be playing it this time.

"Y/N," You heard Yong-sik call out, turning your head to him. You could see the worry in his face. "You can play spinning top very well, right? Are you sure?"

"I played it a lot when I was a kid," you replied, giving him a reassuring smile. Though you wouldn't disclose that it had been a long time since you played it. "I even used to teach someone how to play it."

Yong-sik nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer. He seemed to whisper something to himself as if he was comforting himself. You briefly looked at In-ho, seeing him looking at you at the corner of his eye. He seemed to look away immediately, brushing his hand on his knee as he fixed himself up.

You noticed Dae-ho practicing the stones he found on the ground, training himself for gong-gi. You looked at the first team who was still stuck in flying stone. There was only two minutes left. The second team was already in spinning top.

You noticed how the teams were focused more on cheering for themselves than advancing on to the next game. You couldn't blame them, knowing how playing these games could be at the expense of your life. Maybe you would understand it more if you were in their shoes.

Time seemed to pass by so fast in this place, seeing the timer leaving with only five seconds left. You can't help but stand, the tension rising to your body. You saw the first team successfully hitting the stone, though they couldn't make it to the next game. You braced yourself as you heard the timer beep.

"Your time is up."

The sound of gunshots filled the air, hearing the bodies thud to the ground. It didn't even give you time to breathe, seeing blood splattered all over the ground. You didn't notice you were holding on to In-ho, gripping his jacket as you looked away and covered your eyes. You felt his hand grip on your hand, placing yours inside of his pocket.

"The following players have been eliminated: Players 016, 045, 178, 189, 198, 254, 286, 341, 395, and 416."

You sighed deeply as your hand trembled. You felt your body to the ground, pushing In-ho as well. As much as you've seen the evilness in this place, calculating its next moves, you couldn't help but still feel scared. You buried your head to In-ho's chest, your eyes still closed. You felt his hand on your back, rubbing it gently as if to comfort you.

----

The more you stayed in this room, the more you felt immune to the sound of gunshots.

It took at least fifteen minutes for the workers to clean up the bodies, revealing a casket but designed to be some sort of a pink gift box. Though you could see the eliminated players still moving despite being gunned down. You thought of it as nothing, knowing they would succumb to their wounds the more they stayed alive. You can't help but think they were simply losers who lost the game, though deep inside, you knew the killings will never be justified.

"The next teams, please get ready."

You stood up, fixing yourself as you felt your breath trembling. It was your turn, and you were determined to make it out of this game.

"Y/N," Dae-ho called out as you turned around. He gave you a thumbs up. "Good luck!"

You nodded and glanced at the others, with Gi-hun, Jung-bae, and Player 222 looking at you worriedly. In-ho looked at you as if he wanted to tell you the same, his stare longing for more, keeping your gaze. You were going to survive this game, you're pretty sure of it. You still had a lot of questions for In-ho. There's no way you would die at a place like this.

You felt Geum-ja grab your arm and Yong-sik's as the rest of your team's legs were locked together. You felt the tightness near your ankle, but there were still enough room for your skin to breathe.

"Let's show everyone else here that these games are no big deal," Hyun-ju stated, her voice motivating your senses.

You heard the gunshot sprung in the air as both your arms with Geumja's and Hyun-ju's, marching towards ddakji. You focused on your steps, trying to be as equal as their pace. You panted as your team cheered, reaching the ddakji mini game.

Young-mi grabs the ddakji paper as the guard put the other paper on the ground, ready for her to be flipped. You stayed silent in attempt to not pressure her, seeing her hands tremble. She motioned her hand in a swing, aiming to the paper to the ground.

"Fail."

The paper only moved a bit. You felt yourself groan as Yong-sik exclaimed, "Come on, again. Smash it!"

Another aim.

"Fail."

Third attempt.

"Fail."

"Shit!" You exclaimed, staring at the timer. Only 30 seconds have passed, there was still time to flip it.

Young-mi grabbed the paper again as she breathed heavily, panic evident in her face.

"Hang on, Young-mi," Hyun-ju called out, though her voice was calm. "Try it with the other side. The other side."

Young-mi followed, flipping the paper on her hand. With all her might, she swung her arm and aimed to the ground.

"Pass."

You can't help but scream, cheering for the win. You quickly crossed your arms with Hyun-ju and Geum-ja, marching towards flying stone. You panted as Yong-sik grabbed the stone and aimed it to the one on the ground.

"Fail."

"I'm sorry!" Yong-sik cried out. Geum-ja, being the mother she is, comforted Yong-sik reassuring him that it was okay. You had more time, one setback won't probably bring you down.

"All right, we'll go pick it up," Hyun-ju said as your team walked over the stone, as Yong-sik successfully picks it up. "All right, now walk backwards."

You went back to the line as Yong-sik motioned his arm to aim to the stone on the ground, though he was panicking. He breathed nervously, his hands trembling. Geum-ja pointed out to the stone as she held her son's back, "Yong-sik, look. Imagine the stone is the face of the crook who scammed you."

That was a good motivation, you thought. You noticed Yong-sik's eyes falter with anger as he cried, "That asshole ruined my fucking life!" His arm swung as Geumja eluded her body, giving way for Yong-sik to throw the stone.

"Pass."

You glanced at the timer, seeing there were still four minutes and thirty seconds left. You knelt down along the others as Geum-ja immediately grabbed the stones, her eyes focused on the game. You stared in awe as you see her doing it fast.

However, she failed to catch the fourth stone. She sighed softly but wasted no time. She rolled the stones again, successfully catching the rest of the stones. It was time for the second set, only for her to fail again.

"That's okay," you assured, placing a hand on her back. "These stones are nothing compared to the bullets you've played before, right?"

Geum-ja swallowed her throat as she nodded, seemingly motivated once more. Her eyes seem unfazed as she caught each stone successfully, reaching the fourth set.

It was time for the fifth set as she successfully caught all five stones. The stones landed perfectly on her fingers, she just have to flip it on the other side and catch them all.

"Mom, just imagine the stone is Dad's mistress' face," Yong-sik said, motivating his mother.

She looked at Yong-sik for a second and looked back at her hand. This time, her expression with wrath. "Rotten bitch!"

You held your breath as you kept your eyes on the stone as she flipped it.

"Pass."

You cheered, grabbing your team as you stood up. You locked your arms together once again, now advancing to spinning top. You grabbed the top from the guard as you wrapped the fiber thread around the axle first, then wrapping it around the top as you held it with your thumb. As much as possible, you kept your attention away from the blood on the ground and kept your gaze on your top.

You glanced at the timer, seeing there was only two minutes and ten seconds left. When you felt the thread tighten on the top, you held your breath as you looked in front of you. The blood on the ground wasn't a pretty sight at all. You gulped, trying to hold in the fear.

You glanced on your right, seeing In-ho from afar. His eyes seemed to shot up as if he wasn't expecting for you to look at him. As much as you hated how he acted as if he didn't know you, well, two can play in that game. You don't know what came to you, but you felt a rush of relief seeing him, giving him a wink. In-ho's eyes widened, his mouth dropping.

You turned your attention to your top as you flicked your wrist, smirking as you did. The thread unwinded as it propelled the top to the ground, successfully spinning.

"Pass."

You screamed as you dropped the thread to the ground, locking arms with your team again. Your team had more time, and now it was Hyun-ju's time. You heard the other players cheer for your team, your heart pumping hard to your chest. You glanced at the time, only one minute left.

The jegi must be kicked five times. Then, Hyun-ju turned to your team. "Please, look away."

"What?" Geum-ja asked in confusion.

"Please," Hyun-ju pleaded. She turned to the other players watching. "You guys too."

Confusion was evident on everyone's faces, but there was no time to think. There was only one minute left for you to survive. You cried out, "Don't look! Turn around, please!"

You looked away as you heard Hyun-ju breathe heavily before starting. You heard the jegi land on Hyun-ju's foot, kicking it up in the air successfully.

One.

Two.

You held your breath as you continued to count.

Three.

Four.

You closed your eyes, bracing to hear the last one.

Five.

"Five!" You screamed together with the rest of your team, seeing the jegi now on the ground.

"Pass."

You cheered with your team as you lock your arms together once again, seeing there were ten seconds left. The crowd cheered as well, as if forgetting the evilness in this place. Your team marched towards the red line, the finishing line.

You hear the timer beeped as the crowd erupted with cheer. You noticed the other team successfully made it out just like you did, feeling as if everyone had won already.

For a moment, every player united with each other, seemingly happy with the wins. You grabbed your team in a big hug, crying out as you realize that you've made it. You jumped cheerfully despite the guards unlocking your legs, not caring if you kicked them a bit.

It felt like you were part of the olympics, if only there were no killings involved. You remembered your conversation with In-ho, with him asking you before if there was an olympics held for games like this. Though you promised to team up with him when the time comes, only to fail at a time like this.

The gates opened as the teams exited the room, glancing a bit behind you as you saw In-ho, his gaze fixed on you. Although this time, you could see the relief in his face. He pressed his lips into a small smile, so brief that you wouldn't be able to notice much.

You hoped for him to come back in one piece as you walked away, terrified of the next things to happen.

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A/N: I'm publishing this chapter now since I'll be doing a small group work for my college. I'll try to have the next chapter up as fast as I can since I, too, am excited for this series hahaha 😂 Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged on the next chapter! ✨

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CHAPTER 02 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

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The familiar scent of your apartment brought you back to your senses. The reality of being back to Seoul for good kicks you in day by day. Jun-ho placed your suitcase to the floor and looked around. Your studio apartment had a natural sunlight, as the glass door illuminated the light from the outside. Though the apartment still felt empty as you still lacked furnitures, but the memories it held was more than enough to say that you were indeed back home.

"Jun-ho, thank you so much for bringing my stuff back here," you patted his shoulder and smiled.

He smiled back. "No worries, noona. I'm so glad you're back. I wish we could talk more, but I got an errand to catch on."

You nodded, taking off your hand from his shoulder. "I see. Well, good luck and do good, alright?" Jun-ho nodded and grabbed his backpack. As he made his way to the door, you turned around and called out to him again. This time, you noticed how his body froze to your words, "If you ever see In-ho, let him know that I'm back, alright?"

His body stood still, much to your confusion. What was up with him? You understand how it might've been hard how In-ho had been missing for years, but your gut tells you that there was more to the story. As much as you wanted to ask, you knew In-ho preferred to always move and decide on his own. There's so much more in there, you knew it. But you were in no position to pry, at least for now.

Jun-ho looked back at you and only gave you a bow, then left. You turned your attention to the apartment, noting the stuff that you had to buy. A dining table, chairs, sofa, and a bed. Your wooden cabinet was still here, though it had built up dust already. You cleaned a bit inside before placing your clothes and other stuff there.

The sun was still out but it was setting already. You figured with little time you have left, you may as well shop for furnitures. You changed into another set of clothes, this time more casual and comfortable. You wore a black oversized shirt and grey sweatpants, slipping on some white sneakers. Once you felt ready, you grabbed your sling bag and went out, locking the door behind you.

As you walked down the road, you can't help but think of In-ho and how Jun-ho seemed to act strange whenever he was mentioned. You wondered why - did they fall out? Did something happen? Was In-ho gone for good? If yes, why would he leave his brother then? You tried to piece things together, but nothing made sense. It was out of character for In-ho to disappear without a trace, even if his wife passed.

It's impossible that he's gone for good, you thought. If his wife has passed, he would've made an effort to at least visit her in the cemetery. Though you didn't know where his wife was laid to rest, but in that case, maybe In-ho would've visited her at times. Guilt started to creep up to you, regretting every single second that you left here in the first place. As much as you knew it was for the best, you couldn't help but think that maybe you could've been there for In-ho when he was struggling. You could've helped him.

----

You swiped your credit card to the POS, confirming your payment for all the furnitures you bought. It would be deliver later, not later than 7pm at least. You needed a bed to sleep in for the night, and your apartment was more than empty except for the wooden cabinet you left years ago. You were surprised how it was still sturdy as ever. Kind of a blessing in disguise, actually.

You bowed to the cashier and proceeded to exit the store. You sighed as you felt the cold breeze hug you in. You looked for your vape inside your sling bag, inhaled it, and puffed a smoke. You didn't realize how tense your shoulders were as you exhaled. You thought the jetlag was getting on to you, adding up to the fact all the things you knew about the brothers.

You walked towards the subway, waiting for your train to arrive. This time, you didn't try hailing a cab as you missed riding the train. You wanted to savor the feeling of being in Seoul, finally back after long years.

You sat on one of the benches, minding your own business as you stared into space. You scrolled through your phone as you waited for the train, getting updated about your friends' life updates. You noticed an advertisement from a vlogger, MG Coin. It was the first time you stumbled upon this vlogger and read an article about them. Turns out he opened a new coin, Dalmatian, which he advertised to have everyone invest down to their last penny, guaranteeing instant investment. From the looks of it, if you weren't dumb enough, it was a scam for you. No one can get rich from truly investing, what more of getting a return of investment that fast.

"Dumb fucks," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. You continued to scroll more until there was no news that was worth to read. You sighed and kept your phone inside your bag.

The sound of a tile being slammed shot you up, looking at the direction of the sound. There, you see a man in a fine suit, playing what seemed like ddakji. You adjusted your eyesight to see what was happening, and yes, it really was ddakji.

You chuckled, wondering what entered his mind to play such a kid's game in a random subway. He was playing with someone who seemed to be in... distressed? You looked at the man, seeing a hand imprint on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused why he seemed so invested in the game.

You watched them as they played, earning a shock from you when you see the man with a suit slap the guy's face. Then, he started to speak. "Again, I'll give you 100,000 won if you beat me. If I win, you can pay with your body."

"So, he paid by slapping," you shook your head in disbelief, chuckling as you continued to watch them. When the guy finally won, you can see how happy he was but looked up to the man in a suit, seemingly wanting to slap him. As he bolted his hand to slap, the man in a suit grabbed the guy's hand, blocking the slap. It seemed like he gave him something, which the guy glanced at his hand as if he was reading something.

You averted your gaze when you see the man in a suit turn around, facing you. You tried to not meet his gaze, but to your surprise, a briefcase was right next to your seat. You were probably so invested in watching the game that you didn't notice the briefcase. Though it was a crazy idea, you wanted to try and play the game. Would you win the prize? Or would you try to spice things up a bit?

You faced the man in a suit, meeting your gaze. You gave him a smile and a nod, and surprisingly, he also did. He proceeded to place the ddakji papers but he stopped as you spoke, "May I?"

The man smirked, but you can see the confusion forming in his face. You had a feeling he was trying to keep up with a facade which boils your curiosity more. "You want to play ddakji?"

You nodded. "I heard that you can win 100,000 won if you win, right?" He nodded in agreement. You continued, "What if I give you 100,000 won instead if you win, and if you lose...?" You looked up to think, and see the man chuckling. He seemed to be enjoying this.

"If I lose, then you can slap me," the man said as he smirked, taking the papers away from the briefcase. This was it, it seemed that both of you reached to an agreement. You stood up, fixing your clothes as he hands you the red paper.

The blue paper sits on the ground, waiting for you to flip it. You took a deep breath as you motioned your hand up then aimed at the blue paper, flipping it perfectly. It was the man's turn, seeing as he fixed and unbuttoned his blazer before swinging his hand to flip the paper on the ground, only to fail.

You smirked when you see him realize that he lost. He straightened himself up and moved his face near you, a free aim for you to slap. You examined his features first, realizing how fine he looked. He looked like he might in his early 40s, with a strand of hair down his forehead. He seemed to brace to the impact as you motioned your hand for a slap, only to lightly tap his face, barely even a slap.

He looked at you confusingly to which you only chuckled. "Can't slap a pretty face like yours," you said.

He only looked at you coldly, then furrowed his eyebrows as if to examine you. You had a feeling that no one dared to do that to him before, and maybe no one ever gave him 100,000 won if he wins the game. His jaw clenched, but not the angry kind. He seemed to think and squinted his eyes, then proceeded to nod in defeat, chuckling to himself.

"I just wanted to try it anyway, see if I was still good at it," you fixed yourself, straightening your posture. He did the same, now placing the ddakji papers back in the suitcase.

You noticed his hand on your vision, giving you a brown card, like a calling card, with three shapes on it - triangle, square, and circle. You shot him a confused look but this time, he was smirking at you. "If you want to see if you're good at ddakji, then you may as well join more games."

You grabbed the card from him as he closed his briefcase, giving you a nod before turning away, seeing his back as he walked away up to the platform, leaving the subway. Your gaze turned to the card you were holding, its texture seemed... premium. You turned the card on the other side and saw a number, as if ready for you to call.

A rumbling noise of wheels echoed through the subway, indicating that the train has arrived. You tucked the card on your pocket as you waited for the doors to open, entering it and sat near the entrance. You picked the card again from your pocket, intently staring at it. There was something more in this card that you were curious about. What did he mean about having more games? Will there be a prize at the end?

There's no harm in doing so, you think?

----

"Lee Myung-gi ran a Youtube Channel named, 'MG Coin' promoted a new coin called, 'Dalmatian' that turned out to be a scam, losing over 15.2 billion won after promoting it to their subscribers," the salesman reported, a phone pressed on his ear.

In-ho continued working on his papers, a glass of whiskey sitting near his left desk lamp. His phone was placed near it, putting the call on loudspeaker. He went over the potential player's file, seeing more of the details of the scam. He shook his head in disbelief, wondering how did these people get themselves up to situations like this. "Trash. Pure trash."

"He fled to the Philippines to hide from those he scammed," the voice on the other line stated. "I also noticed someone calling his phone. Someone named Kim Jun-hee."

"What about this Jun-hee?"

"She's pregnant, sir," the salesman said. In-ho dropped the paper he was holding for a moment. A pause came in before the salesman continued again, "Not in debt. Just needed funds for her pregnancy."

In-ho sat back on his chair, placing his hand on his chin as if to think. Though he couldn't help but feel his heart drop for a moment, remembering his wife. He shook his head before his emotions take over, proceeding to speak again. "You played with her?"

"Yes," the salesman replied. "I didn't slap her, knowing how fragile she was." In-ho nodded, a sigh of relief escaping from him. He took a sip on his whiskey, but was caught off guard when the salesman started to speak again. "But someone else wanted to play voluntarily."

"That's a first," In-ho muttered. He wondered why someone wanted to play ddakji voluntarily. Then he scoffed, thinking how they probably heard about the prize. "Let them enter the games."

"Sir, with all due respect, are you sure?" The salesman asked, the shock evident in his voice. "She offered to pay 100,000 won if she loses the game."

In-ho nodded as his thoughts start to take him over, trying to decide if they would let this someone enter the games. In entering the games, one had to be in debt. By debt, as in bad debts. A debt that slowly kills you, feeling as though you were alive only to be taunted by your shitty financial decisions. In-ho proceeded to ask, "Do you know anything about this woman?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. My apologies," the salesman replied. "But she seemed to be carefree. I spotted her along a furniture store nearby the station, buying furnitures, like a lot of them. She beat me to playing ddakji, and said she just wanted to see if she was still good at it."

In-ho became more confused, trying to weigh if he was going to let this someone in. If he lets you in, then the games would be more interesting. That is, if you call the number. Maybe there was no harm in letting someone not in debt to play. Or maybe he can offer you something more than playing in a pool of humans drowned in their debts.

"I gave her a card in case she's interested," the salesman reported. "But you should know that someone's got a tail on me. Seong Gi-hun is after us."

In-ho nodded, rolling his eyes with the thought of Gi-hun. In-ho believed that Gi-hun wouldn't be able to take down the whole organization. If ever, he would let Gi-hun be, but it would all just be for show, just to make things interesting.

Make things interesting.

As if a light was shone on In-ho's face, his face brightened up with an idea. He could make Gi-hun come back to the games, and letting someone like you in the games to see the truth and evilness of this place. Will you regret ever being so curious? He smirked, finishing his glass of whiskey as he felt the booze heat his throat. "Let the furniture girl in, and let Gi-hun work on his delusions. This season's going to be far more interesting."

In-ho ended the call, holding his hands together. He stared into space, sinking away from his thoughts. It's time to level up the games, to let someone who isn't entirely in debt to enter the games. Additionally, it's time to let a previous winner back.

If Gi-hun's back, then so is he.

----

A/N: I had so much fun writing this chapter! What did you think about the twist of ddakji? I wanted to at least express how attractive the salesman is, and how the reader couldn't slap his pretty face, catching him off guard. Now, we get a glimpse of In-ho before starting the games. It's also my first time to write a perspective of a villain, I hope I did some justice to it. Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged on the next chapter! ✨

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>> MASTERLIST

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez

“this is for soap”

01 - no good deed | just another player. (hwang in-ho x reader)

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----

The room was dark. Not the artificial, humming darkness of the dormitories. No flickering overhead lights, no sound of desperate breathing in the shadows. 

This darkness was deeper, becoming quieter, then still.

Hwang In-ho bolts upright in his bed, breath caught in his throat, chest heaving beneath the black robe of the Front Man. Sweat clung to his skin like blood once did. The black mask sits abandoned on the table beside him, and for a moment, he remembers who he is. 

Not Hwang In-ho.

The Front Man.

But the dream, kind of a memory, doesn’t let him go. He can still feel it — the warm pool of his blood beneath him, the shouts, the silence, and the pain.

And then, there was you.

Your gloved hands pressing down his wound with a whisper against the chaos, “If you live, don’t forget who you were.”

In-ho’s hands tremble as he reached for a glass of water beside him. He had forgotten, hadn’t he? Bit by bit, piece by piece, until all that remained was the mask, the control, the machine. 

But that voice —  your voice — it never left.

He brushes his hand through his damp hair, eyes burning as they stare at nothing. You were just a shadow then, a mask among other masks. A rule-breaker in a place where mercy was punishable by death.

He doesn’t even know your face or your name. Yet your presence lives in the cracks of his memory, in the fractured quiet of his mind that he never allowed himself to touch.

Except in his dreams.

Or nightmares.

He rose slowly, each movement deliberate. There’s something cold and restrained about him now, but the weight behind his eyes was unmistakable. He walked to the system terminal as the soft glow of the screens hummed to life, illuminating the sharp edges of his face, the shadow of grief still etched across his expression.

His fingers tapped on the keyboard as the screen flickered.

Pink Guard Personnel Records: 28th Squid Game

He shouldn’t do this.

He knew he shouldn’t. Everything about the games was built on anonymity, everything encrypted as if you were expected to forget, bury the past six feet beneath protocol and power.

But he couldn’t forget you. 

His voice was low, hoarse, as he spoke into the silence. “Who were you?”

The system begins its search as the man behind the mask isn’t the Front Man tonight. Tonight, he’s a survivor… still trying to find the one person who made him feel human again. 

Lines of data flicker across the screen — guard IDs, biometric logs, movement patterns, shift schedules. Thousands of entries. Most were clean, categorized, and controlled.

But one file stalls.

ID: P-132-20152745

In-ho narrowed his eyes as he noticed the file. He hovered his hand on his mouse as he clicked, only for the screen to shudder.

ERROR. FILE CORRUPTED. ACCESS DENIED.

He leaned closer as he squinted at the file number. He doesn’t recognize the number, but something about it pulls at him. The timestamp matches the night he was injured. That narrow window between the second and third round.

His fingers fly over the keys as he bypasses standard security. Firewalls resist him, but he wrote the protocols himself. He cracks through the surface code, digging deeper.

REDACTED ENTRY: UNAUTHORIZED INTERVENTION DETECTED.

P-132-20152745: Disciplinary Report - MISSING

Security Footage - DELETED

Status: UNKNOWN

He sits back slowly, the air tight in his lungs, realizing that someone had scrubbed the record. 

Not just a name or a face. Just plain everything.

As if that guard never existed. 

As if the system had tried to erase the very moment he clung to all these years.

His jaw tightened, rage pulsing beneath the surface. Not just for the system, but for himself for forgetting, surviving, and becoming the very thing he once feared. 

Still, there’s a silver of data remaining. A slashed fragment of a voice file that was compressed and corrupted.

Yet, it was still playable.

The static nearly swallows the sound, but in the middle of the distortion, something cuts through.

“—wasn’t supposed to do this…”

“…remember who you are…” “—forgive me.”

In-ho’s eyes closed, his heart pulsing through his chest. Though it was comforting to feel that you were real, he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to you. 

As his thoughts almost swayed him, he immediately snapped out of his thoughts as he heard a heavy thud. Not from the room, but from the recording.

He sat up as a sharp intake of breath was heard, then another sound that seemed like a hit. Then, another sound that pierces through even the most distorted noise.

A soft, broken whimper. A woman’s voice.

“Please…” A muffled cry as another strike seemed to be done, and then, there was silence.

In-ho froze as his jaw clenched while the recording looped, replaying that single moment of helplessness. Something cold grips his chest, curling around his ribs like barbed wire. 

Someone definitely made sure he wouldn’t remember it. 

The file ends with one last, choked breath — one that doesn’t quite sound like fear, but grief.

“He wasn’t supposed to see me.”

The silence after felt suffocating. In-ho’s fingers curled into fists as the final realization sank in. This wasn’t just a disappearing act.

Someone silenced you, covered you up, and buried your existence under codes and protocols. In-ho scoffed, a smirk forming as if an idea shone all over his face.

They didn’t bury you well enough.

His eyes hardened as he locked the terminal.

You saved him once, now it was his turn.

——

The incinerator hisses as the body bag disappears into flame.

It was either buried or harvested for organs — you couldn’t care at all. In fact, you don’t flinch anymore. You haven’t, in a long time. 

The stench of burnt cloth and blood clings to your mask, thick and stubborn, as if even the scent refuses to die here. You stand still, posture straight, hands clasped behind you just as protocol demands.

You were only a pink circle guard. Just another pair of obedient boots, another ghost in the machine.

Your boots echo softly down the corridor. Rhythm is everything here—footsteps measured, spine straight, eyes forward behind a mask that tells the world nothing. Now, you’re Guard 427.

You swipe your card at the checkpoint and enter the security control wing. The guards here don’t speak unless ordered. The walls hum with surveillance feeds, and one screen, larger than the rest, projects the black mask of the Front Man. You’ve worked hard to become invisible. You are precise in your tasks, silent in your duties, unremarkable in your movements. You erase yourself every day, bit by bit, in service of survival.

Still, you remember him. Not as the Front Man. But as Player 132.

He was bleeding when you found him, struggling beneath the weight of survival. You should’ve walked away. Left him to die like all the others. But something in his eyes that night — numb but furious, cracked but not yet broken made you stop.

You knelt. Whispered. Touched his bloodied chest with trembling fingers.

“If you live, don’t forget who you were before they made you fight.”

And now, he sits behind the glass of power, voice modulated, mask unshifting, his judgment absolute. You wondered if he dreams of you, if your voice ever slips into his nightmares. You wondered if, when he stares too long at the monitors, he's chasing something his mind won’t give him.

You kept your head down and your steps even. You cleaned blood off the walls. You followed orders. You pretend you’re not the one he’s unknowingly searching for.

Because if he ever does remember… If he ever sees through the perfect circle painted across your mask, what then?

Would he thank you? Punish you? Undo you?

You weren’t sure. In a place where mercy was a foreign concept, such a situation of his finding you would cause more complications.

The alarm blared. A low tone thrums through the walls, and every Circle in the hallway stops in unison.

“VIP arrival. Level Six. Escort detail.”

Your fellow pink guards peel off wordlessly, boots pivoting toward the service lift that leads to the opulent corridors you’re never meant to see. The ones draped in gold and smoke, the ones that reek of indulgence and blood.

But not you.

Your earpiece buzzes with a separate frequency.

“P-427, Report to Sub-Level Three. Clearance Sigma Red.”

Sigma Red.

You hesitate for half a breath before responding.

“Confirmed. On route.”

It wasn’t your first time.

You walked alone now, past the steel hallways, the flickering fluorescents, the guards who pretended not to see. You made your way towards the door marked only by a red triangle and the faint scent of disinfectant beneath it.

Inside the room was quiet, warmer, and cleaner. There was no briefing. No other guards. Just a room with a solitary mirror and a rack of clean clothing with soft fabric, unlike your uniform.

“Change. Protocol 09 is in effect,” the voice over the intercom says.

You obeyed, not needing to be told why. 

You’ve done this before. You remember the way the Front Man had just taken the mask then. How his presence had loomed even before you could name it. The first time, you’d done what you were told because not doing so meant punishment. 

You were a standard circle guard who was quiet, efficient, and obedient. Not until that night during the 28th Season where you chose mercy. 

He was bleeding out during lights out where his eyes had pulled you in — the hollow ache of someone who wanted to die but was too proud to beg for it. You broke the rules, yet they let you live.

Only so they could strip you down slowly — the escort class.

The lowest, most degrading designation in the hierarchy of this twisted system. You are masked, dressed in thin civilian mimicry, and handed over to the VIPs—not for pleasure, necessarily. Sometimes just for company. Sometimes for cruelty. Always for obedience.

“Escort detail begins in thirty minutes. Await further instruction.”

The door clicks shut behind you. You sat and waited, listening to the hum of the walls as you wondered, what if this is the time he speaks to you? What if he looks at you a second too long? What if he asks your name? And what if you're too afraid to give it?

The walls here were too quiet. No screams, gunfire, and barking orders. Only silence — deliberate, echoing, and unnerving.

The mask stays on. It always stays on. It's the only part of yourself you're allowed to keep. As you sat, the intercom crackled again. A different voice this time. One you know. One you’ve heard before during your disciplinary hearing. 

“Protocol 09 in effect,” the speaker hisses.

No acknowledgment required. They know you understand.

“You aided a player in the 28th Season. Unforgivable.”

A pause, long enough to let the weight settle. “You will not speak of it. Not to him. Not to anyone. The Front Man does not know. He must never know. Do you understand?”

You nod silently, because that’s all you're allowed to do now.

“VIPs arrive in thirty. Escort mode active.”

You fixed the mask over your face as you changed layer by layer, its garments feel like silk-wrapped shame. 

You remember how, once, your hands shook as they held a bleeding man. The one who now runs the games, one who sits behind a mask of black steel, haunted by something he can’t quite name.

He lives because of you and now you serve because of him.

He must never know.

But you remember.

Every time.

——

The scent of cologne, alcohol, and smoke clung to the velvet of the VIP lounge. The lighting was warm, golden, and suffocating — designed to flatter the depraved. Laughter cuts the air like broken glass. Masks of beasts and emperors lounge across gilded sofas, their voices slurred, their gaze predatory.

One of the VIPs snaps his fingers lazily. You pour his drink, bow just enough, and say nothing — as trained. You don’t speak. You don’t blink too long. You don’t feel.

“You’re quiet,” the VIP, masked as a Minotaur, slurred, brushing his fingers against your mask. “That’s good. Quiet girls know their place.”

You don’t flinch. At least, not visibly.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling you slightly closer, examining you like a possession. “You’re prettier than the last one. I like the silent ones.”

You remain still and silent. Fighting the urge to pull away because if you did, they win. And if you speak, you lose more. Your hands rest on your knees as you lowered your gaze.

“You’re not new, are you?”

The question stung, but you didn’t flinch. You were burning inside, but you stayed silent. 

“That means you know not to fight.”

A murmur of laughter from the others. One of them raises a toast. Another gestures toward you and makes a cruel joke about how easily the silent ones break.

But something shifts in the room. The air tightens. The laughter dulls into murmurs. 

The door opened, revealing the Front Man.

Black mask. Black coat. His movements sharp and deliberate. Authority trails behind him like a shadow.

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up. You straightened your back, holding your breath as you felt your pulse surge. You kept your head bowed. 

He shouldn't be here. Not during the lounge sessions. Not unless something’s wrong. Yet here he is.

He walked slowly through the room silently as if he were observing and calculating something. His presence stills the most obnoxious of the guests. Even the ones who believe they own this place lower their voices when he moves near.

From across the room, the Front Man’s visor tilts toward you. He seemed to see your… situation. But, he doesn’t stop it. He doesn’t speak.

He simply watches.

You don’t know what’s worse. The VIP’s hand curling around your waist…

…or the silence from the one man who might have stopped it.

The VIP’s hand had finally left your side—only because another escort had arrived, younger and easier to control. You’d bowed out with the grace expected of you, even though your fingers trembled behind your back.

“Go help the servers,” one of the Square guards said. 

You obeyed.

It was almost a relief to stand by the bar cart again, serving champagne, bourbon, whiskey, gin. Anything they asked for. Anything to stop being seen.

“You,” the Square guard pointed at you. “Pour for the Front Man.”

The air around you dropped ten degrees, but your hands moved on instinct. The Front Man stood near the edge of the lounge, silent and still as the walls themselves. You could feel the room shift around him. 

You approached with measured steps, a crystal decanter in hand.

He didn’t look at you when you poured, though you could smell his cologne even beneath your mask. As you were about to finish filling up the glass, he suddenly spoke.

“Stay.”

You froze. You expected to be dismissed. But instead, he stood there, drink in hand, and allowed you to remain beside him. One step behind. Within reach. Claimed without announcement.

“Careful with that one, Front Man!” a portly VIP calls out with a laugh, drink sloshing in his hand. “Keep her too close, and you might find yourself using her for more than just drinks!”

Laughter erupted from his circle as your breath hitched a bit. You didn’t move, and the Front Man didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure if he reacted beneath his mask, but he stayed still. There was no reaction and defense.

He sipped his drink slowly, his gaze never leaving the room. Not even a glance toward the man who joked. Not toward you. But then, you felt a sting inside you.

It wasn’t because of the VIP’s words — you’ve heard worse.

But because he didn’t stop it.

You stood at his side obediently, and he let the insult hang there, untouched. You forced the pain down like glass, straightening your spine. Somehow, his silence hurts more than the joke ever could.

By day, you sweep floors, distribute rations, check that the cameras are functioning. Your circle mask stares back at you from polished metal when you pass the infirmary door. You speak to no one. You salute when required. You blend in easily and invisibly. 

You are not meant to be remembered. That, too, is part of the punishment.

At night, it changes. The suit comes off. The silk goes on. You trade your mask for another kind — faceless still, but far more exposed. An escort — a role no one envies.

No one asks how you ended up there. They already know. 

It’s all because you interfered and saved someone you weren’t meant to. You’re not even sure he remembers. Or if he ever knew. Or if he’s simply chosen to forget because acknowledging what you did would mean acknowledging that even he was once weak enough to bleed.

And weakness isn’t allowed here.

Sometimes, when you stand beside his chair in the VIP lounge and pour his drink, you think about that moment in the dark, years ago. When he was gasping, wounded, barely clinging to life behind a player’s uniform soaked in blood. And you chose to help.

That was the night your position was stripped from you.

Because you weren’t always a circle.

Your hands remember how to hold a gun with authority. Your voice remembers how to give orders.

You were a square.

You remember the weight of command.

But mercy is a betrayal in this place, and your punishment is to be seen and not recognized. It is for you to serve quietly the man you once saved and to suffer silently each time he looks right past you. 

----

A/N: We're back! This time, it's more of a slow burn type of fanfic so please bear with the story. What did you think of how you're a Pink Guard saving the Front Man back when he was still a player and him trying to find you in the crowd? This whole fic will be based on the events of Squid Game Season 1, as it would be like one of the first years of In-ho as the Front Man. :D

Don't forget to leave a comment in this chapter to be tagged on to the next chapter. :)

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taglist: @roachco-k @goingmerry69

STOP YOU'RE MAKING ME CRY

This very moment is when Soap is rushed with every emotion he ever experienced during his end days in the 22nd Regiment, after believing he lost everyone he cherished.

Paradise Lost.