For The Very Wonderful Esteljune

for the very wonderful esteljune

CHAPTER 19 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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A/N: This chapter mostly consists of Gi-hun's point of view. I have another chapter ready to make up for more moments with In-ho and the reader. 🫶

——

Gi-hun sat in the dimly lit room, fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair. The call with Jun-ho had ended, but his mind was far from quiet. His gaze flickered to the glass of liquor on the table before him, untouched. He wasn’t in the mood to drink, at least for now.

Instead, his thoughts drifted away as he thought more about his plans, weighing down each every plan a and b, even up to c, down to the end of the alphabet.

Gyeong-seok had entered the games as Player 246. All for his daughter who was waiting for him in the hospital as the bills pile up, all to save her. Along Gi-hun, he endured the horrors alongside the rest. When the rebellion broke out, he had been shot, though not fatal.

No-eul made sure of that. Instead of leaving him to die, she dragged him away, patching him up in secret.

Then, she had given him a new identity.

With No-eul’s help, Gyeong-seok had been disguised as a circle guard, blending into the very system that had tried to kill him. It was dangerous, but it gave them eyes inside.

Gyeong-seok blended inside the system well. It was a good thing the system didn’t care much about the circle guards - they had the lowest ranks. In order to be up, they had to do their tasks diligently well or prove something that would make them worthy of a triangle. Gyeong-seok wasn’t interested at all in being a triangle guard — all for his daughter. He needed a way out of this place, his loyalty still on Gi-hun even when the rebellion played, trusting his plans as the Front Man.

No-eul walked with her head held high, her triangle mask disguising the quickened pulse hammering beneath her ribs. Beside her, Gyeong-seok, dressed as a circle guard, carried the package in his gloved hands - a small, unassuming box containing the pregnancy test.

The air between them was thick with tension, neither of them speaking. They couldn’t as the surveillance cameras watched their every move, but even beyond that, there was an unspoken understanding. If they hesitated or if they so much as faltered, it was over.

Gyeong-seok inhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the box. “She doesn’t know yet, does she?” He whispered under his breath.

No-eul shook her head slightly. “Not for certain.”

Gyeong-seok exhaled, his breath shaky. “Then we’re about to change her entire life.”

They reached the door as the guard stationed outside barely acknowledged them — just another routine delivery from a superior. No-eul knocked once.

Moments later, the door creaked open.

You stood there as you scanned their masks, a sigh of relief coming out of you as you recognized the same guards you approached. No-eul didn’t speak as she simply extended the small box forward.

You reached out hesitantly, fingers grazing the cardboard edges before taking it fully into your hands. Gyeong-seok saw the shift in your expression as your fingers trembled. You swallowed hard, your eyes darting between them.

You gave them a nod and closed the door. No-eul and Gyeong-seok turned without another word, walking briskly down the corridor, leaving you alone with the truth you were about to uncover.

As they rounded the corner, Gyeong-seok exhaled deeply. “That was nerve-wracking.”

No-eul shot him a sharp look. “We did what we had to do.”

“I know,” he muttered. “I just hope she’s ready.”

No-eul didn’t answer. Because the truth was — no one ever really was.

Gi-hun walked down the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps slow and deliberate. When he turned the corner, he spotted them — Gyeong-seok and No-eul, stationed outside the Overseer’s private suite. They were standing stiffly, exchanging only the occasional glance. There was something tense in the air around them.

Gi-hun slowed his pace, eyes narrowing. He glanced up at the surveillance cameras overhead, their red lights blinking steadily. Too many eyes. With a subtle motion, he tilted his head towards a corridor to the right — one that led to a maintenance area, just outside the CCTV’s coverage.

No-eul caught on immediately. She tapped Gyeong-seok’s arm, and without hesitation, they followed him.

Once they were in the clear, Gi-hun crossed his arms and gave them both a pointed look. “Talk.”

Gyeong-seok hesitated for only a second before exhaling sharply. “We delivered a pregnancy test.”

Gi-hun’s expression didn’t change, but inside his mask, something twisted. He had expected as much, but hearing it confirmed sent a strange unease through him.

“She asked for it?” He questioned.

No-eul shook her head. “We noticed the signs. She was… avoiding it, but it was obvious.:

Gi-hun stared at them, his mind racing. This wasn’t part of the plan. None of this was. And now, she was carrying a child in this place, surrounded by danger, under In-ho’s control.

His fingers curled into a fist at his side. For so long, revenge had been the only thing driving him forward. It had been simple. But now… now there was her.

There was a baby. The thought of dragging an innocent life into this chaos made his stomach churn.

He didn’t speak for a long time. No-eul and Gyeong-seok exchanged glances, but they didn’t push him. They knew better.

Finally, Gi-hun exhaled. “You two did the right thing.”

No-eul relaxed slightly, but Gyeong-seok remained tense, watching Gi-hun closely. “What happens now?” He asked.

Gi-hun didn’t answer immediately. He looked past them, toward the suite, where you were. He thought about the plan, the rebellion, the revenge he had spent months working toward.

And for the first time, he hesitated. He turned away, staring at the floor. “I don’t know.”

Gi-hun wasn’t sure why he even came out of the balcony. Maybe it was instinct — the way he had always been drawn to the quiet moments before everything went to hell. Or maybe it was curiosity, watching you stand alone on the balcony, your arms wrapped around yourself, lost in thought.

He had planned this conversation in his head. He would press, prod, and look for the cracks forming in your resolve. A pregnancy in this place? It was a liability — something he could.

But as he stepped onto the balcony, on the other side you were already there. He leaned against the railing on his balcony, silent for a moment as he let the cool night air settle. The iland was quiet at this hour, save for the distant sounds of the waves crashing against the shore.

He had spent so much time trying to picture you as the enemy — someone who had chosen this life, to stand beside In-ho, to uphold the very system he despised.

“You should be more careful.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the exhaustion in your eyes. It wasn’t just physical. It was the kind of tiredness that settled deep in the bones, the kind that didn’t fade with sleep. He hesitated.

He knew that at this moment, he had lost whatever leverage he thought he had as he glimpsed onto your belly. No matter how much he wanted to see you as the enemy, he couldn’t ignore what was right in front of him.

Of course, you shot back, still trying to regain your composure. But Gi-hun already knew what you were feeling — what you were so worried about.

“You should tell him soon,” he murmured. “Secrets have a way of eating people alive. And something tells me that this isn’t one you can keep forever.”

A long silence stretched between you. Gi-hun wasn’t thinking about strategy or even thinking about how to manipulate the situation to his advantage.

He was just looking at someone who was struggling to breathe under the weight of something far bigger than either of you. And for once, he didn’t want to be the one to make it worse.

Gi-hun let out a frustrated sigh as he lit up a cigarette, placing it in his mouth as he puffed a smoke. He had seen people adapt to survival before, but he would never want an innocent life to fight their way into this place, what more for someone who hasn’t even been born yet?

For a moment, his mind drifted back to the previous game. The way Hyun-ju had stood amongst the players, her shoulders squared, her eyes fierce. She had fought with everything she had, carving her own path through the trials laid before her.

He remembered the sound of her ragged breathing, the way she wiped blood from her face and pushed forward, even when the odds were stacked against her. She had never begged, never pleaded. She had simply fought.

As the rebellion progressed, the rebels were outnumbered. She went back to the dormitory to find out where Dae-ho had been, seeing him shaking nervously as he was wrapped on the bed, his hands over his ears. Just when she was about to grab the ammos back, the guards had already entered the dormitory, their guns pointed at the remaining players inside.

She fought back, not wanting to back down from the system. Just as when she was about to pull the trigger, the square-masked officer entered and walked towards her.

“Come with us,” the guard said, much to Hyun-ju’s surprise. Reluctantly, she pulled the rifle down as she glared at the officer in front of her, not wanting to show weakness. But right then and there, she knew she wouldn’t survive at all.

Even In-ho was impressed, as he ordered the guards to offer him something more in the system. He knew she had no one to turn to in the outside world, knowing how the world treated trans people outside. At least in this place, she had a purpose.

From the moment she wore the square mask, Hyun-ju moved like she had always belonged. There was no hesitation in her step, no sign of unease as she patrolled the halls of the facility alongside the other guards. She carried herself with an ease that suggested she had been doing this for years.

Gi-hun watched from the monitors, arms crossed over his chest, a frown tugging at his lips. “She’s adjusting fast,” he muttered under his breath.

A part of him should have been impressed. It wasn’t easy to slip into this world and go unnoticed. The hierarchy was rigid, the rules were absolute. But Hyun-ju moved through it like water, slipping between the cracks, bending just enough to not break.

She had already learned the unspoken rules — how to keep her head down when necessary, when to speak, and when to stay silent. The other guards barely questioned her presence, accepting her as one of their own.

He watched as Hyun-ju passed by a group of guards, nodding in acknowledgment but never lingering too long. She was smart. She knew how to avoid drawing suspicion while still observing everything. It was almost frustrating how well she was doing as it meant she was slipping deeper into the organization.

And the deeper she went, the harder it would be to pull her out.

As Gi-hun puffed another smoke, his heart felt heavier as his mind drifted over the fallen players — Geum-ja, Yong-sik, Myung-gi, Dae-ho, and… Jung-bae.

The worst part was how he couldn’t do anything at that time, watching them through the monitors as In-ho trapped him in an isolated room, watching them die one by one.

He remembered how he watched them fall one by one, their faces and movements struggling as they progressed through the games. Their bodies still held a vivid memory in his mind, scattered across the arena like discarded pieces in a cruel game.

Except for Jung-bae, who was shot by In-ho himself right in front of his eyes with no hesitation.

Geum-ja’s laughter still rang in his ears, sharp and defiant even in the face of death. She had been the first to die, standing tall even as the bullet tore through her. She spat blood, wiped her mouth, and cursed the organization with her last breath.

They had shot her again just to shut her up. The fire in her gaze was still there, that unbreakable will even as her body hit the ground.

Yong-sik lasted longer than anyone expected, his hands trembling though his heart had been steady. He tried to shield a younger player, stepping in front of them without hesitation. But then, the bullet ripped through his back.

He fell to the ground, gasping for air, his fingers clawing at the dirt. The younger player he had tried to save didn’t even look back. He had known what was coming as he still let out a smile before his vision faded into darkness.

“Eomma, wait for me.”

Myung-gi had fought. He had always been a fighter. He didn’t go down easily even when Thanos and Nam-gyu threatened his life a lot of times.

His screams echoed through the halls as he wrestled with Nam-gyu, blood staining his hands, his face, and his clothes. Nam-gyu didn’t stop, trying to avenge Thanos’ death. He had beaten him into dirt, but he had still gotten up.

Even with a broken arm, and even with his ribs caving in.

He looked up at Jun-hee one last time, whose face watched in horror as she clutched her belly. He managed to give her a smile as he glanced at her belly.

“Please survive.”

Then with one last punch from Nam-gyu, he was knocked out dead. His body had finally dropped, as if all the fight had finally drained out of him.

Dae-ho was different. Even in the darkness of the games, he managed to keep everyone light. He was strong and resourceful — surviving longer than most. But even the strongest had their limits.

He made it to the final round as the last three players, him, Jun-hee, and Player 021, had been pitted against each other in a brutal endurance challenge, forced to fight until only one remained.

Dae-ho had held on longer than anyone expected. He was wounded, exhausted, and barely able to stand, but he still fought with everything he had left.

But in the end, it hadn’t been a fair fight.

He saw Player 021 about to attack Jun-hee, who was sleeping on the other side of the dorm. He immediately noticed the makeshift weapon on his hand — a piece of shattered glass.

With one last courage he had, as if to redeem the failure of delivering the ammos to the rebels, he ran towards the player and knocked him down. He fought relentlessly, gripping the other player’s neck. Jun-hee opened her eyes, waking up from the grunts near her. She screamed, though she couldn’t move. She felt a sharp pain in her belly as she tried to move.

Dae-ho successfully removes the shattered glass from the other player’s hand, diving the glass into the player’s neck, the blood sputtering out of him. But then, the other player’s reflexes were much faster, gripping Dae-ho’s hand with the shattered glass as he pulled it out of him, much to Dae-ho’s shock.

Then, Player 021 shot the glass into Dae-ho’s neck, letting out an ear-piercing scream as Dae-ho stumbled, clutching at the wound, his hands slick with blood. He had looked up, locking eyes with Jun-hee. He wanted to say something, but the wound was so deep that even the last sign of life faded into him in a snap.

Gi-hun’s hands trembled as he reached for another cigarette in his pocket. The lighter barely caught flame as he lit the end, inhaling deeply, as if the smoke could fill the void their deaths had left inside him.

Then, the memories shifted towards the closest people he had in the games.

Jung-bae’s last moments weren’t at the hands of the other players. It had been In-ho.

Gi-hun had been there, kneeling in front of the Frontman, forced to watch as Jung-bae knelt on the ground beside him. The moment stretched out endlessly, suffocating in its inevitability.

Jung-bae stare still haunted Gi-hun as In-ho pointed his gun at him, muttering his name.

“Gi-hun…”

Then, a shot rang out.

Gi-hun flinched as another piece of his resolve splintered away, leaving behind nothing but raw, seething anger as he clutched Jung-bae’s body beside him.

Jung-bae had died, just like Sang-woo had — in his arms. Another person who could have lived, if not for this cursed game.

But then, Gi-hun’s mind made a dangerous connection.

It hit him all at once — how you reminded him of Sang-woo. The way you strategized, the way you moved through the games with ruthless efficiency. The way you fought to survive, no matter the cost. But even with that, there was something different. Something he had seen in you that Sang-woo had lost by the end.

Humanity.

You still had it, buried beneath the weight of power and love. You were blinded by it, but it was still there.

Gi-hun exhaled slowly, pressing his cigarette into the ashtray. The ember dimmed, turning to dust. He wasn’t sure if you could be saved.

But he knew that he wouldn’t let you be consumed by the same fate, even if it meant going against you too.

The plan was set in motion. The cracks were forming. Any time, the organization would fall. He just had to time it really well.

But now, there was you. You were a liability.

It was a cruel thought, one he hated himself for even considering. But it was the truth. Your pregnancy complicated everything. It made the plan fragile and uncertain. In-ho would never let anything happen to you. If he even suspected that Gi-hun was plotting against the organization, he would tighten security, make sure nothing touched you or the child growing inside you.

He had promised himself that he would tear his place down, that he wouldn’t let another batch of desperate souls be slaughtered like cattle. The next season of the games was set to begin soon as the selection process was already underway. If he wanted to stop it before it even began, he needed to act now.

But, could he risk it?

His hand moved to his temple, massaging away the headache that had been brewing all day. He thought about you — the way you stood on the balcony that night, staring into the dark horizon, lost in thought. He thought about the weight you carried, the uncertainty in your eyes.

Would he be willing to put you through even more?

Would he be willing to put your child through it?

Gi-hun’s jaw tighteneed.

Damn it.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

He had planned for everything — the guards, hierarchy, hidden tunnels, external leaks. But he didn’t plan for you to be carrying In-ho’s child, for you to be tangled in something so deep that he wasn’t sure he could pull you out without everything else collapsing.

Gi-hun closed his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose. He needed to decide.

Time was running out.

——

You had lost count of how many times you had woken up on the couch, the ache in your back growing worse with each passing night. But tonight was different.

You were in bed.

Warmth surrounded you as the familiar scent of In-ho filled the air. Your body stirred as you felt something soft and lingering, a gentle press against your forehead. Then another, this time on your cheek.

A kiss.

Your eyelashes fluttered open, and in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, you saw him. In-ho was hovering over you, his expression soft in a way you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. His fingers brushed against your hair, tucking a stray behind your ear as his lips ghosted over your skin again.

“In-ho…” your voice was hoarse from sleep, but before you could say more, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss.

It was different from the ones before. This one wasn’t desperate, fueled by frustration, or unspoken words. It was warm, reassuring, filled with quiet apologies neither of you had spoken aloud. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of your shared space.

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “I hated waking up without you beside me.”

Your chest tightened. The past few weeks had been unbearable, the distance, the fights, the silence between you. But here he was, holding you again, and you realized just how much you had missed him too.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, your fingers reaching up to cup his face. “I was just… hurt.”

“I know,” he said softly, his eyes filled with regret. “I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve—“ He paused, exhaling shakily. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

You curled into him, burying your face into his neck as his arms wrapped around you. For the first time in weeks, you felt at peace. The rise and fall of his chest soothed you, the steady beat of his heart anchoring you.

And then, you felt a small movement from him.

In-ho pulled back slightly, reaching for something on the bedside table. You frowned as he brought out a small velvet box, his fingers gripping it tightly. Your breath hitched.

“In-ho…?”

He exhaled sharply before opening the box, revealing a ring inside — a simple yet elegant band that shimmered under the soft light.

“I wanted to do this sooner,” he admitted, voice shaking every so slightly. “But everything happened so fast. And I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I hurt you. But please believe me when I say that I love you.” His fingers trembled as he took the ring from its box, holding it between you. “I love you more than anything. I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to you.”

Tears welled in your eyes.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he continued, his gaze searching yours, raw and vulnerable. “I don’t want to wake up without you ever again. So please…” He swallowed hard. “Marry me.”

A sob escaped your lips as you nodded, barely able to speak. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Yes, my In-ho.”

Relief washed over his face as he slipped the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking slightly. And the moment it settled in place, he kissed you again. This time, it was deeper, with more urgency, as if he never wanted to let go.

The world outside the suite was cruel, but here, wrapped in each other’s arms, the cruelty melted away. In-ho held you close, your bare skin pressed against his as the soft glow of the bedside lamp bathed you both in warm light. The silence between you wasn’t tense. It was comforting, filled with unspoken emotions, heavy with the weight of everything you had endured.

His fingers traced gentle patterns on your back, absentmindedly following the curve of your spine as you both lay tangled beneath the sheets. You stared at the ceiling, breathing in the lingering scent of him, of the night you had just shared.

It had been slow and tender — nothing like the desperate moments before, where anger or sorrow drove you into each other’s arms. This time, it had been about healing and love.

You sighed, a small smile ghosting your lips. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

In-ho let out a low chuckle. “Of course, I do. You threw a rock at me.”

You laughed, turning your head to face him. “You deserved it.”

He smirked. “I was just trying to get your attention.”

“You were annoying,” you teased, poking his side.

“And yet, you still fell for me,” he countered, his voice dropping into something softer. “Even after everything.”

You swallowed hard. “I never stopped.”

His hand reached up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he stared at you, like he was memorizing every inch of you. “Neither did I.”

The room fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn’t peaceful. A lingering thought hung between you both, unspoken but present.

Jun-ho.

You shifted slightly, breaking eye contact. “I spoke to Jun-ho before,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “He… he gave me options, Told me I could turn you in or that I could live the rest of my life with a lie.”

In-ho stiffened beside you. His fingers tensed against your skin, but he didn’t pull away. He exhaled slowly. “And yet, here you are.”

You nodded. “I couldn’t do it. No matter what you’ve done… I couldn’t betray you.”

He was silent for a long moment, and then he sighed, running a hand through his air. “I’ve tightened security. No one gets in or out without me knowing.”

Your stomach twisted at that. You knew what he was implying. Jun-ho wouldn’t have a second chance at infiltrating this place. If he tried, he would be caught. And you knew what happened to those who got caught.

You turned onto your side, pressing your forehead against his chest. “In-ho…”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. “I know,” he murmured.

The warmth of his embrace soothed you, but the unease remained. Then, without thinking, you whispered. “What about Gi-hun?”

In-ho tensed again. You pulled back slightly to look at him, catching the flicker of something dark in his expression. “He’s been a problem,” In-ho admitted, voice low. “For a while now.”

You frowned. “A problem?”

He hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “He’s not the same man who won the games. He’s dangerous. He asks too many questions, pushes too hard. He’s always watching, always waiting for something.”

You bit your lip. “Do you think he’s planning something?”

In-ho sighed, rubbing his temple. “If he is, it won’t matter. Not with the security we have in place.”

You nodded, but a strange unease settled in your chest.

Neither of you knew it yet, anyway.

——

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A/N: For those reading this a bit early, I am currently editing the next chapter and will have it up in a few minutes. Please feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

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CHAPTER 12 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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——

“All players, it is bedtime now. Please return to your quarters immediately. Otherwise, you will be eliminated from the game.”

The fight was slipping through your fingers.

What had started as a strong rebellion was now being crushed under the sheer numbers of the guards. Players fell one by one, their weapons useless as they ran out of ammo. You could hear the panicked shouts, the desperate cries of those who realized they were on the losing side. You could hear more guards closing in, pressing their advantage with disciplined precision, their faceless masks showing no hesitation as they cut down players who resisted.

Your hands tightened around your gun, fingers slick with sweat and grime. You raised it, took aim at the nearest guard, only to hear a click.

Your stomach twisted as your breath came in short, ragged gasps as you glanced around, scanning for an escape. The crimson-soaked floors blurred with lifeless bodies, the scent of blood thick in the air.

“In-ho!” You called, frantic.

His gaze snapped to yours, only for you to realize how much of a mistake you just made. You immediately regretted it. He was Young-il to everyone else. The name lingered in the tense air, but he didn’t react, his expression remaining unreadable as chaos erupted around you.

Still, you shook your head and continued to speak. “This isn’t getting us anywhere! Let’s follow them to the upper level!”

“We might get surrounded if we move together without a plan!” In-ho said. “Let’s wait until they find the control room.”

You nodded. He throws an ammo your way as you grabbed on to it, reloading your gun as you continued to shoot the guards.

“Everyone, check your magazines!” Hyun-ju yelled.

“I’m down to half,” Gyeong-seok called out.

Most of the rebels only had little ammo left. You looked at In-ho, who seemed to be too composed. As if his mind was working ahead of everyone else’s, calculating and strategizing. His grip on his gun was steady, his stance unshaken. But his eyes— there was something in them. Something you couldn’t quite place. Something that made your chest tighten.

“Young-il, Dae-ho, Y/N, can you hear me?” You heard your radio crackle up to life.

“Yeah!” You raised your voice enough for the radio to hear. “What’s the situation over there?”

“I think we’re right below the control room!” Jung-bae said. “But we need backup and more ammo.”

“We’re running out of ammo too!” You replied.

“There should be spare magazines in the soldiers’ pockets in our quarters,” you heard Gi-hun’s voice over the radio. “Go get them!”

“Got it!” You beeped the radio down and placed it on your pocket.

In-ho immediately snaps to the other rebels. “Did you hear that? They need backup!” He called out. “The four of us will go, and the rest will stay!” He looks at you and gives you a nod, then turns to the other rebels again. “Join us once you get the magazines! Y/N, come with me.”

You nodded and held his sleeve, almost tripping as you stepped forward while still crouching. Player 047 and 015 followed you and In-ho, the desperation etched onto their faces. You didn’t know their names, and you didn’t need to. Right now, survival was all that mattered.

You sprinted through the facility’s wreckage, ducking behind overturned tables and shattered crates, the pounding of boots growing louder behind you. Every corner turned felt like a death sentence as every hallway stretched longer than it should.

Then, up ahead, you saw Gi-hun and Jung-bae. Their faces were lined with exhaustion, but when they saw you, something flickered in their eyes. As if there was relief.

“Gi-hun!” In-ho called out. “Did you find the control room?”

“I think it’s right up there, but we can’t go this way,” Gi-hun said. “I want you to find another way.”

“I did a quick scan of the layout here. I’m sure there’s a way to go around them.”

You almost let out a scoff, but you held it back. You were in no way of letting him know that you knew who he was. You needed an actual proof, something that would slap you to reality on what his role is in the games.

“I want you guys to keep their focus on you. We’ll hit them from behind.”

Gi-hun nodded. As In-ho was about to turn away, Gi-hun held his shoulder to stop him. “Wait!” He grabbed an extra ammo from his pocket and handed it to In-ho, who seemed to stare at the ammo in Gi-hun’s hand. “Here, take this. You’re going to need it.”

You stayed silent, watching the scene. You realized and saw the goodness of Gi-hun, who seemed to willingly give his ammo for In-ho. If he only knew who he was.

“Are you sure?” In-ho asked, his eyes flickering with almost an amusement.

Gi-hun nodded. “Dae-ho will be back with more.”

In-ho nodded back, grabbing the ammo from Gi-hun as he placed to his pocket. He then looked at you, giving you a nod as a signal for all of you to move. You gripped your useless weapon as if it could protect you. The four of you pressed on, winding through the hallways, each step pulling you closer to the control room.

The air was heavy, thick with sweat and tension. You could feel In-ho behind you, his presence grounding in a way that contradicted the madness around you. He had barely spoken since you fled the battlefield, his focus sharp and unwavering.

Then, you heard a bang.

Beside you, Player 047 let out a strangled gasp before crumpling to the ground. Then Player 015 stared at In-ho in horror, only for his fate to be the same.

Your heart stopped. You turned to In-ho, your pulse hammering, only to see Player 047’s and 015’s bodies sprawled on the cold floor. There, you saw In-ho, holding his gun.

For a moment, your breath caught in your throat. The world narrowed down to the sight of him standing there, his expression unreadable. The blood dripped from the fallen players to your feet, pooling beneath you, as their bodies twitched as the last remnants of their life drained away.

You stumbled back a step. “In-ho?”

His gaze met yours, dark and steady. Although something flickered across his face, something almost mournful, but it was gone before you could grasp it.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

You opened your mouth to demand an answer, but before the words could form, he moved, raised his gun, and aimed it at you. His hand was steady, but this time, he aimed at your shoulder.

Everything slowed.

You could see the tension in his fingers, the way they curled around the trigger, hesitating for just a breath. His lips parted, a whisper carried on the blood-tainted air.

“I’m sorry.”

Then, a shot rang out. The sting of pain shot through you as you stumbled back, collapsing against the floor. The white-hot agony seared through your shoulder as you staggered. Your vision blurred, a strangled cry slipping from your lips as your body screamed in protest.

The impact sent you sprawling onto your back, your limbs heavy, your breath shallow. The pain was excruciating enough. But the shock? Betrayal? That was way worse.

Your body felt heavy and sluggish, as your knees buckled beneath you. Through the haze, a voice crackled over the radio.

“Young-il, Y/N! What’s going on? Are you attacking?” Gi-hun asked over the radio, though his voice was urgent yet demanding.

In-ho kept his gaze on you, though his voice was steady and emotionless. He leaned his face near you. “Tell him you and I were shot.”

The darkness was beginning to swim at the edges of your vision. You wanted to say something, but you could only form the words, “Gi-hun, I’m sorry. It’s all over.”

“Y/N, what happened? Are you all right?” Gi-hun’s voice reeked of desperation.

You felt your breath tremble, to which In-ho managed to place the radio near you. Then, a guard approached the two of you, draping a dark coat over In-ho’s shoulders. You watched, dazed, as the guard handed him the black mask, lifting and and sliding it on, his transformation complete. The final piece of a puzzle you had been too blind to put together.

You could barely fight when the guards grabbed you, dragging you away. You heard In-ho order something to the guards, but you couldn’t hear it well. Your body was weak, but your mind was screaming. Not from pain but from realization.

In-ho was never just another player.

——

In-ho sat on his quarters, his mask discarded on the table beside him. The rebellion was over. The bodies had been cleared, the blood scrubbed from the floors, and order had been restored. But none of it settled in his chest the way it should have. His hands, now free of gloves, trembled slightly as he unbuttoned his coard. He clenched them into fists.

Then, his gaze flickered toward the bet.

You lay there, still, your face softened in sleep. Someone had already stitched up your wound— he made sure of it. He had made sure the bullet wouldn’t be fatal. But then again, that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

A mistake, yet a necessary one, he thought to himself. But was it?

He pulled up a chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched you, the rise and fall of your chest too steady for comfort. You should hate him. You should wake up and look at him like he was a monster, and perhaps he was. But he couldn’t walk away. Not yet. Not when he had already made the choices that led him here.

Minutes passed before your breathing shifted. A flicker of movement. Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused, before they locked onto him.

“In-ho,” you breathed, his name like venom in your mouth.

He sighed, sitting back slightly. “You should be resting.”

You ignored him. “You shot me.”

His jaw tightened. “I had to.”

Silence hung between you, thick and suffocating. Your fingers curled into the sheets, gripping them as if they were the only thing anchoring you. The betrayal swirled in your eyes, but underneath it was something worse. You were piecing it together. The rebellion, the foresight, the calculated steps he had taken long before anyone else even had a chance to act.

You swallowed, your voice barely a whisper. “How long have you been here?”

He met your gaze, and for a moment, he looked almost human again, like the boy you used to know. “Since I won.”

Another silence. Your eyes flickered around the room, taking in the minimal furnishings — the mask on the table, the weapons mounted on the wall. Then, your gaze landed on it. Another black coat, folded neatly on a chair beside the bed.

“What’s that?” You asked.

In-ho followed your gaze. “A choice.”

Your stomach twisted. “A choice?”

He stood, stepping toward you with measured steps, but he didn’t touch you. He wouldn’t. Now now. “You can take it. Become a part of this. Survive.”

You scoffed. “You want me to be a part of this?”

A flicker of something— regret, pain, longing —passed through his features, but it was gone before you could grasp it. “I want you to live.”

You looked away, staring at the coat as if it burned your vision. “And if I say no?”

His silence was enough for an answer.

A bitter lump formed in your throat as you forced yourself to meet his eyes again. “Tell me, In-ho. How did you become this?”

He inhaled deeply as if steadying himself. “The games… They don’t end when you leave. The debt, the desperation, it follows you,” he turned away slightly, as if speaking the words to the empty room. “I thought winning would fix everything. I was wrong. They gave me a choice. Play again, or become something else.”

Your fists clenched. “And you chose this?”

“I chose to live,” he turned back to you, his eyes darker than before. “I had nothing outside to offer. I lost my job and wife. I’ve lost everything, Y/N.”

In that moment, as you stared at him, the weight of everything settled in. He had chosen survival over morality. And now, he was offering you the same path.

He leaned more, cupping your face, but you didn’t pull away. His lips brushed yours, hesitant yet desperate, an almost feverish need for something neither of you could name. It was surrender, it was a plea. And for a moment, you kissed him back, almost letting go, almost giving in.

You felt his hands all over your body, though he was careful on your left shoulder. He gripped your breasts, earning a slight moan from you. You could feel yourself throbbing down there, craving for his shaft as you felt his bulge against you. As he was about to pull down your shorts, you stopped him, placing a hand on his chest, shaking your head. “You pulled away from the kiss, looking at him in the eye. “I need time.”

He paused, his eyes softening as he searched yours before he nodded. He respected it.

He turned away and went to the bathroom, hearing the shower turn on. You were left in his room to think, tugging yourself in the warm blanket. You closed your eyes, taking the sleep in as you snuggled yourself to the sheets.

——

The room was eerily silent except for the rhythmic hum of the ventilation system. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows over the wall, making the space feel smaller and more suffocating. You lay stiffly on the bed, your wound still aching, but the pain wasn’t what kept you awake.

It was In-ho.

He lay beside you, his breaths even, his expression serene in his sleep. You couldn’t but think that he was the same man who had shot and betrayed you. And yet, here he was, inches away, as if nothing had changed. As if your blood wasn’t on his hands.

Your eyes traced the contours of his face, familiar yet foreign. The In-ho you had known would never have done this. But this wasn’t the same In-ho anymore, was it?

A quiet sigh left your lips as you carefully pushed back the sheets, rising from the bed without a sound. He didn’t stir. He trusted you enough to sleep beside you, to let his guard down. It should have meant something, but all it did was remind you of how much had already been lost.

Your bare feet moved soundlessly across the cold floor as you slipped past him, stepping into the darkness beyond his quarters. The air felt heavier here, oppressive in a way you couldn’t quite describe. You wandered through the halls until you reached a door slightly ajar, the soft glow of monitors spilling out into the dim hallway.

His office.

Something in your gut twisted as you stepped inside. The room was meticulous, every detail organized, every document in its rightful place. The screens displayed live feeds from different areas of the facility, the mechanical nature of it all making your skin crawl.

And then, you saw them. The files. They were neatly stacked, labeled, and categorized.

Your breath hitched as your fingers hovered over them before pulling one free. The second your eyes landed on the name printed across the cover, your pulse skyrocketed.

It was your name.

You nearly dropped it in shock as your hands trembled. You flipped the file open, scanning the neatly typed reports inside. Every detail of your life was in here — your past, your choices, your weaknesses. The things no one should have knowns, even the things you had forgotten. It wasn’t just a dossier. It was a map of your existence, meticulously studied and dissected.

A hollow feeling settled in your chest, cold and sharp.

This was the last straw. You had to leave.

Now.

Your grip tightened on the folder as anger surged through you, your breathing uneven. The weight of the betrayal was suffocating, pressing against your ribs, clawing at your throat. The room spun slightly as the edges of your vision blurred with rage.

With a sharp cry of frustration, you hurled the glass of water off the desk, watching as it shattered against the floor. The crash echoed through the room, its shards scattering in all directions, the water pooling at your feet.

Then, a sharp inhale came from behind you.

You turned slowly as your heart pounded while In-ho stood in the doorway. His hair was slightly disheveled, his eyes heavy with sleep—but the second he took in the scene before him, the exhaustion was gone. His gaze flickered between the scattered documents, the broken glass at your feet, and the fury on your face so evident.

He exhaled, his voice low, almost regretful. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Your fingers curled into fists. “And what else was I not supposed to see, In-ho? How much of my life did you put under a microscope? How long have you been watching me?”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t deny it. “It wasn’t like that. I needed to—“

“You needed to what? Control me? Keep me under your thumb?” Your voice cracked with emotion, but you refused to let it show as weakness.

In-ho took a slow step forward. “I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N.”

“Then why did you?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but the accusation behind it was deafening.

A long silence stretched between you both. His eyes darkened, filled with something unreadable— remorse, maybe, or something heavier. “I did what I had to do.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Of course you did. That’s what you keep telling yourself, right? That this is all justifiable?”

His lips parted as if he wanted to say more, but no words came. And for the first time, you saw it — the regret buried beneath the cold exterior, the man you once knew, struggling beneath the weight of his own sins.

But it wasn’t enough. Nothing could be enough.

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay composed. “I need to get out of here. I need time to think. Away from all of this,” then you looked at him sternly. “Away from you.”

His expression flickered, his hands clenching at his sides. “And where exactly do you think you’ll go?”

“Seoul. Just for a few days,” you swallowed. “Give me three days, In-ho. Three days to clear my head. Then, I’ll decide if I ever want to see you again.”

For a moment, you thought he would refuse. His entire posture screamed resistance, his jaw tightening as he weighed the idea. But then, after a long pause, he sighed.

“Three days,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then you come back. Or else.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t know if you would.

As you turned away, the weight of his gaze followed you, heavy and desperate, but he said nothing more. And neither did you.

The silence between you was louder than any words could ever be.

——

The next morning was quiet. Too quiet.

You sat across from In-ho at the small dining table, the scent of warm food filling the air. The golden brown pancakes sat neatly on the plate beside crisp bacon, a simple yet familiar meal. Your stomach clenched as you realized this was his favorite.

A quiet, bitter smile tugged at your lips. “Bacon and pancakes. You always liked them, didn’t you?”

In-ho glanced up, seemingly surprised with the conversation. “I remember us making them once. Back then.”

The nostalgia weighed heavy in silence between you. In-ho motioned to place a piece of pancake on your plate, but you swatted his hand away, much to his surprise. You scoffed at him. “It’s enough that you prepared a nice meal. You don’t need to be nice,” you muttered idly.

You definitely struck a nerve, noticing his jaw clenched. Instead, he sat down and said nothing, staring at you intently as you spread out the butter and syrup on to your pancake. After what seemed forever, he was done eating. Then, he slid a box across the table and left, proceeding to go to his room.

You opened it and found your belongings— the things you had before you entered the games. A cruel reminder of the life you’d nearly lost.

After you were done, you proceeded to wash the dishes. For a moment, it felt like you had your life back, as if you were living a normal one. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you felt a ting of happiness knowing you’re with In-ho in one space, yet the betrayal crawled to you like venom, still feeling pain from when he shot you.

You heard the door open and saw In-ho walking towards the kitchen, his expression unreadable though his head tilted when he saw what you were doing. He sighed. “You should’ve just left them at the table. The guards will take care of them.”

“You let the guards wash your dishes?” You chuckled bitterly. “Pathetic.”

You patted your hands down to dry them and proceeded to walk past In-ho, only for him to grab your shoulder— the one he didn’t shoot. His grip on you tightened but you didn’t let him show it hurt a bit. You only let out a bitter laugh. “What, isn’t one shoulder enough for you?”

You felt In-ho’s body stiffen, then he let go of his grip. He looked at you and took a deep breath. “Get ready in ten minutes. The limo’s waiting.”

You rolled your eyes and walked towards the room. You proceeded to go to the bathroom, letting your thoughts drain in the shower as the warm water embraced your body, finding comfort and somewhat relaxation in a place like this. When you were done, you proceeded to grab your clothes, sighing in relief as you looked at yourself in the mirror, feeling your life getting back to normal piece by piece.

The drive to Seoul was cloaked in silence. Inside the limousine, the air was thick and heavy with unspoken words. In-ho sat across from you, the smooth leather seat beneath you offering little comfort against the turbulence within. The city lights flickered through the tinted windows, painting fleeting shadows over this face.

“Three days,” In-ho said, his voice measured and controlled. As if he was saying it out loud cemented the fact that he was letting you go, even if it was temporary.

Now, in the quiet of the moving car, his presence loomed, filling the space even without words. The scent of him— clean and crisp with a faint trace of cologne — lingered in the air, a cruel reminder of the closeness you once cherished. His posture was composed, one arm resting on the divider, fingers drumming absentmindedly. But his eyes, dark and piercing, were trained on the passing streets, lost in thought.

Or maybe lost in you.

Your hands curled into your lap. The cityscape outside blurred, and for the first time in a while, you felt the weight of freedom pressing against your chest.

Freedom. If it could even be called that.

The limousine slowed to a stop in front of your apartment. You hesitated, fingers grazing the handle, but before you could move, his voice cut through the silence.

“Three days,” In-ho repeated, softer this time. You turned to him, meeting his gaze. It wasn’t a demand but a quiet plea buried beneath his usual coldness.

You gave him a small nod, glancing at his lips, resisting the urge to place yours. You averted your gaze when he seemed to notice. Then, without looking back, you stepped out into the cold air.

The limousine lingered behind you as you walked toward your apartment. Even without seeing him, you could feel his eyes on you. But by the time you reached the door and turned around, the car was already gone.

It was only when you stepped inside your apartment, exhaling the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, that you felt something crinkle in your coat pocket. Frowning, you reached inside and pulled out a card.

An address.

It wasn’t his handwriting, but you knew who had left it.

Something in you whispered that you shouldn’t go. That you should ignore it, shut your door, and pretend it didn’t exist. But before you could talk yourself out of it, your feet were already moving.

The taxi ride felt long, anticipation and unease twisting together in your chest. But the moment you arrived, standing at the threshold of the dimly lit apartment, the truth settled deep into your bones.

Why did he have to bring you into this place?

You entered the place, finding the unit number placed on the card. To your surprise, it was already unlocked, as if the place was expecting you. You turned the doorknob and revealed a small studio apartment, enough for only one person to live in it. The bed was already there and a desk.

You stepped inside hesitantly, taking in the stillness, the carefully arranged furniture, the faint scent of familiarity that clung to the air. You checked the desk and saw an old fish— already dead, floating on the water. Books were lined and arranged properly.

Then, your eyes caught a familiar black box wrapped in a pink bow.

The same box where the dead players were placed after they were killed.

This was In-ho’s place.

The one he had after winning the games.

It was strange. For a man who had spent so much time trying to sever himself from the past, he had still left a door open. And now, you had walked through it.

Before you could fully process it, a voice came from behind you, soft but laced with shock. Your blood ran cold, your heart pounding as you heard him.

“Noona?”

——

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A/N: Okay, so it's around 5am in where I live and I need to sleep. I wanted to update two chapters today to make up for the lost times I had to update, aside from the fact that I wrote a pretty long one. 😭 Anyway, feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

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