CLIFFHANGER

CHAPTER 20 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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——

The conference room was cold, as always. The walls were bare, the air thick with the ever-present scent of sterile metal and quiet tension. You sat at the head of the table, eyes scanning over the documents in front of you — the final preparations for the next round of games.

Gi-hun entered moments later, his black mask tucked under his arm. His eyes flickered to the papers, then to you. “You look well-rested,” he noted, settling into his chair. “That’s rare for someone in your position.”

You smirked faintly, about to counter when his gaze landed on your hand. Silence stretched between you as Gi-hun’s eyes locked onto the engagement ring on your finger. His expression was unreadable at first, but then he let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”

You glanced down at the ring, your thumb brushing over the band. “Surprised?”

Gi-hun exhaled through his nose. “Not surprise that he asked. Just surprised that you said yes.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “And why is that?’

Gi-hun leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly. “Because you don’t strike me as the type to settle for a man who keeps too many secrets.”

The words cut deep, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you straightened your shoulders, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve. “I know what I’m doing.”

Gi-hun studied you for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. “If you say so.”

There was something else in his eyes, something unspoken — but you didn’t press. Instead, you moved forward with the meeting, discussing the final arrangements for the games. Gi-hun played along, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere.

Though he never said it outright, you knew he was already calculating his next move. 

The air inside the management sector of the facility was cold, sterile, and suffocating in its silence. The hum of monitors and the faint shuffling of masked guards moving with precision added an eerie rhythm to the stillness. You had grown accustomed to the controlled chaos, the weight of responsibility that came with overseeing the very machine that dictated life and death within the games.

Working alongside In-ho had been a test of both your discipline and your patience. He was methodical, a perfectionist in execution, yet he had an unshakable presence that commanded respect without the need for raised voices. You had learned his habits — the way he tapped his gloved fingers against the table when he was in deep thought, how his sharp eyes scanned over the daily reports with meticulous attention, and the way he adjusted the high collar of his coat as if shielding himself from the weight of his own conscience.

He relied on you, not just as a fellow overseer but as someone he trusted. He never said it outside, but you could see it in the way he glanced at you when a decision needed to be made, in the way he shared information with you that others would ever be privy to. You were his equal in this twisted empire, the one person who stood beside him rather than beneath him.

But the work was relentless.

In order for the games to work, the contestants should be constantly monitored, the staff required strict adherence to protocol, and the VIPs demanded entertainment that bordered on madness. The games would be starting soon and everything had to be perfect.

One evening, as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors of the management sector, something unusual caught your attention. The sound of voices — low and urgent, hushed yet unmistakable. Your footsteps slowed, heart rate quickening as you recognized one of them.

Gi-hun.

That wasn’t unusual. He was the Frontman now, stationed here like you. But the other voice sent a chill down your spine.

You edged closer, ears, straining to catch the words. The cadence, the sharpness — it was familiar in a way that made your stomach drop.

“…If we time it right, we can take out the surveillance feed for at least an hour. That should be enough for extraction.”

“Are you sure about this?” Gi-hun’s voice was quieter, laced with doubt. “She’s part of it now. There’s no telling what she’ll do.”

A pause.

“She deserves to choose.”

Jun-ho.

You stepped forward, your breath caught between disbelief and anger. The moment you emerged into the dimly lit room, both men turned sharply to face you. Gi-hun stiffened, guilt flashing across his face. Jun-ho’s expression was unreadable behind the circle mask he wore, but you could feel his gaze boring into you.

The room felt colder. The weight of their words sank in.

“You,” you whispered, eyes locked onto Jun-ho.

“Surprised?” He asked, his voice steady.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to regain control. “How are you here?”

“That doesn’t matter,” his tone was unreadable. “What matters is that you have a choice to make.”

Gi-hun exhaled sharply. “They’ve been keeping things from you.”

Your fists clenched. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but betrayal isn’t one of my games.”

Jun-ho stepped forward. “Then why do you still hesitate?”

Your lips parted, but no words came.

“You still have your humanity,” he continued, his voice softer now, less like an accusation and more like an offering. “You can feel it, can’t you? This place hasn’t completely taken you.”

Gi-hun chimed in, voice laced with something close to desperation. “You think this is control? That you have a say in anything? The games don’t stop. They never will. Unless someone does something.”

You swallowed, the weight of their words pressing into you like a vice. Jun-ho took one final step forward. “You can either keep lying to yourself or you can decide to change things.”

The choice hung in the air between you, heavy and suffocating. For the first time in a long time, you felt truly, painfully alive. 

——

The walk back to the private felt heavier than usual. Each step echoed against the polished floor, your mind burdened with the weight of what you had just witnessed. Gi-hun and Jun-ho had given you a choice — a choice that shouldn’t have shaken you as much as it did. 

But it did. 

For the first time in a long time, you felt something stir inside you. 

Humanity or whatever was left of it.

Your fingers twitched at your side as you hesitated at the entrance, exhaling sharply before pushing the door open. You expected silence. Instead, you found In-ho already there.

The sight before you made you pause. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back slightly hunched the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across his face. But it wasn’t just his presence that caught you off guard — it was what he was holding.

The small fabric of infant clothing was delicate in his gloved fingers, and beside him, meticulously arranged, were items you hadn’t even noticed before — warm blankets, a baby bottle, small things that would be insignificant to anyone else but to you, they meant everything.

A glimpse of fatherhood.

You didn’t realize how tightly you were holding your breath until you forced yourself to exhale. The sight was so different from the composed, calculating man you worked alongside everyday. Here, in this moment, he was just In-ho. 

Not the Frontman, not the overseer of the games, not the enforcer of death and order. Just a man staring at the fragile reality of the life growing inside you.

“You’re here early,” he murmured, but his voice lacked its usual authority. He didn’t look at you, still fixated on the small piece of cloth in his hands.

You swallowed, stepping further inside. “You weren’t at the conference room. I thought you were still occupied.” You sat on the bed, watching as In-ho knelt in front of you, gently placing his hands over your stomach. His fingers traced delicate patterns over the fabric of your robe, his expression unreadable yet undeniably tender.

“I still can’t believe it,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

You tilted your head. “Believe what?”

“That there’s… life inside of you,” he admitted. His voice was softer than usual, filled with something rare—wonder, maybe even fear.

You reached down, placing your hand over his. “Does it scare you?”

In-ho hesitated before shaking his head. “No. Not in the way you think.”

“Then how?”

He exhaled, eyes flickering up to meet yours. “I’m scared of failing you. Of failing… them.” His gaze drifted back down to your stomach, his hands warm and steady. “I never thought I’d have this again.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, gently threading your fingers through his hair. “You won’t fail,” you whispered. “Not this time.”

In-ho leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against your stomach, his arms wrapping around you as if trying to shield you from the world.

For the first time in a long while, the weight of the organization, of the games, of everything—faded away. And in that quiet moment, In-ho wasn’t the Overseer.

He was simply a man who wanted to be a father.

Silence stretched between you both, unspoken words lingering in the air like ghosts. Your eyes flickered to the items on the bed again before you found yourself asking a question that’s been lingering on you.

“What’s left of you, In-ho? What humanity do you even have left?”

His expression shifted — subtle, but enough for you to notice the flicker of something deep within his gaze. Something almost vulnerable. His lips pressed together, placing the infant clothing down with deliberate care before turning fully toward you. “I could ask you the same thing,” the countered, voice low. “You tell me, what humanity is left in you? After everything we’ve done?”

You inhaled sharply, but you didn’t look away. “That’s why I’m asking. Because… I don’t know. I was just reminded that I still have it — no matter how much I tried to bury it under power and necessity.”

In-ho’s shoulders tensed. He turned his gaze to the floor, as if searching for an answer he wasn’t ready to admit. “Humanity is a weakness in a place like this. It gets you killed.”

“Then why do you still keep things like this?” You gestured toward the bed where the baby things were placed. “Why do you still hold onto this if you believe we have nothing left?”

He was silent. The question settled deep within him, unraveling something he had kept tightly wound for so long. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant. “Because I still want to believe that there’s something beyond all of this. That despite everything, I still have a reason to keep going."

Your chest tightened. "Then you still have it," you whispered. "You still have your humanity, In-ho. You just buried it under all the hardship."

His fingers curled into a fist against his knee. "And you? Are you ready to dig yours back out?"

You hesitated, then finally sat beside him. "I don’t know. But I think I’m starting to remember what it felt like."

The room was filled with an unfamiliar quiet—one that neither of you had allowed yourselves to experience in a long time. And for the first time in years, you and In-ho weren’t discussing the games, the organization, or the next strategic move.

You were just two people who had lost themselves along the way, trying to figure out if there was still anything left worth saving.

——

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A/N: A bit of a short chapter today as I want to give my all on the last ones. I'm curious if y'all want a sad ending or a happy ending? Or do y'all want alternative endings? Please 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 in the next chapter! ✨

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69 @plague-cure @theredvelvetbitch @cherryheairt @voxslays @thebluehair23 @coruja12345 @alliyah-ll @spiritualgirly444 (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)

"Shit! What the hell happened?!"

CHAPTER 11 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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——

The tension in the dormitory hung like a thick fog, pressing down on your lungs as the fight between the X and O players seemed to calm down, with each player going back to their side. The air smelled of damp wood and sweat, but something else lingered beneath it — an undercurrent of unease.

Beside you, In-ho finished the last bite of his gimbap and stood up, putting the fork in his pocket and brushed his hands off on his pants. He was about to take on step forward when you reached for his wrist, your fingers wrapping around his pulse. His gaze flickered down to where you touched him.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” he replied smoothly, but there was something off about the way he said it. It seemed too casual, too detached.

You frowned, tightening your hold. “Wait. Just stay a second.”

In-ho sighed through his nose, seemingly impatient. “Why?”

“You owe me something.”

In-ho turned his gaze to you, his expression calm, but a question was evident in his face. Something gnawed at the back of your mind, an instinct you couldn’t name. You remembered In-ho wanting to tell you something after you vote. In-ho exhaled sharply, a short, amused breath, but he continued to look at you. Your hand was still on his wrist, and though he could have pulled away, he didn’t.

He studied you for a moment before exhaling, and to your surprise, he sat back down. His eyes, usually so guarded, were unreadable as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Then, his next words shifted the air entirely.

“I won the games in 2015.”

You felt your breath hitched.

“I didn’t enter out of curiosity like you. I needed the money. I had nothing.” In-ho’s voice was low, controlled. But underneath it, there was something at it. Something bitter. “It’s for my wife. She was sick… and pregnant. I did everything to try and save her, but they misinterpreted it as a bribe, and so I was out of the force. The hospital bills were growing and growing each day. She...” He paused for a moment but continued. “She was struggling. I was, too. Then, I was handed a card. I accepted it knowing I could win the prize money. I did everything to survive, just so I could go back to her.”

Your chest tightened.

“I won. But when I got home, she was already gone. Already wrapped under a body bag.”

You stayed silent, seeing a tear forming in the corner of his eye. He was holding them back. You almost motioned to touch his face, but then, he continued.

“The moment I walked out of here, I realized what kind of person I became. What I had to do to survive. I saw what these games really are, how people turn when there’s nothing left but desperation.” His lips curled, almost in disgust. “And I realized I was no different. I thought winning would fix everything. But it didn’t.”

Your fingers curled into his palm, gripping it tighter. Then, he held yours back.

“I walked out of here with more money than I could ever spend, and yet… I lost more than I gained,” his jaw tightened. “People think money changes everything. Maybe it does, but it doesn’t bring back what you sacrificed to get it.”

The weight of his words settled over you. For the first time, he was letting you see something raw. It was like you were talking to the In-ho you once knew years ago. And yet, there were still things he wasn’t saying. There were pieces he was deliberately leaving out.

“So why are you here again?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe I wanted to see if people ever change,” he murmured. You weren’t sure if he was talking about the players. Or himself.

Or you.

The sound of a distant scream shattered the moment. Your head snapped toward the source — the bathroom. Another noise followed, a sharp crack of panicked shots.

If you hadn’t stopped In-ho, if he had left just a second earlier, he would’ve been in there. His gaze flickered back to you, something unspoken passing between you both.

“That was close,” you muttered.

In-ho’s lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something. But then he shook his head. “Lucky me, I guess.”

But you both knew luck had nothing to do with it. 

“The following players have been eliminated. Players 230, 268, 299, 331, and 401. End of the list.”

Your posture straightened up upon hearing the announcement. How can these players be eliminated in such a short time? There were no games in play.

Everyone in the dormitory tensed up, clearly shocked by what was announced. You felt the ceiling rumble, the piggy bank showing at the top as more money plopped inside, the TV turning on accounting the accumulated prize money for each player and the total prize. In front of you, Gi-hun stood up, his face focused on the piggy bank at the top.

“What’s going on?” Jung-bae turned to your group and asked. 

You all heard the doors open, seeing players drenched with blood all over their clothes, faces, and bodies. It seemed as they just got out from a massacre - a bloody one, indeed. 

“Listen, Team O!” Player 124 ran in the middle, his face with patches of blood and his tracksuit number with blood as well. “When we were in the bathroom, those fucking X bastards tried to kill all of us!” He yelled. “They killed some of us, including my friend—“

“Bullshit,” Player 047 interrupted. “You’re the ones who started it. They threatened one of the people on our side! They attacked us to win the second vote!”

“Hey!” Player 192 called out. “You killed one of us first. You were trying to win the vote by killing us!”

“Fuck you. You killed some of us too,” Player 145 retorted. “Did you think we would just let you kill the rest of us?”

“So, which side lost more people?” Player 100 asked out loud. In just a few minutes, each X and O players grouped each on their sides, counting themselves.

You and the X players grouped in the staircase in the corner, with Player 047 counting each of you. You continued to study the crowd, seeing the O players doing the same on the other side. The tension was palpable. You found yourself shaking a bit, but In-ho held your hand, trying to make you at ease.

“Two people died on our side,” Player 047 said in a whisper, but enough for the X crowd to hear. 

“Two out of five. That means they lost three people,” you said, remembering the number of players who recently died.

“Then we have a better shot at winning the vote tomorrow,” Player 380 murmured, earning a nod from each X player.

As if a thought snapped in Jung-bae’s mind, he hurriedly whispered loud enough for you and everyone else to hear. “Hey, it’s 48 against 47. As long as we don’t change our minds, we’ll win by one vote!” 

You noticed Gi-hun’s face focused on the O crowd as if he was trying to anticipate their next move. His eyebrows were furrowed together, his eyes almost a glare. 

“Attention, please,” the speaker announced, breaking the thoughts away from your mind. “Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime.”

Player 047 stood up, eyeing each and one of you, the desperation evident in his face. “Listen. You cannot change your minds. We have to win the second vote and get out of here tomorrow. All right?”

Each X player nodded while you only stared at Player 047. At least, in this way, you still saw the goodness in this place. There were still some other people who were desperate to get out of the place and be satisfied with the accumulated prize money. 

You can’t help but feel unease. You were so sure that the O players would attack during lights out, seeing them eyeing the X crowd multiple times and pointing their fingers. As the other X players start to return to their beds, Gi-hun motioned a small wave for you and your group. You and the others followed, though your group wasn’t only limited now to In-ho, Dae-ho, Jung-bae, and Jun-hee. Hyun-ju’s group also tagged along, with Gyeong-seok becoming a part of it. You gave Gyeong-seok a small nod, giving a small, quiet recognition to welcome him in the group. 

Together, you all formed a circle. Dae-ho turned around to look at the O crowd, then turned back to your group. “It looks like they’re up to something.”

Jung-bae scoffed. “Whatever those idiots do, once we win the vote tomorrow, it will all be over.”

“You think we’ll be okay?” Dae-ho asked worriedly. You gave him a small pat on his back to comfort him somehow. He gave you a small smile, but his eyes still had a hint of worry. “They said things were really scary in the bathroom earlier.”

A brief silence filled your group, weighing Dae-ho’s words. But then, Gi-hun’s voice cut out the tension as he stared into space, his eyes determined while his eyebrows were furrowed.  “Once the lights go out, people on the other side will attack us.”

“Really?” Yong-sik’s eyes widened.

“Because if they kill us, they’ll be able to win the vote and increase the prize,” Gi-hun explained.

“So what do we do?”

“Let’s attack them first,” In-ho replied, much too quickly, earning a glance from Gi-hun who seemed to be taken aback by his words. “They’re probably thinking we’ll just wait for the second vote. We can use it to our advantage. We’ll attack them first once the lights go out.”

“That’s right. It would be better to attack them first,” Player 047 agreed, then eyed you, Geum-ja, and Jun-hee. “We have more women and elderly on our side. If we get attacked, we’ll be at a disadvantage. Attacking them first would give us a better chance of winning.”

“We can’t do that,” Gi-hun replied, his voice with diction as the words left his mouth.

“But we have to get out of here,” you retorted, though your voice calm despite the incoming chaos you could predict. “You said it yourself. Staying calm won’t get us anywhere now.”

“That doesn’t mean we should kill each other,” Gi-hun explained, his voice reeking out of desperation. “That’s exactly what they want us to do.”

“They?” Jung-bae asked.

Gi-hun paused for a moment, clearing his throat before continuing. “Those who created the game. Those who watch us play. If we’re going to fight someone, it should be them.”

“Where are they?” Dae-ho asked. 

Gi-hun slowly looked up at the ceiling, as the others followed. You almost did, but then you notice In-ho looking at Gi-hun more than he should, though his expression was unreadable yet… too calm. He sat across from you, one arm draped over his knee, the other resting loosely at his side. His expression was unreadable, but you caught the minute tension in his posture, the way his fingers flexed ever so slightly, like a subconscious tell. His gaze, dark and piercing, remained locked onto Gi-hun.

And suddenly, it all clicked.

Gi-hun kept speaking, laying out his plan, but his words blurred in the background as your mind reeled.

“I have a foresight.”

In-ho’s words echoed to your mind. He anticipated things before they even happened, maneuvering like a man who had already played this game before. You remembered his words, the way he hinted at his understanding of the games — too precise, too calculated. 

“Has anyone ever played before?” You murmured, interrupting Gi-hun, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gi-hun blinked. “What?”

“You survived the last game,” you continued, staring at him. “Did you ever feel like… someone already knew how it would all play out?”

“Yeah, there was this old man,” Gi-hun’s voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. “Oh Il-nam. He was with us from the start. Turns out he was the creator of the games.”

You tilted your head. “What happened to him?”

Gi-hun exhaled as his hands twitched against his knee, as if the memory physically lingered there. “He died three years after I won.”

You swallowed hard. Slowly, you turned to In-ho, your gaze locking onto his. His mask didn’t crack, but his eyes told another story. His expression was still unreadable, but something in his gaze shifted — the slightest trace of amusement, of challenge.

He knew what you were asking. And he was waiting for you to piece it together.

“The man in the black mask is their leader,” Gi-hun continued. “Once we capture him, we’ll be able to win.”

You heard Jung-bae sigh, who was seated beside Gi-hun. But then, In-ho replied, his gaze locked onto Gi-hun, his expression cold as his voice remained low, as if he was calculating something. “How are you going to fight them? They have guns.”

“We’ll fight them with guns too,” Gi-hun answered, the determination in his voice was evident.

“But we don’t have any,” Jung-bae said in defeat.

“We’ll take their guns.”

“From those masked men?” Gyeong-seok asked in surprise. 

Gi-hun nodded, which earned a worried sigh from Jung-bae. 

“That’s too dangerous,” In-ho said. “Even if we manage to take a few guns, we’ll still be outnumbered.” 

“What then?” Gi-hun retorted. “Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive?” He eyed each one of you in the group, then eyed In-ho. “Is that what you want, Young-il?”

You almost forgot that they all knew him as Young-il. Silence fell into your group, the uncertainty of surviving in this place crashing on to the air. 

“Do we… stand a chance?” Hyun-ju asked, her voice with a hint of worry. 

“We do if we catch them off guard,” Gi-hun replied. “Out of everyone, they’re the ones who would least expect us to attack first. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all.”

“Don’t you think it’s too… ambitious?” You asked, feeling each eyes of your group turn to you.

“If you don’t want to join the fight, then don’t,” Player 047 said, looking at you in disbelief. 

“All I’m saying is, we’re not sure if we can survive. The stakes are getting higher. Wouldn’t it be more dangerous if we bust our way out there and fight all of them, including this captain with a black mask?” You explained, giving Player 047 a slight glare before turning to the rest of the group. “It’s not about me not wanting to join the fight. It’s about being cautious about whatever danger we may encounter. I’m not opposed to the idea.”

Gi-hun nodded, taking in your words. His lips parted slightly as if to say something, but In-ho quickly spoke. “How are you going to take their guns?”

“Once the fight begins tonight, we’ll have our chance,” Gi-hun said surely. Then his voice became low, but still enough for your group to hear. “Once the lights go out, get under the bottom beds quietly. You must not get caught by those planning to attack us. We have to hide until the fight ends. Don’t get caught up in the fight.”

“But that would put people on our side at quite a disadvantage,” Jung-bae murmured. “Without us in the first, they’ll be outnumbered.”

“I know,” Gi-hun said. “But if we fight with them and some of us end up dead or injured, it will ruin our entire plan. We can’t beat those bastards with a lower headcount.”

“Are you suggesting that we make a small sacrifice for the greater good?” In-ho asked, though his eyes were still unreadable, but his voice was calm yet there was a hint of amusement in it. You could his lips twitch almost to a smirk, but it seemed as though he was holding it back.

Gi-hun paused for a moment, his expression falling upon the realization of the so-called sacrifice. “If we miss this opportunity, the sacrifice will be even greater. Even if it takes a sacrifice, we must put an end to this game now.” 

Your stomach twisted at his words. “A small sacrifice?” You said, your voice sharper than you intended. 

Gi-hun’s expression hardened. “If we don’t do something, we’ll all be wiped out. You know that.”

Your breath came slow, controlled, but the words scraped against something deep inside you. “Victory at the expense of others is no victory at all, Gi-hun.”

Silence gripped the group. The air was thick with unspoken fears, the scent of sweat and tension suffocating. Your fingers curled into a fist as you and Gi-hun stared at each other, waiting for each of you to speak.

Gi-hun sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. I do. But this isn’t about just one person. If we don’t act now, we’ll all end up—“

“Dead?” You challenged. “And you didn’t think sacrificing someone will stop that from happening?”

Gi-hun exhaled sharply. “This isn’t about being selfish. It’s about surviving long enough to end this damn game.”

Your jaw clenched, but before you could respond, in your peripheral vision, you could see In-ho shift.

“She’s right,” he said, finally speaking. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. “You talk about sacrifice as if it’s a simple thing. But once you deicde someone else’s life is worth less than yours, you stop being different from the people who put us in here.”

The words sent a chill down your spine as you looked at In-ho, realizing he was already looking at you, locking your gazes.

Gi-hun shook his head. “So what, then? We do nothing?”

“No,” In-ho murmured. “We do it without becoming the monsters they want us to be.”

And though his words aligned with yours, you weren’t sure anymore if they came from the same place. Because as much as you knew him, as much as he was once your childhood best friend —  the one who promised to always protect you — you weren’t sure anymore if he was protecting you.

Or if he was simply playing a different game entirely.

——

Ten.

Nine.

Eight. 

The dormitory was quieter than usual, a deceptive calm settling over the room as the players settled in for the night. The dim lighting flickered against the cold metal walls, casting long shadows over the endless rows of bunk beds. Some players lay with their backs to the world, others murmured in hushed voices, exchanging anxious theories about the next game.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

You sat on the lower bunk, fingers running absentmindedly over the thin blanket draped over your legs. Beside your bed was In-ho’s, who was leaning against the bedframe, his arms crossed in that ever-relaxed posture of his. But you could that his eyes were sharper than usual, tracking the other players’ movement, scanning the room with quiet precision.

“Something’s going to happen,” you muttered under your breath.

He hummed, barely a nod, but you caught the way his fingers flexed against his bicep.

Four.

Three.

Two.

The tension in the room felt like a rubber band stretched too thin. Then, you heard footsteps in the middle, the light shining on Player 124’s face with a fork in hand.

One.

And then, all hell broke loose. 

Someone on the upper bunk near the doors screamed. Metal clanged against metal as a bunk collapsed under struggling bodies. A body slammed into the floor near you with a sickening thud. The room erupted into chaos as players lunged at each other, driven by desperation and paranoia. X and O no longer mattered — everyone was a threat.

“Under the bed. Now.” In-ho’s voice was low, yet urgent.

You didn’t hesitate.

The moment your back hit the cold ground, In-ho followed, pressing close as he pulled the thin mattress down just enough to shield you both from the view. The noise around you grew unbearable — the shouts, the sharp, wet sounds of bodies hitting the ground, and the suffocating smell of sweat and iron.

Your breaths were shallow, your heart hammering against your ribs. The space under the bed felt too small, too suffocating. You could see movement — feet darting past, shadows shifting violently in the flickering light.

Then, you felt warm fingers brushed against your wrist.

You startled, turning to look at In-ho. His face was closer than you expected, his eyes dark but steady. His hand found yours, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your palm. 

“Breathe,” he murmured, so soft you barely heard it over the chaos. “You’re safe.”

Safe. The word felt too foreign here, in a place where safety was nothing more than an illusion. But still, his touch was grounding, his presence a steady force amid the madness.

The chaos outside your hiding spot hadn’t lessened, but for a fleeting moment, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just you and In-ho. His grip on your hand remained firm, grounding you in a reality that should have been terrifying —  but somehow, wasn’t.

Then, before you could fully process what was happening, he moved. His hands slipped from yours only to cup your jaw, tilting your face towards him. And then, his lips found yours.

A kiss in the middle of a massacre. The softness of his lips against yours clashed cruelly with the violent screams and death rattles surrounding you. It was wrong, so reckless. But damn, you enjoyed it.

The heat surged through you, an intoxicating contract to the blood-stained air. His touch was commanding, his fingers pressing just enough to make you feel it — to make you remember this moment even as the world fell apart. And maybe that was the irony of it all. That you could find something so addicting, so devastatingly good, while people were tearing each other apart.

But the moment shattered in an instant as you felt a hand yanked you backward, ripping you away from In-ho’s hand as he screamed, “No!”

Your body slid out from under the bunk, seeing an O player on top of you.

It was Player 192. His grip on you was bruising, his breath reeking of desperation as he sneered down at you. “Didn’t know whores could get into this place,” he snarled, tightening his grip around your throat. “Let’s see how tough you really are without him.”

Your nails clawed at his wrists, panic rising like bile. The edges of your vision blurred as he raised his fork. You closed your eyes, ready for the impact.

Then, you heard a crack. A familiar one, to be exact.

Player 192’s body jerked violently before collapsing lifelessly beside you. Your own breath was ragged as you struggled to push yourself up, barely able to comprehend what just happened. 

In-ho stood over you, his expression softening this time as he looked at you. The sharp rise and fall of his chest betrayed the fury simmering beneath the surface. The bloodied weapon in his hand dripped onto the cold floor, his fingers gripping it so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

He crouched beside you, his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away a streak of blood that wasn’t yours. “Are you hurt?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. 

In-ho exhaled sharply, then leaned in, his lips ghosting against your ear. “No one touches you. Ever. Remember that.”

He didn’t waste another second as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back toward the shadows, the urgency tightening his grip. Your breath was still uneven, the ghost of the O player’s attack lingering in your bones. The moment your bodies disappeared for everyone to see, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close. “I’m never letting you go again, Y/N.”

You could feel the heat of his breath against your temple, his chest rising and falling in steady contrast to your own erratic breathing. His scent, faint traces of sweat, blood, and something unmistakably him, wrapped around as if it were a second skin.

The chaos was still raging. Metal clashed against metal, bodies smalled into beds, and desperate cries filled the air. The dormitory had become a warzone, a battleground fueled by greed and fear.

In-ho’s fingers traced slow, grounding circles against your arm, a silent reassurance that you were still here… and alive. “Stay close,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the madness. “We move once the guards step in.”

You nodded, gripping onto his sleeve like a lifeline. The minutes passed like hours. The sounds of violence started to blur together, each screeam and crash dulling into a single, ceaseless noise. Your body was stiff, adrenaline still coiling tight in your muscles.

Then, a loud, blaring alarm erupted in the air. The lights turned on, hearing more footsteps. The guards had arrived.

In-ho’s fingers tightened around yours. As the guards’ booths thundered into the room, you and In-ho prepared to slip out unnoticed, ready to face whatever came next.

The surviving players scrambled back to their bunks, some collapsing from exhaustion, others from injuries to severe to ignore. The guards moved in, their rifles raised, their heavy boots pounding against the bloodstained floor.

In-ho gave you a look, then in a seamless motion, he pulled you down, pressing your body against the cold floor beside the fallen. His hand slid over yours, smearing the warm blood from the O player he had killed onto your skin. The metallic scent stung your nose, but you didn’t flinch. 

You both lay still, bodies limp among the corpses, eyes fluttering shut as the guards stepped closer. Every breath you took was shallow, controlled, listening for the precise moment.

One guard crouched near In-ho, nudging a lifeless body beside him with the barrel of his rifle. Another did the same near you, muttering something about cleaning up the mess.

The guard turned away, but In-ho struck first. In one swift motion, he rolled up, seizing the rifle from the nearest guard before slamming the butt of it onto his head. The guard crumpled instantly.

You weren’t far behind. With adrenaline firing through your veins, you lunged, grabbing the other guard’s wrist before he could react. His weapon clattered to the floor as you twisted his arm, forcing him down with a brutal precision that left no room for error. A quick, decisive blow to his temple, and he, too, was out cold. 

The room fell into a brief, stunned silence. Then, a shot rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade. 

It wasn’t yours, nor was it In-ho’s.

Players who had been waiting for the right moment, who had seen what you and In-ho had done, began to move. You saw Gi-hun, Gyeong-seok, Hyun-ju, Jung-bae, and Daeo-ho wrestle the weapons from the fallen guards, others tackled those still standing. 

In-ho turned to you, his chest rising and falling with exhilaration, a ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. “Stay close to me,” he murmured, his voice cutting through the madness.

With rifles in hand, you charged into the chaos together.

Another chaos ignited like a match to gasoline. The screams overlapped with gunfire, bodies clashed in frantic desperation, and the metallic scent of blood thickened in the air. From across the room, Gi-hun’s sharp eyes locked onto yours, then flickered to In-ho. There was no time for questions, no time for hesitation. With a decisive nod, he started shooting the other guards.

You lifted your stolen rifle, your pulse steady despite the storm raging around you. In-ho was already ahead, moving like he had done this a thousand times before.  As the guards escaped on the other side of the room, the square-masked guard was left out in the open, trapped inside the dormitory. 

“Stop! Hold fire!” Gi-hun yelled, his rifle pointed to the square-masked guard. You and the others with the rifles motioned in the middle, pointing your guns to the guard. “Everyone, hold fire!”

Jung-bae ran towards the guard, pointing the end of his gun to the guard. “Hands above your head!” The guard followed reluctantly. “On your knees!”

“You goddamn bastards!” You heard someone shout from behind you. You saw Player 047 aiming his gun towards the O players. 

Just as you were about to step in, Gi-hun ran and held Player 047’s rifle down. “No!”

“Move!” Player 047 yelled. “Do you not see this?” He pointed to the dead bodies on the floor. “They are not human. They’re like goddamn vermin blinded by money!” He proceeded to aim his gun again, but Gi-hun held it down once more.

“This is not what we took these guns for,” Gi-hun said, gritting his teeth. “If we do this, we’ll be no different from those masked men.” 

Player 047’s breath trembled, his body shaking as he fought the urge to aim his gun once again to the O players. Gi-hun’s back was turned to the O players behind him, which turned out to be a big mistake for him.

Player 336 tackled him to the ground, wrapping his hands around Gi-hun’s throat, squeezing as Gi-hun’s legs kicked out, his face turning a sickening shade of red. His fingers clawed uselessly at the man’s arms, eyes wild with panic. He tried to reach for his gun as Player 047 stared in horror, startled at the sight.

Your body moved before you could think. Raising your rifle, you took a step forward and pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out loud and final. Player 336’s body went limp, collapsing over Gi-hun before rolling off. He gasped for breath, coughing as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. His eyes darted to you, a mixture of relief and something unspoken flashing across his face.

You offered your hand as he took it, gripping tight as you helped him to his feet. You gave each other a nod, a silent acknowledgment of saving his life. Before Gi-hun could say something, In-ho approached you, stepping into your space, his hand instinctively finding your arm. His touch was firm and grounding. But when you met his gaze, there was something else in his eyes.

“You seem eager to play the hero,” In-ho muttered, his voice just low enough for only you to hear. There was a tightness in it, a rough edge that wasn’t entirely from the chaos around you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Would you rather I let him die?”

His fingers curled slightly against your arm before he let go. “I’d rather you stop putting yourself at risk for someone who wouldn’t do the same for you.”

You exhaled sharply, but before you could snap back, Gi-hun had already moved on, recruiting players who had been too scared to fight before. His voice carried over the dormitory, rallying them with the promise of survival. 

“You don’t get to decide that,” you said, your voice quieter now.

In-ho’s lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes, dark and intense, never wavered from yours. “No,” he admitted. “But I know you. You’re getting too involved.”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “And you’re jealous.”

You noticed a muscle in his jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Instead, his hand brushed against yours, fleeting but deliberate. As if it was a reminder or somewhat a warning.

“Everyone!” Gi-hun called out, as the players continued to place more rifles and ammos in the middle of the room, stealing each from the guard’s uniforms. “We will now head up to the masked men’s headquarters. We’ll capture the ones who captured us, put an end to this game, and make them pay,” he paused for a moment as he lifted the rifle on his hand up in the air. “Anyone who knows how to use a gun and wishes to join us, please step forward.”

You gripped your hand tighter to your rifle, seeing the players hesitate to come forward. But then, Jung-bae moved and stepped forward. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. But this may be our last chance to make it out of this place alive,” he said. “Fight with us so we can go home together. All together.”

One by one, players motioned to walk towards you, grabbing rifles from the ground. Most of them came from the X crowd. 

“Let’s take one radio each. We’ll use channel 7, the lucky number.”

You grabbed a radio from a fallen guard, following Jung-bae’s instruction. You proceeded to check your gun, checking its ammo. You grabbed more from the ground, placing it on your pocket. Then, you felt someone’s presence beside you. You looked up and saw Gi-hun, the hesitation evident in his face but looked at you.

“Thank you for earlier,” Gi-hun spoke, his voice low. He gave you a small smile and a nod.

You nodded back, loading your gun with an ammo. “You can but me soju when we get out.” 

Gi-hun chuckled softly, nodding his head. A fleeting moment of recognition passed between you and him, somewhat like an understanding that for now, you were on the same side. But in your peripheral vision, In-ho didn’t seem to look amused. Yet somehow, you enjoyed seeing him this way, the irony of playing a game inside a game.

Hyun-ju proceeded to teach you and the others how to properly operate the rifle, later revealing that she was part of the ROK Special Forces as a sergeant first class. You awed in admiration. You proceeded to set your rifle to single-fire mode.

You heard a gun cock near your side, seeing the guard on his knees with hands over his head as Gi-hun aimed a rifle at him. “Take it off.”

The guard followed reluctantly, taking off his mask — only to reveal a young, teenage boy.

“Good God,” Jung-bae gasped. “Do your parents know what you’re doing here?”

“Take us to your captain,” Gi-hun said coldly, as the young boy nodded. He dragged the young boy down to the door, shooting the glass window as he peered his arm down, unlocking the door. 

You and the others followed as the young boy led the way. You were behind In-ho, his back turned from you though his posture was composed. You gripped your rifle tighter as you exited the dormitory, your heart racing knowing you were about to participate in the rebellion, with no certainty of survival.

You all proceeded to walk towards the labyrinth of stairs, the colorful environment enveloping waiting for chaos to erupt. After a series of turning lefts and rights, Gi-hun grunted, grabbing the young boy’s hood. “How much farther?” He grabbed to face him when he didn’t speak, a gun still pointed to his head. “Is this the right way?”

The young boy’s body was shaking as he pointed his finger behind him. “The entrance to the management area is around that corner. The control room is right above it,” he said, his voice shaking.

“Move it, then,” Gi-hun pressed.

“Wait,” the young boy said as he motioned his hand to his pocket, only for his hand to be grabbed by Gi-hun.

“What are you doing?”

“I need my mask to pass security,” the young boy’s eyes widened as the end of Gi-hun’s gun was already aimed at his forehead between his eyes. Gi-hun relunctantly removes his hand from the boy.

As the young boy glances up, you notice his shoulders stiffened at the sight of someone behind Gi-hun, which was In-ho. It wasn’t the stance of a seasoned enforcer. It was hesitant and uncertain. He was clearly shocked but at the same… terrified.

Something twisted in your gut as you looked at In-ho, expecting confusion, maybe even a demand for answers. But he wasn’t surprised nor alarmed. In fact, he just… stared.

Your grip on your gun tightened as your mind raced, piecing things together, little by little. The foresight. The calculated steps. The way he always seemed to anticipate what was coming. 

Gi-hun’s voice from earlier echoed in your mind. His recollection of a former player who turns out to be a part of the games, Oh Il-nam. And now, this.

The young guard who was too young to be here, and too familiar with In-ho. Your pulse pounded as you turned to In-ho, searching for an explanation, but he wasn’t looking at you. His eyes remained on the boy, and for a split second, you saw something there.

Some kind of recognition. Not surprise nor fear. Just… recognition.

A chill crawled down your spine. Your fingers curled tighter around your gun, your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

But then, the young boy’s body fell from the ground, much to your surprise. Gunfire and chaos echoed through the corridors as the rebellion pushed forward, sweeping through the facility like a storm that couldn’t be contained. In-ho immediately turned to you and pulled you down, pressing you against the wall as you dodged.

There was no time to think. You felt In-ho’s body pressed against yours as he shot the guards out by the corridor. He bent down and hid behind the wall beside you, reloading his ammo. You took it as a signal to shoot as you and In-ho exchange shifts, shooting each guard one by one. 

——

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A/N: I got the next chapter ready already! Hahaha it was supposed to be a really long chapter but I decided to cut it from here instead. I'm so excited about the next chapters as they would rely solely on my imagination on the aftermath of Squid Game. I'm aiming to upload two chapters today so y'all better wait for that 👀 Anyway, 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 in the next chapter! ✨

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69 @plague-cure (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)

Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 3

Ok I know it’s a generic shooter, blah blah same game same guns blah blah blah, I’m just into the story behind the modern warfare games. The 3rd one breaks my heart though… I want to see what happens to Captain Price!! I would have love to see a news bulletin like “News Anchor: Breaking News. World Renowned Terrorist Vladimir Makarov has been killed…” And they would go on to say that one survivor, Captain Price, was found seriously wounded and is believed to be the one that killed Makarov. I want Price to be praised as a Hero!!! After everything he has done and been through, he deserves the Victorian Cross or something!!! It killed me inside seeing the picture of Ghost, Soap, Price and Sandman at the very end. Agh I am just ranting about an old game nobody probably even cares about.

henlo i want to talk about cod mw trilogy and black ops

who's up i want friends

CHAPTER 15 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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WARNING: 18+ content ahead. Read at your own risk.

——

The alley was silent, save for the slow dripping of water from a rusted pipe. The flickering neon sign of a half-abandoned pawn shop painted streaks of red across the pavement, casting an eerie glow over the lifeless body slumped against the grimy brick wall.

In-ho crouched down, his gloved fingers skimming the bloodstained fabric of the recruiter’s coat. The wound was deep —  clean but ruthless. The work of someone who knew what they were doing. Someone driven by more than just desperation.

Someone like you.

His jaw tightened. Even in the dim light, he could make out the faint smudges of shoe prints leading away from the scene. The fight hadn’t been long. The recruiter never had a chance. 

In-ho pulled out his phone, pressing it to his ear. “Clean it up,” he ordered, his voice cold and detached. “No traces.”

A curt response from the other end was received, then the line went dead. He pocketed the phone and straightened, his gaze sweeping the empty alleyway. The city was restless tonight— the streets hummed with distant car horns, the murmurs of late-night wanderers. But the shadows told him what he needed to know.

You were close, as if you were a ghost slipping through the cracks of the city, moving unseen, leaving only a trail of destruction in your wake.

He stepped out of the alley, his sharp eyes scanning the streets. Then, he saw her.

Jun-hee.

She stepped out of a nearby gas station’s convenience store, her figure framed against the glow of the automatic doors. She looked exhausted, dark circles smudging beneath her eyes, her hair slightly unkempt. But what caught his attention was the small bundle in her arms, wrapped in soft yellow fabric.

A baby.

His chest tightened. He lingered in the shadows, unseen as she adjusted the child in her arms, murmuring something softly before disappearing into the night. She thinks he was dead, and for the first time in years, that was an advantage.

In-ho remained in the shadows as he turned back to his car, slipping behind the wheel as he started the engine. He didn’t have time for her. He had more important things to find.

You.

The city stretched out before him, endless roads weaving like veins through the darkness. He drove without direction, relying on something deeper than logic — instinct and memory. He took long roads, passed by streets you used to walk, and places you used to go when you wanted to disappear. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, pulse steady but tense.

He knew you were running. But he also knew you were getting tired.

It wasn’t until he turned onto a quieter street, past dimly lit clubs and bars, that he found you. The bar was a rundown hole-in-the-wall. It was the kind of place that reeked of spilled alcohol, cigarette smoke, and bad decisions. Through the rain-streaked windshield, he saw you. Your head was thrown back, half-empty glass in hand, body slumped against the counter in a drunken mess. Even from the car, he recognized that recklessness, the barely contained fire burning in your veins.

In-ho sighed, pushing the door open. Your figure stilled recklessness, your posture feral like a wounded animal ready to lash out at anything that came too close. Your chair had been knocked over, glass shattered to the floor. Two men held you back, gripping your arms as you thrashed, trying to break free. The bartender looked wary, unsure whether to intervene.

“Let go of me!” Your voice was sharp, slurred but venomous.

“Calm down, lady,” one of the men sneered. “before you do something you regret.”

The moment your eyes met In-ho’s, something in it shifted. The rage, the fire— it was still there. But now, it burned with something else. The entire bar fell silent as in-ho stepped forward.

“Let her go,” he ordered. His voice was calm and cold — but final.

The two men hesitated, their grips tightening as they looked him up and down, sizing him up. In-ho rolled his eyes, pulling out a stack of cash, tossing it onto the counter.

“For the damages.”

The bartender’s eyes widened, nodding quickly before the two men finally released you, muttering curses under their breath as they backed away. In-ho stepped closer as your body wavered, your legs unsteady from the alcohol, and before you could fall, his hand caught your arm, steading you.

You flinched, your breath hitching at the touch. You managed to give him a glare despite your legs wobbling. “Let me go.”

He didn’t.

Instead, he guided you towards the exit, his grip firm but careful. The night air was cold against your flushed skin, and you sucked in a breath, trying to gather whatever scraps of sobriety you had left. But before you could twist free from his grasp, he opened the car door and ushered you inside. 

“In-ho,” you murmured, his name falling from your lips like an accusation, more like a plea.

He didn’t answer. He simply closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. You slumped against the seat, eyes hazy, fists clenching at the leather beneath you. As he started the engine, he spared you a glance. “Let’s go.”

The tires rolled over wet pavement, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as he drove. And for the first time in six months, you weren’t running.

The hum of the car engine filled the silence between you, a low vibration that barely reached the surface of your awareness. Your head lolled against the window, the cool glass pressing into your burning skin. You were drunk — far beyond your usual limit — but the fight, the chaos, and the exhaustion had drained what little resistance you had left.

And then there was In-ho.

Sitting there, hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Not saying a word. Not asking you anything. Just existing beside you, like he had been pulled from some distant memory and placed into the present.

The weight of it settled over your shoulder.

Six months of running, of hiding, of fighting against the inevitability of his presence in your life. Six months of trying to forget him, only to realize that forgetting was impossible. He had burned himself into your bones, branded himself into the very structure of your being, and no amount of running could erase him.

The streetlights outside passed in soft glows, streaks of golden light washing over his face in fleeting moments. You watched him through heavy lids, tracing the sharp cut of his jaw, the shadows beneath his eyes, the way his lips pressed together in a firm line.

He had aged. Not in years, but in burdens. And maybe, just maybe, you were part of that weight.

A bitter chuckle slipped past your lips before you could stop it. In-ho’s gaze flicked toward you for the briefest second, sharp and assessing, before returning to the road. You tilted your head back against the seat, staring up at the car’s ceiling as the alcohol in your system dulled your inhibitions, loosening your tongue.

“You know…” Your voice slurred, thick with exhaustion and liquor. “I thought about killing you too.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he didn’t react.

You laughed, hollow and tired. “I did. I planned it in my head. What I would say and how I would do it. What I would feel when it was over,” you turned your head, meeting his gaze with half-lidded eyes. “But the problem is…”

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat.

The problem was that you couldn’t.

Because despite everything, despite the betrayal, the pain, the war that raged inside you every time you thought of him —  he was still him. The boy who had once picked daisies for you, who gave you the paper ring, who memorized the constellations just so he could tell you stories about the stars, the one who taught you games, who had always found you, no matter how far you ran.

Your breath hitched, your vision blurring. Not from the alcohol, but from something much deeper, much more dangerous.

Your voice broke when you whispered, “I missed you.”

The words landed like a gunshot.

In-ho’s hands clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles going white. His breath faltered just for a moment, but it was enough. Enough for you to know that it hit him, that he had missed you too.

But he didn’t say anything. He just kept driving, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

You let out a soft sigh, a weary exhale as the weight of the night, the exhaustion, the emotions swirled into something too heavy to hold. Your body sagged against the seat, and before you could fight it, your eyelids drifted shut.

The last thing you felt was the car slowing, the warmth of the heater brushing over your skin, and the lingering presence of him. He was silent, unmovable, but he was there.

——

The weight of consciousness settled slowly, like a fog lifting from the shore. Your head throbbed with the unmistakable ache of a hangover, your body sluggish and warm beneath the silk sheets. A familiar scent lingered in the air — clean, crisp, and laced with something deeper, something that made your stomach twist before you even dared to open your eyes.

The air was thick with the distant hum of the ocean, waves crashing in a rhythmic lull. Then it hit you. The room, the sensation, the unsettling deja vu crawling up your spine.

You were back on the island. 

Your eyes shot open, darting across the dimly lit room. The sleek black walls, the opulent yet sterile furnishings, the single glass of water resting on the bedside table. The weight of reality settled in your chest, heavier than the remnants of alcohol in your system. You swallowed, throat parched, reaching for the water with an unsteady hand. The cool liquid did little to ease the heat rising beneath your skin.

Then, the sound of water ceased. The bathroom door clicked open, steam rolling out in thick tendrils, curling into the room like ghosts of the past. Then, In-ho stepped out.

Fresh from the shower, his damp hair clung to his forehead, his expression unreadable, controlled as ever. A dark robe hung loosely over his broad shoulders, barely tied, revealing the lean muscles of his chest, the sharp lines of his collarbones. Water droplets traced slow, lazy paths down his skin, disappearing beneath the fabric that barely clung to his waist.

Your breath hitched. You should have been furious, should have screamed, thrown the glass against the wall, demanded why he had brought you back here of all places. But instead, you sat frozen, pulse hammering against your ribs, fingers gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white.

He didn’t speak at first. He simply stood here, watching you, his dark eyes scanning every inch of you, reading you as easily as he always had. And despite everything — the pain, betrayal, the war waging inside your heart — your body betrayed you.

You hated how easy it was for him to affect you. How, even now, after everything, he still had this power over you. 

“In-ho…” your voice was hoarse, weak, a plea you didn’t mean to make.

He exhaled slowly, stepping forward. The air between you crackled, charged with something dangerous, something inevitable.

“You sad you missed me,” his voice was low and steady, but there was something else laced in it — something raw. “Do you still?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, to spit venom, to remind him of everything he had done. But the words never came. Because he was already there, standing over you, one knee pressing into the mattress as he leaned closer. The heat of his body seared into your skin, even through the thin sheets separating you.

In-ho’s hand found your jaw, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, and you trembled, but not from fear.

“You should hate me,” he murmured, and for the first time in a long time, there was something vulnerable in his expression. “Tell me you do.”

You didn’t.

And when he kissed you, you let him.

The moment his lips met yours, something inside you snapped. Anger, longing, grief, and something deeper — all of it collided as you reached for him, pulling down onto the bed. His robe slipped from his shoulders, pooling around his waist, exposing more of him to your hungry, desperate hands.

This wasn’t about forgiveness. It wasn’t about fixing what had been broken. 

It was about claiming what was left.

And neither of you held back.

His hands roamed around your body as his tongue battled yours, fighting for dominance. His grip was tight, but not enough to hurt you. Though you felt his tongue licking your teeth, earning a moan from you as motioned his body on top of you. He slid your shorts down along with your underwear, pulling away from you to look at the view in front of him as you removed your shirt off, his eyes darkening with lust as he removed your bra.

He spread your legs apart, revealing your wet entrance. He looked into your eyes once more, his eyes asking for consent. You gave him a nod before he pulled himself down, his face down your wetness as he grabbed your legs, putting them over his shoulder, squeezing it. You held your breath and looked up, ready for what was coming next.

His tongue swirled around your clit, much to your pleasure. You couldn’t help but let out a moan, much to his liking as he worked his tongue faster. He entered into you with his tongue, sending more pleasure down your spine, gripping the sheets as you cried. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer against him as his tongue continued, feeling your insides clench.

“In-ho…” You moaned out. “I’m close.”

Just when you were about to, he stopped, earning a whimper from you as he pulled away, looking at you intently as he leaned forward. “I’m not done.”

His lips crashed against yours once again, desperate and hungry, swallowing the soft gasp that escaped you. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, the solid heat of his body pressing into yours. You melted into the kiss, fingers tangling in his damp hair, the scent of clean soap and something distinctly him flooding your senses.

His hands roamed your body like he was relearning every inch of you, like he had spent every second of your absence memorizing what it felt like to hold you. A broken sound escaped your lips as his mouth traced fire down your neck, nipping and soothing, eliciting shivers that curled deep into your stomach. His name slipped past your lips in a breathless plea, and it was all he needed to hear.

In-ho answered with touch, with heat, with devotion. Each movement was reverent, slow yet burning with a passion that threatened to consume you both whole. He slid his bathrobe away, not letting go of you as he bulged his shaft down to your entrance, your wetness making it easy for him to enter. His manhood fit perfectly onto you, his movement careful at first as you adjusted.

His thrusts were slow at first, but you were too impatient. You clung your fingernails to his back, leaning your head forward as you whispered to his ear, “Faster.”

And with that, he thrusted faster. Harder. You felt your breasts jiggle as he noticed, cupping one breast with his hand as he continued to thrust into you and held your waist as if it was a handle. You closed your eyes, feeling the sensation of pleasure around your body only for him to grab your jaw, much to your surprise. “Look at me.”

You didn’t waste time. You open them, locking your eyes with his as you see him look at you with lust all over his face, his breath hitching with low moans. He trusted harder, enough to feel your cervix as he let out a groan, like an animal ready to shed its beast.

“Fuck,” he groaned, continuing his thrust. “You feel so good, baby.” He leaned forward again to kiss you, his tongue battling for dominance as you whimpered through his mouth, much to his pleasure.

He worshipped you, whispered your name like a prayer as if you were something sacred, something he had lost and was afraid to lose again. You felt his grip on your waist tighten, feeling his pulse down much faster this time. You could also feel your insides clench once more as you moaned louder, holding back your climax.

In-ho seemed to sense this as he circled your clit with his finger which made your back arched. “Cum for me.”

The smell of sex and sweat filled the air as you let out a whimper, with In-ho continuing to look at you with lust, biting his lip as you came, but that didn’t stop his thrust into you. Your legs shivered, feeling your insides come with pleasure, the sensitivity of your clit unbearable.

And then, at last, he came into climax, pushing one last thrust onto you enough to reach your cervix, spilling all his cum inside as he let out a moan. His head was motioned upward, closing his eyes as you felt his juices inside you.

You both finally shattered, tangled together beneath the dim light of the room, pleasure washing over you in waves, you realized something else.

No matter how far you ran, how much you tried to fight it —  you would always find your way back to him.

Because despite everything, you belonged to him. And he was yours.

——

The room was silent except for the lingering echoes of your shared breaths, the warmth of his body still seeping into yours. In-ho collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, his skin damp with sweat and satisfaction. The space between you felt heavy — not with regret, nor with shame, but with something deeper, something raw and unspoken.

Your fingers ghosted over your stomach as you lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. The heat of his presence was everywhere on your skin, in the sheets, in the very air you breathed. You turned your head to look at him, his profile sharp against the dim lighting of the room. His lips were parted, his expression unreadable as his chest slowly rose and fell.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. But then, the question, the one that had been burning inside you, finally escaped your lips.

“Why did you keep looking for me?”

In-ho didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, his fingers reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was softer than you expected, almost hesitant, as if he feared that you would slip away again if he wasn’t careful.

“Because you were never meant to disappear,” he murmured, his voice deep and quiet. His thumb traced along your jawline, a gesture so tender that it sent a shiver down your spine. “I thought I could move on. That you had made your choice, and I had to respect it. But everywhere I went, I saw you. I felt you. You haunted me, even when I tried to forget you.”

His eyes, dark and full of unspoken emotions, searched yours.

“I thought I had lost you forever,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t accept that. No matter where I looked, I always hoped I would find you waiting for me.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You had spent nights watching him from the shadows, knowing he had been looking for you, feeling that same pull but never daring to step forward. You had chosen exile and revenge. And yet, here you were, right where you had sworn never to return.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, until you finally whispered the question that had been haunting you since that day.

“Then why did you shoot me?”

In-ho’s body tensed beside you. His expression didn’t change, but you could see the way his fingers twitched slightly against the sheets.

“You could have killed me,” you continued, your voice barely above a breath. “You pulled the trigger, In-ho. Why?”

His jaw tightened. He exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering toward the ceiling before he finally turned back to you. “I had to,” he said, his voice controlled but laced with something deeper — regret and pain. “They wanted you dead.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t look away. 

“I made a deal,” he continued, his fingers brushing over your wrist, as if grounding himself in your presence. “They saw you as a threat. The only way to prove my loyalty was to eliminate that threat. If I had refused, someone else would have done it. And they wouldn’t have stopped at a single bullet.”

A chill ran down your spine. “So, you—“

“I didn’t kill you,” he said firmly. “I made sure of it. The shot was meant to take you down, nothing more. It was the only way to buy time, to convince them that you were no longer a problem.”

Your fingers curled into the sheets. “And what was I supposed to do? Just lay there and bleed while you carried on with your life?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I was always going to come for you.” His hand slid to your waist, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “They gave me a choice,” he murmured. “Kill you or offer you something more.”

Your heart pounded. “And what was that?”

In-ho exhaled. “A place by my side,” he admitted. “If you had stayed, if you had chosen it… you wouldn’t have had to run.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, though it held no humor. “So, that’s what this was all about,” you muttered. “They wanted me to play their game. And you,” you swallowed, searching his gaze. “You wanted me to accept it.”

In-ho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I wanted you to live,” he corrected. “I still do.”

The weight of his words settled between you, heavy and unshakable. Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then, In-ho sighed and sat up, pulling you with him. “Come,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed. “I want to show you something.”

You hesitated before following, your legs still weak from exhaustion. He led you to a door on the far side of the room, pushing it open. The dim glow of the overhead lights illuminated a walk-in closet, spacious and meticulously organized.

At first, it seemed like nothing out of the ordinary. There were racks of suits in sharp, expensive cuts, neatly pressed dress shirts, an array of polished shoes lining the shelves. Everything was cold and precise, just as you would expect from a man like In-ho.

But then, your eyes drifted to the opposite side of the closet. You let out a small gasp.

It was yours.

Your clothes, perfectly arranged, as if you had never left. Dresses, coats, shoes — all in the styles and colors you used to favor. There were accessories, neatly placed in velvet-lined drawers. Even your perfume, the one scent you had stopped wearing long ago, rested on a mirrored tray as if waiting for you to pick it up again.

You took a shaky step forward, reaching out to touch the fabric of a coat you recognized from years ago. It wasn’t just new clothing, there were things from your past, things you had left behind. Trinkets, personal belongings, reminders of a life you had abandoned.

You turned to In-ho, your hands trembling at your sides. “What… what is this?” You asked.

He stood there, watching you with an expression that was impossible to read. His dark eyes flickered with anticipation. Finally, he spoke. “The organization was impressed,” he said, his voice even and deliberate. “Six months, and no one could find you. Not the recruiters. Not even me.” He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “You made yourself a ghost, slipping through cracks, killing off our men, leaving no trace but whispers in the streets. Do you know how rare that is?”

“They don’t see it as a threat?” You asked cautiously.

“They did,” In-ho admitted, tilting his head slightly. “At first. But then, they saw something else.”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“They saw potential,” he said. “The kind that can’t be trained, can’t be forced. You survived the games. You survived me. And then you disappeared into the world like you were never here.” He let the weight of his words settled before he continued. “So, they decided to make you an offer.”

“What kind of offer?”

In-ho exhaled slowly before stepping forward, closer than before. His hands slipped into his pockets as he studied you, as if gauging your reaction before saying the next words. “They want you to join the upper ranks,” he said. “Not just as another piece in their game, but as one of the overseers.”

Your breath hitched. “The overseers,” you echoed, as if saying the words aloud would make them more real. 

“Yes.”

You searched his face for deception, but there was none. Just the cold, hard truth.

“You want me to accept it.”

In-ho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, fingers brushing against yours, a light touch that sent an unexpected shiver through your spine.

“You have nothing left out there,” he murmured. “You’ve been running for six months. And for what?” His thumb ghosted over your wrist, slow and deliberate. “You belong here.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “I belong nowhere,” you muttered.

“Then make this place yours,” he continued smoothly. “Take the power they’re offering you. No more running. No more hiding. No more being hunted.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking into your skin like ink spreading through paper. 

For months, you had fought against this, against him, against the very thing he was offering you now. But you had seen the world outside. And all you found there was blood, loneliness, and an endless chase that led nowhere.

This was something else. This was control.

And so, after a long, heavy silence, you lifted your chin and met his gaze. Your lips parted, and the single word that left them sealed your fate. “Fine.”

For the first time in a long time, a ghost of smirk touched In-ho’s lips. “You won’t regret it,” he murmured.

You weren’t so sure about that. But it didn’t matter anymore.

Because once you go in, there’s no turning back.

——

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A/N: The more I write, the more ideas this series gives me. Expect more updates as I have the others drafted already, yay! 😅 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 in the next chapter! ✨

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69 @plague-cure @theredvelvetbitch @cherryheairt @ggsrlla123 (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)

“These are the things I will pass on. That’s what I live for.”

hi! idk if u do other than squid game or lee byun hun but could u please do study group yoon gamin x y/n fanfiction? 🥹

Hi! Unfortunately, I don't know who Yoon Gamin is 🥹 So far what I can do are Squid Game fanfictions (Hwang In-ho & Salesman), and some Call of Duty characters (Soap, Price, Gaz, Ghost, etc.).

But I'll try to learn who Yoon Gamin is! 😄

‘Even if I have to sacrifice everything’.