________༻༒༺________

My eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the harsh brightness overhead. My head pounded, and my limbs felt heavy as I struggled to sit up. Faint music played in the background, echoing off the high walls around me. I blinked a few times, trying to clear my vision. As the blur faded, I saw rows of bunk beds stretching in every direction. People were lying on them, just as disoriented as I was, some groaning as they woke up, others sitting up in confusion.

I turned to my side and froze. Beds stacked on top of each other, rows of people, some dressed like me. My heart raced as I looked down at myself. A green jumpsuit covered my body, loose but neatly fitted. I touched the fabric and noticed a number stitched on the chest: 12.

"What the hell..." I muttered, throwing the covers off me. My feet hit the floor as I stood, the metallic smell of the room hitting me. I took in the enormity of the place—bunk beds crammed together in towering stacks, hundreds of people moving around, all looking just as lost as I felt.

I stumbled down a staircase that led to the lower level, weaving through the sea of strangers. Everywhere I looked, people were dressed the same way—green jumpsuits, each marked with a number. My head tilted up toward a massive screen hanging on the far wall. The number 456 glowed in bold white letters.

"Four hundred fifty-six people?" I mumbled under my breath. That had to be how many of us were in this room. And if they were all here, like me, then... this was about the money.

Just then, a loud buzzing sound cut through the murmurs of the crowd, silencing everyone. The large metal doors at the far end of the room slid open, revealing a group of figures in red jumpsuits. Each wore a black mask, with shapes—circles, triangles, and squares—on the front. They marched in with military precision, stopping in a line before the crowd.

One of the masked men stepped forward. A distorted voice came from his mask, robotic and emotionless.

"I would like to extend a heartfelt welcome to you all," he began, his words hanging heavy in the air. "In the next few days, you will participate in six different games. Those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize."

The room erupted in murmurs, people whispering questions and concerns to each other.

"Excuse me!" a woman's voice called out from the crowd. Everyone turned toward her. "If we're just playing games here, then why'd you basically kidnap us?" she demanded. "How are we supposed to trust you?"

The masked man tilted his head slightly before responding, "My apologies. Please understand it was a necessary step to maintain the strict confidentiality of these games."

"Confidentiality?" another woman interjected, her tone sharp. "What's with the masks then? Why are you hiding your faces?"

"To ensure fairness and the confidentiality of the games," the masked man replied evenly, "it is our policy not to disclose the identities of our staff. We ask for your understanding."

Someone else chimed in, louder this time. "Did you people strip me when you put these on me?" a younger girl called out, holding up the jacket.

My stomach dropped. I instinctively touched my jacket and pants, searching for my phone and wallet. They were gone.

"What about our belongings?" I shouted, my voice cutting through the crowd. Heads turned toward me. "Did you guys take those too? And when are we getting them back?"

The masked man looked directly at me. "Your belongings have been securely stored and will be returned once the games have ended."

"That's not good enough," I snapped. "I need my phone—"

"I'd like my phone too!" another voice interrupted, a man standing near the front of the crowd. I couldn't see his face clearly, but his voice was insistent. "I need to see how my crypto is doing. Are you guys gonna compensate me if I can't trade my coins?"

The masked man didn't flinch. "Your phone will be returned once the games have ended."

"Do you know how much money I have invested?" the man kept going, his voice rising. "What if the market crashes while I'm stuck in here?"

The masked man raised his hand, silencing him. "Player 333, Lee Myung-gi," he said, his voice as calm as ever. He pressed a button on a small remote, and the giant screen lit up.

The crowd turned toward the screen as it displayed a video. In it, the man—Player 333—was sitting in the subway, playing ddakji with one of the recruiters. The slap echoed through the speakers, and the room erupted into murmurs and laughter.

The masked man continued, "Age: 30. Former owner of the YouTube channel MG Coin." The screen shifted.

The masked man continued, his distorted voice cutting through the tension in the room. "A debt of 1.8 billion won."

The room buzzed with murmurs, and people exchanged uneasy glances. But the masked man didn't stop there. He pressed the button on his remote again. "Player 100, Jeong-dae," he announced, and a new file appeared on the giant screen. "Debt: 10 billion won."

A collective gasp echoed through the room. All eyes darted around, searching for the unlucky man with such an astronomical debt.

"What the hell are you all looking at?" a gruff voice barked. Everyone turned to see an older man standing in the middle of the crowd, his face twisted with irritation. "Think it's easy to get loans that big? They don't just hand out 10 billion to anyone. You've gotta be working in the big leagues for that!" He sneered, his chest puffed out with misplaced pride.

I swallowed hard and turned my attention back to the masked man at the front of the room.

"Every player standing here is living on the brink of financial ruin," the masked man declared, his voice cold and unwavering. "You are drowning in debt that you cannot hope to repay. When we first approached you, many of you were skeptical. You didn't trust us. But as you all experienced firsthand, we played a simple game. And, true to our word, we gave you money when you won."

I thought back to the subway game, the sharp slap across my face, and the crisp bills in my pocket. It had seemed harmless enough at the time.

"Because of that," the masked man continued, "we earned your trust. You called us, and you volunteered to participate in this game of your own free will. And now, I will give you one last chance to decide: Will you go back to living like useless trash, running from your creditors? Or will you seize the opportunity we are offering you?"

The room fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down on all of us.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed, and a low rumble filled the room. Everyone looked up as the ceiling above us began to shift. Slowly, a massive glass piggy bank descended, suspended by thick steel cables. It was empty, but its sheer size left no doubt—it could hold an unimaginable amount of money.

"If you look above you," the masked man said, "you will see the piggy bank where your prize money will be stored. As I mentioned earlier, you will play six games. After the conclusion of each game, additional prize money will be added to the bank."

Someone in the crowd called out, "What's the total prize money at the end?"

The masked man paused for a moment before responding, "The total prize money is 45.6 billion won."

A wave of gasps rippled through the room, followed by an excited murmur. For many of us, it was far more money than we had ever dreamed of seeing, let alone earning. My thoughts immediately turned to In-su and his medical bills. That money could save his life. It could pay off the debt, the rent, everything.

"And does just one person get it all?" the same voice asked again.

"The details regarding the division of the prize money will be shared after the first game has ended," the masked man replied. "However, we are introducing a special option in these games—an option we have never offered before."

"What kind of option?" an older man called out from the crowd.

The masked man gestured toward us. "After each game, you will have the chance to vote. If the majority of you wish to stop playing, the games will end, and the accumulated prize money will be divided among you. If you wish to continue, the games will resume."

The room exploded into murmurs. A way out? It sounded almost too good to be true.

"Hold on!" A man stepped forward from one of the bunk beds, drawing the crowd's attention. "If we vote to stop after the first game, does that mean the prize money gets divided equally among us?"

"That is correct," the masked man said without hesitation.

The murmurs grew louder. People began whispering excitedly, some already debating whether to stay or leave.

"Out of my way! Move it! Excuse me!" a shrill, older woman's voice cut through the noise. The crowd parted as an elderly woman shoved her way to the front, her movements sharp and determined. She reached a man wearing glasses and slapped him hard on the shoulder.

"You stupid idiot!" she yelled.

The man flinched and turned toward her, wide-eyed. "Ma?" he stammered in disbelief.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice cracking.

"That's what I was gonna ask you!" she shouted back, jabbing her finger at his chest.

The crowd stared, equal parts amused and confused. I couldn't help but watch the scene unfold, my curiosity piqued.

"Quiet," the man hissed, trying to shush her. "You're embarrassing me."

"Embarrassing you?" she shot back, her voice rising. "You should be embarrassed about getting yourself into this mess!" She slapped his shoulder again for good measure.

"If you wish to participate in the games," the masked man interjected, his voice cutting through the commotion, "please sign the player consent form. If you do not wish to participate, please let us know now."

The room went silent. All eyes turned back to the masked man, the weight of the decision pressing down on each of us.

________༻༒༺________

There were seven lines, each stretching with people nervously shuffling forward, and I found myself in one of them. My eyes darted around the room as I waited, taking in the massive walls, the sterile lighting, and the rows of people in identical green tracksuits, each branded with a number. It felt surreal, like some twisted dream.

I didn't feel entirely scared—at least, not in the way I should have. There was something unsettling about this whole situation, but a part of me also felt numb. Maybe it was everything that had happened before I got here. The bills, the desperation, the hollow feeling of failure.

The line moved slowly, and soon enough, it was my turn. The table in front of me was simple—just a stack of papers and a pen. The pink-masked figure on the other side stood perfectly still, like some lifeless mannequin.

I picked up the pen and glanced down at the paper. The words were clear: once you agree to participate, there's no leaving the games. I swallowed, my grip on the pen tightening. My mind flashed to In-su, his small hand in mine, his laugh echoing through the park. That photo on the wall of our crumbling apartment.

I glanced up at the pink-suited figure. He didn't move or say a word, just watched me from behind that expressionless mask. My heart thudded in my chest, and I realized my hand was trembling slightly.

What other choice do I have?

I exhaled shakily and scrawled my name at the bottom of the page, my signature slightly uneven. As soon as the pen left the paper, the pink-suited figure stepped forward to collect the form, and I tossed the pen back onto the table without looking up.

I moved away from the table, weaving through the others still waiting in their lines, and made my way back to the bed where I'd woken up. Sitting down, I glanced around the room again.

________༻༒༺________

The seven lines had led us to a dizzying, colorful maze of staircases, walls painted in unnatural pinks, yellows, and greens. It felt surreal, like a funhouse with no fun. The speakers in the room buzzed to life, a woman's voice echoing:

"Players, your photographs will now be taken."

Ahead of me, the line slowly shuffled forward. People chatted nervously, their voices a mixture of unease and forced camaraderie. I glanced to my left and noticed a guy with purple hair, surrounded by a small group of people laughing and jostling to fit into the frame with him. He seemed to thrive in the chaos, all swagger and cockiness, a smirk glued to his face.

As if sensing my gaze, he looked directly at me. Our eyes locked briefly before I turned away, uninterested.

"Hey, you," he called out, snapping his fingers and giving a low whistle. I glanced back reluctantly, and he waved me over, motioning for me to join his little group.

"You wanna get in on this?" he asked, grinning.

I didn't reply, didn't even entertain the idea. The person in front of me finished their turn, and it was mine. I stepped forward, ignoring him completely, and stood in front of the camera.

"Please look into the camera," the automated voice said. "Smile."

I didn't smile. The flash went off, and I moved on, following the others up the endless staircase.

As the line snaked upward, we eventually funneled into a new room. It was strange—designed to look like an outdoor field, but it was clearly fake. The sky above us wasn't a sky at all, just a painted dome, and there was a large, unsettling figure standing far in the distance. Its outline was blurry from where I stood, but I could make out the shape of a giant child-like doll.

What the hell is that?

Before I could think too hard about it, the
doors behind us slammed shut with a metallic clang, making several people jump. A few gasped, and the tension in the room spiked.

The woman's voice returned, calm and clinical over the PA system.

"Welcome to the first game. You will be playing Red Light, Green Light."

She went on to explain the rules: players could move forward when the doll said "Green Light" and had to stop when it said "Red Light." Anyone caught moving after "Red Light" would be eliminated.

"Eliminated?" a man in front of me whispered. The word hung heavy in the air, vague and ominous.

Then, someone pushed through the crowd, standing out in front of everyone. He was frantic, his eyes wide as he gestured at the group.

"Everyone! Listen to me!" he shouted. "You need to pay attention!"

The man's outburst cut through the murmurs, and the crowd quieted, some annoyed, others curious.

"I'm telling you—this isn't just a game. If you move after 'Red Light,' you'll be shot! They're going to kill you!"

A few people laughed nervously, shaking their heads.

"Excuse me, sir," a woman called out, rolling her eyes. "Are you seriously saying we're all going to die playing Red Light, Green Light? Really?"

"Yes!" the man barked. "I'm serious! If they catch you moving, they're going to shoot you dead!"

I squinted at the walls, trying to make sense of his claim, and my stomach sank when I spotted them: small, black apertures lining the walls, almost hidden. Guns.

He's right," I muttered aloud, loud enough to catch the attention of a few nearby players.

"What?" someone asked, turning to look at me.

"Are you kidding me?" a man scoffed beside me. "You believe this guy?"

I ignored him, focusing instead on the faint glint of the gun barrels.

"I didn't believe him," I said, my voice flat as I pointed up at the high walls. "Until I noticed the guns up there."

A few people around me followed my finger, squinting to see. Some laughed, while others scoffed.

Are you serious?" a woman snapped, clearly annoyed. "There's nothing there."

"She's just making stuff up," another player chimed in, laughing nervously.

"Blind and stupid," a male voice muttered, followed by a few chuckles.

"No! No! She's right! Pay attention!" the frantic man shouted, desperation in his voice. "That sensor catches you, you're dead! Look at that doll!" He pointed frantically at the giant figure at the far end of the field. "Its eyes—those are motion-tracking sensors! If it sees you move, you're done!"

I glanced at the doll again. Its blank, painted eyes seemed harmless, but there was something unnerving about the way it stood there, unmoving.

"What's your angle?" someone shouted from the crowd.

"I think he's just trying to freak us out," another man added, smirking. "If he scares us into quitting, he gets a better shot at the money."

A murmur of agreement swept through the players.

"You're not fooling us, bastard!" a third man yelled.

"You gotta believe me! I'm telling the truth!" the frantic man shouted, his voice hoarse.

Just then, a childlike, mechanical voice cut through the air.

"Green light."

The doll's head rotated away from us with a series of clicking sounds.

Before anyone could react, the man who had been shouting threw out his hand, signaling for us to stay calm.

"No matter what, don't panic! You can't afford to! Remember what I said!" he yelled.

"Red light."

I froze in place, every muscle in my body tense. My eyes darted to the doll as its head whipped around with a grinding noise. It scanned the crowd, its blank face devoid of any emotion.

"Good, good! Just stay still!" the frantic man coached, his voice steadying as he gained control of the situation.

The doll spoke again.

"Green light."

I moved cautiously, each step deliberate.

"Red light."

I halted mid-step, my foot barely touching the ground. My chest tightened as the doll scanned again.

"Hold still!" the man shouted again, his voice carrying over the tension.

"Green light."

This time, I moved faster, my steps quicker but still controlled. My eyes flicked to the timer on the wall: five minutes left.

"Red light."

I froze again, my breathing shallow.

"Keep calm! Don't panic! You're doing fine!" the man encouraged.

The game continued, the commands alternating with an unnerving rhythm. I was starting to think I could actually get through this—until it happened.

A scream cut through the air. My eyes darted to the left as a girl frantically waved at her shoulder, trying to swat away something—a bug maybe.

Before I could process it, a gunshot echoed through the field. The girl's head snapped back, and she crumpled to the ground. Blood pooled beneath her, and a heavy silence fell over the crowd.

"Player 196, eliminated," the cold, automated voice announced over the PA system.

I stood there, frozen in shock. The man had been right.

"Don't turn your head! Don't do anything!" the frantic man yelled, his voice rising in urgency.

The tension broke as another scream erupted, followed by a second gunshot.

Panic rippled through the crowd.

"Run!" someone shouted, and chaos erupted. Players bolted in every direction, screams filling the air as gunfire erupted from the walls.

"No! Stop moving!" the frantic man shouted, his voice lost in the cacophony.

I stayed rooted to the spot, my eyes wide as people sprinted past me, only to be gunned down one by one. A man stumbled and collapsed at my feet, blood pooling from his head and staining my shoes. I stared down at him, my stomach twisting.

The gunfire slowed, and the screams faded. I lifted my head to see bodies littering the field. Blood soaked the artificial grass, and the remaining players