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The announcement echoed throughout the room.

"Lights out in five minutes," the PA crackled, the woman's detached voice chilling in its monotony.

Everyone was on edge, their movements tense as they prepared for what came next. Gi-hun had laid out the plan in hushed tones, his voice steady but grim. Still, my heart felt like it was hammering against my ribs. My steps were slow as I made my way toward the back of the room, pacing along the narrow walkway between the rows of bunk beds.

The reality was suffocating. This wasn't just survival—it was a kill-or-be-killed moment. Anything could go wrong. The other team could strike first. One of us could die. The masked soldiers could turn on us all. No scenario ended cleanly.

I stopped and leaned against the cold metal frame of a bunk, closing my eyes for a moment, trying to gather myself. My breath came out shaky, and my stomach churned with the weight of it all.

"Y/N."

I froze at the sound of my name and opened my eyes. Turning slightly, I saw In-ho standing there. His face was as unreadable as ever, but his eyes—there was something sharp in them. He was studying me like he was trying to find something in my expression that I didn't want to give him.

I didn't respond. Instead, I straightened up and turned away, ready to walk past him. But before I could, his hand shot out and grabbed my arm. The touch wasn't rough, but it stopped me in my tracks.

"Y/N, wait," he said, his voice firm.

I turned back to him, my expression guarded. "There's nothing to talk about," I said flatly, my tone cold.

"There is," he replied sharply. "And you know it."

"No, I don't." I tried to pull my arm free, but his grip stayed firm. "Lights out is coming. We need to get to our beds."

"You're avoiding me," he said, his voice low but edged with frustration.

"Maybe I am," I said, my tone cutting. "What of it?"

"Why?" he pressed, his voice quieter now, but no less intense.

I laughed dryly, the sound bitter as I finally turned to face him. "Like you don't know," I said.

He stared at me for a moment, his silence confirming what I already knew—he did know.

"He almost got you killed," In-ho said finally, his voice calm, but his eyes hard.

"But I didn't die," I snapped, my voice sharp.

"Because I stopped him," he said, his tone rising slightly. "If I hadn't—"

"I had time!" I interrupted. "I had time to stop him myself. You didn't need to step in!"

"You didn't have time, and you know it," he said, his voice steady but cold. "If I hadn't acted, you wouldn't be here right now. You wouldn't see your brother again."

I flinched at that, my chest tightening. "Stop it," I said, my voice trembling. "Stop using my brother like that, like it justifies everything you do."

"I'm not justifying anything," he said, his voice softer now. "I killed him to protect you. That's all."

"Why?" I asked, my voice sharp and brittle. "Why protect me? If you can kill him so easily, what makes me think you won't do the same to me?"

His jaw tightened, but his eyes softened, like he was searching for the right words. "I'm not going to kill you, Y/N," he said quietly, his tone steady but laced with something deeper.

"How do I know that?" I asked, my voice cracking.

He stared at me for a moment, his expression unreadable, before stepping closer. His hand moved to my waist, pulling me toward him, and before I could react, he leaned down and kissed me.

The kiss was firm, almost desperate, and for a split second, I was too stunned to move. But I didn't pull away.

When he broke the kiss, his hand stayed on my waist, his forehead nearly brushing mine. His voice, deep and steady, cut through the haze of my thoughts.

"Because I promise you," he said softly, his words heavy with meaning.

I stared at him, my breath caught in my throat, unsure of what to say. He stepped back slightly, his hand falling away as the PA crackled again.

"Lights out in one minute."

We both glanced at the speaker above, the mechanical voice grounding us back to reality. He turned back to me, his eyes locking with mine one last time.

"Get under the bed when the lights go out," he said, his tone calm but firm. "Stay there until it's time."

And then he walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the room without another word.

I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. My hand instinctively went to my lips as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. Shaking my head, I forced myself to move.

The countdown to chaos.

I lay on my bunk, staring at the ceiling, trying to steady my breathing. My pulse was racing, each beat louder than the last. Gi-hun had given us the plan: stay low, stay hidden, and wait. But no plan could prepare us for what was about to happen.

I rolled off my bunk, moving as quietly as possible. My feet hit the cold floor, and I glanced around. The room was restless. Players whispered and shifted, some clutching makeshift weapons. I caught glimpses of fear and desperation in their eyes, mirrored in my own.

I made my way toward the meeting spot, ducking under the bunks where Gi-hun had told us to gather. Jung-bae was already there, crouched beneath the steel frame, his face pale and his jaw clenched. We exchanged a nervous glance, but neither of us spoke. Words would only betray the fear we were trying to suppress.

The PA voice returned, calm and robotic:
"Lights out in five... four... three... two... one."

The room plunged into total darkness.

For a moment, all I could hear was my own breathing. Then, the chaos erupted.

Screams tore through the air, raw and guttural. The clash of bodies echoed through the room, accompanied by the sickening sounds of flesh hitting metal, bones breaking, and weapons slashing. I peeked out from under the bunk, my view limited to shifting feet and flickering light as the overheads strobed sporadically. The room was a battlefield.

One of the bunk towers toppled over, crashing down with a deafening clang and sending players sprawling to the floor. Blood sprayed across the ground, pooling in dark, glistening puddles.

Jung-bae and I stayed frozen under the bunk, barely breathing. The plan was to wait it out—let the others tear each other apart. But the screams and chaos felt like they were closing in.

A body slammed to the ground just inches from where I hid. I flinched, unable to stop myself from gasping. The player's throat had been slashed, and blood poured from the wound, pooling near my hand. My stomach turned, but I couldn't look away.

Jung-bae locked eyes with me, terror etched across his face. Before either of us could react, a hand clamped around my ankle and yanked me out from under the bunk.

I hit the floor hard, the air knocked from my lungs. I twisted onto my back to see one of the blue team players looming over me, a manic grin plastered across his face. In his hand was a fork, its tines bent and covered with blood but sharp enough to kill still.

"One down," he hissed, his voice dripping with malice.

I kicked at him, scrambling to get away, but he was faster. He grabbed me by the hair, yanking me upright before slamming me against the wall. Pain shot through my back, and I cried out, struggling to break free.

He leaned in, his face inches from mine, the strobe lights catching the wicked gleam in his eyes. He raised the fork high, ready to drive it into my face.

I caught his wrist just in time, my hands trembling as I fought to push the fork away. His strength was overwhelming, and I could feel the sharp tines inching closer. My arms burned, my breaths coming in short gasps.

I summoned every ounce of strength I had, bringing my knee up into his stomach. He let out a grunt and stumbled back, giving me a chance to slide down the wall.

But he recovered quickly.

With a roar, he charged at me again, fork raised. I couldn't move fast enough.

Before he could reach me, a figure tackled him from the side, slamming him to the ground.

It was In-ho.

The two of them wrestled on the floor, fists flying. In-ho straddled the blue team player, grabbing his shirt with one hand and driving his other fist into his face repeatedly. The man managed to land a punch of his own, but In-ho didn't falter. He caught the man's wrist, twisting it until a sickening crack echoed through the room. The man screamed, but In-ho didn't stop.

He grabbed the player by the back of the head and slammed his face into the floor. Once. Twice. Blood sprayed across the ground, and the man's body went limp.

In-ho let go, sitting back for a moment, his chest heaving. His hands were coated in blood—some his, most not.

The flickering lights illuminated his face, and for a second, he looked like a stranger. Dangerous. Brutal. And yet, there was something else in his expression when he turned to look at me.

Without thinking, I moved.

I grabbed his face and kissed him, my hands tangling in his blood-soaked hair. He didn't hesitate, pulling me close, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist. The world around us—the screams, the chaos, the blood—faded into the background.

When I pulled back, we just stared at each other, our breaths mingling in the suffocating heat of the room. His eyes searched mine, as if trying to understand something even he couldn't explain.

Then, a body fell from the top bunk, landing hard just feet away.

The moment shattered.

In-ho grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the nearest bunk. "Get under," he said, shoving me forward before crawling in after me.

The fight continued to rage above us, the sounds of screams and metal clashing filling the air. Blood dripped from the edge of the bunk above, splattering onto the floor near my face. In-ho pressed me close to his chest, his arm wrapped protectively around me as we lay in the darkness.

The countdown had begun.

"Now," Gi-hun whispered, his voice calm but commanding.

We moved quickly, rolling out from under the beds and laying flat on the ground, pretending to be among the dead. The lights flickered again, then surged back on in a harsh, clinical glare. The room was a massacre—blood painted the walls, bodies littered the floor, and the air was thick with the coppery stench of death.

The soldiers stormed in, rifles raised. Their leader fired a shot into the air, the sound deafening. The remaining players froze, their brutal fights abruptly cut short.

I stayed motionless, eyes closed, my fork concealed up my sleeve. My heart pounded as heavy boots thudded closer. The soldiers wouldn't waste time. They'd scan the trackers embedded in our necks to confirm who was dead and who was alive. The living would be dragged out to face whatever horrors came next.

I barely breathed as one of them approached me. I felt the cold touch of his gloved hand as he tilted my head to the side. The tracker scanner pressed against my neck, beeping softly. My fingers tightened around the fork.

Suddenly, chaos erupted.

The others sprang to life, launching themselves at the soldiers. The one hovering over me turned to react, distracted by the sudden attack. That was my chance. I shot up, thrusting the fork into his mask with every ounce of strength I had. The tines pierced through, and he stumbled back with a muffled shout, dropping his rifle.

He clawed at the fork embedded in his face, blood trickling from the puncture points. Before he could recover, I grabbed his gun from the floor, my hands shaking but steady enough to aim. The second he ripped the fork free, I pulled the trigger. The recoil jolted through me, but the shot was true. He fell to the ground, motionless.

The room exploded into violence.

In-ho emerged like a shadow, his movements precise and brutal as he took down soldier after soldier. Gunfire cracked through the air, bullets tearing through masks and bodies. I ducked behind a toppled bunk bed for cover, my hands trembling.

A soldier charged down the stairs, his weapon raised. I didn't think—I aimed and fired. He collapsed, his body tumbling down the steps. Another was right behind him. I fired again, the shot hitting him square in the chest. He fell backward, his weapon clattering to the ground.

"Retreat" a woman's voice barked over the PA system.

The soldiers broke off, retreating toward the exit as the heavy steel doors began to close behind them. But one soldier was left behind, caught on the wrong side of the door.

"Hold fire!" Gi-hun shouted, raising his hand.

The room went silent except for the soldier's labored breathing. He dropped his weapon and slowly raised his hands above his head, sinking to his knees.

Gi-hun stepped forward, his voice steady as he addressed the rest of the players still hiding. "Everyone, it's okay! Don't be afraid—come out. We're not here to hurt you!"

Jung-bae echoed him, his voice softer but just as resolute. "It's over. You're safe now. Please, come out."

Slowly, players began to emerge from their hiding spots. Their faces were pale, their bodies trembling with fear and exhaustion.

"Gather around," Gi-hun said, his voice carrying across the room. "I have something to say."

As the others approached, Player 120 took a shot at the cameras mounted on the walls, shattering them one by one. Glass and sparks rained down, and for the first time, the unseen overseers of this nightmare couldn't watch us.

We collected weapons and ammo from the fallen soldiers, piling them onto a table. I grabbed what I could, but before I could take a gun, a hand stopped me.

It was In-ho.

"Don't," he said, his voice low and firm.

I frowned, pulling my arm back. "I'm going to help."

"No," he said sharply. "This is dangerous. Stay here—with the others."

"With them?" I gestured to the players who had just slaughtered half the room. "You think this is safer?"

He sighed heavily, the lines of his face deepening with frustration.

"In-ho," I said softly, forcing him to meet my gaze. "You promised. You said we'd get out of here alive. Both of us."

He didn't reply, but his expression wavered.

"And if that means going with you," I continued, my voice unwavering, "then that's what I'm going to do."

His eyes softened, the sharp edge of his frustration melting into something else—something that looked like fear.

"Together," I added, my tone firm.

He held my gaze for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Together."

I allowed myself a small smile before grabbing a gun from the table.

Gi-hun stepped forward, addressing the group. "We're heading up to their headquarters. We're going to find the ones who captured us, put an end to this game, and make them pay. If you know how to use a gun and you're ready to fight, step forward."

No one moved. The silence was suffocating.

Jung-bae took a step forward, his voice breaking through the tension. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But this might be our only chance. Fight with us, and we can go home. Together."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a voice rang out.

"I'll fight with you." Player 15 stepped forward, his hand raised.

"Come on," Gi-hun said, beckoning him over.

Another player stepped forward. Then another. One by one, they joined us, the fear in their eyes replaced by determination.

Gi-hun handed out weapons, one to each of them. When he was done, he glanced at me and nodded. "Check your ammo," he said, his voice steady.

"Let's take a radio each," Jung-bae said, grabbing one from the table. "We'll use channel seven—the lucky number."

Everyone moved quickly, collecting radios from the pile. I grabbed one and adjusted it to channel seven, clipping it securely to my side. As I inspected the gun in my hands, searching for a place to store extra ammo, Player 120 stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tense silence.

"Attention," she began, holding up her weapon. "This is an MP5, a submachine gun. First, to remove the magazine, press the lever here—" she demonstrated, ejecting the magazine with a sharp click, "—and pull it out like this."

I mirrored her movements, removing the magazine from my gun with careful precision.

She continued, her tone sharp and commanding. "The selector switch here—if it's down, it's on full-auto mode. If it's up, it's set to single-fire. We don't have many magazines, so switch to single-fire mode to conserve ammo." She flipped the switch on her weapon to demonstrate.

"Lastly," she said, snapping the magazine back into place, "once you insert the magazine, pull the charging handle back, then release it. That's how you load it. Got it?"

There were nods and murmurs of agreement, though a few players still fumbled with their weapons, their hands trembling with inexperience. I locked my magazine into place and adjusted my selector switch, glancing up just in time to see Gi-hun step forward.

He approached the last soldier, still kneeling on the floor with his hands on his head. Gi-hun's gun was steady, aimed directly at him.

"Take it off," Gi-hun ordered, his voice low but firm.

The soldier hesitated, but eventually unzipped his hoodie, pulling it down to reveal a tight black mask that obscured his face except for his eyes.

"All of it," Gi-hun demanded, the barrel of his gun unwavering.

The soldier froze for a moment, but then his trembling hands reached up to pull the mask off. Slowly, he lifted it over his head and looked up at Gi-hun.

A collective gasp rippled through the room.

"Good god," Jung-bae muttered, his voice filled with disbelief.

The soldier wasn't much more than a boy—his face was youthful, his features barely hardened by age. His wide, frightened eyes darted between all of us, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Does your mom know what you're doing here?" Jung-bae asked bitterly, his voice laced with both anger and pity.

Gi-hun's expression didn't waver. He crouched slightly to meet the boy's eye level, his tone as cold and unrelenting as ever. "Take us to your captain."

The boy looked at Gi-hun, but he didn't respond.

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