The voice echoed through the room, mechanical and cold, as if to add insult to the raw, bleeding wound in Kyung-jun's chest.

"Kim Minji was eliminated."

The words reverberated in the silence, each syllable like a hammer striking the final nail into the coffin of his shattered heart.

"Kim Minji was the police."

The statement was so stark, so final. And with it, Kyung-jun's world came crumbling down.

He stared down at her, his arms cradling her lifeless body, disbelief and grief battling for dominance within him. He couldn't comprehend it. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. Minji couldn't be gone. She couldn't just... disappear like this.

His eyes filled with tears, the agony in his chest so sharp it felt like his heart was being torn apart. Her face, once full of life, now looked so pale, so still, as if the vibrant spark that had always been there was snuffed out in an instant. He could still feel the warmth of her body against his, still hear the soft, shaky breaths she used to take when she was near him.

Memories flooded his mind, too many to count. The way she used to laugh when they were alone, that smile she would give him when she thought no one was looking—so pure, so full of life. How they'd spent hours just talking in the quiet of their rooms, not needing words to understand each other. He had trusted her—no, believed in her—more than anyone else in his life.

He remembered the first time he had confessed to her, his heart racing, thinking she would reject him, but she hadn't. She had kissed him instead, her lips soft and warm, her hands trembling slightly in his as if she had been just as scared as he was. He remembered the way they would talk about their futures, imagining a life together beyond this sick game, beyond the mafia, beyond everything.

Now, all of that was gone.

Kyung-jun's breath came in ragged gasps, his hands clutching Minji's lifeless form tighter, desperate as if holding onto her would somehow bring her back. But she was gone. Gone because of a game that had robbed him of everything he cared about.

His voice broke as he whispered her name, over and over, like a prayer, as if calling out to her would somehow reverse the horrible truth. "Minji... Minji... no..."

But she didn't answer. She would never answer again.

The room felt suffocating. The voices of the others—empty, distant. None of them mattered. Not now. Nothing mattered anymore.

The only thing that had ever mattered was Minji, and now she was gone, taken from him by the very thing that had brought them all together—this twisted, heartless game. And he, Kyung-jun, was left with nothing but the cold, lifeless body of the one person who had ever meant everything to him.

His tears fell freely now, mingling with the cold sweat on his face. The pain in his chest was unbearable.

He had lost her.

And nothing in this world could ever fill the emptiness she left behind.

The room felt as though it were closing in on him, suffocating him in the aftermath of the impossible reality that had just shattered everything he knew. His body trembled, but not from grief anymore. No. It was something darker, something colder, as though a switch had flipped inside him, and the warmth he once held was gone forever.

The once vibrant, protective, and calculated Kyung-jun was no more. He was a shell of that man, his heart hollow, replaced by something ruthless and unfeeling.

"Night has come."

"Mafias wake up."

The voice echoed through the empty room, a cruel reminder that time had passed, that nothing mattered anymore. Minji was gone. And with her, Kyung-jun's humanity had died.

A part of him wanted to break, to scream, to let the pain consume him, but all he felt now was a burning emptiness. His hands shook, but it wasn't from sorrow. It was the dawning realization of who he had become. He had no one left to protect, no one to care about.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Kyung-jun didn't look up. His eyes were hollow, his gaze vacant as he stared at the empty space in front of him. The door creaked open, and he could hear them—Jun-hee, So-mi, Jeong-won. They'd come to check on him, maybe offer condolences, but it was all so meaningless now.

Somi was the first to speak, her voice trembling but stronger than it had been before. "Kyung-jun... I—" She swallowed hard, clearly fighting her emotions. "I'm so sorry for what happened to Minji."

Her words cut through him like a blade, but he didn't react. He didn't feel anything. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and he didn't even bother to face her. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Jun-hee stepped forward, his voice low and tight with anger. "You accused me, Kyung-jun. You were about to betray me. And now Minji's dead because of this game. You lost her."

For a second, Kyung-jun didn't respond. He could feel Jun-hee's anger, but all he could feel was the numbness, the absence of everything that had once made him whole. The accusation, the pain, the loss—it was all too much. And then, with a deep, rattling breath, he slowly turned his head toward Jun-hee, eyes dark, devoid of emotion.

"I'm sorry," Kyung-jun muttered, his voice almost a whisper. "I did it for her... I thought if i betrayed you all , it would save her, but I couldn't save her." His words cracked, but the pain behind them wasn't from grief—it was from the realization that he had failed. He had failed her.

"Now she's gone," he continued, his voice cold and distant. "And there's nothing left for me to protect."

Somi flinched at the hardness in his voice, but he barely noticed. His gaze remained fixed on the floor, his hands still trembling with fury and something else—something darker that threatened to consume him entirely.

"Minji is gone, and nothing in this twisted hell of a game matters anymore. I won't protect anyone anymore. I'll focus on one thing now." His voice hardened, gaining strength as he spoke, the spark of cold, calculating resolve returning to his eyes.

"Survival."

Jun-hee looked taken aback at the shift in Kyung-jun's demeanor, but there was no time for the familiar warmth and camaraderie they once shared. No time for the man who had once been their ally, their friend. Now there was only this monster in front of them.

"I don't care if you trust me or not," Kyung-jun continued, his gaze narrowing. "Minji is gone, and if I want to survive this game, I'll do whatever it takes. I won't protect anyone—not you, not anyone. Not even myself." His voice was a low growl, full of an unsettling calm. "But I will make sure I'm the last one standing. And if you want to survive... you'll follow my lead."

Jeong-won, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, looking at Kyung-jun with a strange mix of concern and wariness. "You've changed, Kyung-jun. This isn't the person we knew."

Kyung-jun's lips curled into something that wasn't a smile—just a cold, almost bitter expression. "The person you knew died with Minji." His voice dropped into a low growl. "This game doesn't care about feelings or morality. It only cares about who survives. And right now? That's all that matters."

Jun-hee looked at him for a long moment, his anger still burning, but even he knew now that there was no stopping the monster Kyung-jun had become.

"Then let's survive," Jun-hee finally said, his voice harsh but resigned. "Let's survive this hell together, then."

Kyung-jun met his gaze with cold indifference. "Fine," he replied, his eyes calculating, the mastermind in him fully awakened. "But don't expect any more protection. I'm not here to save you."

And so, as the room grew colder, darker, Kyung-jun stepped into the role of the puppet master, his mind sharp, his heart closed off. Nothing else mattered. There would be no more friends, no more alliances. Only survival.

Only winning.

And no one, not even Jun-hee, So-mi, or Jeong-won, could stop him now.