The air between them was suffocating, thick with unspoken words and unshed tears. Minji's back was turned to him, her shoulders shaking, but Kyung-jun had had enough.

"You always do this," he muttered, his voice sharp as a blade.

Minji froze, her hands trembling at her sides. Slowly, she turned around, her eyes dark with barely restrained fury. "Excuse me?"

Kyung-jun scoffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "You act like you're the only one who cares. Like you're the only one who feels something. Just because I don't break down like you do, doesn't mean I don't feel it!"

Minji's eyes widened in disbelief before narrowing into something colder. "You— you are telling me you care?!" She took a step toward him, her voice rising. "Then show it! Because all I see is a guy who watches people die without even flinching!"

Kyung-jun's jaw tightened. "And what do you want me to do, Minji? Cry? Scream? Beg for forgiveness?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was something else underneath—something desperate. "Because guess what? That won't bring them back. That won't change anything. And it sure as hell won't save us."

Minji let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "No, Kyung-jun. I don't want you to cry. I want you to stop pretending like this is just another normal day for you. Like these deaths don't matter!"

"You think I don't know that?!" Kyung-jun snapped, his voice finally cracking. "You think I don't know how fucked up this is?! I do, Minji! I know it better than anyone!"

"Then why are you acting like this?!"

"Because if I let myself feel any of it, it will destroy me!" he roared, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. "You think I can just sit here and fall apart? You think I have that luxury?!"

Minji stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "It's not about having the luxury, Kyung-jun. It's about being human. And right now? I don't even know if you are."

Something inside him snapped.

His hands slammed against the wall beside her, caging her in, his breath uneven, his eyes dark and unreadable. "And what about you, Minji? Huh?" His voice was dangerously low. "You're no saint either. You knew. You knew what I was, and you still kept quiet. You had a chance to stop me. But you didn't."

Minji's breath hitched.

"You had a choice," Kyung-jun continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you still chose me."

Tears welled in Minji's eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "And maybe that was my mistake," she whispered, voice shaking. "Maybe I should've turned against you from the start."

Kyung-jun flinched like she had just stabbed him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

Minji swallowed hard, stepping away from him. "I don't know who you are anymore, Kyung-jun. And I don't think I want to."

For the first time in his life, Kyung-jun had nothing to say.

Nothing to hide behind.

Nothing to stop the sinking feeling in his chest as he watched Minji walk away, her figure disappearing down the dimly lit hallway, leaving him standing there—alone.

Kyung-jun stood frozen in the dimly lit hallway, Minji's words still ringing in his ears, cutting deeper than he wanted to admit.

"I don't know who you are anymore. And I don't think I want to."

His jaw clenched, his breath uneven. His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to punch something, to break something, to do anything other than stand here drowning in emotions he didn't want to face.

He should be angry. Furious, even. Minji was supposed to be on his side—his one constant in this whole nightmare. But now, even she was slipping away, looking at him like he was a monster, like she regretted choosing him.

And maybe... maybe she should.

Kyung-jun exhaled sharply, running a shaky hand through his hair. His chest felt tight, like there was something clawing at him from the inside, something he refused to acknowledge. He had spent his whole life shutting off his emotions, burying them under layers of indifference and sharp words. It was easier that way. Safer.

But Minji had always been different.

She had always been the one who saw through him, who never let him hide. And now, after everything, she was the one turning away.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, though there was no humor in it.

"What did you expect, Kyung-jun?" he thought, his hands curling into fists. "That she'd just ignore what you are? That she'd accept it, just like everything else?"

The worst part wasn't that she was mad at him.

It was that she was right.

He didn't feel guilty for the deaths. He didn't feel the crushing weight of regret that everyone else did. He should—God, he should—but he didn't.

And that terrified him.

Not because of what it meant for the others. Not because of what it meant for the game.

But because of what it meant for him.

Had he always been this way? Or had this place turned him into something worse?

He felt sick. His stomach twisted, nausea rising in his throat, but he forced himself to swallow it down. He couldn't afford to fall apart. Not now. Not ever.

His eyes flickered toward the hallway Minji had disappeared down, and for a split second, he wanted to chase after her. To say something—anything—that would make her look at him the way she used to.

But what would he even say?

That he was sorry?

That he wanted to feel guilt but couldn't?

That he was scared—actually scared—of what he was becoming?

No. He couldn't say those things.

Because saying them would make them real.

And if there was one thing Kyung-jun couldn't handle, it was the truth of what he had become.

So instead, he stayed where he was, swallowing down every emotion threatening to consume him, and reminded himself of the only thing he knew for sure.

If he wanted to survive this, he couldn't afford to care.

Not anymore.