Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Player 456. Did you have fun playing the hero?”

Years of attempted planning, sleepless nights and empty pill bottles had led to this moment– and Gihun failed. He failed Saebyeok, he failed Sangwoo, he failed Jungbae. Everyone that was counting on him during the revolution was gone and now his hands shook, bloodied and bruised. 

There was a gun to his head, and the hand in front of him covered by a black leather glove belonged to the very man he wanted to destroy. Rage roared through him, wishing he could lunge and grab ahold of him, long enough for Jungbae too attack and–

Gihun froze.

The gun moved towards Jungbae.

“ Look closely at the consequences of your little hero game.” The masked voice spoke again, eyes still on Gihun, unreadable from the slits in his mask.

Before he knew it, the gun went off and there was screaming. Before he could consider his own safety, he was turning towards him. He held Jungbae, hands shaking as he tried holding down on the wound and desperately attempting to stop all the blood from pouring out, but there was too much and Jungbae wasn’t moving. His eyes were still open, looking blank in the direction Gihun once kneeled in.

He didn’t know the screaming was his until he stopped.

Gihun turned, eyes shooting towards the frontman, and with all the energy he had left he lunged, using all his might to tackle him to the floor and grip at his coat, reaching for his neck.

“I’m going to kill you .” 

There were guns pointed at him, but as the frontman registered what was happening he put his hands up as if to tell the guards to wait– That smug bastard. Gihuns hands were shaking, tears streaming down his eyes as he reached for the mask with rage coursing through him. He had no weapon, he had no advantage when there were rifles pointed at him with pointer fingers on the trigger that were ready to shoot at any moment, but he couldn’t care less.

The frontman's hands went to grab his wrists, but Gihun was faster, and he ripped the mask off–

Young-il stared back at him, with a look in his eyes that was close to excitement– maybe remorse – but Gihun was tackled before he could register what was happening. The pink guards had their hands all over him, pushing him back as he struggled beneath their unyielding hold on his shoulders. 

The frontman– Young-il– stood up, towering over him once again and placing the mask back on without hesitation. Gihun was still being pinned to the ground, one of the guards was kneeling on his head trying to get him to stop trying to attack them as tears blurred his vision.

For a moment, he thought he was going to die here. He almost wishes he did– The man he trusted had betrayed them and there was no turning back in what he’d done. 

“Sedate him.” His voice was sharp, and Gihun couldn’t stop the tears from running freely down his face.

Young-il was the frontman, and Jungbae was dead– It was all his fault.

- - - - 

LOOP ONE

Gi-hun wakes in the same way his nightmares start every time he closes his eyes. He’s on that flimsy mattress wearing a teal tracksuit and hearing that sound ring through the large empty room he's captured in. This isn’t right. The frontman wouldn’t let him rejoin the games after all he’s done, would he?  

As he sits up, desperately trying to grasp onto his surroundings, a woman he hadn’t seen since the mingle game is laying in the bed across from him, giving him a strange look as her head rested on her hand.

“I sense you’re holding on to many things. You can’t leave or stay. You can’t fight it. It’s your destiny. You have souls hovering over your head who are lingering in this world. You’re not here of your own will. Those vengeful souls brought you. If we get out of here, let me perform a ritual. I can get rid of all your bad karma.” She calls out, taunting him. 

An alarm buzzes as he’s hopping down from his bed. 

The room isn’t in disarray. All signs from the fight are lost.

There’s no blood staining the floors, or the faces of the people surrounding him– which there are much more, the number seemed outrageous compared to how many actually survived past the first three games. None of this made sense– There were no bullet holes in the bed frames or the walls, and everyone acted confused, as if this was their first time seeing this room.

What had the frontman done?

The masked manager spoke up from where he stood, all the soldiers subtly blocking the doors, but no one noticed beyond his own perception. No one knew what would be coming.

“I would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you. Everyone here will participate in six different games over six days. Those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize.”

A woman from within the crowd spoke up, her voice unfamiliar. “Excuse me. You said I’d be playing games, but you practically kidnapped me. So how can I believe that?”

“I apologize. Please understand that it was necessary to maintain the game’s security.” The masked manager never faltered, speaking as if reading from a script he memorized a long time ago.

Then, from the edge of the crowd somewhere, another woman spoke up. “What’s with the mask then? Is your face also a secret?”

More people chimed in, finally beginning to question outloud the thoughts running through their head. Everything in the room began to become white noise as Gihun tried his best to recall everything that happened prior to this– The reveal, the revolution, all of it. The one thought that seemed louder than everything else in his mind was screaming Jungbae.

The crowd was becoming more rowdy as the staff handled it without fail, and a bitter taste filled his mouth. 

Within everyone fighting over each other, wanting to be heard or acknowledged by the masked soldiers, the manager raised his voice to become louder. “All of you in this room have crippling debts and are now on a cliffedge. When we first came to you, you did not trust us either. But as you know, we played a game and gave you money as promised. And so you trusted us and volunteered to participate according to your own free will. You have one last chance to decide. Do you want to live like a piece of trash, running from creditors? Or will you seize the last opportunity we are offering?”

The ceiling rumbled, and everyone glanced up in awe as Gihun’s eyes remained glued on the crowd. 

Mother and son started fighting, but he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention. He scanned the crowd for his allies, catching sight of a few he met during or right before the revolution– From a distance, there's Jungbae, and he's breathing. 

He’s short compared to others in the crowd, but from where he is standing, he has almost a perfect view from across the room. 

Jungbae is alive.

He lost sight of him for a few moments while they lined up to sign their lives away. Gihun didn’t care how crazy he looked, frantically weaving through crowds of people who were lining up– he had to find Jungbae again. 

A pink soldier stopped him, raising their hand to stop him from walking any further. If Gihun were more brave, he would’ve shoved the guard out of his way and kept searching, but that haunting distorting voice spoke up before he got any ideas of running.

“Player 456, you must sign the consent form before going any further.”

He pointed with his arm towards the podium where a stack of papers once sat. It took everything in Gihun not to ignore him, but it didn’t matter. He’s signed his life away already. Besides– This just felt like a dream.

PLAYER CONSENT FORM

1. A PLAYER IS NOT ALLOWED TO VOLUNTARILY QUIT
2. A PLAYER WHO REFUSES TO PLAY WILL BE ELIMINATED
3. THE GAMES MAY BE TERMINATED UPON A MAJORITY VOTE

IN CASE OF A TIE, PLAYERS WILL VOTE AGAIN

4. IF THE GAMES ARE TERMINATED, PLAYERS WILL DIVIDE THE PRIZE EQUALLY

SIGNATURE: Seong Gihun.

There was no way the frontman would be able to pull a stunt like this, unless he faked all those peoples deaths– but he was a cruel and callous man, one who never hesitated to kill. This had to be a dream, then.

Still, Gihun knew he had to find Jungbae. 

After the players had been captivated by the premise of earning billions of won and signed off their name with ease, they began the process of escorting them out in lines, getting ready for their pictures and a long walk towards the first game. Gihun’s heart sank– If this was a dream, usually it skipped over these small and seemingly miniscule parts. Only a few times had his nightmares bestowed him with the simpler moments like walking through the halls and getting their photos captured– It was always about someone dying, they were always bleeding out in his arms, and he always woke up crying.

He wasn’t waking up yet, though. The feel of his clothes against his skin was grounding him deeper into this reality– It was impossible to be real, though, because in this version of his previous reality, his best friend is still alive and calling his name from behind him. 

He almost tripped walking up the step, whipping around.

“Gi-hun!” Jungbae is running up the stairs, almost pushing people over to reach him.

Without a second thought, he wraps his arms around his shorter friend as he freezes, not expecting the contact to happen.

“Jungbae.” His voice breaks, trying to fight back tears. If this is a dream, it's cruel to let him almost feel the warmth radiating from his friend who he saw die at the hands of the frontman– at the hands of Young-il. 

All too soon, he was pulled back as people in the line behind them started complaining, but their voices were drowned out once again as he stared at Jungbae, who was ushering them to walk forwards. 

“Fuck, you were alive this whole time? What are you doing here? No one’s heard from you for three years– I heard your mom passed away. I had to hear about it from my wife! What kind of friend are you? Were you going to cut me out because I didn’t lend you money?” Jungbae started going on his tangent, scolding Gihun for all his previous actions.

He shakes his head, finally looking away. “It’s not like that. It’s a long story.”

“Right. I can imagine, seeing as you’re here. Still, you should’ve told me about your mom. You know how much she liked me.” His friend gloats, and it shouldn’t tug on Gihuns heart so much, but it does. It feels so real.

“Why are you here? What about your wife?” He tries to keep up with conversation, even if he distantly remembers what his friend responded with the first time he lived through this. 

“We got divorced.”

Gihun remembers that.

“Divorced? What about your kid?”

“With my wife.”

Gihun remembers that, too.

“Did you have an affair?” He says it without thinking, mostly to see Jungbae’s facial expressions.

“Yeah, like I could manage one. Let’s not talk about it here. When we get out, let’s go for a drink and talk.” He says, patting his shoulder as they walk through the large metal doors and he froze.

“Jungbae, whatever happens from now on, stay close to me.” Gihuns voice is more tense. He should’ve spent the last few minutes warning him instead of talking about the same topic as they did in real life, but he wanted to be selfish– Even if it was just for a few minutes.

He almost laughs at that, thinking Gihun was pulling his leg. “Stay close? You’ve gotten melodramatic.” 

Gihun whips around, giving him a solemn expression. This wasn’t how he died in real life, but his dreams had a cruel, sick habit of making his mind relive moments and make them worse . “Just do as I say– You must stay close behind me!”

Jungbae seemed shocked, even a bit thrown off at the other man's small outburst. “All right, man. I will.”

It felt so vivid being back in that field. It was strange, seeing it a third time without bodies cascading over the sand. All of his dreams originally started as nightmares that took place in this game, or any of the other ones, that he had to relive on repeat. Jungbae was still next to him talking about something, most likely asking questions about the doll and what they were going to do, but Gihuns eyes kept scanning the crowd, ungraciously turning and spinning trying to catch sight of Young-il.

All had been accounted for back in the dorms, except for him. 

Gihun didn’t see him in the line, either. 

Where was he?

People were talking all around him, and he heard the female announcer explain the game when he snapped back to reality. This scenario had played out a million times in his head, and he already did this once. Last time, he wasn’t so distracted. He was falling behind, as the doll turned around and placed her hand against the tree trunk. Gihuns eyes were still scanning for Young-il, almost anticipating that they’d lock eyes. The thought of seeing him again almost made him wish he’d wake up.

“Green light.”

Gihun was running behind as everyone started quickly advancing towards the doll. He ran towards the front as fast as the sand would let him, Jungbae faintly calling after him.

“Everyone– Everyone, listen up! Pay attention– Listen carefully! This is not just a game! If you lose the game, you die! Don’t talk, don’t move. The doll’s eyes are motion sensors!” he shouted, turning his back to the doll and covering the sides of his mouth with each hand, letting him shout freely.

“Red light.” 

Everyone stopped moving.

“If they catch you moving, they will kill you! They will shoot you from somewhere! Do not be alarmed or panic! No matter what happens, do not panic and start running!” He hadn’t been shot yet, which means it couldn’t sense him talking like last time.

He heard someone scoff from near him. “What do you mean we’re going to–”

A bullet rang through the air, cutting them off with a bullet in between their eyes. 

People panicked, ran, as he shouted endlessly for them to stay calm.

Those who listened seemed to stiffen up, afraid to even let out a breath now that they understood the truth that laid heavily in Gihun’s words. If only he had warned them earlier, he was given another chance to save them but he stumbled trying to find Young-il, and now he couldn’t even see Jungbae, and as his panic began to grow, the doll called out ‘ Green Light.’

Now, everyone was looking at him expectantly, and he began to step out slowly in long strides and soon after, they followed.

“Get in long lines, behind someone taller than you. It can’t detect all of us this way. Hurry!” Gihun’s voice boomed across the field, following after there were sounds of people scuffling before the doll called out once again and everyone froze.

No one died that round– Gihun let out a deep breath he had been holding.

It continued like that, a few people dying due to tripping or the purple haired kid pushing them like they were just toys – like these weren’t peoples lives at stake. 

Soon they all reached the finish line, bodies scattered through the field from those that were caught. The way the adrenaline rushed through his body, pulling people behind the finish line and yelling for everyone to run, it was weighing him down. They followed his instructions until the end, but they had been too late– The damage had been done. Too many died due to his distraction. 

Jungbae was alive, and following him along like a lost puppy, asking countless questions Gihun didn’t have the strength to answer quite yet.

Following through the halls felt like a fever dream– Why was he still dreaming, and why did everything feel so real?

The sedation that frontman used must be strong, perhaps laced with some hallucinogenic. A feeling like this happened within the second year he spent full of sleepless nights trying to find the recruiter- Back then he rarely slept, focusing all his time and energy into searching alone, usually in the comfort of that dingy motel he was barely living in. 

One of the employees he hired brought him sleeping pills, strong ones at that, and pleaded with him to just try it. After the man had left, he took too many. Whether it was on purpose or by accident was something he never told anybody, but that night he had felt Saebeyoks heart stop as he held her, and Sangwoo’s blade cut deeper than before– It was so real, and he couldn’t wake up until hours later when it wore off, and he swore to never take anything like that again.

This brought back similar memories, but his dreams were usually crueler– Jungbae would be gone by now, Ali’s smile would be haunting him, and Sangwoo’s voice would continue to taunt him. 

Maybe his sedated-dreams would take pity on him tonight but the thought still brought little reassurance.

When they returned to the dorms, he felt more defeated than before. As the lights dimmed and the piggy bank was filled up a quarter full with stacks of cash, he heart sank.

More players died this time than the last time. Last time, the number of deaths was at 100, and even that number was too high for his liking. This time, it was at 148. It was all his fault. Even if this was some realistic dream he would soon snap out of, the thought of getting a second chance to save people and he managed to lose more had killed him inside. 

Jungbae was alive and that was enough of a comfort, although he knew he didn’t deserve it.

The vote began quickly, and with an ounce of hope he prayed that they'd get sent home, but the majority had outweighed by an even larger number– That’s when he caught sight of Young-il . He was the last player to vote, and the moment he turned around they locked eyes and Gihun froze, averting his gaze and grabbing onto Jungbae before walking off to a corner they hadn’t sat in last time. If he layed low, maybe he wouldn’t find them. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt Jungbae, maybe–

“Gihun, calm down– I’m following you okay? No need to pull me.” Jungbae gave a halfhearted laugh and tried pulling away, but he kept walking until they were in the darkest corner by the door, hidden between bunks.

He turned around, and caught a glimpse of his tight grip on his friend's arm before letting go.

“Sorry- Sorry, I just panicked.” He apologized, which his friend seemed to appreciate, yet the worry didn’t leave the other man's face.

Jungbae frowned. “Panicked? About what?” 

Gihun considered confiding in him– Maybe admitting he’s dreaming, or something similar to that, would snap him out of it but there was a sinking feeling in his chest that hasn’t left since he woke up. This feels too real. He’s relieving every detail down to the boring details of the never ending hallways. The people that died in the first round had died because of him directly– In a dream, it’d be the majority of the people or no one if he tried hard enough to imagine a world where he could actually fix things.

This felt different. He dug his nails into his palms, close to drawing blood.

“I think I’m dreaming.” He admitted, yet as soon as the words fell out it sounded more ridiculous than he thought.

“What a weird dream this would be, man. I assure you, as weird as this is, it's real. Gihun, are you okay? You look really pale.” Jungbae tried placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, but they were interrupted when a small group approached them.

Leading that small group was Young-il.

Gihun saw red.

Without thinking twice, he shoved Jungbae behind him and went to swing, but Young-il quickly dodged, holding his wrist in a tight grip while keeping that blank– almost shocked expression on his face. That bastard.

“Woah, sorry we startled you.” Young-il laughed softly, trying to defuse the situation as the rest of his group of miscellaneous players casted strange glances towards the two of them.

“Don’t act smart with me, you know what you did, you bastard. Get away from me.” Gihun’s voice was full of rage as he ripped his hand out of Young-il’s grasp, but the feeling of his warmth had stained his wrist and he couldn’t shake the chill that came down his spine. 

“Gihun…” Jungbae tried.

Young-il’s gaze hardened, but his face remained unreadable. He was catching on. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“Don’t act all smug– You know what you did.” 

“I don’t believe we’ve met before.” His voice was slightly sharper, trying not to blow his cover, but Gihun knew. He knew that face better than anyone else here. Young-il was a traitor, and he couldn’t let him near Jungbae. 

The man standing before him was the frontman and he was the only one who knew it. 

It was killing him, being forced to stand there and be complacent. Jungbae, in his naivety, was trying to defuse the situation to the best of his ability, but the two men never stopped staring each other down. 

“Ignore him, he’s acting like a fool. Let’s just go.”

Young-il ignored him, eyes boring into Gihun’s soul. There were probably goosebumps on his arm beneath the tracksuit, and there were alarms in the back of his mind screaming at him to grab Jungbae and run again, but the other man didn’t seem to be making a move. What was his motive for being here?

One of his other teammates spoke up from the back of the crowd, trying to break the tension. “Do you know what game is next, Mr 456?”

Gihun’s eyes broke away, looking at the larger group that had been standing around them. 

“I’ve played these games years ago and I know what they have planned, and if you listen to me, I can help you.” Gihun empathized, refusing to look at Young-il.

A different player from the group spoke up, clearly not believing him. “What’s the next game then?” 

“The next game is a pentathlon, they bound your legs with your team and time you. There’s ddakji, flying stone, jegi, spinning stop, and gonggi.”

Player 100 laughs. “That’s easy, we’ll make it through each game easily with this advantage. They won’t even know what's coming.”

Of course, he should’ve seen that reaction coming.

“I’m going to warn everyone so we all have a fair advantage.” Gihun warns.

Young-il’s face twitches for a split second before regaining his composure– If Gihun wasn’t searching for it, he wouldn’t have noticed like everyone else, but he knew that this wasn’t common information.

“How can you be so sure? What if it's a different game and they switched it?” Young-il’s lips tilted into a sneer, eyes squinting towards him– Challenging.

Finally, Gihun turned to face him. Jungbae was still behind him, and he was sure he wouldn’t blow his cover in front of anyone, and this newfound confidence struck him quickly. 

“I know it's the same game. Their leader is predictable, and it’s too late for them to change the games once we all know. It was probably planned months in advance if these games are held yearly. If we all know, it won’t change anything but help us all make it through the round– Together.” His eyes never left Young-il’s face as the other man struggled to not snap.

He recognized that look in his eyes, full of frustration knowing that he was caught. Now the games seemed to be leveraged in his favor, this was just the opportunity he needed. 

Young-il’s resolve was about to crumble, and a sick sense of satisfaction filled him.  

“Let's go, Jungbae. We need to make our rounds and warn the others.” 

• ▲■

They found Daeho, just like the first time. He let Jungbae and the boy bond like normal, and his eyes caught onto Young-il’s broad shoulders across the room, discussing something with another team. He didn’t seem to feel relaxed, if anything he was the most tense Gihun had ever seen him.

Still, he wore the false persona well and no one could tell that something was wrong.

It was weird seeing him in this light, and all previous fond memories that happened last time were tainted with the knowledge that none of it was real. 

Young-il was good at deceiving people like that, he supposed.

Soon after Daeho joined them, the fight between the purple haired boy and Player 333 broke out. Jungbae and Daho had the same reactions– unwilling to get themselves involved– and Young-il stood up with ease to fight them. 

Gihun watched from the other side of the room, and for a brief moment after the fight in the midst of people clapping and cheering for Young-il, they locked eyes.

The other man seemed a little smug, and Gihun hid his anger. He didn’t clap when he won, but he didn’t remember doing that last time either.

“Is he an ex-marine too?”

“Maybe.”

They both covered their marine tattoos with a sense of nervousness, and Gihun vowed to not look in the other man's direction until the next game. 

• ▲■

When they got to the room filled with two rainbow roads and pink guards scattered around it, a newfound sense of dread filled Gihun. This was the first time he wouldn’t be playing with the original team.

When the timer began, Gihun felt trapped.

The thought of caving in and inviting Young-il made him queasy. 

As if he could see the look on his face, the other man appeared out of the crowd, walking away from the other group he spent the last few hours talking to. Young-il didn’t even look at Jungbae or Daeho, choosing instead to slowly walk towards Gihun with a determined look in his eyes.

“I’d like to join your team, if that’s alright with you.” He said, voice level and calm. 

Gihun was shaking his head before he was even done speaking. “No, we’ll manage fine without you.” 

He grabbed Jungbae and Daeho, leading them away from Young-il before he might try to convince them again. He knew what the next game was, he played it before. He knew that if It was his original team there was a higher chance of them making it, but he had pushed Young-il away and now he watched as Junhee– Player 222– was joining his new team instead of theirs.

Jungbae and Daeho seemed to notice this issue too.

“Ah shit. Gihun, why didn’t we let that guy join us? He was a good fighter, now we have to find two people that will be strong enough to fight with.” Jungbae complained, glancing around the crowd of people.

“They don’t have to be strong, they need to be able to play ddakji and spinning top.” He shook his head. 

He couldn’t think of many people that got ddakji on their first try, and if he traded games there's a chance he could succeed in spinning top and have someone else do jegi, but they had to find new team members in the first place.

“On it, sir!” Daeho looked determined, nodding at Jungbae before running off.

They had enough time, but the players seemed uncertain. 

Young-il’s team was going last this time, and the pressure of playing in front of others left his whole team on edge.

“It’s okay if you don’t get it on the first try, alright? Try and stay calm.” Gihun reassured before the shot went off for them to begin.

The shouts of the crowd were overwhelming, and he didn’t recognize the players on the other team.

They started with a new player, a girl with wild hair and a messy appearance attempting ddjaki– she couldn't get it the first few tries, and her hands were shaking too much to focus.

“You got this, just flip it to the other side and hit it as hard as you can. Stay calm!” Gihun pleaded, looking over at her with guilt.

This wasn’t starting off good.

Eventually she got it, but so much time had passed. Thankfully, Jungbae saved them by getting flying stone first try, although he seemed more anxious than before. Everyone was on edge, even Gihun. Daeho played with skill, but the other player– the same one who replaced Young-il due to Gihun’s insistence, had failed more than a few times.

The time was ticking out, Gihun might not even make it to his game–

When he glances over at the clock, something in the crowd of players catches his eye. Young-il is staring with an intensity in his eyes he hadn’t seen before. It might have been amusement, knowing that they were going to lose without him, but there was something else in his eyes he couldn’t place. Before he could think twice, he was being tugged along to his game.

He hit it four times, and on the fifth one, it went too far ahead and Young-il wasn’t there to move his foot forwards to catch it.

Within seconds, fear rushed through him– There was no stopping this, he couldn’t save his friends or himself.

The gunfire blasted through the air, and all he felt was flaring pain in his chest and legs before collapsing to the ground and the world around him faded to black.

Chapter Text

LOOP TWO

He’s on that flimsy mattress wearing a teal tracksuit and hearing that sound ring through the large empty room that he knows like it's the back of his hand. His chest feels like it's still bleeding, but as he brings a hand up to stop the bleeding, he finds his hands clean and chest unaffected from any previous injuries. There were two things that were certain:

1. Despite what occurred, he is still alive– If this what his life has been reduced to, at this point.
2. He’s back to where he was last time.

He had a second chance that was wasted, and now he’s been given a third. 

An alarm buzzes as he’s hopping down from his bed. 

“I sense you’re holding on to many things. You can’t leave or stay. You can’t fight it. It’s your destiny. You have souls hovering over your head who are lingering in this world. You’re not here of your own will. Those vengeful souls brought you. If we get out of here, let me perform a ritual. I can get rid of all your bad karma.” She calls out, and if Gihun had to hear it one more time he was going to start pulling at the short strands of his hair in anger. 

His eyes scan the crowd– Jungbae is alive, eyes wide with confusion, and Young-il hasn’t joined the games yet.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath that seems to wake him up. This was another chance, and he was going to do things right this time. They go through the motions, signing the papers and lining up for photos before he manages to get close to Jungbae through the crowd of people, some yelling as he pushes past them.

“Jungbae–”

“Gihun! Fuck, you were alive this whole time? What are you doing here–” Jungbae begins to grab at him, about to spiral into his typical scolding voice before Gihun grabs his arm and pulls him along before others could complain about them holding up the line.

“I was here, I played these games three years ago. I came back to stop it– I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you Jungbae, I know I haven’t been a good friend.” he says solemnly as they walk almost side by side. 

Before Jungbae could answer again, Gihun spoke up once again. “I know what the first game is, and it's Red Light Green Light . No matter what happens, you stay by my side and play along. I’m going to sound crazy, and you won’t believe me, but you have to trust me– Got it?”

His hands reach up to grab Jungbae’s shoulders as they stop, he gives him the most sincere look he can, and he’s relieved when his friend nods along. 

The man behind them coughs loudly as they keep walking, and they were almost to the doors leading into the room. 

“I can’t believe you played the games. Does that mean you won the money? Did you go gambling again?” He scoffed in offense at the mere thought of Gihun gambling without him, especially with that much money. 

“No, I never spent it. The money isn’t what's important. There are lives at stake and we need to warn people about the consequences of losing– It could cost them their lives –”

Jungbae waved him off from rambling. “All right, man. I hear you.”

As the announcer began to speak, he ditched Jungbae and ran in front of everyone to warn them. Mirroring the first and second time Gihun warned them, he was met with disbelieving glares and harsh comments, but he couldn’t be bothered– Why didn’t these people want to be saved?

• ▲■

In the end, he only managed to save an additional thirteen players– It still wasn’t enough. 

They held the vote and Young-il appeared at the end despite the vote winning in favor to stay by two rather than one. 

The false illusion of choice still infuriated him. These people were begging to be let go, to reunite with their families and regular lives, but no matter what they always seemed to get stuck here. The promise of more – More money, more time, more power slowly corrupts them. Gihun had seen it every time. He was forced to watch greed spread like cordyceps, turning each player into violent versions of themselves within the span of a few days.

It felt like his joints were locking up as every part of his body burned with panic– Young-il was looking at him, and smiling, and Gihun couldn’t stand it. Before Jungbae could comment, he forced himself to move away from the podium and towards one of the bunks to hide away.

Young-il would probably find him anyway, but the memory of bullets seeping through his skin and wedging itself in between his sternum had almost caused bile to creep up his throat, but he tried his hardest to will that thought away as quickly as it appeared. 

He couldn’t let Jungbae and Daeho die again, but he wasn’t sure if there was anyone they could convince to join their team that could ensure their win in the next game— Gihun would be damned if he didn’t try, though.

Jungbae was trying to get him to eat but Gihun refused, letting the man babble about whatever was running through his head.

“I don’t know about you, but that 20 million wouldn’t even cover my interest. If we play just one more game–”

Gihun sighed. “Jungbae. Everyone says that they need more money to survive, but the longer we are trapped playing these games, the lesser chance we have at actually making it out of here.”

A voice appeared nearby, and while he should have seen it coming, he still flinched at the sound and sight of Young-il, followed by his group.

“Help us then, sir. You said you’ve played these games. I pressed the O button because of you. Honestly, I was scared. I wanted to quit and leave. But you made me think maybe I could play just one more game.”

If he had the energy, he would’ve rolled his eyes. 

Jungbae looked between the two men expectantly, waiting for Gihun to acknowledge the man. He just looked past him, despite the blurry figure of Young-il blocking his view from a few of the players, he managed to avoid eye contact.

“The next game is a pentathlon, they bound your legs with your team and time you. There’s ddakji, flying stone, jegi, spinning stop, and gonggi. Cmon Jungbae, let's go warn all the others.” Gihun stood up, motioning for his friend to join before Player 100 blocked his exit, putting his hand up almost to his chest with a displeased expression resting on his wrinkled face.

“If all of us survive, the prize money won’t go up at all. Then we’ll have risked our lives again for nothing! We have to keep this between this group.” His voice was hushed yet forceful as other players nodded. 

Gihun doubled down.

“I’m telling you this to save everyone’s lives. You can try to keep that information to yourself, but I won’t rest until everyone in this room knows what game is next.” 

He glanced over at Young-il finally, who seemed to be glaring at Player 100.

Huh. 

His eyes never shifted to meet Gihun’s despite the undeniable feeling of his gaze being fixated on him. Instead he began to step towards the player Gihun was being threatened by, who jumped back at the look on his face in surprise.

“That’s enough. There’s no use arguing with him, he’s stubborn.” His voice was sharp and the other man jumped back as if it cut him. 

Without saying anything, he ushered the others in his group to walk away, a few of them mumbling about how crazy he sounded– None of this affected Gihun. He knew what people thought of him when he spoke of the previous games, and if he would voice his current worries about reliving the same few days repeatedly, they’d probably target him and his friends. He couldn’t let any of those insecurities shake him, as now he stood between Jungbae and Young-il and both were looking at him expectantly.

Gihun glanced over at Young-il again, and he was staring with an intensity in his eyes that made him break out in a cold sweat. It felt like being hunted, or worse– Already being caught as prey. 

Young-il made no move to attack or even talk to the two of them. Jungbae began to clear his throat as he shifted his weight between both his feet, swaying in nervousness. Gihun’s eyes broke away as he guided Jungbae away with the intent of informing all the players they could about the next games.

Daeho appeared quickly after, and Gihun watched as the two men repeated the same habit of each loop. It was endearing, albeit a little frustrating to witness the same conversation each time. He saw Jungbae smile, and Daeho laughing, and he couldn’t find the strength within him to break them apart.

The word of the next game spread like wildfire, as Gihun watched people already begin to build teams. His eyes floated from group to group around the room only to catch sight of Junhee. 

She still joined Young-il’s team and a sour feeling filled his tongue– He knew that in the eyes of the younger girl, he may have been somewhat a savior after defending the man who appeared to be the father of her unborn child, but it was hard knowing the truth of who Young-il was without any concrete evidence. 

Still, he worked with Jungebae and Daeho to find players they could team up with who weren’t the two from last time, and he could only count down the hours ticking away until the second game began.

• ▲■ 

The two players who joined them had succeeded after the first few tries, Gihun keeping his voice unwavering as he spoke countless reassurances that seemed to help. This round, he played spinning top and got it first try, rushing them past the finish line within a few seconds of the timer going off.

As they stood, connected and letting out the tension that had grown in their shoulders during their round, they relished in the cheers from the crowd– Even the other team had made it, a few familiar faces like the mother and son he had spoken to. As he looked in the sea of people shouting, he locked eyes with Young-il, who stood amongst the crowd smiling with Junhee as they clapped. 

The shackles were being taken off his ankles as he froze and he felt more trapped than before.

His smile seemed genuine as him and Junhee laughed, the emotion actually reaching his eyes as the edges crinkled softly, and Gihun swallowed a lump in his throat as Daeho clung onto him, leaning on the older man as they walked out the doors, all sounds of their victory dissipating as the image of Young-il looking happy now haunted Gihun.

Secretly, he hoped that they’d make it out that round.

Gihun let himself breathe again when in his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of Junhee’s figure walking back into the dormitory. That night there were no fights that broke out and he still couldn’t muster the courage to sleep, even when the room fell into an uneasy silence. Young-il never approached him to talk, and Gihun fought the nervousness that came with that. 

When the morning came and they blared music and bright lights, he prepared his team for the next game of Mingle.

This was his first time reliving it, and he shuddered at the memory of the last time of him dying early. He recruited Daeho, Hyun-ju, and a few others from her team to warn everyone about the upcoming game.

Young-il’s jaw clenched as Daeho approached, repeating what Gihun told him about the game and focusing on Junhee, telling her to take it easy. 

He didn’t know why Gihun knew about the race, let alone mingle, but he was too engrossed with the other players to be able to slip away without the distraction that the revolution gave him. He was trapped here like Gihun, even if he couldn’t admit it.

• ▲■ 

The platform began spinning as the doors blurred together, making Gihun unable to focus. When Young-il was with them, they had led a large group together, but this time he carried that responsibility alone. As the platform stopped, causing some players to stumble or fall, he remained rigid, trying to memorize the order of each number.

“Ten!” 

They scrambled to group together, they only had seven in their team– Gihuns group and Hyun–ju’s group had mixed together– and eventually they found a few stray players they rushed into a room with. It was cramped, but they had made it. All of them survived this round.

Then, they had to sit and wait as the sound of forklifts beeped through, carrying bodies in coffins out but not quite bothering to clean the floors.

“Mr 456, if you don't mind me asking, what's the next number we need?” Geum-ja, the older woman who had joined with her son, asked quietly, not wanting to break the heavy silence that filled the room.

A few more members of their group turned their heads, waiting.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted with guilt as a few people slumped with disappointment evident on their faces. “I remember there being six and two for sure. They might randomize it every game, but I doubt it. We can split into pairs and if it's an uneven number, try and find someone else alone.” 

Jungbae and Daeho nodded with hope before they found themselves sitting in silence once again.

The aftermath wasn’t too bloody, only a few players hadn’t made it into rooms and he tried staying strong for the rest of his group. Halfway across the room standing on the podium stood Young-il, facing away from Gihun. Junhee was alive too, standing next to Player 333.

Once all the players were waiting, standing feet shoulders apart prepared for the next number, music filled their ears as Gihun felt a presence standing behind him.

“How’d you know?” His voice was deep and low, trying to not attract the attention of the rest of his group. 

If Young-il wanted to play innocent, Gihun could too. “Like I said, I’ve played these games before.”

“Hmm, but not these ones right? There’s no way they would make them the same every year. It’d get boring for the audiences.” He talked like it was common sense, as if anyone could know that, and it filled Gihun with frustration.

Gihun finally turned to face him. “I’m sure you would understand out of all people, Young-il.”

There was a split second of a smile that lingered on his lips before he wiped it away, face turning stoic once again. “I don't believe I ever introduced myself to you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Four!”

Daeho grabbed onto his arm, tugging him the entire way to the nearest room, changing directions when he saw others already in there. Jungbae was somewhere behind them, and he lost track of where everyone else was. 

The lights were flashing, the music was booming, and before he knew it, he was shoved into his room. Jungbae and Daeho were holding the door shut as two people tried breaking in, and they were spewing apologies from their mouths as the door locked with a small clicking sound–

Who was the fourth person?

Gihun whipped around to be met with Young-il, leaning against the far wall. 

Shit. 

Daeho gasped for air after coming to terms with what he’d done as the unmistakable sound of gunfire filled the main area. He sank to the floor, trying to cover his ears as Jungbae leaned down and offered a comforting hand to his shoulder. Neither noticed Gihun’s displeasure with Young-il, or Young-il’s hardened glare towards Gihun.

The sound of gunfire ceased as Daeho was slowly calming down, Jungbae continued to distract him and it made Gihun’s heart squeeze– He often forgot how young Daeho was, and he never understood the full extent of how much Jungbae went out of his way to protect him. 

No one spoke, even as they heard a body being dragged from the door. Jungbae was talking about how he grew up before joining the marines, and Daeho seemed to appreciate it despite his silence.

From where he stood, Gihun had a good view of what was going on outside the small slit in the door, and he tried focusing on how many they lost that round. If only he could remember what number was next. He felt eyes on his back as he slowly turned, Young-il uncaring that he was caught staring. He didn’t even move his eyes off Gihun.

“What number is next?”

Jungbae paused, looking up and mirroring Daeho’s confused expression with their mouths turned slightly downwards.

Young-il’s stance didn’t crumble under the weight of the question. “Why are you asking me? I thought you were the former winner here.”

That bastard was almost teasing him for it, but Gihun didn’t back down this time. If he wasn’t careful, this round would end a lot faster than he anticipated. He needed to make sure as many lives, especially his teammates, were saved. Young-il seemed hellbent against it. 

Gihun sneered. “You know why. We’ve lost enough people already, just tell me.”

Young-il didn’t budge. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Did you hit your head when you fell last round?” 

Gihun closed the space between them, grabbing Young-il by the collar of his jacket and holding it in his hands, pulling him forwards to confront him. He didn’t flinch or try moving backwards, instead he had a half smile appear at the corner of his mouth he didn’t bother to stifle– He was amused. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, we need to survive the next few rounds so just tell me –”

The door clicked to unlock, and the two other men in the room whipped around and stood up, trying to quickly leave to return to the platform in time for the next round. Gihun let go of Young-il’s jacket in favor of walking away. 

His back felt hot with the knowledge that Young-il was slowly walking behind him, eyes wandering over his back until he tried disappearing into the crowd.

The next number was unknown and the anticipation was eating away at him.

Jungbae kept trying to talk to him, but he saw Gihun’s stiff composure and dropped it. 

“Three!” 

Their group was an uneven number of seven, and Gihun hurried to push them all together. There were still so many players tripping over each other and grabbing random people, shoving them into rooms. He didn’t even think about himself. Standing on the edge of the platform, he watched as Jungbae, Daeho, and Young-mi shoved themselves in a room. 

There were too many players, and some of the doors had never opened this round– There wasn’t enough space for everyone.

He was frozen, watching as the timer was ticking down faster. He turned to watch Jungbae get shoved out of the room by another player– Locking himself and the two younger players in a room as the buzzer went off.

No– Jungbae was trapped outside with him and a large handful of other players who were trying to claw their way into rooms, begging the doors to open. Pink guards sauntered in, guns held against their chests–

“Gihun!” Jungbae called out, trying to get closer to him.

Maybe Gihun could distract them, grab a gun and start revolting early, maybe–

People around them were shouting and begging for mercy as Gihun ran towards Jungbae, trying to shield him with his body until he thought of a solution, but the last thing he heard was Daeho screaming their names–

“Gihun–ssi! Jungbae!” His voice cracked as he banged against the door, peeking out of the rectangle and looking for them.

Jungbae was within arms reach, but there was more gunfire and less screaming. “Gihun, you–

He saw the terrified expression on his friends face, and before he could think twice–

“ Jungbae– I’m sorry. ”

Pain shot through his back as he toppled over, cursing the God he didn’t believe in because this time, the bullets felt more agonizing than anything he’d ever felt before. 

At least this time, he died faster. 

Chapter Text

LOOP 3

Gihun hadn’t gotten out of bed since he woke up again. 

The masked men had talked, the players had complained, the piggybank fell and the lights dimmed to display it in all its fake glory. He hadn’t moved.

His whole body felt exhausted, and he couldn’t bring himself to crawl out and join the others.

He couldn’t look at Jungbae knowing that even after all these chances he didn’t even deserve, he still couldn’t save his best friend in any of them. The guilt was weighing him down, and it was sitting on his chest and pressing into him so hard he couldn’t breathe–

It was the pink officers who came up to retrieve him when all other players were being escorted out of the room and through for their photos. They stood there, demanding he get up as their voices filtered through the mask, distorting it, and still– Gihun wasn’t moving, he could barely look at them. 

They picked him up physically after exchanging glances, and he let himself be dragged halfway across the room before finally standing, walking sluggishly to join the others. 

Each time a loop ended, he felt the tiredness seeping into his skin making it more painful to move. Most times he didn’t sleep, his mind couldn’t stop running through every possibility and his body ached from doing this for so long. His eyes burned with the images of people dying over and over again. He was sick of all of this. 

This loop was different, though.

After he took his photo, barely even glancing up at the camera fully, he walked slowly behind all the other players. His throat was sore– He didn’t think he had the energy to warn them. He didn’t know how much more he could handle. Something had set off alarm bells in his head as he felt the presence of someone joining him at the end of the line, presumably a guard urging him to hurry up.

If they pulled a gun on him, he didn’t think he could convince himself to care. He already knew the feeling of being shot, and sometimes if he closed his eyes for too long he could still feel the blood pooling around him. 

Even if he did die soon, he didn’t think it would stop the rinse and repeat process he’s been dragged into. He didn't think–

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, are you alright?” 

It was Young-il behind him, dressed in his teal tracksuit with his number proudly displayed on his chest. But that wasn’t possible. In every round he was put through this, Young-il was never in the first game. 

Gihun stared blankly, not quite processing what was happening.

“What are you doing here?” He said without thinking.

He had that expression he often held, one of naivety that came with the mask of innocence he wore easily. “Well, that’s a complicated question. I mean, we’re all here for our own reasons. What's yours?”

The mask he wears– no matter if it's as the frontman or Young-il– now was ineffective on Gihun. He saw that expression in his eyes, one secretly holding amusement. As if this entire situation was a joke.

Gihun bit back a reply, trying hard not to snap like earlier. He turned around and kept walking, ignoring how long the pink guard had let them talk for, as now the rest of the players were far ahead. It didn’t matter anyway, they were all going to die. Isn’t this what the frontman wanted anyway?

“I’m sorry if I offended you, I just couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong.” Young-il talked and continued to follow behind him, trying to stay close despite them being the only ones here. 

There was no need to pretend like he cared. 

“You don’t have to keep up the act, you know.” Gihun’s voice was weak even to his own ears, and Young-il tilted his head in question.

It might make this time less bearable if he pretended that he didn’t know he was the one behind it all, but he couldn’t act like this wasn’t tearing him up inside.

Young-il was good at covering his tracks, his facial expressions never gave away what he was thinking when Gihun glanced back at him while walking. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, heavy and tired. “I know it's you, I don’t care anymore. You win.” 

Young-il didn’t seem to answer as they began walking again. He knew the guards would’ve shoved them along if they were normal players, but neither had a fair advantage in the games– they were the only two who knew what was about to happen. 

Despite his depleted attitude, he felt weary of the fact that he was here early in this loop. He vowed to ignore him during the game, otherwise his plan was futile.

It was the same sand, the same set of voices perking up around him talking about the doll across the field, and Gihun hung in the back leaning against the wall to avoid Jungbae from seeing him– He just couldn’t find it in him to face him.

Young-il stayed close, his gaze never straying far from Gihun, and in return he stared straight ahead. The concern in his eyes was noticeable, but it didn’t ease his defeated anger.

The doll whirred, the crowd went silent, and she called out ‘ Green Light. ’

Shoes scuffling over sand, Young-il didn’t move. Neither did Gihun.

‘Red Light.’

No one moved, no one warned them what was happening. Gihun’s eyes were unfocused on everyone in front of him. They waited, together.

‘Green Light.’

“We should get going if we want to make it in time.” Young-il spoke almost softly, and Gihun would have laughed if he could find the energy to. 

He didn’t move. “Go ahead, then.” 

With reluctance in his steps, Young-il moved forwards but stopped when he saw Gihun still standing there. 

“Well, are you coming?” He raised his eyebrow as the doll whirred around, his focus remained on Gihun. Neither of them moved or spoke due to the doll scanning the crowd. No one died. 

‘Green Light.’

Young-il reached his hand out as an offering and he slapped it away, brushing past him. He didn’t seem deterred by it, just relieved that the other man was finally walking, albeit at a slow pace. Gihun was a few steps ahead as he walked sluggishly, not caring if he fell. Soon, the gunshots would ring through and everyone would run, and it was Gihun’s fault for not trying harder.

His plan was to keep walking, even when the doll called out to stop.

If he was the first to go, it would be fine by him. It’s what he preferred, that way he didn’t have to stomach the sight of anymore bloodshed and bodies. 

Young-il remained glued to his side, and the doll called out ‘Red Light.’

Gihun tried to keep walking but before he could think twice, he stumbled as the doll was almost fully facing the players, and for a brief second he hoped they’d shoot him in the heart so he didn’t have to suffer– he was so tired of suffering every game, every loop, it didn’t matter anymore. 

As he felt himself fall forwards, he felt hands grab at him on his waist, wrapping around them and trapping him in their hold. 

In hindsight, he should’ve known. 

Young-il stood behind him, one leg in between both of his as he held him up with one arm to avoid being detected. Of course this asshole had to save him. 

It brings back a distant memory from three years ago when he met Ali for the first time, but the contrast makes his skin crawl– Ali was kind, and Young-il is a killer. If he wasn’t locked into this position like a ragdoll with their fate in the other man's hands, he would push him away and bark at him to never lay his hands on him again, but he remained still, both silent. 

Soon, like he predicted, gunfire filled the air a few feet in front of them as people ran and panicked. He didn’t warn them this time. He was hoping he wouldn’t make it this far, but the stubborn man behind him still had his arm around his waist, holding him up. 

People ran towards the doors, bullets flying from where the snipers hid above them. There were screams of terror filling the air. Minutes ticked by as they were frozen in this position. 

Young-il never flinched. Neither did Gihun. 

When the doll's head whirled around with its mechanical sound, repeating ‘ Green Light’ once again, he shoved Young-il away after his arm slid out from his waist as he got back on his feet.

“I don’t need your help.” He gritted out between bared teeth, stepping around him and advancing forwards, walking at his own pace as if the timer wasn’t counting down.

Young-il almost smiled, as if teasing him, and Gihun wanted nothing more than to punch him in that stupid jaw of his. “I think you do, otherwise you’d be dead.”

“We’re all going to die anyway, look around you.” 

They had to go around bodies to keep walking, but he didn't catch sight of Jungbae’s thankfully. He just feels so angry– Why wouldn’t Young-il just let him die?

Young-il’s voice was farther behind him than before, but still close enough so no one else could hear them. “Was that on purpose?”

The doll’s voice filled the silence as Gihun stopped walking. He waited, he could do it now while he’s out of arm's length from the other man, but there was something else holding him back from that thought. Fuck– He was just so tired of this. 

A few people’s bodies crumpled on the floor as the doll detected movement, there was no rush of panic or running towards the exit from anyone in the crowd. Four more died that round.

‘Green light.’

“It shouldn’t matter– Especially to you, out of all people.” He tried walking more to the side, away from the other man as far as he could during this round, but he felt his footsteps follow quickly behind. They weren’t too far from the finish line, but time was running out.

It took Young-il a moment to answer– “It matters to me the most.”

Gihun almost stopped, but the doll was still facing the tree, and the seconds were ticking down as players began to run across the finish line. “Why?”

‘Red Light.’

He could feel Young-il standing behind him, less than a meter away and head tilted downwards so as to not get caught by the doll– As if it would detect him in the first place, he built the damn thing. 

For a moment, Gihun thinks he won’t answer. There didn’t seem to be a reason that was valid enough. If Young-il lets him die, it would make the games easier for him. It would make more sense in the grand scheme of things, but this– This was just unfair. 

The voice behind him was quiet, whether it was due to the people around them or because he didn’t want to admit it outloud. 

“Because, I saved you.”

‘Green Light.’

Most players had broken out into a sprint, trying to make it over the finish line as there were thirty seconds quickly ticking down. Gihun didn’t want to move– It felt like he was swept up by a wave, feeling the cold water rush over him and drown him completely. Nothing about Young-il made sense anymore. 

He felt a hand grip his wrist in a tightening hold and drag him, he almost tripped at the speed and shock of it all– Young-il was dragging him to the finish line as Gihun stumbled to keep up.

Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…

Most players had made it over the line already, but they were still a good distance behind. The doll's head whipped around right as Young-ill stopped running, causing Gihun to bump into him.

For a split second, he thought he’d just doomed them by not slowing down, but Young-il was facing straight ahead and still standing despite Gihun’s lanky body bumping into him. Gihun’s hand reached out to grab onto his shoulder, anchoring him there.

The doll scanned them before turning around, calling out ‘ Green Light ’ one last time as Young-il reached around to grab his hand, tugging him forwards until they passed the finish line.

They fell forwards, barely catching themselves as he heaved for air. His ribs hurt, and everytime the sound of a bullet meeting bone happened in the silent arena, he wanted to grip his sides. There were no injuries he sustained this round, but the faint memory caused him to shudder at the reminder. 

He was supposed to get shot within the first round or two– That was his plan, his punishment.

Gihun straightened out his back, finally standing upwards. He didn’t bother glancing behind him, checking how many were lost. The number was too many to count. 

His eyes remained glued to the ground, not bothering to look over at the man in front of him. He knew Young-il was watching him, waiting for him to break. A part of Gihun was already broken, and there was no fixing this situation.

How many times would he have to relive this?

How many times could he die until it was for good?

“We should go back, the others are all leaving.” Young-il’s soft voice broke through, trying to move his head so they could make eye contact. 

Gihun just walked off again, letting the shorter man trail behind him. It was going to be a long night.

• ▲■ ●▲■

The hallways were winding, and the stairs seemed extraordinarily steep to wander down. Everything in his body felt heavy and made of stone as he forced his legs to keep going forward. He knew Jungbae was farther ahead in the line, and he tried his best to slouch his shoulders so he wouldn’t be seen within the crowd. 

Young-il was still walking behind him, leaving a gap between them as Gihun was slow to keep going, body sluggish and tired.

His voice sounded rehearsed, like he’s used to practicing the words that leave his mouth. “I’d like to team up with you, if that's okay.”

Gihun just wanted this loop to end.

“I don’t need your help, and I don’t want you to try and save me– You’re not a hero, Young-il.” His voice wasn’t even coming across as harsh despite his efforts.

He didn’t bother stopping or turning around– They were already lagging behind everyone else.

“You’re not trying to be one either, Gihun.”

Young-il’s voice didn’t hold any bite, but it still stung the same. Was this the first time he was saying his name? Did he know what was happening?

He finally turned around, eyes wide. Young-il stopped, still standing two steps above them as he finally held an advantage in height against him. “Was that too cruel, Player 456?”

“You called me my name .”

Young-il paused, seeming to notice his mistake. “Ah– I see. That’s what this is about? I thought you had it all figured out.”

“Do you know what's happening? Why am I stuck here?”

“From what I recall, you rejoined the games of your own free will. I’m just confused as to how you caught onto me so fast and why you didn’t even try playing the hero. Are you finally ready to admit I was right? That the world can’t change?” 

Gihun paused. He couldn’t tell if this was it or not. The first time he confronted Young-il after his betrayal, he played dumb. It could be the fact that they’re alone, all other players had reached the dorms and they were paused in the middle of the stairwell as guards watched from a distance– No one made a move to stop them.

He still couldn’t read Young-il after all this time, but that was probably both of their intentions. Gihun didn’t want to read into him too much, almost scared of what he’d find. Young-il didn’t want to be read, otherwise his cover would be blown.

 But was this something he did to mess with his mind, or was it all Gihuns own imagination?

Was he truly alone during this?

Young-il’s eyes darted, looking all over his face as he waited patiently. 

Finally, Gihun found the words he was looking for.

“This is the first time you joined early.” 

Young-il cocked his head. “What are you getting at?”

Gihun shook his head and kept walking. “All the other times we’ve done this, you joined during the first vote– No earlier or later. What has changed now?”

“What do you mean other times?” Young-il stopped walking after the first few steps, forcing Gihun to turn and face him once again– his eyes flashed with something before hiding it with a blank expression once again. Gihun didn’t have time to determine what it meant.

“You know, last time? Mingle? The race?” He tried urging the man to admit that he knew, that he remembered what happened, how Gihun and his friends died twice before ending up in this time loop.

“Who told you?” Young-il looked displeased as his jaw clenched and mouth formed into a straight line.

“No one, I just– Nevermind, I’m going crazy.”

Thankfully, despite the tension remaining in Young-il’s shoulders, he dropped the subject. Gihun was truly, deeply, alone.

• ▲■

The same events occurred:

The voting went nowhere. Jungbae found him, hugged him, and tried making him eat dinner– Gihun refused. Young-il fought the two teenagers, influencing Junhee to join their group for the race. He didn’t bother warning people about the games, not even his teammates. Young-il’s eyes felt warm on his side as the time passed, eventually finding themselves at the wake of dawn for the next games. 

Gihun didn’t sleep that night, neither did Young-il. They stayed far away from each other.

Player 100 didn’t have any information about Dalgona, but he still tried arguing with Gihun for something so miniscule he couldn’t even recall what it was– It seems in every timeline, he couldn’t appease the man even with his silence.

Young-il still defended him.

This was the first time they played together since before the revolution– It felt wrong being shackled to him. At first he considered complaining about the height difference, mostly to bother the other man and get interlocked with someone else, but in the end they had to be put together– It was in order, much to Gihun’s dismay. 

Junhee got ddakji on her first try. Gihun’s arms burned to be around Young-il’s, the contact making him feel nauseous after all the memories of him killing Jungbae and turning against them during the revolution. 

They walked forward, marching with their own chant in unison. 

Jungbae got flying stone on his first try. Here, Young-il was cheering for them again after each win, swaying between Daeho and Gihun with each step, being almost dragged along between the two of them with their long strides. Yet, he kept smiling. Was he faking this too?

Daeho got gonggi on his first try. As his hands flew with ease over the board, with skill and determination, Gihun watched in awe even after all these times of witnessing it. 

This time, he was acutely aware of Young-il leaning into his personal space, stealing the warmth from within him as they were practically squatting in an entanglement of their arms and legs. He couldn’t tell where one of them began and one of them ended. 

The longer Daeho played for, even each second that passed by, he felt the unmistakable feeling of Young-il leaning into him further, eyes focused on the younger man beside him.

It was unmistakable, the way he gripped onto Gihun’s shoulder blade as they walked.

It was going to be his turn for spinning top when he got the idea.

As Young-il was about to twist the rope around the bottom piece, he placed a hand on his chest without thinking twice.

“Take you time, okay? It’s okay if you don’t get it the first try, don’t rush it Young-il.” Gihun said in the calmest voice he could manage as the other man looked up at him, face unreadable as he paused his motions.

Then, he switched his hands.

Young-il was left handed.

It should’ve made sense, the way he held a gun when Gihun lost. The way he always reached for things with that hand first, instinctively. He should’ve caught onto that in his first round, but that was before he knew the chances of him waking up again were high. 

Before he could dwell on it further, he got it first try easily. Gihun’s hand ached to release his hold on Young-il’s bicep, but he knew it was the only way they could comfortably walk forward.

They had time– So much time left, now that Young-il wasn’t purposefully stalling.

Gihun’s hands were more hesitant to reach for jegi, and he knew he shouldn’t have been nervous given their circumstances, but the memories of his first loop were still haunting him.

Jungbae’s voice perked up from the other end of their line. “You got this, Gihun!”

When he turned to glance at them past Young-il, he saw all of them with a hopeful look in their eyes, cheering him on. 

Daeho spoke up too, throwing a fist up before leaning more towards Young-il. “Yeah, you can do this!”

Gihun shook his nerves away before throwing it up in the air and lifting his ankle up, managing to ricochet it back into the air before it fell far away after the fourth hit, similarly to his first time.

Before he could think twice, Young-il dragged his other foot that was connected to them, and they managed to hit it. They had passed– Together.

• ▲■

There were still variable’s Gihun didn’t understand about his situation.

He thinks that he was given these chances to try and save Jungbae, but if they survive after Mingle, do they continue to play the games? Should he even bother trying to plan a revolution when Young-il was going to turn against them anyway.

All these thoughts were hurting his head, although maybe it was just the lights.

There were still so many unanswered questions– Was there a limit to how many times he could go through this? Gihun was already growing tired, he felt exhausted even after the first loop. 

None of this made sense anymore.

Gihun knew a few things for sure;

1. He had to save Jungbae, even if it killed him. Jungbae needed to live, and he already failed enough times at that.
2. He couldn’t trust Young-il as blindly as he did last time. Not again, not ever. He would keep the man at arms length the whole time until he found a way out of this.

• ▲■

With the adrenaline coursing through Gihun’s body, he guided his teammates with the reluctant help he accepted from Young-il and they all managed to survive.

Young-mi died, just like the first time. Gihun’s team was inseparable, and when the announcer shouted out for three players, they found Geum-ja and carried her into a room.

This was the farthest Gihun’s made it so far. He hated that it was because Young-il kept him from falling in red light green light. 

There was supposed to be another vote before the fight. In every meal handed out to the players laid a fork, and Gihun instructed everyone to hide under the mattresses when the lights went out. He knew it was a cowardly move, and he wanted to save as many people as they could, but the people who voted to stay outweighed their team by at least a dozen– Even with ex marines and the frontman on his team, Gihun knew they wouldn’t stand a chance. 

If enough people on the other side fought each other, they might have a more equal chance.

Gihun felt sick to his stomach, but there was no way he could feasibly plan a revolution with Young-il overhearing and killing Jungbae. He knew they wouldn’t be able to win in a fight against the other players as violence clouded their minds.

He knew that no matter what happened, he would either die a coward or wake up again, given the chance to redo it all. Next loop, he promised he would try harder. He would plan better– He wouldn’t give up so easily.

The lights went out as his team cowered beneath the beds, and they waited.

He saw Young-il giving him a look out of the corner of his eye. Gihun didn’t have it in himself to even glance in his direction– It was too much to bear.

A terrified scream echoed from one of the top bunks, and the bloodbath began.

Daeho and Jungbae were in the bunks beside Gihun and Junhee, they all covered their ears with their hands. Young–il was on Gihun’s otherside, and as the lights began flashing wildly, he saw the man turn his gaze towards him, watching.

Ghun was a coward, never a hero. 

A shrill and abrupt yell came from above them as the thumps of shoes scrambling on the metal platform was quickly followed by the clear noise of someone choking. 

Before he could register what was happening, someone was grabbing him and pulling him from underneath the bunks, his ankles held on with a tight hold as he rolled onto his back, looking up at a player from the circle team with eyes devoid of emotion beyond excessive rage.

The man above him leaned over, fork in hand ready to plunge it into his eye as Gihun grabbed his neck in one hand, holding back his hand with the other Gihun’s legs were struggling beneath him, grasping at the floor for leverage before he maneuvered it into kicking the player in the stomach with brutal force, launching him backwards causing him to land on his back.

He sat up before watching the player stand quickly, getting ready to lung again before someone came between them.

Young-il’s hand reached up in an attempt to grab at the weapon, but before he could make a move to dismantle it from the other player, he plunged it into his hand with a sickening crunch . Without thinking, he pulled it out and stepped forward with haste, stabbing it into the players stomach multiple times before he slouched over in agony.

The visceral crack that came when Young-il’s fist met the other man's jaw made Gihun flinch back, staring at the unmoving body that fell to the ground in front of them, eyes wide and unmoving. 

Young-il just killed someone for Gihun. 

He should feel guilt, but all he could focus on was finding the rest of his team. As Young-il reached his non bloodied hand out to help him up, without an ounce of reluctance, Gihun reached up and grabbed him, letting the man lift until he was back on his feet.

“Gihun, look–” Young-il motioned to the other side of the bunks they were next to where he saw Jungbae and Daeho fighting a large group of other players. Daeho managed to grab a piece of metal from the nearby beds that fell in disarray, weiling it around to create space between the other players and them.

Gihun ran over, not caring if the other man was following as he grabbed one of the men nearby and tried taking the weapon out of his hand.

He was thrown back, disoriented and pinned down as the man covered his body with his own, hands reaching up to his neck. Gihun’s feet kicked out uselessly underneath him, unable to even bend them enough for leverage.

He heard Daeho’s pipe make a sickening crunch with another player's skull before he was jumped, Jungbae’s shouts were muffled by him getting tackled before Young-il stepped in, trying to rip their attackers off of them. 

No one saw Gihun’s neck trapped in a tightening hold.

Black dots filled his vision as he frantically looked around for any solution, but the man atop of him was too strong as he panted heavily, tightening his grip around his neck.

It was too much– Gihun couldn’t even gasp for air.

This was the first time he could see Young-il’s face right before he died, and it was unexpected to witness the pure terror– perhaps rage that was etched on his face. There was shouting from his teammates before the sounds muffled into a heavy static, and he couldn’t even hear the sounds of Jungbae screaming his name.

Chapter Text

LOOP 4

He didn’t wake peacefully this time. 

Gihun sat up, gasping for air. There was no slow rousing out of his short sleep, if that's even what he could call it– He definitely did not feel well rested. His hands were grasping around his neck, still attempting to claw the man off him when he eventually realizes that he can breathe, albeit shallow in the midst of his panic.

The loop restarted again.

He died, again.

His body moved before his brain could process it. Blankets fell off him, feet climbing down the bunk stairs.

The shaman woman crept up to him and he was getting more irritated at her antics. “I sense you’re holding on to many things. You can’t leave or stay. You can’t fight it. It’s your destiny. You have souls hovering over your head who are lingering in this world. You’re not here of your own will. Those vengeful souls brought you–”

Gihun didn’t bother arguing, he shoved past her bumping their shoulders in displeasure, ignoring the aghast scoff she let out, probably cursing him underneath her breath.  

His fate seemed to be cursed anyways, but he shook off that thought– It was another chance. He had to save everybody this time, he needed to.

Young-il wasn’t here again, so it all went back to normal. The tightness around his neck didn’t seem to go away, though. Neither did the pain in his ribs or the phantom pain of bullets in his back– There was no trace of blood or scars, but it felt so real. Gihun knew what it felt like to die, more than he could recall ever truly living.

The same motions occurred: The money, the arguing, the confusion among players. This time would be different , he vowed. He sought out Jungbae, walking through the tight crowd of players while they were all distracted with the masked men speaking over them.

“Jungebae, listen–”

“Gihun! Fuck, you were alive this whole time? What–”

“You need to listen to me. Don’t say anything, don’t ask any questions, just listen. Got it?”

Jungbae nodded, mouth agape as he fought the urge to speak again.

“I know what all of the games are, the last few years I was missing were spent here. It sounds insane, because it is, but you must believe me. There’s only one way to play the games, and it can only happen if there’s one survivor. One winner.” Gihun’s stern voice cut off any thoughts Jungbae had to object, and he was lucky that no players around them noticed what they were talking about as the familiar sound of the piggy bank being lowered captured the eyes of everyone but the two of them.

Jungbae tried looking up, but Gihun placed his hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly to bring his attention back on the matter at hand. “Everyone who signs up for the games will die one by one. The first game is red light green light, and I need you to tell everyone. Tell them to take it seriously– We need everyone to live the first round, got it?” 

Jungbae was silent for a minute as he processed, mouth agape in surprise. Gihun knew he was coming on strong, and he sounded erratic, but this was his only idea. This could be the only way to end the loop– With everyone surviving.

“Well, what if they don’t believe me?” Jungbae asked.

“Make them believe you.”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but the players around them began forming lines to sign the consent form. Gihun could try to convince people to not give their signatures, but the chances were slim. Instead, he would stick to his plan with Jungbae’s help. 

Gihun had less luck persuading people. Years ago, back when he was called a gambler before being referred to as a father or husband, he was good at spouting bullshit on the spot. He’d done it for most of his life to get out of tricky situations with loan sharks. For a long time it worked, but the past three years he’d been isolated from everybody. He felt a little awkward talking to people, but he pushed through because there was one thing he could express easily without any disbelief, and it was sincerity.

Jungbae ran around, spreading the word and asking everyone to spread the word. 

‘We need to go in lines from tallest to shortest! If we all make it through this round, we’ll all get more money.’

‘The first game is just the test, they’ll reveal the real prize money once we all pass.’

‘No one can move, they have motion sensors. If they catch you, they’ll snitch on you to the cops!’

Gihun could nearly roll his eyes at Jungbae’s antics, but it didn’t matter– They’d make it past the first round together, and he’d find another way to convince everybody to leave, or stick together. 

If the guards were catching on, no one said anything. Gihun knew the real threat was the frontman finding out, but the microphones and cameras would pick up the players talking amongst themselves as a collective rather than separated into small groups as usual. It didn’t matter as of right now, all they could focus on was approaching all the players and convincing them to take it seriously, even if it was a lie.

It had to work.

• ▲■

The game went off without a hitch as Gihun shouted out orders, less intimidating than the last few times. He remained calm, instructing them to fall into lines. It was hard, but they did it–

Everyone survived.

Gihun couldn’t believe it.

All the lies they spread around felt like salt stuck in his mouth, lingering on his tongue with guilt for misleading everybody so heavily, but he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself.

He knew that the only way to save everybody was blinding them from the truth. It weighed heavy in his chest, knowing that they would soon find out the real truth of the games, but for a glistening moment none of that mattered, because everyone survived the first game.

Within a few hours, that pride would dissipate, but for now he felt like he finally won.

However, no one begged to leave. There were no tears shed, just a twinge of anger as they realized they’d have to keep playing to earn more money. Gihun knew there was no way to make them vote to leave with the promise of payment or the justification of leaving with their lives. Instead, they were fed dinner as they waited for the next games to begin.

The lines for food were long as players were packed into the dorms like sardines. Gihun didn’t catch sight of Young-il. 

It was almost his turn in line when his eyes caught onto something out of the ordinary– something he never seemed to notice before.

Three pink guards were standing by one of the entrances, huddled together in an attempt to hide their conversation, but Gihun could only hear a few stray sentences as he grabbed his food slowly and walked by, taking his time pretending to look for a place to sit.

Luckily they were too engrossed with their talk to notice him eavesdropping.

“The rooms not built yet, we had to do some last minute construction–”

Another pink guard cut him off. “It’s what the boss wanted, we have to follow orders from him.”

“What did the manager say?” The third one piped up, glancing between the others as he kept an eye on the other two that were stationed at the food tables.

“Nothing, that's the problem. No one will speak up–”

Gihun couldn’t linger for much longer, otherwise they’d notice him. He picked up the pace with his walk, finding Jungbae in the crowd. Daeho and him were talking about something loudly while eating.

He came back, plopping down off to the side alone– It was weird not having Young-il join the games yet, but maybe it was a good thing.

He needed to stay as far away as possible for Gihun’s plan to work, he just hoped the players outside of his own team wouldn’t turn against him beforehand. 

After this meal, they would go around warning players of the next game, explaining how it worked. They’d be more hesitant to believe them this time, but word spread quickly once the simple word money was involved. Greed powered everyone like gas in a car, and Gihun was lucky enough to have his best friend helping him, even with his disbelief evident– he tried to trust Gihun despite it all. 

That was the one thing he could rely on.

Jungbae would always stick by his side through all of it.

• ▲■

“You’re sure it's a pentathlon?” Daeho wandered behind Jungbae, holding onto the smaller man's shoulders as he peeked up at Gihun.

“Yes, I’m sure. We have to make sure to stay calm, that's the key to winning. There's lots of teams so we might have to go in sections, the room isn’t too big…” Gihun was trailing off, trying to recall how many players there were the last few times.

There’d never been this many, so food was already spread thin and the staff seemed to be outnumbered as they passed through the hallways. Getting to the room was slower this time, the winding corners and long lines had slowed them down significantly. 

Jungbae seemed to hesitate for a moment before Daeho urged him on. “Gihun, we believe you, it’s just that– Well, the other players…”

They paused, continuing to walk forwards as Gihun was shooting questioning glances back at them. “What are you getting at?”

“They seem, frustrated, that you lied about the prize money. I don’t know if anyone will want to side with us.”

Gihun stopped in his tracks. “What?”

“Well– You lied about the prize money going up after the first game, if anything it went down so– we just overheard some people saying they wouldn’t be taking your word seriously in this game.” Daeho explained nervously.

Shit. They were right.

“We’ll figure it out– All that matters is that we make it out of here, with everyone.”

The other two fell silent as the tension in Gihun’s shoulders worsened. It would be fine– They warned everyone of the next games to the best of their ability. It would all work out.

Except for the fact that the two large metal doors standing in front of him weren't familiar, at least not for the race. There were too many people in front of him to find out, but as the line moved forwards the sound of gasps and mumbled conversations had momentarily distracted Gihun, but as he turned the corner, he stopped in place.

It was mingle.

He’s fucked.

Player 100 found him out in the crowd. 

“This isn’t what you warned us about! You lied about the prize money, now this? Are you trying to get us all killed?”

Gihun froze, dozens of people looking at him with such disdain and hatred evident on their faces and there were no words he could offer that would fix this. He would’ve never thought that they’d change the games so quickly– They never did it any other time. 

“Are you going to say something? You owe us an apology!” Another player shouted.

Gihun was naive enough to assume that nothing would change if he saved everybody. 

This was all his fault, all these people were going to die, and–

“None of us would have survived if it wasn’t for him, so let's remember to be grateful, right? Thanks to him, we’re all still alive.” Young-il’s words cut like a knife as Player 100 successfully backed off. 

He couldn’t stand it, so he made eye contact with Jungbae and Daeho and he motioned for them to keep moving towards the platform, ignoring Young-il.

They found a gap in the crowd and pushed through, but the room didn’t seem built for this many players. There were so many people that most couldn’t fit comfortably on the platform. Everyone was so crowded together, bumping elbows and almost falling into each other once everything started moving.

There weren’t enough rooms for everyone, either.

He chose this game to replace the race so more people died. 

“Six!”

All he could hear was screaming.

They all ran into a room, bodies bumping into each other as they held onto their teammates tightly before running into a room, having to pry the door closed. Gihun whipped around, counting them all, when his eyes caught onto Young-il leaning against the far wall next to Jungbae, watching Gihun panic. 

The remnants of a smirk laid on the corner of his mouth as he fought against it, eyes full of fire and Gihun’s were full of fear. They had six players, though. They survived.

Gunshots filled the air, muffled as they could hear players on the other side of the wall talking loudly– Some were laughing as the adrenaline coursed through them after the run, others were praying, and there were more than a few cries being heard from the other rooms. 

Gihun let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair nervously– How did they change the games so fast? They’d never even done that when he told his plan outright to Young-il. 

This was all wrong.

It was drastically different from every other game. 

155 people died in his first loop.

Now, it was 150 in this round alone. The endless gunfire blasted through the air, neverending. The screaming, the pleading– It went on for so long, stretching through as the minutes passed, boarding on for ten, maybe even fifteen to get rid of them all– The stench of iron filled the air, as Gihun’s chest heaved up and down.

Daeho was crying loudly as Jungbae stood, shocked. A kind of silence that was unfamiliar. 

Young-il stood behind Gihun, gaze fixated as his eyes stretched all over him. Gihun felt the burn of his attention wilt under him, but he couldn’t be bothered to fight the man. He couldn’t curse him out or reveal his intentions– It never got him anywhere, and Gihun was too blinded by the pain in his chest flaring up, causing him to topple over onto his knees and gasp for air. 

It felt like he was getting choked again, or stabbed, or shot—

Young-il watched with hunger in his chest as Gihun was curled into himself, grabbing at the ends of his hair with desperation and pulling . The pain made him cry more, sobs now falling freely from his mouth. What had he done?

Soon, the doors unlocked. 

The next round began while the players stood, shaking and silent.

“Four!”

Daeho grabbed his arm while Young-il grabbed Jungbae, running towards a room with a green door before switching directions once they saw another group run in. 

“Oh, shit !” Daeho shouted as he slipped on blood, falling before Gihun grabbed him and dragged him to keep running. 

There was so much blood coating the floors.

If Gihun’s math was right, there would be around sixty players this round without a room, and it was close to being them if they didn’t hurry.

Young-il shouted from behind them, beconing them to follow his lead as he found a door swung open with three players inside.

“Get out!” He barked out as Gihun, Jungbae, and Daeho leaned against the door.

The three trembled, cowering behind each other in the corner of the room. “We were here first!”

“You have to leave, now.” Young-il pushed towards them, all but shoving them out the door. The worst part of it was how they barely fought back, already knowing what was going to happen. 

Daeho looked as if he was going to pass out, and Gihun wouldn’t blame him– he felt the same way.

They leaned against the door until it locked, temporarily feeling relief before the sickening sound of bodies falling became louder than their breath.

• ▲■

The meals that night had been scarce, even with the majority of players gone. Everyone was tired and anxious, the tension in the air was thick with impatience. Gihun sat faced away from Jungbae and Daeho, both hadn’t spoken since the game ended. He couldn’t eat. He didn’t deserve to after deceiving everyone. His own stupidity had led to so many people dying, and he kicked himself for being proud of saving them after the first round. 

Gihun should’ve known that the frontman was going to find a more brutal way to kill them all, he was a monster.

He turned around, handing his food to Daeho who still wasn’t moving.

Jungbae muttered a quiet thanks as he took it for the boy, placing it between them and reaching up to cusp his hand over his shoulder. Gihun may understand the pain of the games, but he couldn’t understand the pain of being a marine, so he left the two of them alone.

There was nowhere to walk where he would be met with friendly faces, so he walked to the upper bunks before his eyes caught on to a group of men leaving, presumably to go to the bathrooms before the lights went out for the night.

Within that group was Young-il, who never dared to glance in his direction.

Gihun turned to follow.

The bathroom was full as the last of the players lined up had entered, the door shutting behind him as Gihun heard the faint click of a lock behind him.

They were given gimbap earlier. Gihun saw the light reflecting off something metal being held in one of the players hands.

When he looked up, trying to find Young-il, a few players were already bickering in the middle of the room. He pushed through the side of the crowd, right beside the stalls before he caught Young-il’s eyes as he was about to push into one. Gihun caught up to him before shoving him backwards into the stall and closing the door behind them, trapping the other man in with him.

He shoved Young-il into the wall, hard, while he confronted him. “Why’d you do it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Young-il seemed confused, almost offended at the attack.

“Yes, you do– You changed the game last minute after everyone survived the first round! You’re a coward, trying to hide in here while they fight each other to death.” Gihun pushed forward, trying to ignore the shouts that were coming from outside the stall as they grew louder with volume while the players argued. 

“I wasn’t trying to hide, I was waiting.” Young-il’s expression was vacant.

Gihun sneered. “What for?”

At that, the corner of Young-il’s mouth tilted upwards, smiling. “For you.”

Gihun froze as the man kept talking in a low tone, dropping the false pretences of his innocent persona. The sounds of fighting grew louder, but no one from outside this moment between the two of them knew what was going on in the stall beside them. They were oblivious, and Gihun was too– he couldn’t figure out what Young-il had planned for him.

He swallowed loudly as the man stepped forward, causing him to step backwards into the wall, crowding him.

“I will admit, you caught on faster than I thought, so who told you about the games early? We try very hard to preserve the integrity of the games, ensuring that it's equal to all players. So, I’ll ask you this once– Who told you about the games? ”

All the breath Gihun had left him, and the guttural screaming from the rest of the bathroom had begun as there was a loud slam across the room, most likely from a body being thrown. He felt more fear being trapped in here than out there.

“No one.” Gihun muttered, pushing himself further into the wall to try and create space.

He saw the way Young-il fought, he knew the brutality held within the frontman, and he knew he didn’t stand a chance in outpouring him. Besides, he was bound to learn something from this– even as he shook with a mixture of fear and anticipation. There was anger in Young-il’s eyes while someone was fighting on the other side of the stall door, and yet he paid no attention to it.

“ You’re lying .” 

Gihun almost had the audacity to laugh, words falling out and hitting Young-il like venom in a snake bite. “You’re predictable. I didn’t need anyone from the inside to tell me what games you picked out because you’re like a dog, falling for the same trick every time.”

Young-il’s gaze flickered from Gihun’s eyes, trailing over his face in haste trying to read into him. It burned. 

“Then you should’ve known that I would change the games early, unless you were too blinded by your own pride to admit it. From the way I see it, you’re just as bad as me.”

Gihun’s jaw clenched, hands balling into fists beside him. “I’m nothing like you.”

“Really? Hm, I beg to differ.”

There was a banging on their stall door, now intentional as someone on the other side was trying to break it down. 

The lock was about to break off when Young-il opened the door. Whoever was knocking stumbled in slightly before he pushed them back and closed the door behind him, shutting Gihun back inside.

What the fuck?

He heard the sound of someone getting hit and grunting before a loud crack erupted on the other side. Gihun pulled open the door, only to see blood everywhere. 

Back before this all started, he never saw the aftermath of the initial bathroom fight, but this?

There was blood spilling over the floor, counter, and even reaching up the walls. People were still fighting a few feet away, not seeming to notice Gihun or Young-il’s presence. He glanced up at Young-il, who stood unbothered, before glancing down and catching sight of a man with his limbs spread out on the floor below them, unmoving.

Gihun looked up, and Young-il was already watching him.

Another player caught onto them, noticing they were presumably missing from the fight due to the lack of blood on their clothes or tousled hair, and advanced towards them. Before he could say anything, Young-il was already moving towards him. 

One of them held a weapon, the other didn’t. 

Someone left the stall beside him, lunging towards him before he backed up, grabbing the man by his shoulders and kicking his legs out from under him, causing him to fall. He tried grabbing a nearby fork and jamming it towards his legs, but Gihun was faster with a swift kick to his wrist as a pained scream erupted from the players throat.

He reached down, grabbing the weapon and throwing it under an empty stall as he straddled his legs and wrapped his hands around his neck. 

There was anger stretched across the other man's face as he tried gripping on Gihun’s jacket, trying to claw and dig his hands into his skin. In the corner of his eye he saw Young-il throwing punches at the other man with precision– None of the other man's swings seemed to hit him. 

Gihun thought back to the last loop, when he let his guard down and got choked out like this– but this was self defense, and a part of him wished to let the man struggling below him go in forgiveness, but he knew that the moment he did, he would be killed instead.

This was his only choice.

His grip tightened as he stopped struggling, face turning purple. Gihun shook at the memory. He kept holding on until he let out a final kick before going still, and he tore himself away like it hurt to have his hands around that man's neck, partially because it did–

He was breathing loudly, fighting for air when Young-il had finally backed away from the other player, weapon in hand as his hands were bloody and beginning to bruise.

The bathroom fell silent as the remaining players bathed in their victory before slowly beginning to shuffle out of the room, the door was now unlocked.

Gihun couldn’t find the energy to move.

Admitting to the fact that, no matter how hard they try, the players will always turn against each other without hesitating makes him feel like Young-il won– That after all this time, years of searching in hopes of ending the games and bringing peace back to that island, letting the whole place burn before the trees got the chance to regrow, soil spreading the tree trunks replacing the bodies they buried– It was impossible. 

The games would always continue, these people would always become selfish rather than saviors. 

Gihun was no better than them. 

• ▲■

Daeho and Jungbae created a fort for all of them that night, sensing what happened when the number of players had gone down. They were still quiet, and Gihun didn’t speak either. Young-il was still following him around as he felt his eyes resting on him constantly. 

Lights went out– There were a few smaller fights, but it ended quickly. Gihun didn’t move from his spot.

In the morning, they held a vote for the first time in this loop. There were less than 100 players, most voted to stay. The numbers were, however, uneven enough to not be able to complete the pentathlon unless Young-il had plans of leaving certain players out of it.

“What game is next, Gihun?” Jungbae spoke up, one of the few times he has since the mingle game.

Gihun knew it was bad when Jungbae, of all people, had grown quiet since yesterday.

“I don’t know. It could be the race, but there’s…” He trailed off, letting the words escape him.

Daeho spoke up nervously. “Less players?”

Gihun nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

• ▲■

They played the race, they won. There was less cheering, less camaraderie. Less excitement to make it through, let alone to see other teams do the same.

All that remained between players past the first two games was anger and distrust, and due to the voting happening so late, there were barely any teams to side with– It was every man for themselves. These people only knew hurt and betrayal, and Gihun knew that feeling better with anyone.

Young-il’s arms still holding onto his, linking them together in a tight hold as they brushed against each other. Gihun only prayed that his earlier words weren’t true.

The game went as usual– The player they had to replace Junhee struggled with ddjaki a few times before succeeding. Jungbae passed flying stone first try. Daeho’s hands knew the way gongi was played better than he knew his own name. Young-il passed the spinning top after a few failed attempts before Gihun gripped the back of his jacket and muttered the words ‘you got this, just stay calm’ even though it felt so wrong to say. Gihun’s foot didn’t miss jegi this time.

There was no cheering, just a calm victory as they waited for the cuffs to be unlocked between them.

A few groups died and Gihun felt numbness to it all. They weren’t served dinner that night, and he never slept even as he felt the world shift around him in a haze of tiredness.

Chapter Text

LOOP 5

His whole body burned, his muscles kept tensing and relaxing every few seconds and he couldn’t shift in any way to get comfortable. It hurt . 

This didn’t feel right.

Even with a foggy memory, he knew he never fell asleep the night before.

The lights were blinding above him, even with his eyes closed it felt so bright. And the sounds – Everyone was walking loudly, feet thumping against metal platforms and chattering loudly, and it felt like a jackhammer banging against his skull. The searing pain shot through his body as he sat up, stumbling down the steps slowly. 

Everyone talked, shouted, argued–

He leaned his weight against a nearby metal pole of the bunk, steadying himself. Gihun didn’t know how long his eyes were closed for.

The loop had restarted.

Even though it didn’t end with him dying, it made him feel worse waking up this way. It was unfair knowing that death brought a slightly more peaceful reset over all else.

Soon, the sounds dissipated as people moved, signing their names and taking their photos. He should be warning them, recruiting Jungbae to warn people– No, not after mingle–

His legs felt like they were underwater as he shuffled towards the doors. There was no memory of signing anything, or getting his picture taken. 

He looked up as the bright sun was shining through the open roof, and the cool and faint breeze brought him back to reality for a moment. His eyes were unfocused as everyone shuffled around as the rules were announced. People were running, and he looked up and he was already running behind.

The doll was turned around while he tried to keep up, but the sand weighed him down. His ears made everything sound like he was underwater as he heard the faint call of ‘red light.’

Thankfully, he stopped in time.

Then the doll turned around again and he continued to trek forwards, still behind everyone else. His foot got temporarily caught as he looked down, and there was an arm sprawled out in his way.

Oh. He missed the initial gunshots.

God, he felt like he was dying. Was this the end? Did he run out of chances?

It felt like his body was finally catching up to the countless times he died, and his legs gave out into the sand below him, hands catching the upper half of his body while his legs struggled to stand.

‘Red Light!’

He stopped, catching shallow breaths before it was time to stand up again.

The finish line was a few feet away, but the time was ticking down slower, and Gihun didn’t know if he would be able to stand up in time.

When the doll's head whirled around again, facing the tree one last time, he felt two people run out beside him, dragging him behind the finish line within the last few seconds. A few shouts were let out around him, but he couldn’t open his eyes.

“Sir, are you alright?” A soft voice came from beside him, the one who was still anchoring him up, and when he opened his eyes he found Player 120– Hyun-ju, holding onto him.

He couldn’t nod or shake his head. He couldn’t really move at all.

It was quieter than before, a little bit of shade seemed to pass over as the brightness wasn’t hitting his eyelids with harsh light anymore. A hand was brought over to cup his forehead before he felt his body tense up one last time right before he slipped into unconsciousness. 

• ▲■

Gihun was laying on his back, and he was being moved somewhere, but the rest seemed uncertain. His eyes felt glued shut as he couldn’t lift a hand to wipe the tiredness out of them.

It was quiet beyond the sound of shoes tapping against a concrete floor and the wheels of a cart squeaking. He felt the cold taking over his body again, causing him to shake constantly.

The next time he felt awake, he was in a white room with the lights dimmed. He heard voices coming from above him, indistinguishable as to who it was.

There was frantic shuffling, like someone was opening and closing drawers on the other side of the room.

“Sir, with all due respect, I’m only a surgeon–”

“I don’t care, fix him.” A deep voice cut him off.

Gihun tried lifting his arms to rest over his stomach, but he didn’t feel himself moving. Everything ached, even within him, like there were still bullets stuck in his chest that his skin had healed around, trapping it within him. 

“We don’t have the right materials, and his fever is too high. If we wait to get a shipment of medicine he might not make it–”

The deeper voice spoke up again, closer to his bedside as he nearly flinched at the tone. “Get out.”

The surgeon paused.” Sir, I–”

“Get out, that's an order.” 

There was more movement around the room before a large metal closed with a thud. Gihun’s eyes squeezed shut.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe again, the phantom feeling of hands around his neck jolted him up. 

A voice spoke up again but it fell on deaf ears as he clawed at his neck, nearly drawing blood as he writhed around trying to escape. He couldn’t breathe. It felt like he was still trapped, and perhaps he still way within the games, and there were tears falling freely down his face as he honest to god whimpered in fear–

“Enough– Don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself.” 

“It already hurts!” He pleaded.

His insides were burning up while his skin felt too cold to touch as he tried grabbing at the hands by his neck, although there was nothing there, but he swore he could still feel it–

“I’m handcuffing you to the bed until you calm down.” The man spoke again, walking away for a moment before coming back and holding Gihun’s wrists. He had outworn himself to the point of exhaustion again, his body was weakly twitching as the fever took over him again.

“Not fighting me, what a surprise. I would’ve thought you wanted to kill me by now.” This time, he sounded more familiar.

Filtered voice, sharp words, teasing. He knew who it was.

Gihun finally found it in himself to open his eyes again, glancing back up in the dimly lit room to see a familiar grey cloak and black mask, stark against the white walls behind him.

“It’s you.” His voice wasn’t accusatory, or degrading– It came out softer than intended.

There was no answer while his wrists were being held tightly, despite his lack of a struggle, and handcuffed to the sides of the bed. 

Young-il sounded more stern this time. “I’m taking you out of the games, you’re not fit to play. You knew that before joining, didn’t you?”

Gihun shook his head.

“Something changed. What is it, hero? Did you finally come to the realization that I was right about humanity? I didn’t think you would give up so easily.”

The room was spinning around him in a blurry haze, and he couldn’t gather his thoughts enough. Everything burned within him, and if he had to keep reliving these days, it would burn everyone around him too.

“I can’t keep doing this anymore.” Gihun cried out.

It all felt futile, trying to win a fight that’s always against you. He shouldn’t want to give up, but he can’t help it anymore– This was torture, and it was killing him already. He tried saving everyone and it didn’t work, so what more did the universe want from him? Why won’t the universe stop screaming at him?

Young-il was quiet for a moment. “Are you saying you give up? You’re letting me win this easily?” 

“I can’t save everybody, I tried. Just kill me already, it’s supposed to happen anyways.” He was crying, but the tears were cooling his face and for a single moment it felt like the rain in that final game– the one where he offered out a hand towards redemption and was met with harsh scars littering his body.

It’s like he never left that field. 

It’s like his body was buried there.

“That’s not necessarily true.” Young-il said concededly, as if taunting Giun in the midst of his tears.

“I wish I had died years ago. I wish I could go back far enough that I could’ve let Sangwoo just kill me and win, and–”

“Stop saying that.” He cut Gihun off swiftly, but the damage had been done. 

Everyone became predictable in every loop, and yet somehow he always seemed to catch him off guard. He didn’t understand what the man wanted from him. Maybe he never could, ever since he met him. 

Young-il was quiet for a few more moments before moving across the room once again, searching for something in the cabinets that Gihun’s blurry vision couldn’t make out. “You’re sick, and you must stay in the infirmary until you’ve recovered. You’re not acting like yourself in this state.”

When he walked back, needle and vial in hand, Gihun wasn’t afraid– he just prayed it would help with the pain.

He watched as the man painstakingly took his gloves off before lifting up Gihun’s sleeves, attempting to find a vein to set an IV into. His skin felt clammy as he shivered at the cold air and Young-il reached his hand out to keep him still. The contact steadied him.

“You don’t know anything about me.” Gihun’s voice sounded weak even to his own ears as he felt the skin break on the inside of his elbow.

Young-il’s mask showed no signs of acknowledgement as his unwavering hands worked carefully. 

“I know everything.”

Finally, he stepped back and Gihun felt like he could breathe again.

Painkillers, his mind slowly processed, is what he was given. It didn’t make the burning pain go away, nor the itching feeling that someone was still holding onto his throat and refusing to let go. The faded feeling of bullet holes in his skin was still prominent, and he felt like screaming– but the heat within his skin dissipated a little, and he felt like he could at least try and sleep.

He almost prayed he woke up in another loop, or back in the old one, but there was too much uncertainty going on in his mind as his eyes slipped closed. The blanket lifted further up him, and he felt a different kind of warmth, this time it wasn’t due to his fever. 

Gihun slept, eyebrows scrunched together at the memory of all the past lives he’s lived within such a short period.

The room remained still, before the faint sound of dresshoes against the concrete had led halfway out the door.

The frontman spoke up one last time, but Gihun was too far gone to hear it.

“Player 456, you are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, and you are not giving up this easily.”

• ▲■

When he was brought back into consciousness, he heard a plethora of voices before he opened his eyes and glanced in front of him and was met with multiple blurry figures in pink suits. 

“No, go away–” His voice was sluggish, perhaps slurred and they ignored his pleas.

His wrists were still handcuffed and they had their hands all over him. It felt inhumane, having them check over him without asking. One of them was lifting up his shirt, spreading a clear gel over it as they took out a wand. There was a television a few feet away connected on a larger machine he wasn’t able to fully process. 

“Don’t– Don’t touch me.” He begged, but they kept poking at his ribs and prodding him, and the contact made his skin itch. Even with their blue surgical gloves on, it felt wrong.

There was a loud creaking sound coming from behind him, but he couldn’t glance over at where it came from. That was, until a grey coat came into view.

“Anything?” He said towards the guards, not even glancing towards Gihun.

He bit back a whimper as one of them poked directly at the spot where he was shot in the first loop.

“There’s scarring that doesn’t seem to come from any injuries noted in his medical charts, but it could’ve happened in between this game and his first one. We’re about to check for internal damages since our other tests came back negative.” One of them calmly explained, as if he wasn’t lying there begging them to stop.

He tried lifting his hand up to push them away again, but it was useless.

His skin was burning up again, and the little comfort brought by the painkillers earlier had quickly been overshadowed by the overstimulation coming from so many doctors searching him– turning his legs and manhandling him when he was in agony.

“Nothing like this would’ve happened in between games that we wouldn’t have noticed. Keep looking, I’m expecting answers soon.”

The original guard stood, facing the frontman and shaking his head. “He’s not getting better, I’ll tell you that. Plus, he keeps squirming.”

“Yeah, it’s getting annoying.” Another one piped up, scoffing as Gihun was trying to bring his legs up to his chest before holding his ankle down.

He couldn’t stop the wince from escaping. 

“I didn’t call you here for an opinion, I need an assessment and treatment. If there are bigger issues, you need to be more careful of how you handle him.” His voice was flat as his hands stayed at his side unmoving while they talked. 

Gihun wished he wasn’t wearing a mask, just so there was someone in this room he recognized, but the idea made him shut his eyes again, praying they all just leave him alone.

“I understand, sir. I apologize, it's just that…” The main guard hesitated. “Even the ultrasound looks empty. A bit of inflammation but that could be due to stress, but the scars on his skin don’t match up to any damage internally.”

A minute passed.

The frontman broke the silence. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing, sir. That’s the problem. We don’t know what's wrong with him.”

“Figure it out, then. The games won’t continue further unless he improves.”

“Sir, we–”

His tone became more stern this time. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, very well.”

“Good,” He looked down to glance over Gihun momentarily before walking to the door, hand on the latch before he spoke up one last time. “Make sure you give him new clothes and a proper blanket, he looks like he's about to freeze to death.”

With a slam, the door latched shut.

The guard behind him scoffed. “What a fucking prick.”

“Yeah, whatever. We’re getting paid anyway.”

They finished running tests on him, taking his blood and leaving the room with no plans for further questioning. 

Silence greeted him, and it left an unexplainable ache within him as he continued to stare at the ceiling, unable to speak.

Gihun let his eyes close, praying that the pain would dissipate.

• ▲■

Gihun was shaking, his arms coming up to wrap around his stomach and chest now that they were able to move freely. There’s nothing in his life he could compare this pain to, beyond emotional torture these games made him endure. It feels like his insides are being torn apart and rearranged, as if someone tore every part of his body out until he was the shell of a man before having it all put back in wrong. No part of his body felt right– This wasn’t who Gihun was. 

The throbbing in his head wasn’t going away, even in the darkness of the room.

He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself as he dragged his legs up, shielding himself from the onslaught of tension he felt tugging at his chest. Throbbing, burning pain kept building up once again. Everything kept flaring up, before dying down for a few seconds to lull him into false comfort before the pain returned, each time was harsher than before.

The IV dripped steadily, but the pain never ceased. No one knew what was wrong, and Gihun knew no one would believe him. 

He almost hoped it would just kill him.

• ▲■

He didn’t know how much time had passed.

There was no clock nearby, and the announcements that were typical to the games that would ring through the halls and blast loudly in the dormitories had been eerily silent. Even through his bloodshot, tear filled eyes, the familiar shape of a speaker hadn’t caught his eye whenever he scanned the room.

It was empty. Almost every time he woke up, he was alone.

That was, except for this most recent time.

A few guards would come in and out while he was knocked out, changing the IV’s on his arm and checking his vitals. When the worst of the fever had hit, they hooked him up to a heart monitor just to be sure those shallow breaths wouldn't cease. That was when he woke up, face to face with the frontman sitting in a chair beside him, waiting.

“Are you going to tell me what's wrong, Player 456?” His arms were crossed and he sat with one leg resting over the other while his voice was laced thick with displeasure.

Gihun couldn’t bring himself to answer, so the other man spoke again.

“We ran all the tests with the resources we have, and yet everything came up empty. Why is that? ” His head tilted as he leaned forward, unwinding himself. They were closer in proximity as Gihun laid on his side facing him, and the frontman's elbows were resting against his knees while he stared at him unnervingly. “It’s not terminal sickness and it’s more than a common cold– What’s causing you this much pain and despair?”

His eyelids felt heavy, fighting against sleep as he stared up at him. He knew his body was shaking, his hands were uneasy as they gripped at his ribcage in an effort to keep the blood from falling out-- but he knew his hands were clean. There was no exit wound, and there was no real injury he sustained from this loop. It felt like all the pain from the last four attempts had built up so heavily it was killing in slowly. 

He was still waiting for Gihun to answer. 

It took him a few minutes to form the words, attempting to talk clearly without his teeth chattering as his body was at war with itself. “Every few days I wake up and I’m back at the beginning. I’m fucking stuck here reliving the worst moments of my life– which is what I was already doing before I rejoined the games. It’s like I’m stuck sleeping and no matter what I do it always turns into a nightmare, but it’s all real.”

Gihun stopped for a moment, swallowing as the bruising around his neck became more evident against his pale and flushed skin. “I feel everything– I feel myself dying .”

Both scenarios sounded like folktales, and yet he’s living through them simultaneously. 

For a few blissful moments, the only noises emitting out of either one of them was the uncontrollable jittering that ran down his body. His spine ached as he was hunched forwards in on himself, and his legs kept twitching in pain. This time, he didn’t wince at the feeling, although it didn’t mean it hurt any less. 

“If it is any consolation, Gihun– If I could help you out of it, I would.” His voice was teetering on the edge of kindness as it shot daggers in his already injured chest, like those words hit deeper than any of his previous wounds.

All he allowed himself to feel was bitter rage as his pale fingers played with the edge of the frayed blanket, shaking.

“How do I know you’re not the reason I’m stuck in it? This could be another one of your sick games.” 

Young-il was quiet for another moment, and he could sense the hesitation radiating even with the mask on.

He didn’t know why he was confessing all of this to him. Deep down, he wanted to believe that the man had some answers– like he would come clean and admit that when they sedated him after killing Jungbae, it caused crazy hallucinations, and this was all a dream that he would wake up from soon, but it looked like Young-il didn’t even believe him.

No one would. This sounded crazy– It was crazier than trying to convince people that the games were taking place on a remote island, where hundreds of people died and there was no proof of any of it.

“I would never do this to you.”

Gihun flinched.

“Liar.” His voice came out lighter than he intended as it cracked, and judging the way Young-il’s body didn’t tense up, he knew it didn’t have the effect he wanted. “You killed everyone on purpose last time, you sick fuck. You don’t know what this feels like– you don’t understand it .”

“Explain it to me, then.” Young-il responded immediately, his body was stiff as he stared with anticipation. Gihun wanted nothing more than to rip that mask off.

“No, you couldn’t. Everytime you’re faced with a decision you choose whatever one hurts more. Do you get satisfaction from watching people be in pain?” The tears were springing in his eyes again, burning with hatred as he fought to not shiver at the panging in his chest. 

Young-il waited. “Not necessarily.”

“Then why do you do it? Why change the games so more people die?”

They both seemed to hesitate. It was hard for the man to answer a question he didn’t fully comprehend, but the hurt in Gihun’s eyes spurred a response despite the skepticism. “If that is what occurred in the last dream you had, then the explanation is simple– It’s what I have to do. That’s the way we run the games.”

Gihun scoffed. He knew it was going nowhere, but he didn’t know how much time he had until the next loop began. The exhaustion was prominent throughout this entire time, and he still couldn’t decipher how long it had been since he passed out in the field.

He wanted to ask if Jungbae was alive, but the answer would only hurt him more. It was a selfish thought to not want to know, but his head was pounding amidst their argument, and he vowed to make it up next time– Even if he was the only one to remember any of this.

That is, unless this loop was the one to kill him. What a waste , he thought.

“Well, maybe you need a career change.” Gihun turned onto his back, unable to force himself to stare at the man in the mask any longer. It didn’t matter what his answers were, nothing could erase what happened in the last round.

Young-il seemed to take a deep breath before standing, watching as he towered over him. “This is bigger than any of us, Gihun. It can't fall as easily as you hoped it would.”

“It doesn’t mean you can’t try.” He spat out.

He still felt the eyes passing over him as the weariness overpowered his will to fight. Everything felt dizzy, and their argument had taken too much of a toll on his already weak body. The anger didn’t dissolve and neither did the stinging in his chest

“ I knew you would come back. I wished you'd live and have a good life far away from all this, but deep down you're like me– You just can't resist the temptation of changing this place for the better. You can’t fight the temptation you get for wanting to watch this place burn. Gihun, I wish you’d gotten on that plane, you would’ve been a lot happier.” Young-il’s tone sounded more subdued than before, it fell out of mouth as if the words had been weighing him down, and a hint of guilt could be found in each sentence.

Gihun didn’t know what to make of it. 

Chapter Text

LOOP 6

The pain was lesser, albeit still prominent as the muscles in his body ached and the thrumming in his head continued gradually. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d fallen asleep. It was unclear for how long, but obviously he’d been out of it enough for the loop to reset.

He wanted to be mad at himself for it, but that moment never came.

Gihun sat up with a newfound purpose for this loop, one he hadn’t attempted before. His mental list of ‘things he knew’ had changed.

1. He had to save Jungbae, even if it killed him. Jungbae needed to live.
2. He needed to start the revolution again.
3. He had to stay close to Young-il.

It started the same way it always did– He warned everyone of the first game, although not to the extent that it saved everybody. Losing that many people still hurt, but now he understood the consequences of saving everyone. 

This time, there had to be some sacrifices. 

That word felt wrong, and the words of his previous conversations with Young-il rang loudly as he recalled the subtle shock on his face during the initial revolt they planned.

“So, what you're saying is, sacrifice a few for the good of the rest.”

“If we don't go after them now, we won't get another shot at leaving this place. And it'll be worth the sacrifice... if it means we can actually put an end to these games for good.”

His own words felt foreign– They were a lifetime away as he’s gone through these scenarios a million times. Young-il’s own response brought shivers cascading down his spine.

“If that's the plan... then I'll do whatever you tell me.”

He just hoped that in this loop, his response stayed true.

• ▲■

Young-il approached with his group after, and Gihun let the man tease him subtly over dalgona, watching as the subtly smirk remained trapped in on his face when Gihun glanced away. He still saw the reinents of it, though. Back then, he hadn’t noticed this type of thing.

Daeho joined them, and later Junhee. This time, Gihun was the one to initiate her joining their team.

“We’re still missing one person.” Daeho trailed off, looking around the room trying to find a good candidate, but Gihun already had one in his mind.

“That short girl, Player 222, we should ask her to join us.” 

They all gave him shocked looks.

His initial plan was to stick as close to the original timeline as possible, but he wanted to save time this way. Plus, he couldn’t see any negatives to initiating this situation– she’d likely be asking to join them within a few minutes anyway.

“I mean, are you sure? Having a girl join the team is a little–” Jungbae was treading lightly before Daeho elbowed him in the stomach. “I mean, you know best, right Gihun?”

Amidst Jungbae’s doubtful comments, Gihun already spotted the shorter girl talking to the man that appeared to be her ex boyfriend as he began walking over. Player 333 had left, and Junhee seemed shocked to see that Gihun approached her.

“We’re looking for one more player in our team– Would you want to join us? I noticed you had trouble in the first game because of… well, you know . We can take care of you if you need help.” He prayed he didn’t sound too desperate.

As much as he tried to not become too attached to certain players, it was difficult. Going through the same events with the same group of people caused him to care about all of them, even before everything became warped and repeated. Junhee was one of those people, and deep down, Gihun looked at her and felt reminded of Saebeyok.

They were dramatically different, but he couldn’t deny it. That determined look in their eyes, the short hair, the calm demeanor hiding bouts of fear beneath it. His chest hurt again, in physical pain and at the emotional reminder of it all, but he suppressed the urge to wrap his arms around himself.

She seemed to hesitate, and Gihun fears he fucked up.

“Sure.” Her head nods as her eyes trail behind him to their group. 

He almost let out a deep exhale– It was a risk changing the route of this loop with a decision like that so carelessly. With each reset, he was in more pain depending on the way he died or how it ended, but this was something he felt deep in his gut. A part of him wanted to test what would happen with these small changes.

When they both turn around to regroup, Jungbae is giving them both a thumbs up and Young-il’s smiling. Junhee tried smiling back at the sentiment, but it wasn’t quite  genuine, and Gihun couldn’t blame her.

“You’re sure it's not a problem that I'm pregnant?”

Daeho’s eyes widened as he looked her up and down, Jungbae froze with his hands still mid air before he looked between everybody, trying to figure out if he was the only one who didn’t know. 

Gihun should’ve mentioned it sooner, but he had forgotten it wasn’t common knowledge. 

He did glance over at Young-il, who was caught smiling at the girl in front of them. The rest of the group seemed to brush it off, despite their worrying glances towards her, they still accepted her as easily as the first time.

Maybe this loop would be the right one , he thought.

• ▲■

The pentathlon went smoothly– Daeho, Junhee, and Jungbae got it on their first try. Young-il was next, and Gihun could see the panicked expression begin to morph on the man's face as he started to wind the rope around the top and bottom pieces. He was going too fast, too carelessly, and he was doing it with the wrong hand again.

Gihun recalled what worked in a previous loop.

“Take your time, okay? It’s okay if you don’t get it the first try, don’t rush it Young-il.” Gihun said in the calmest voice he could manage as the other man's eyes shifted, seeming to pull himself out of his original plan.

He got it on the first try after switching hands and with a soft smile on his face, he looked up as Gihun was cheering. Young-il grabbed his arm, wrapping it around his before they began walking in sync again. 

Right before it was his turn, the pain had flared up in his ribcage as the distant memory of gunshot wounds reminded him about what was at stake. His steps faltered, slowing his team down right before they got to jegi. 

The hand wrapped around Young-il’s slid out to grip at his sides, crouching over and cursing under his breath.

Shit.

“Mr. 456, are you okay?” Daeho called from down the line, trying to get a good glance at him.

Young-il’s hand felt steady on his back, moving slightly as if to comfort him. “Gihun?” 

His hands dug into his ribcage, gripping tightly as to distract himself from the phantom pain. It burned, each bullet felt like it was trapped in him and scarring his insides with heat, but they had to keep going– They couldn’t waste anymore time.

“I’ll be fine, we need to keep going.” Gihun began stepping forward, forcing the others to keep walking as he tried to straighten out his back.

“Slow down! You don’t want to hurt yourself before it's your turn, Gihun.” Jungbae pleaded as he began walking with Junhee swiftly to try and catch up with everyone else.

They made it, but the pain was back to pulsing pain.

Whatever treatment they had given him in the last loop seemed to wear off more. Even as the guards were handing out food and drinks that night before the lights went out, he didn’t have the energy to eat– let alone move.

• ▲■

Jungbae had been staying up alone to watch alone, staring off across the vast space lingering between sides. After the race, he knew the chances of people fighting were slim, but he had to be prepared for the unexpected. Gihun wanted to offer to take over watch first before someone switched, but everyone disagreed, claiming he needed the rest after his incident earlier.

Still, he had no hope of sleeping with the throbbing pain in his chest. The large X and O had lit up the room with a subtle red and blue glow, but for the most part it was dark and quiet.

Gihun slid out from underneath the beds where he was laying wide awake, walking over to jungbae as he was beginning to slouch over. His hand rested on his shoulder, jolting him awake.

“Lets swap.” he whispered, moving to sit down next to him. 

Jungbae tried waving him off while concealing a yawn. “I can manage, don’t worry about me Gihun.”

“You’re practically falling asleep. It's okay, Jungbae. Go get some rest before the next games.” He just shook his head, trying to manage a half smile as he turned from his friends face back to watch the other side of the players. It was too early for them to strike, but he couldn’t be certain. Anything could happen. 

Luckily, he seemed to give in, tiredness taking over and leading him back underneath the bunks, rolling into the mattress. Before long, he heard his quiet snores and occasional sleep-talk. It was a small comfort to know that in every loop he went through, there were still small habits they kept that almost anchored him to reality, bringing him back down to earth to remember that they are real.

That might be what breaks him the most– Each version he meets of them is the same, and it's his actions that change them. Yet, the small routines each of them performed made it easier to breathe. He can rely on them, even if it feels like he couldn’t rely on himself. 

Junhee would always seek them out for help if Young-il was on the team, especially if Gihun warned them in the first game and confessed that he’s played them before. 

Daeho would always find them, even if he didn’t tell anyone his history of playing the games. He would always bond with Jungbae– and he would almost always lose him.

Young-il was always searching for him, and as frustrating as it was– Gihun couldn’t push him away without attracting too much attention. Besides, if he wanted to play pretend, maybe Gihun could too. The more clues he got towards ending the games and taking down the frontman, the better. 

The minutes stretched on like hours, slowly moving through the night. He was technically supposed to wake someone up for another shift, but he wasn’t tired.

As his eyes continued to scan the room, creaks of moving beds and rustling sheets filled the silence like white noise. Nobody across the room was awake, or at least moving. It should have made his shoulders sag, but they remained tense as his eyes kept scanning the other team.

There was movement behind him, and before he could register who it was, they sat next to him, leaving little room between their bodies.

Young-il.

In every loop, he feels like a fool for letting him close to his friends when he knows what's supposed to happen– What's bound to happen. The man will always betray them, usually killing jungbae, and break Gihun. It seemed impossible to get through each game without him on their team so Gihun still lets him sit close, and it's enough to make him want to roll his eyes or rip his hair out. He's infuriating. 

“I thought you were supposed to switch shifts through the night?”

Gihun scoffs. “What, were you watching me all night?” 

Young-il doesn’t even flinch at the harsh tone in his voice, and he suppresses the urge to yell at him longer, but it's getting so repetitive. 

“I get worried, Gihun. You need to sleep, it's unfair if you keep watch every night while everyone else gets to rest.”

Worried ? 

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways. This place is driving me crazy.” He says reluctantly, pulling his knees together and resting his hands on his knees comfortably. It irks him a little to admit to the frontman that being in the dormitory– or even the games as a whole– makes him feel insane. It’s what he wanted, and he knows confessing it probably brings the bastard some joy in the admission, but he can’t seem to stop himself from saying it anyway.

He could probably tell anyway, confession or not, that this place is killing him inside. 

Gihun never turns to him, knowing that Young-il’s eyes would be focused on him anyway. 

“Then I’ll sit with you,” Young-il’s voice speaks up from beside him, quiet and soft, almost whispering as if it's a secret between the two of them. “At least until you get tired.” 

He turns his head, and is met with a calm expression on the other man's face, waiting for an answer, maybe expecting Gihun to disagree with him. There was no complaint. 

For a moment there was no movement between the two of them besides Gihun turning back to look at the sea of sleeping players dimly lit by the purple hues emitting from the floor. 

Gihun sighs, the weight of everything on his shoulders begins to crash down onto him. In the dead of night, he lets it fall out of his mouth unapologetically. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get it.”

Young-il tilted his head to look towards him. “What do you mean?”

“I feel like I’ve re-lived this so many times and nothing changes. These people– All they care about is money. They’d rather die at the chance of earning millions than go back to their families.”

Young-il turns to look at him with a glint in his eyes, but Gihun’s remain focused on the floor ahead of them. “Did you want to go back to your family when you first joined?”

He let the question sink in before turning to him. “If I got the opportunity to go back and change my mind, I wouldn’t even hesitate– Instead, I’m stuck here over and over again. I wish I could’ve gone back when I had the chance.”

Gihun curled into himself more, leaning his arms on his knees as he let his shoulders sag. 

Young-il looks off, contemplating. Eventually, he starts talking in the same tone as earlier– it's calm, undeterred. 

“That’s because you know what was waiting for you afterwards. These people don’t understand, but if they were in your same shoes they won’t realize what they are losing until it’s already gone.” 

He couldn’t shake the question out of his head. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

In the first attempt, prior to being stuck here, Young-il opened up about his wife and unborn child and by the second time around, Gihun wasn’t sure if it had been a real confession or not. He was so good at manipulating his emotions and words to make the people around him convinced he's a player like the rest of them, but Gihun knew the truth– He just didn’t know which version of this truth this was.

Young-il inhaled sharply before his composure fell a little– “I know what it’s like to lose the people you love. I think that's why you confuse me.” 

Gihun scoffs. “What’s there to be confused about, you know everything about me.” 

Young-il didn’t deny this, but he didn’t reveal his identity yet, despite Gihun poking holes in his facade.

“You couldn’t save your loved ones and yet you’re still determined to save everyone else. I don’t know how you didn’t give up or–” Young-il stopped himself before seemingly putting the mask of his persona back on with ease, Gihun was too exhausted to fully notice him doing it. “You didn’t turn into one of them.”

He turned, and Young-il was staring off again, pretending to take watch. Gihun knew no one was awake but them, and he thinks the other man knew it too. Still, they played pretend.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just stubborn.” Gihun tried to muster a smile, but exhaustion was creeping up on him. He lifted to rest his chin on his hand, staring off to a random spot on the floor where he could see Young-il from the corner of his eye while not quite looking at him directly. 

For a moment, he could forget who the man next to him truly was– what he’s done. He just sat there, trying to muster the courage to relax. 

His head was beginning to lull to the side, hands failing at keeping it level as the weariness in his bones began to dissipate. Young-il wasn’t speaking anymore, and Gihuns' own eyes kept fluttering closed.

The pain in his chest was still constant, but it felt more dull than earlier– like he could relax, even temporarily.

As the stress in his shoulders sunk away, he felt an arm wrap around them and he was gently guided to lay slightly sideways, tucked under the other man's arm. He didn’t fight it, in a few days everything would reset anyways– If he let himself feel this, just once, no one would know. It didn’t matter.

Young-il’s hand is warm, not grabbing at his shoulder or cutting off circulation. It's not dragging him across the floor or threatening him with sharp words. 

There’s a warmth to it that seeps into Gihuns body, and beyond occasional contact with Jungbae he can’t recall if anyones ever held him like this during the games, let alone outside of them.

It's been so long. It felt so good.

His heart is beating a little fast but his eyelids feel heavy, and he prays deep down that Young-il can’t tell how anxious he is based on contact alone. He probably feels satisfied that Gihun’s accepting this small comfort from him, but he doesn’t dare push him off. Just this once, he allows himself to fall asleep peacefully. 

• ▲■

Gihun knew he’d hear this song haunting him until the day he died. It had already engraved itself in the depths of his brain. The spinning was getting annoying too– With each round it made his eyes burn, forcing him to look anywhere but in front of him as the room spun with haste.

Young-il was still working with them, but Gihun instructed everyone on how to form groups and what rooms to run into. He planned as well as he could, but he still couldn’t remember the exact order of the rooms.

The pain dissipated after he slept, but it still resurfaced if he overexerted himself. He didn’t understand why. He didn’t think he wanted to.

The platform stopped.

“Ten!”

It ensured most people got a room, and there was an even number of players distributed. The fit was a little tight, but they all squeezed in with ease. There was no fighting, and only a few gunshots went off. 

With enough time in between each door, they could form a plan with every round.

“There’s an even number of us now, but one of the most difficult parts is avoiding being separated or thrown out of a room.” He explained with ease. All eyes were on him once again. “When we get on the platform, interlock arms with someone next to you– pair up. If the number is three, we can split up and whoever’s missing someone, we’ll search.”

The sound of forklifts beeping and bodies being dragged had died down, and the door unclicked as everyone joined into pairs or began discussing who they would partner up with.

This had to work, Gihun needed everybody to make it through this game.

The platform moved as soon as they stepped on, the song started playing abruptly as he watched the rest of his group find their partner and stay close. Jungbae looked back at him, but Daeho quickly grabbed onto his arm before he shot him a guilty expression, turning back to watch the doors with careful eyes.

Young-il still stood beside him unmoving before Gihun grabbed onto his arm and locked their elbows together, almost catching the other man off guard. 

The platform spun again, more blood spilled on the floor, and his arm was held tightly against Young-il’s side, nearly cutting off his circulation with its hold.

It was the last round, from what Gihun remembered.

‘Two.’

Within the flashing lights and the chaos, he couldn’t see much. Gihun tried looking back to make sure everyone else got into a room, but swarms of bodies were pushing against each other. There was no sign of anyone he knew within the crowd.

All of a sudden, he was shoved into a room as he stumbled to remain standing. When he looked up, he met eyes with another player already occupying the room as the timer continued to count down.

“Hold the door!” 

Gihun turned around and caught Young-il’s eye, before the adrenaline kicked in once again and ran to take his spot, fighting against the man on the other side who was frantically yelling for him to let him in.

“I’m sorry– I’m so sorry I can’t .” He pleaded, looking away from the rectangular opening and away from his terrified gaze. 

The man was fighting back now, more frantically as the seconds ticked down, and he turned around to lean his back against the door, now coming face to face with Young-il–

He had his arms wrapped around the neck of the other man, sliding to the floor choking him out. Gihun was almost sick at the sight of it as there was screaming coming from outside the door. The seconds were ticking away, and right before the timer went off–

Snap.

Young-il let go, letting the body of the now deceased man crumple to the floor beside him. His eyes never left Gihun’s, and there was only so long he could look back before it made his skin crawl. 

“You didn’t need to do that– We could’ve–” He choked up, legs giving out below him and sliding to the ground with his back to the door now parallel to Young-il. “You could’ve saved him.”

Young-il stares at him for a moment, as if he had to think about a good reason. Gihun knew his reasoning, though. He was a sick man. He enjoyed killing, just like when he taunted him and shot jungbae. Like when he shot his own guards. There was a haunting expression in his eyes, one that the mask of Young-il usually hid easily, but now it was clear as day. 

The hands that held him the previous night had been made to hurt others– it happened every time.

“It was either him or you.”

There were goosebumps on his arms as he held them close to his chest and knees, curling into a ball and clenching his fists to stop them from shaking. Young-il still sat with ease, unshaken from what he’d done. Gihun’s eyes tried keeping away from the body of the dead man next to him. 

“It should’ve been me.” His voice shakes, barely holding tears back trying to swallow it down.

Across from him, the other man glares. “Don’t say something so reckless.” 

Gihun can’t bring himself to look at him. 

It could’ve been to save himself, but if he really wanted to be the sole survivor, he could’ve hid in another room and let Gihun die. He didn’t though. 

He never let Gihun die, even if Gihun secretly wanted to.

After a few moments, Young-il spoke up again, voice less harsh than before. The disappointment was probably evident in Gihun’s face, or there was a possibility that he wanted to keep up the persona of being a player in the games rather than the ruthless man leading it.  “I had to.”

Gihun scoffed, looking up at Young-il. “You didn’t have to do anything, with every action there's a choice.”

“I did what I had to do, I don’t see a way around it.” He said like it was easy– Like it didn’t even matter that there was a dead man laying in the same room as them.

The sounds of forklifts whirring in the back distracted him for a moment before he focused on Young-il again. 

“You don’t even feel guilty?” 

He should’ve known the answer that was coming. Deep down he knew the kind of man Young-il was, and he wanted to slap himself for forgetting that fact.

“No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

Young-il waited for a moment. “Because we’re both still alive, aren’t we? What’s there to feel guilt for?” 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re so selfish, you know that right?”

Young-il’s face remained stoic as his voice was still steady, refusing to falter even as Gihun threw insults his way. He looked so much different in the orange lighting of the wall rather than the dim lights in the dormitory or the purple flashing hues emitting from the carousel outside the room. 

He swallowed.

“I didn’t do it for me, I did it for you.”

“And if it was for Daeho? Jungbae? Would you still have done it?”

He paused, looking up at the rectangular opening on the door instead of meeting Gihun’s eyes. “I would, because I know how much you care for them, and that makes me care too.”

Gihun froze– This just wasn’t true . Young-il did it because he liked the thrill of it. He knew what that man was capable of, and perhaps he was the only person on that island who understood that.

His hands shook– With rage or fear, he couldn’t decipher.

The doors opened once again, and Jungbae was the first to run towards them, almost slipping on the floor but trying to ignore it in favor of hugging Gihun before going to Young-il and wrapping his arms around him.

Young-il made eye contact over Jungbae’s shoulder as he patted his back awkwardly before Gihun turned away, walking to the exit with a lump in his throat that didn’t seem to leave. 

• ▲■

This was the first time he was reliving the revolution, and if Gihun said he wasn’t scared, he’d be lying.

They got the guns, pretended to be among the bodies littering the floor and then overtook the guards. Gihun knew with Young-il on their side, even if he didn’t know that his identity was no longer secret, he could hopefully persuade him into helping out more with leading them to the control room easier.

It had been a long shot, but he tried his hardest not to set off any alarms to Young-il or the others of what Gihun knew. He often considered telling them the complete and utter truth– That he’d relived these moments between all of them to the point where he could recite what their reactions would be. He could guess the face they are making before they even think about it. He could tell them how they would all die.

It didn’t matter as of right now. One loop, soon enough if this one failed again, he would snap. He might cave and confess what he’s been going through, and his only hope is that someone– anyone– would believe him.

The gun weighed heavy in his hands. He remembered to take more bullets.

“There’s magazines in their pockets, too. As we go through the halls, make sure you’re taking as many as you can. Try to stay low to the ground, but watch each hallway we pass by. They’ll try and sneak up on us.” Gihun instructed before Hyun-ju took over the demonstration.

Her hands glided over each part, explaining with ease how they can use the weapon to the best of their advantage. 

They had more people on their side this time,

The hallways seemed more crowded than before as they ducked behind short walls and bright pillars, avoiding the oncoming gunfire directed at them. It had been faster getting up here than last time as Hyun-ju shot all the cameras efficiently and Gihun led them through the hallways easier than last time. He also caught the glances between that masked soldier and Young-il, but he pretended it meant nothing.

They were trapped in the same spot as before, with more ammo but no way to escape.

Gihun’s chest was hurting again and he found it hard to swallow as his life flashed before his eyes, stray bullets aimed too close for comfort whizzed through the air and left holes in the wall ahead of them.

“Are you alright?” Young-il shouted from beside him while reloading his gun with precision, only taking a moment before firing at the guards to cast a worried glance in Gihun’s direction. 

“I'm gonna go look for the control room entrance.” He paused, waiting for a response.

Young-il turned his back to the wall, locking eyes with Gihun. “Are you sure you can find it? Should I go with you?”

“Yes– We need to hurry. Jungbae! You stay here and buy us more time.” Gihun shouted as his friend nodded, focusing back on covering their escape by firing more bullets at the guards across from them.

• ▲■

“Young-il!” Gihun shouted, trying to reach out to pull him back behind cover, but the man stood his ground.

By the way the guards were shooting, it didn’t seem like they were going easy. Gihun considered the fact that they might not be fully aware he’s their boss, but it made no sense. He had no way to communicate to the soldiers that he was on their side and not the players– There was no moment since the fight began where he wasn’t following behind Gihun or leading him through the gunfire.

The sound never ceased, even as he heard soldiers reloading as more came up the stairs. If he tried shooting at them from behind, he risked the fact that Young-il would turn against him. Honestly– he was shocked he hadn’t already. They were alone in this fight, afterall.

They had taken turns, peeking out from behind the corner to take them down individually, but there were more coming from the other hallway behind them as backup. The fight seems to never end as Gihun’s mind raced to find another solution– one that would work fast.

Young-il yelped in surprise, coming back around the corner with his back leaning against the wall before sliding down to the floor, clutching his side.

“Young-il!” Gihun waited for the guns to sound like they were reloading before running past the open hallway, crouching in front of the other man as soon as he was out of sight from the guards. He glanced at his stomach only to see the man covering it with both hands, swearing under his breath. “What happened?”

“They uh– They got me, those bastards.” Young-il gasped, pulling his hand away a little to reveal the blood pooling out from underneath.

Fuck.

“We need to get you help– I can help carry you bag to the dorms, or we can signal someone on the radio and say you’re down–” 

“Gihun, it wouldn’t work– We both know it.”

“I don’t care– You’re their boss! They’d listen to you. We need to call for help.”

Young-il stopped, staring up at Gihun– Breathless. “You knew?”

“ It doesn’t – You need to focus. Where’s your radio?”

Young-il grabbed his hand before Gihun could reach for it, stopping him as the blood stained both their hands. “You knew and you didn’t leave?”

His eyes were wide in shock, but he didn’t seem displeased or betrayed– They were full of something Gihun couldn’t quite name as he let go of his hand and forced the other man to cover the wound again.

“You need to go, Gihun. The guards, they’ll keep advancing until they get all the players, until they get you .”

Gihun shook his head, grabbing the gun on his shoulder and dropping it next to Young-il’s beside them. He heard a walktalkie far away, and the sound of feet shuffling, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered, because Young-il was bleeding out in front of him, and this is the first time he’s died. 

“You look worried, Gihun. Didn’t think you cared so much about me.”

“I think you’re a fool, and a killer, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care.” Gihun hesitated. “You’re my friend too, Young-il.” 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Gihun.”

He couldn’t find it in himself to speak the truth. There was still so much anger bubbling inside of him against Young-il for what he's done– for what he’ll continue to do in the upcoming loops– but the man bleeding out infront of him looks scared, so he stays silent.

It disgusts him, the guilt he feels watching Young-il writhe in pain below him as the blood spills onto the floor. He’s losing too much at such a fast pace, they both know what’s about to happen. No words are said.

Young–il is staring up at him, the only times he stops is to close his eyes and gasp or when he tries to peel his hands away to check the damage, but Gihuns hands are pushing into his harder, refusing to let it get worse.

The sound of a radio could be heard on the other side where the guards were shooting from, but Young-il didn’t seem to register the sound. “They are down the hall, sir. The rest of the rebels have been caught and dismantled. Should we capture the rest?”

He could take the scars, the searing pain, and the slow death if it meant that Young-il wouldn’t die alone. 

“Yes, make it fast. The VIP’s are coming, and there’s still unfinished business.”

That was one thing Gihun never thought about– The VIPs . Something clicked into place, but it quickly left his mind when Young-il gasped loudly, unable to stifle the sounds any longer.

“Gihun…” His face was becoming pale, as his hands shook underneath his. Gihun didn’t let go.

Even when the sound of footsteps got louder, his hand stayed over Young-il’s.

Even when the man below him stopped moving, he didn’t glance up at the figures standing beside him.

Even as tears fell down his cheeks perpetually, his eyes stayed glued on Young-il until the pain scorched his chest, and it wasn’t just due to the bullets aiming for his heart.

Chapter Text

LOOP 7

This was getting him nowhere.

Each time over and over again, trying to save as many people as he can was getting repetitive. After watching what happened with Jungbae and Young-il…

It was hard looking at Young-il now, but for different reasons than usual. His expression still haunted him, and what was worse is the fact that he’ll never know it happened. He won't remember he died as Gihun clung to him, hands pressed together. He won’t recall their previous conversations, even if Gihun pleaded for him to remember, maybe to change his mind and end the games before any more people died, before Young-il —

Gihun shivered and shook off the memory, watching as the people below his bunk all gathered around with open mouths and starstruck eyes at the promise of money. None of it mattered, they didn’t understand what was at stake and no matter how many times he begged people to listen to him, to understand what was going on below the surface of the games, he was brushed aside and called crazy.

There wasn’t something he could fix about the games that would work, so it must be something outside of his previous attempts. There’s a chance he could slip away during the first game when they walked through the halls, but he knew the Young-il was still dawning the black mask and watching his every move.

He could play along, at least until he had a chance to go to the bathroom with other players after the first game.

He did what he could to warn them, rushing to do it despite the numbers not mattering anymore– he almost faltered at that thought, because of course they mattered, but he knew deep down this wouldn’t be the last time he did this.

There was something he was missing beyond saving certain players and starting the revolution– Something bigger than this. 

He didn’t glance at the scoreboard of players remaining once everyone trickled back into the dormitory, nor did he pay attention to the vote. It was always the same– Everyone always stayed.

A few hours went by slowly before he could manage an escape to the bathroom. Throughout the first game, he talked to Jungbae under the same script as most times. He asked about his family, and he told Gihun about the divorce and custody. They talked about Gihun’s mom and he still swallowed the lump in his throat after each time.

That would never get easier no matter how many times it's brought up.

Young-il came to approach them, but Gihun waved him off as he ignored the pain in his chest, making up an excuse of needing alone time. He prayed it worked as he watched the man walk away, shoulders tense after his failed attempt.

“Jungbae, I need to go to the bathroom. Come with me.”

His friend laughed in surprise. “Wh– What are you, twelve? Why don’t you go alone?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Because, don’t you have to go too? Just follow my lead and don’t ask questions.” Gihun bickered with him, forgetting how stubborn his friend could be. It felt refreshing to have a moment of peace between them where they could act how they used to, but it didn’t last long– He had to go before anyone noticed they were leaving.

Jungbae followed along, feet dragging on the floor as he mumbled a quiet complaint under his breath that Gihun chose to ignore. 

Gihun banged on the door with haste, waiting for the circle window cover to be pulled back. He glanced behind him, ignoring Jungbae’s shocked expression as he rubbed at his ear and Gihun didn’t catch sight of Young-il, thankfully.

The window’s cover slid to the side as a pink circle guard stared at him.

“I really really need to go to the bathroom– I promise we’ll be back in time for the lights to turn off, please we just really need to go!” Gihun put on his best panicked expression, holding the door with his hands as he pleaded with the guard.

“No.” The guard went to close the slat but Gihun got his attention again.

“It’s an emergency, please. Do you want me to go in the middle of the floor and have you clean it up in front of everyone? Hurry up!” He panicked, trying to get his attention again. 

He could feel Jungbae staring at him, but he tried to act panicked before the guard finally caved and begrudgingly opened the door. As they went through the winding halls, he tried his best to memorize the path without being too obvious.

Soon, the bathroom door opened and he rushed in, calling Jungbae over the moment the guard was out of sight and the door was locked.

“Gihun, I don’t want to have to hold your hand while you go, that's weird!” If he wasn’t in such a rush he would’ve laughed at his friend's disgusted face, but now was not the time. The clock was ticking, and he had no ideas on how to get the vent open. 

“I need your help with someone else, Jungbae! We need to be fast.”

As he stood on the back of the toilet, he noticed that one of the screws was already about to come out, and he used his thumb and pointer to twist it off before it fell onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” Jungbae stepped into the stall and watched.

“I need to go find something, you can’t tell anyone where I am or that I’m gone. You have my back, right?” Gihun said, now trying to pull at the other screw holding the vent in place. He needed something small enough to fit in the head of the screw. 

“Of course, Gihun.”

He stopped, reaching both hands into his mouth and pulling the empty dental implant out. This might work , he thought. 

The vent cover was relatively easy to unscrew, bending the metal wire and spinning the last screw until it fell out and half the vent fell down in a smooth swoop, leaving a perfect opening for him.

“Woah, Gihun, how’d you know that would work? Did you do this in your last game too?” Jungbae stares upwards, eyes shifting from the vent to his friend in awe. 

Gihun shook his head. “I need you to help boost me up– Here, let me stand on your shoulder!” 

“Wait, you’re going in there? Are you crazy–”

Gihun slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to be gentle but efficient in silencing the older man. He didn’t know where the guards were outside the door, or if there were microphones hidden in the stalls, or anything that could blow his cover. If he was going to do this, he needed to be fast.

“We need to hurry before anyone in here realizes that we’re doing this. Everyone else should be back to their dorms by now, so you need to join them and cover me. Do you understand what's at stake here?”

Jungbae nods, the hand still covering his mouth slowly lowers itself as Gihun rushes him to stand underneath the vent before standing on the toilet, reaching his hands up to hold onto the opening as he uses Jungbae as leverage. The man quietly complains, but when Gihun glares down at him he quiets himself, choosing to make displeased facial expressions in silence as his friend digs his heels into him.

“Gihun!” He whispers, waiting for his head to poke out of the vent. When he peeks back and makes eye contact, Jungbae gives him two thumbs up and a grin. “Stay safe! Tell me what you find, but hurry back.” 

“Thank you, Jungbae.” Gihun whispers earnestly.

He didn’t know what would happen to him in this loop without him nearby, and if he was going to go through with his plan, he couldn’t dwell on the possibilities too deeply. 

The vents were crowded and warm as he tried to shift his body through on all fours as fast as he could, but every time his knees bumped the aluminum it would make a sound loud enough to be heard from the outside, so he tried to be careful. His shoulders felt cramped against the roof, and if he was shorter the journey might be easier– Gihun prayed Jungbae was covering him.

He knew that Young-il would search for him relatively quickly once the lights went out, but he wasn’t sure what the rules were for him– Would he leave, or fake his death to come find him? It was obvious that he would be doing this, the thought made him huff. It was exhausting, having the only person truly know him and his habits be the same man he tried to hate.

What happened in the last loop couldn’t happen again , he promised himself that.

He wouldn’t allow himself to cave into the selfish desire of being held in that man's arms again, and at the same time he swore that Young-il wouldn’t die.

He came across another opening vent in the floor below him, and when he peeked over, trying to shield himself in the darkness so he couldn’t be seen, there was a kitchen full of pink guards all wearing circle masks.

It was too far away to tell, and the adrenaline was still coursing through his body, making it hard to pay attention when he knew his cover could be blown any second. 

There was rice, that much he could tell, but the rest was unfinished pieces of a meal scattered among different workers and multiple stations around the industrial sized cooking space. They moved with precision, never once bumping into each other or talking– It was eerie, knowing that they didn’t only act like this infront of players but each other too. Like they were just cogs in a machine, it solidified his anger.

Thankfully as he passed over the vent, avoiding kneeling directly on it unless he fell through and was surrounded by soldiers. Ahead of him was a straight dead end, but two paths wounding left or right. Shit. 

If he turned right, there was a chance it’d bring him closer to the player dorms, but he doubted the frontman was naive enough to place his headquarters or a control room that close to them, so left it is. 

It only seemed to grow smaller the more he traveled through, and there was no noise surrounding him, and no opening to glance into for a while. God, how big was this place?

A few meters in front was gleaming in orange lighting, and the closer he got, the clear sound of voices rang through, ricocheting around him. There was no denying the indistinguishable voices being filtered through masks, but when Gihun passed through, he stopped in his tracks. 

Two pink guards were standing in the room, a few others were moving the boxes, presumably the coffins of those that died during the first game. Small metal doors adorned the wall on either side, and he could tell they were incinerating the bodies– No evidence, then. 

The two triangle soldiers were almost right below Gihun, arguing.

“What are you doing? This one is marked for transplant.” The taller one pointed towards the door that's emitting an orange glow, fire is visible from a small slit in the metal. 

“It doesn’t matter, she's dead already. Number 011 shot them twice to finish it.”

The taller one spoke up, shifting closer, trying to be inconspicuous in the room with other soldiers. None seemed to glance up towards them, all focused on their own tasks. “We can still see what we can salvage, we don’t have to be careful anymore. The frontman is in the games, it’s not like he would notice.”

What did they do with the bodies other than burn him , Gihun’s thoughts provided as a shiver ran down his spine despite the heat radiating from the room. The vents were unbearably hot where he was. 

“The manager is becoming more careless. When the frontman comes back, he might catch on to what we are doing and shut it down again. Be grateful we’ve got this far already without him around.”

They seemed to get more angry with each other, shoulders tensing and voices becoming more sharp. 

“I don’t care what he says, this is a better paying gig. Don’t burn the bodies even if they’re dead. Send them to the surgeons room. Understand?”

A moment passed between them.

“Understood.”

Gihun couldn’t believe it– They burned the bodies but kept some untouched, they had a surgeon working for them, and it was crucial the frontman didn’t know or approve. 

He didn’t have time to sit and consider what it meant– time was already running out, so he shuffled faster with haste as the noises of the room had died down the farther he got away. Up ahead, past a slow spinning fan was a tunnel on the other side that shot upwards with a wider entrance and a ladder– This was just what he needed. 

It was a tight fit to try and turn onto his back, but it was his only shot at getting through it. There was a large metal cage on either side of the fan blades, and when he finally was able to flip around, he got close, kicking his legs at it. This had to be close to the frontman’s room.

The fan gave out, falling out below into a dark area with sand with a soft clatter before he stretched his legs out, catching onto the rungs and steadying himself before traveling up.

• ▲■

The walls were black with strange square shapes tracing along them, accompanied by the sleek dark floor that flowed throughout the whole space. Gihun tried hurrying, but the stark contrast from the bright dormitories that players slept in versus the colorful walls that winded throughout the entire building compared to this– It was almost sad how lifeless the room was, but with how cruel the frontman's actions were, it made sense the place he stayed in reflected that.

There was a large liquor cabinet against the far wall, full of bottles with a smooth amber liquid. Whiskey .

It's eerily silent, he waits to hear footsteps before continuing forwards, walking in long strides trying to silence his footsteps.

He peeked his head into one of the rooms, finding a bland bedroom following the same basic theme before checking one of the more hidden doors that looked strategically blended into the wall. When the door creaked open and Gihun flicked on the light, his eyes widened in surprise.

There were shelves filled to the brim with boxes and binders, and this was the jackpot– The only issue is, he didn’t know what he was looking for. 

Passing through with haste, flicking through each page and reading the text on the spine, he found that the games went back for years– 

There was a crackling, and then an announcement was being made over the intercom, still loud despite him being in the frontman's quarters. 

It was the familiar loud music that played when the lights flashed on in the morning– he was running out of time again.

His mind was blocking out the sound as he frantically sat on the floor searching through each binder, looking for something useful. The room was in disarray around him, but he knew there had to be something useful within these shelves. 

There was only so much time before someone came in and caught him, or Young-il noticed that he was missing from the room after the chaos of the morning dissipated. A piece of him hoped that he wouldn’t find out, but he knew one thing was for certain in every version of this he’s lived through– 

Young-il always had eyes on him.

He was panicking, what if this was his last chance– What if he didn’t get reset this time, what if this was it? His hands were scrambling, flipping through almost throwing things. There had to be something.

The binder he was looking through had almost fallen out of his hands when he saw a picture of a familiar face. His hair was different and his eyes seemed lively compared to now but it was, without a doubt, Young-il. 

Gihun froze. 

His name was Hwang Inho. 

His birthday is February 2nd, he was born in 1976. In the picture he has a near smile on his face that makes his heart squeeze uncomfortably. There was a game in 2015 that he was the sole winner of– He used to be a player. The thought was almost enough to make Gihun be sick. 

This is Junho’s older brother. He knew he was the frontman and he never told him.

Without thinking, he shut the binder, throwing it across the floor to join the others in a pile. This whole place deserves to burn, if only his revolution worked. If only he wasn’t trapped here over and over again. If only–

There were footsteps behind him, and before he could move– Gihun was kicked in the side, toppling over as hands were gripping at his wrists, holding them together. He tried to wriggle out, lashing his legs out hoping to make contact with the other man's legs as he attempted to escape his hold, but the grip tightened. \

When he looked up, he was met with the mask of the frontman before a cloth covered his mouth and nose, knocking him out cold. 

• ▲■

By the time his eyes fluttered open, he was being dragged across a floor as he watched the frontman walk in front of him. Gihun is unceremoniously shoved by the pink triangle guards into a chair at the head of a table, hands bound to the chair arms with black thin rope tight enough to burn if he moves enough. 

He blinks into consciousness fully, and realizes that he's been brought to another room he can’t recognize. 

It’s full of large extravagant furniture. Surreal, almost exotic plants fill the room and there's a strange combination of warm and pink lighting that sets the mood of the room– A stark contrast compared to their dormitories. This room is full of patterns and color and a richness to it that he can’t comprehend, it was almost enough to give him whiplash. 

“Did you have fun playing the hero?” The frontman pipes up, watching him with anticipation. 

Gihun was thrumming full of energy, adrenaline waking him up and wearing off the chloroform he was knocked out with. His heart is beating like an unending drum in his chest, wanting to escape. “I know who you are, you–”

“Player 456, the fourth game will start soon.” His voice was devoid of emotion.

Before he could speak further, try to pry answers out of the man or wonder about what their intentions were with him beyond watching him play the games, the doors opened. A group of six men all dressed in outrageous suits that looked like it cost as much as both his kidneys. They were all loud and boisterous, rambling about something between themselves and he couldn’t differentiate anything they were saying. 

All of a sudden, the frontman was greeting them and his body language wasn’t giving any hints as to what he had said. His pose was stiff and almost unmoving, as if he was a statue with a speaker attached. The way he spoke was calculated, and one of the VIP’s had spoken over him causing the group of them to cackle or scoff. Inho remained still, giving them time to calm down before he responded once again.

“I can’t believe he attempted that. Doesn’t he know that there are cameras everywhere? I mean– How’d he win the last games with a brain like that?”

“His determination is striking, though. I sort of admire it.”

“Jesus, Deer. You sound like you’re in love with him. Don’t go playing with your food, the games haven’t even gotten good yet!”

There was laughter once again, and before Gihun knew it they were piling around the table surrounding him. The large extravagant chairs seemed to fit each of them perfectly, by aesthetic and size. 

The frontman– Young-il, sat next to him and he was reminded of the rope tying him to the chair. Why was he brought here after breaking the rules? 

In most instances, he never seemed to hesitate when people disobeyed the rules of the games. He shook at the reminder of his first games when all the players walked out of the dormitory only to witness multiple guards and one of their fellow players hung by their arms and slaughtered, hung like cattle and for their viewing– It was all a message. 

He was always trying to prove a point, and Gihun refused to understand such a thing.

“What am I supposed to do here? They aren’t even talking to me.” He said bitterly, unconsciously pulling at the ropes ties around him. 

The frontman didn’t falter, he stared at the guests who were sitting in front of them and spoke confidently. “The conversation may switch to you at any given point as this is their first day being here. They came early once they heard of your escape.”

Gihun rolled his eyes. “They don’t even speak korean.”

“I’m here to translate.”

“What if I don’t want you to translate?” He snarked back, turning towards him hoping to pick a fight before one of the VIP’s were talking towards the frontman again– completely ignoring Gihun’s presence beside the man.

“Jesus, he’s talkative. You do have plans to punish him later for trying to escape, right?” The Owl VIP spoke, sitting at the opposite end of the table drinking a large glass of wine that one of the servants handed him. 

“I will, I just haven’t decided on any method yet.” The frontman's voice filtered through the mask, making Gihun wriggle in his seat nervously. He just sounds so– different. So unlike Young-il– or Inho.

“Well I’m sure one of us would be uh– ecstatic, to take over if you wouldn’t mind.” The Lion VIP spoke up, voice unmistakably American– as most of them were. 

“Mhm yes, a previous winner like him would be good to teach a lesson to.” 

The man next to him, dawning a Deer mask, had spoken up beside him, voice almost purring before the frontman shut his supposed idea down with haste.

“That might go against the equality of the games, so I may have to deny your request.”

“What– What’d they say?” Gihun asked, ignoring the eyes still boring into him from around the table.

His mask made it hard to understand what was said, as he sounded displeased, but the VIP’s were laughing quietly to themselves. Were they talking about him? “It’s nothing of your concern, Player 456. The next game is about to begin.”

The next game? It was happening without him– He would miss it. Who teamed up with Jungbae and Daeho?

A large screen fell down in front of the walls surrounding them, large and black in appearance before it flickered to life and showed a clear image of the remaining players still alive and preparing to play the second game.

For a moment, Gihun’s heart rate spiked as he couldn’t catch sight of Jungbae or Daeho through the crowd. 

The VIPs were speaking, but he drowned out their voices as his eyes flickered from each player, searching for the familiar figures– They were there, settled with three random players. Junhee was on the same team as Geum-ja and Yong-sik. 

He couldn’t sigh in relief, he knew how low their chances were. A shiver went up his smile as the frontman beside him interrupted his train of thoughts, but he remained focused on the screen. 

Around him, the VIPs were chattering loudly, placing bets on what teams they thought might win. There were large glasses of wine or whiskey placed in front of everyone but the frontman and the player as everyone watched with anticipation. The thought alone made Gihun sick.

These men were inhuman with their habits and he wanted nothing more than to watch them suffer like the players did.

As the game began, two random groups going first, there was a shift in the room. The sound of a chair dragging before his eyes snapped to the VIP sitting on his right side.

The man in a deer mask had moved his chair closer to Gihun’s side, stretching his hand over and resting it on his thigh, right above his knee. Without thinking, he flinched and tried moving away, but the chair was too heavy and he couldn’t push his hands off.

He kept staring at him through the gold mask, head tilting as if to challenge him. 

Gihun turned to Young-il– Inho, he scolded himself again – who was in the middle of talking to some of the VIP’s on his side of the table with his face turned away. He bit his lip, almost wishing he could reach over and get his attention without causing a scene, but the deer’s hand was still on his thigh, gripping, and he wanted to scream– He wanted to cry.

“I need to go back,” Gihun whispers a small plea towards Inho, trying to keep his eyes away from the man on his right out of fear he’ll speak or move closer. “This is ridiculous. Just let me rejoin the games.” 

Inho responds to the VIP’s before slowly turning his head, barely even glancing at him. “After that little stunt you pulled, you’re staying within arms length.” 

He could almost roll his eyes at that, but as he turned back to look at the table, he saw Deer still staring at him, leaning closer, trying to push his hand upwards. Gihun jolted again, before locking eyes with him.

“Stop it. Get your fucking hands off me.” 

He's ignored, and the hand on his leg has only tightened since it first made contact, and it burns with unpleasantness as he wishes his legs weren’t bound by rope too, or he’d dig it into the man. Deer is still staring and smiling. Gihun feels like he’s about to pass out. Without looking towards the frontman, he pleads as his desperation to get the VIP away from him grows.

“In-ho, please.”

Under his gold mask, the man smiled, ignoring Gihun’s obvious discomfort and leaning closer, almost enough for their sides to touch as he laid his hand closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the frontman turning his head before he spoke up in English, voice sounding tense– more than it did when they first entered the room.

“Let go, all players must remain unharmed.” 

Gihun turned towards him. During his first time reliving the past week, the thought of facing Inho– Youngil, at that point– brought a sick feeling to his stomach. Having to look at him and remember all that he’s done to Gihun and his friends, the betrayal burned with an insatiable rage. Now, as disappointing as it is to himself, he wishes Inho wasn’t wearing the mask of the frontman, nor the one of Young-il. 

He wishes he could understand what he was saying, and he wanted nothing more than to see a face that became all too familiar beside him.

“I could pay a pretty penny for a former winner like him, it could even be enough to up the budget for next year's games.” Deer spoke with a sneer, trying to inch closer to the man he staked as his prize.

Inho’s voice was sharper this time. “To keep the integrity of the games, all players will remain untouched by sponsors- No exceptions.” 

With a disappointed sigh, his hand slid off his leg and he turned to the person sitting next to him, seemingly slipping into conversation as if nothing happened– as if Gihun wasn’t worth their attention when they couldn’t use him for their own gain. 

He swallowed down the sick feeling in his stomach, resisting the urge to let tears fall. This was never going to end– The loops, the games, the pain. All of it. Gihun was stuck forever, and he was going to be miserable for all of it. 

“I’m sorry.”

Gihun blinked, tears barely staying at bay as he turned to Inho, voice breaking. “What?” 

“Nothing is more important than the equality of all players. What he was implying was completely unacceptable.” He said, voice remaining quiet and stern despite no one even looking in their direction.

“Equality? That's bullshit. What other players are forced to sit here with these animals instead of fighting to death in the dorm rooms, or in the games?”

“You’re special, Player 456.”

Inho was silent, staring at him unnervingly, and for a moment Gihun thought he might break his composer– Punish him for speaking out of place, or something similar. The man just stared, before turning back and watching the screen play out as players ran out of time during the race. 

Huh.

The rest of the game, no one glanced in his direction. He was invisible, and a sense of discomfort still lingered, unsure if it was for the better or for the worst that they acted as if he wasn’t in the room with them.

The excitement of his attempted escape had been easily dissipated with the rush of the other games, but he already found all the information he wanted.

He knew Inho’s name.

• ▲■

Jungbae and Daeho survived, along with Junhee’s group. He didn’t want to be too obvious in his relief in case the men around him clued into them being his teammates, even if they technically weren’t in this loop. They sat around, watching the vote happen and just like usual, they stayed.

Things seemed to be winding down as the men had drank for the entire game's duration and seemed to have lost their energy, and it fueled the fire burning in Gihun’s chest. They were pigs who did nothing but sit around and they had the audacity to act like watching the games was more tiring than playing them ? Gihun truly, deeply did not understand how Inho managed to work with these people.

Even with all the terrible things he's done, he can’t seem to correlate that they work together- it just doesn’t make sense. He can’t imagine the man dressed in a gold mask talking in the same way they do. He hadn’t even seen him converse much in English beyond answering questions, ones that seemed to be about the game.

It just didn’t add up in Gihun’s head. 

He was so lost in thought he glitched when they all stood up, a few of them noticed his movements and laughed as they downed the last bit of alcohol and headed towards the door. The frontman stood up with him, ignoring Gihun in favor of saying his goodbyes to the guests.

The Vips had gotten up to go to their rooms, a few of them took servers with them and Gihun wished he could do nothing but kill them right there. 

A pink guard approached him as he shoved his back further into the seat to get away before they pulled out a knife. He glanced over at Inho, who still had his back turned as the last of the group had left the door, before looking back at the guard standing above him.

The knife was getting closer towards his hands as he struggled against the ropes, afraid– but the guard had aimed the blade towards the rope rather than his wrists, and a panicked gasp had left him as it accidentally made contact with his skin.

As soon as it was unraveled from his left wrist, he pulled it close to his chest while the man repeated his action with his other hand, this time leaving it unmarked. 

Inho sauntered over as he became free, and Gihun was holding his wrist in a tight grasp as saturated red blood seeped slowly down his hand. It wasn’t much, and it definitely wouldn't need stitches, but it still hurt– as did his previous injuries. 

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was unreadable as Gihun felt warm under his gaze.

He wanted nothing more than to escape it.

“It’s nothing. If the game is over, you should take me back to the dormitory before the lights go out.” Gihun hissed out, glancing around the room only to find that they were completely alone.

Inho spoke up again, voice more strained this time. “You will be staying under my supervision until the next game begins.” 

Gihun grimaced. “Overnight?”

“That’s correct.”

It seemed better than being stuck close to the VIP’s, lest the Deer were to seek him out if he grew bored of the server he’d taken when leaving the room. The chances of him returning to the games after knowing all this information was slim anyway, but the hope still remained– as did the fear.

The frontman stood up, walking towards the door only to turn around in annoyance when Gihun wasn’t following. Then, he scrambled to walk behind him, albeit hesitant, as they left the room and two guards were stationed outside the doors waiting for them.

“Follow me, and don’t even think about running off this time.”

The guard behind him nudged him forward with the tip of the rifle as he tried to keep up with their pace. His chest was hurting again, as was his neck and the fresh wound on his wrist began to dry up slightly as the blood stuck to his hand. They walked up a few hallways and through stairs that he couldn’t recognize before approaching a large black door that scanned his mask. 

He followed the man in closely before the door slid shut behind them, trapping the guards outside.

“You’ll be sleeping in the main bedroom, and the doors are all locked, so there is no use in trying to run. Guards are stationed outside all exits too, even around the vents. Very clever, by the way.” Inho said with ease as he walked to the end of the hallway, taking his gloves off painstakingly slowly before reaching into the cabinet for a bottle of whiskey and a glass. 

Gihun was hanging around the entrance of the room, casting a glance towards the cabinet doors he broke into that were now screwed shut with a piece of black wood, and the paint was still fresh. 

“Isn’t the main bedroom yours?”

“There’s only one.”

“Oh.”  He faltered a little before gaining his usual sarcasm back. It was for security, surely. “You may as well just lock me in a cell.” 

Inho just hummed in disagreement, taking off his mask and setting it at the table in front of him as he drank. 

“I wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on you.” Finally, he turned around leaning against the cabinet with a glass in hand, eyes trained on Gihun. “Now tell me, Player 456 – How did you find out it was me? Did Detective Hwang tell you, or was it someone from here?”

Gihun swallowed roughly, finding it hard to breathe. “You played the games in 2015– your picture was in that book.” 

“Yes, but you never saw my face until now. I’ll ask again– Who was it? ” Inho’s voice was more stern now as he placed his glass down, stepping closer to Gihun to create less space between them.

He didn’t have time to answer before he felt a shock run through him– Gihun clutched his chest tightly, wrapping his hand over his ribs to protect them from the throbbing pain that began to grow again. “It was no one, I just– fuck .”

His eyes shut as he leaned heavier against the wall as sweat began to form on his forehead. It didn’t feel as bad as the fever, but his through was closing up again, like someone was gripping onto it and squeezing –

Inho was a lot closer when he opened his eyes again, glancing up as his arms tightened around him. 

“Gihun, what happened to you?” His voice laced with concern as he stepped closer before Gihun could flinch, but he didn’t back down. “Was it the guards? The VIPs? Tell me–”

The inevitable tears that were gathering in his eyes began to roll down as he bit his lip, trying to silence the sounds about to come out– He wanted to be embarrassed, he wanted to push the man further away, but he couldn’t help it. It just hurt so much, and his head was pounding with each sound of movement.

“I–” Gihun tried gathering his thoughts, but the pain was blinding. “I can’t.”

His eyes opened as Inho’s hands were hovering over him and his eyes were wide– He was afraid. Hwang Inho was afraid.

“Let me help you, Gihun. Just this once.” Inho’s voice was quiet as he couldn’t help but nod, before a familiar hand wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him from the wall, leading him to the bedroom.

The wall that had the files and boxes was screwed shut, mirroring the one he broke through earlier. He couldn't even consider going through and snooping again. He wouldn’t even care about what he found, as the biggest mystery he had yet to solve was standing in front of him, scared for Gihun’s safety.

He tried so hard to hate him– he was getting sick of it.

Inho’s hand was steady against his back, his bare hand trailing across his back and he could feel the warmth through the tracksuit. They approached the bed as he twisted Gihun to sit down, before trying to assess the situation. For a brief moment, he left the room, and Gihun assumed he wouldn’t come back as he tried to not let the thought sting. 

Within a few moments, he came back with a glass of water and a handful of pills. He opened his hand, hovering above Gihun’s before dropping them. Their hands never brushed against each other, even as the glass was traded over. Slowly, he swallowed the pills and he knew he was a fool for trusting him.

But Inho wasn’t wearing the mask, and he kept staring at Gihun. 

His hand was clenching the bedsheets while the other one rested across his torso, barely looking up as his face contorted in pain. It hurt more than the last loop, but he couldn’t figure out why– what changed– was he still running out of time?

“Gihun…” Inho whispered, and as he glanced up he watched his jaw clench as his eyes narrowed in on his neck. “Who did this to you?”

Before he could question what he was talking about, Inho reached his hand up to brush gently against the pale expanse of his neck, stopping in the middle, right in the spot where he got choked a few loops ago. He watched intently as Inho sucked in a breath staring at that spot, before looking back up at him. His hands, cold compared to Gihun’s own flushed skin, had his thumb slowly trailing up and down the side of his neck. He tried not to shiver, but the feeling was too strong to stifle.

He couldn’t find any words that would comfort Inho, and he was too tired to explain any of this. His chest was aching, his head was pounding, and if he had to watch Inho stare at him with that look in his eyes for another minute he might do something unforgivable. It was too much to confess– and the loop would likely restart soon.

Gihun instead just stared at Inho, lifting the hand that was holding the sheets and instead bringing it to Inho’s wrist– Not pulling him closer or pushing him away, instead he just held him.

“I’ll tell you in the morning.” His voice sounded tired even to his own ears.

Inho looked at him longer, eyes flickering between Gihun’s and the bruise on his neck that his hands were still softly brushing against.

Gihun reiterated what he said. “I promise, Inho.”

Instead of fighting, he just nodded and slowly slipped his hand away. He waited and watched as Gihun laid down, wrapping the sheets around him while his head rested on the pillow. Inho finally turned the lamp off, pausing to stand next to him for a moment, before shaking away whatever he was thinking of in favor of walking out of the room.

He kept the door open, and turned the hallway lights off.

It's quiet.

Gihun falls asleep against the stiff mattress, letting the blankets weigh him down as the silent room begins to feel less suffocating. The deep, calculated breaths from Inho in the other room act as white noise, lulling him further into sleep before he feels the world shift around him.

The bed feels thinner, the sheets less welcoming, and the unmistakable sound of the dromitries causes him to startle awake–

The loop had restarted again.

Chapter Text

LOOP 8

The sound rang loud and clear as Gihun hesitated to open his eyes.

He could tell it was going to restart, he was in the last loop for long enough that it seemed to just end naturally– thankfully this time, it hurt slightly less, but that might be due to how much he’d slept the last two rounds. 

It felt wrong to mourn the loss of the warm thick sheets that were in the frontman's quarters– Inho’s room.

There was a promise he left broken and unfulfilled, but the reminder that this new version of Inho didn’t know what they had been through. This version wouldn’t remember the lingering glances and the soft way Gihun held onto him, selfishly, in the last loop.

It stung– There was no version of him that would remember any of this. 

Still, he got up and went through the motions he knew would work.

• ▲■

It was after red light green light when he turned to Jungbae, who was staring off with his food in his hand as his own container went untouched. 

“I’m stuck in some sort of… time loop .” it came out more abruptly than he had meant to say it, but the words still came out– it was progress, up until he glanced up and saw Jungbaes reaction.

He laughed. “Yeah, and I’m a billionaire. Wait– I guess you are since you won all that money right?”

Gihun almost rolled his eyes, even though he understood the hesitation. 

It sounded ridiculous, even to him. 

“Jungbae, I’m serious. This isn’t the first time I’ve lived through this. It lasts a few days until we finish the first three games, this is the first time we’ve had this conversation, though.”

All of a sudden, a voice came from the bunk above them, and out popped Daeho as he quickly shuffled across the mattress with food still in his mouth, midchew. “That’s not scientifically possible, right? I mean if you lived through all of this, why not just go home? Wouldn’t that stop it?”

“And who are you–” Jungabe spoke up, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“Jungbae, this is Daeho. You guys are friends– Or, will be.” Gihun attempted to explain.

Daeho gasped loudly, waving his fork at Gihun in surprise. “Woah, you’re telling the truth– You knew my name!”

Jungbae scoffed. “Maybe it’s because you’re a loud mouth– Where’d your manners go, huh?”

“Guys–” Gihun sighed– This was not how this was supposed to go.

“If you have a problem with the way I’m acting, I’ll have you know I was a marine .”

“Guys, listen–” Gihun tried to defuse the situation, but before he could get a word in, another voice popped in.

“Excuse me–” Inho approached late, possibly due to the fact that the two men that Gihun seemed trapped between were endlessly bickering about nonsense, and he’d lost track of what their argument was prior.

There was no group behind him, either. He doubts that Inho was able to convince anyone else to approach them while they fought loudly.

Maybe if he survived another loop and chose to tell them about it, he would wait until everyone already knew each other. 

“Gihun, how am I supposed to trust you’re in a time loop when you said I was friends with this punk– and who’s this guy?” Jungbae complained, sounding far too whiney for a grown man.

It reminded Gihun of how he used to be, prior to the games, but it was a far off memory quickly stripped away due to the overlapping conversations happening around him.

Inho seemed genuinely surprised, his back had straightened out so instead of trying to meet Gihun’s downcast eyes, he was nervously looking between the three of them. “I’m sorry, what?”

Daeho and Jungbae were still bickering between themselves, 

“Enough! This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.” Gihun shouted, only loud enough for their small group to hear, thankfully before Jungbae took his jacket off and the two ex-marines started yelling with excitement.

Gihun didn’t know if that would happen in this loop given how they’ve been glaring daggers at each other. 

“What do you mean? I just– I’m a little lost here, if I’m being honest.” Inho admits sheepishly. 

Daeho was quick to answer first, butting into the conversation before Gihun could find the right words.

“Mr 456 was telling us that he’s stuck in a time loop.” He goes for a blunt approach.

Shit.

Inho’s face goes blank, staring at Daeho with an intensity he seemed surprised by. “Uhm, what–”

“I can explain better than they can, it's– Well, I don’t know.” Gihun stuttered out. “I didn’t exactly think this through, I just– I’ve lived through these interactions plenty of times, I just never… told anyone.” 

The three men around them stared. God, he wasted this loop over nothing. His chest was beginning to hurt again, and he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to survive with the knowledge that these three– the only three who consistently stood by his side even despite his annoyance– didn’t believe him.

This was bad. 

There was a chance he could spend the rest of this loop climbing through the vents again, but it took up so much time, and he wasn’t sure what else he would be able to find in the rooms. If any guards found him, they would eliminate him instantly if Inho wasn’t around to stop them. That was only if he felt like it, too.

“Are you sure?” Inho asked, only looking at Gihun.

His chest hurt, but he didn’t let that be clear.

Jungbae scoffed. “What kind of question is that? I mean– How would we even know?”

They all stopped for a moment before the fight between Thanos, Namgyu, and Junhee’s ex boyfriend broke out across the room. Gihun made sure to memorize their names this time as he got sick of referring to them as ‘purple haired kid and the other one’ in every loop. Not Junhee’s ex boyfriend, though– Gihun didn’t want to remember his name.

Inho looked displeased, glancing back at Gihun who’s gaze flickered between the fight and him, and he seemed to take that as a sign to stop it. Jungbae and Daeho kept giving each other odd glances. 

The distinct sound of Thanos falling to the floor sounded out as the audience gasped, watching as Inho quickly won the fight. When he straightened his back out, face looked flushed with humble pride as he found Gihun’s eyes within the crowd of the room.

This time, Gihun clapped with the others.

• ▲■

The questioning began again, this time without Daeho and Jungbae bickering constantly. 

“Mr 456, how does it end? I mean– Why does it end?” Daeho seemed to laugh nervously, fidgeting with the pads of his thumbs as he rubbed his hands together, gaze flickering between everyone in their group.

The uncomfortable feeling of everyone’s eyes on him was becoming increasingly common, but it didn’t make it any more bearable. 

“Everytime, it resets when I die or if the time runs out. The first time I lived through all this, we ended up revolting and trying to take over the control room, but we never made it that far because we became outnumbered. It either ends around that time, or earlier if I– You know. ”

“Oh.” Daeho says, nodding his head in solidarity as they all process what he told them. “Do we ever die?”

Gihun considers telling the truth, or completely lying, but both make his chest ache.

“It depends, I guess. You’re always fine after it resets though, so don’t worry about it, it’s not a common occurrence.” 

Memories flash by of him losing Jungbae, seeing the faces of the people he's grown to call his friends, even shivering at the memory of holding Inho’s hands underneath his own in false attempts to keep the blood from spilling out– They didn’t need to know that.

“Are you fine afterwards, does it hurt?” Jungbae speaks up, beating everybody else to it. He admired his straightforwardness, but he can’t handle everyone staring at him like this– like they felt bad.

“Yeah, a little. It’s okay, though– It’s not too bad.” He waves them off, but no one seems to believe him. 

Inho finally spoke up. “So, you don’t know how it ends?”

Gihun’s read his expressions a thousand times. He knew the way his jaw clenched when he was flustered or the way the nail of his thumb dug into his pointer when he was stressed out and couldn’t hide it. He heard the shouts of Inho when he was strangled, when he was shot, when he was killed over and over again.

“No, that’s why I’m still stuck here.”

His eyebrows seemed to rise with that. “And you haven’t told any of us this information before? You’ve just been going through all of this alone?”

Gihun shifted uncomfortably, wishing that he could just walk away from talking about this– his ex wife always said he was bad at opening up about his feelings, but this felt even worse. It was worse than getting his tooth pulled out. “I told someone once, last time. It was too late, though– it just reset.”

Daeho piped up again. “Who’d you tell?”

Gihun felt his face warm up, but before he could answer the announcer voice spoke up over the speakers and announced that the lights would be shutting off in fifteen minutes. Everyone turned to look at him, but it felt like there were no other words of advice he could give.

He just had to wait to see who believed him while he thought about ways to prove it to them.

• ▲■

He’s sitting in his bunk, unable to sleep when Inho approaches him. The man seemed to hesitate, slowly making his way up the stairs before awkwardly asking if he could sit down with him and talk.

Gihun just nodded.

“What else did you see in those other loops? How did–” He trails off for a moment, jaw clenched as his hands fidgeted on top of his knees. “Do you know how the original ended?” 

Gihun saw where this was going, and he wasn’t sure if it would be good. “I do.”

The other man seemed to pause, waiting for him to continue, but Gihun was hesitant. A sinking feeling crept up into his chest as he watched Inho try and piece it all together.

“You killed Jungbae, and you turned against us. Is that what you wanted to hear– Is that what you had planned all along?”

Inho seemed to hesitate. In every timeline so far, Gihun knew who he was, and told Inho as much from early on. Each time, his confusion grew more and more, but explaining what Gihun was going through– what he was stuck in, even without evidence, seemed to make Inho act completely different.

Like he was worried about Gihun knowing too much outside of his identity as the frontman. Did he know Inho just as well as his brother did? Was that driving him away? 

Still, he held his composure well. 

“No, that wasn’t part of the plan.” He said quietly, as if the admission scared him.

Gihun wanted to roll his eyes– having these conversations were like talking to a brick wall. “What was it then? What could have made you do that?”

Inho glanced up at him, watching his expression for a moment before turning away, hiding his gaze under the shadows of the dim dormitory lighting. “I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers you need.”

Gihun seemed to drop it.

There was no definitive way to read into Inho’s thoughts, especially the version of him he met all those weeks ago. Time may be moving differently for Gihun, but it seemed at times to still affect Inho– this newfound version of Gihun, one of more experience and less expectations, seemed to change the way Inho acted around him.

There was no room for Young-il, and no chance for the frontman to appear.

Only Inho. The fear within both of them grew with that knowledge.

“How can we trust your word?” He was staring up at Gihun with that intense look again, similar to the one he gave after taking off the mask of the frontman in his room. It didn’t make him afraid anymore, at least not like Inho intended it to.

Gihun sat, thinking. There wasn’t much information he had about Inho beyond his name, his past, and his brother– but for all the other man knew, Junho could have revealed that. It was a tricky solution, one he couldn’t use lightly.

There were smaller details, like the way his room was designed with black abstract shapes etched into the wall and the cabinet of whiskey he drank from carelessly, but it wasn’t solid proof he’d seen much.

And lastly, the bigger issue of what happened between them in each loop was full of empty promises, ones that Inho could choose not to believe with ease. 

That's when it hit him– The pain. 

“I have scars from how I died, it flares up on and off.”

Inho seemed to glance over him, searching for any, but the room was too dark to prove that there was anything. Gihun could take his hand and guide it towards him, but that meant–

Gihun shook his head, voice filled with bitter disappointment. “It’s too dark to see.”

Inho seemed to pause, glancing around the room before motioning for Gihun to follow him. It took a few moments for him to register what the man was doing as he sat and watched him reach the bottom of the stairs and continue walking, without looking back and checking for Gihun. He pushed the blankets away from him as he rushed to follow, trying not to trip and fall or accidentally wake the other players.

He finally caught up when they were halfway across the room, Inho walking steadily towards the side door. Gihun almost stopped. “Wh– Where are we going?” 

Inho only stopped walking once he reached the door, rapping on it lightly with his knuckles as the sliding window cover was pushed back, only for the pink guard to nod once they saw him. 

The door opened, and Inho turned to glance at him. “If you’re telling the truth, I need to know. That changes everything.”

Inho grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him along, walking in front as the guard seemed to do a double take before trailing behind them to the bathroom.

Gihun scoffed. “This changes what, you choosing to betray us? You killing me –”

Inho cut him off. “Gihun, enough .”

The door to the bathroom opened as Inho pushed him in, the door swinging closed behind them as he heard the lock click shut. Oh– That’s what this was about.

“You know if you kill me, I’ll just come back and you won’t even remember right?” Gihun sneered back. He didn’t understand what Inho wanted now that he knew– All his plans crumbled, what was left for him? 

Inho nearly scoffed, his patience crumbling as Gihun jumped to conclusions. “Stop it. I didn’t bring you here to kill you. I want you to prove to me that this is true. Show me .” 

Gihun didn’t think this through. “Oh– Well, that’s– It’s a little difficult to…”

He watched as Inho tilted his head, waiting. 

“Okay, yeah– okay, let me just–” He stuttered, turning around in hopes of finding more privacy only to remember that there’s a mirror in front of him, and even in their reflection Inho was staring. 

His hands began to unzip the tracksuit sweater nervously as it got caught for a moment halfway down before he pulled it behind him and off his shoulders. There were no wounds on his arms that he could easily pull off as ‘time loop’ wounds beyond the small one on his wrist from the last time– he needed solid evidence, something Inho would believe without hesitating.

He grabbed onto the bottom hem of his shirt with hesitation, fidgeting with the edges until he looked at Inho’s reflection as he found the man still watching, eyes darting from his face down to his hands. Gihun felt his own face flush before pulling it upwards.

He knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed, Inho has easily seen him in worse positions, but he still felt uneasy having to practically undress in front of him. Gihun looked at his chest in the mirror, and the faded marks of raised pink skin were littered along his ribcage.

It wasn’t causing him much pain beyond the dull throbbing he’d grown used to, but staring at them directly caused unpleasant memories to race through his mind– This was the first time he was properly seeing them, beyond the blurry sedated state he was in a few loops ago.

This was different– This was borderline indecent. 

Inho was now staring at him directly, scanning his back where there were no doubt more wounds that Gihun couldn’t glance at unless he turned around, and he couldn’t bring himself to as that would mean facing Inho head on. 

He looked down as his hands sprawled out on the bathroom counter, shame coursing through him. All their secrets had been spilled out between them, beyond the ones Gihun hid in the back of his mind.

All of a sudden, amidst his despair and uncertainty, a soft and cold hand brushed over the scars on his back, and his breath hitched. He looked in the mirror, only to see Inho’s face hidden behind his shoulder. It wasn’t close enough to feel his breath, but it was close enough for Inho’s hand to move in slow deliberate circles, surrounding each scar as he traced each one on his back.

Gihun couldn’t stop the full body shiver course through him. It didn’t matter how he felt. He knew it was wrong, and Inho wasn’t the kind of person he should want .

What he did want, more than anything, was to turn around and face him– That thought scared him more than anything else, but it called to him, taunting the idea of it.

His eyes traveled down his face to stare at his lips before catching on to this action and looking back up with haste. 

Gihun gave in, and he turned around slowly as Inho’s hand fell off his back.

The look that Inho was giving him was worth it to see up close– the one full of intensity and emotion that he couldn’t ignore. It was pulling him in, engulfing him with a kind of need he wasn’t familiar with, one he hasn’t felt before.

He wanted to pull him closer, it would be so easy. His hands could slide to his shoulders, around his neck, thumb dragging along his defined jawline before he leans in and lets himself have this one thing. It wouldn’t be able to stop at that– he knew deep down that once he gave into this urge and knew what it felt like to have Inho to himself, he wouldn’t be able to give in. 

There would be no way he could restart from here.

It felt good to recreate these small, tender moments with him– but the Inho that he met at the beginning of each loop wasn’t the same one. He knew it wouldn’t be right.

Was there even a version of this that could last?

Was there any world out there where they could stay together– or would he keep losing him every time?

Inho never pulled away, he never pushed forward and tested the waters. Gihun wanted him to, but he knew the only acceptable reaction would be to push him away. It just wouldn’t be fair to either of them.

“Did this happen before?”

“No, it didn’t.”

Inho brought his hand up to his ribcage, tracing his thumb over one of the scars.

“Did you want it to?”

Gihun couldn’t deny it, but he knew the moment he nodded his head or whispered the words ‘ yes ’ he would be a dead man. Inho was killing him, faster than the scars littering his body had. 

He could die like this and have his life never reset, and it would be shame to waste such an opportunity to not save everyone on this island, but he tried so many times, and he was so tired– and if he got to see Inho one last time staring at him like this before he died, he could die happy.

Gihun had to stop this before it got too far. 

“Do you believe me now?” His voice was still quiet, analyzing Inho’s face while he could, before they both pulled away. 

This seemed to snap Inho out of it more, fingers digging into Gihun for a split second before falling away as he stepped backwards, nodding. His eyes never left his torso though, and Gihun took that with pride.

“How did it happen? Who did that?” Inho’s voice wavered before he cleared his throat. 

Gihun tried not to feel disappointed when he grabbed his shirt off the counter and shoved it back over his head, making his hair stuck up in all sorts of directions. “It depends, I usually just lost the games.”

His hands were stumbling to put his jacket back on, not bothering to zip it up as his hands shook with nerves. Fuck, he had to get a grip.

Inho’s eyes seemed to glare more with this. “Who did you play with that made you lose repeatedly?”

“It changed every time.”

“Who was it?” He didn’t seem keen on letting it go anytime soon.

Gihun scoffed. “Not you, if that's what you’re wondering.”

Inho seemed to be at a loss for words, and Gihun couldn’t handle the awkward silence of the room. 

“I don’t know how it ends, I try saving everyone but it doesn’t work. I feel like I’m doomed.”

Inho shook his head. “No, there has to be something that changes it. We just have to figure it out tomorrow.”

He was giving him that look again, and Gihun felt his ears flush. They could not do this– Not now, not ever. It just felt so hard to turn down. It made him feel wrong. “We should go back for the night. In the morning we can talk about it more with Jungbae and Daeho.” 

The other man nodded, tearing his eyes away from Gihun as they both walked off. In the dorms, they went to their separate beds, and he tried his hardest to sleep, even if it never came easy.

• ▲■

The race went normal, the same team went as Gihun asked Junhee to join them and she agreed. They had won– they had survived. 

After mingle was when things turned for the worst.

During the last round when the announcer called out ‘two ’, Daeho grabbed his arm and tugged him into an empty room. He was running a hand through his hair while trying to catch his breath as Gihun was glued to the window, watching all the remaining players scattered throughout the platform or banging on the closed doors.

“Do you think the others are alright? Do you– Are they out there?” Daeho’s voice cracked at the thought of them not making it. 

Gihun didn’t take his eyes away from the window, watching as people started to run. He only turned around when the sound of gunfire had begun. “They will be, I promise.”

Daeho waited for a few moments, trying to suppress the urge to flinch with every burst of screams from the other side of the door. He finally seemed to come up with something to replace the sound. “Inho kind of scares me, Mr Seong.”

Gihun’s heart felt like it skipped a beat. He didn’t mention Inho’s real identity or how he killed Jungbae in the last loops. There was nothing that should’ve concerned the rest of the team, so whatever Daeho felt was a gut feeling.

That's why it worried him. “Why?”

“I don’t know he seems… intense. What happened between you two?” Daeho was hesitant, like he was worried about overstepping some unspoken boundary they had yet to establish. 

“It’s a long story, one that we don’t have time for here. I appreciate your concern.” He said earnestly as he let out a heavy sigh. 

A few moments passed as the beeping of forklifts began.

“I’m worried about you, Sir. I’m not very good at… expressing certain things. Marine’s have to be strong, yaknow? But, I don’t want you to be stuck in this forever– I hope you find a way out, if there is one. If anyone can find it, it’ll be you.” His voice twinges in optimism, but he fidgets with his hands out of stress. 

It was enough to break Gihun, this open concern the boy showed for him, but he quickly hid his emotions– not wanting to break. “Thank you, Daeho.”

The door opened.

“Jungbae? Jungbae!” Daeho shouted, looking through the crowd for the shorter man as the room fell quiet, the only sounds were feet shuffling and quiet murmurs as all the remaining players glanced around, looking at who remained.

“ Shit , where is he?” Gihun muttered, not able to see anyone he recognized in the room. That was supposed to be the last round, where were they?

“Gihun!” 

He turned around in hopes of coming face to face with Jungbae, but instead he found Inho looking at him, a worried expression etched onto his face. Junhee was beside him.

There was so sign of Jungbae.

“Where is he? I thought you two were going together.” Gihun asked, his mind racing trying to come up with any reason as to why Jungbae wasn’t standing with them that wasn’t– that .

Junhee shook her head, face contorting. “They were about to go in a room but– I was–”

There were tears welling in her eyes as turned her head to wipe her eyes on her sleeve, almost hiding behind Inho as she failed to keep her composure. Gihun’s gaze flickered to Inho’s, and he looked guilty.

He struggled to swallow. “Inho, what did you do?”

“It wasn’t my choice, Gihun, he– He grabbed Junhee and pushed her in the room. I couldn’t get to him, I’m sorry.”

Daeho had seen the group talking from across the room, running frantically as he failed to find his friend. “Inho– Junhee! Where’s…” He seemed to stall when seeing the look on their faces. “Where’s Jungbae?”

Junhee was the one to break the news, tears freely falling down as she felt so much guilt overtake her. “I’m sorry, Daeho, I know how much you–” 

Daeho seemed to crumble, his hands shook and curled into fists against his sides. His bottom lip quivered as the truth hit him, heavy . “Mr Seong, you said they’d all be okay.”

“I’m sorry– I didn’t think–”

He didn’t think Jungbae would die this time. He thought they had a plan.

The loud announcer voice had spoken up as the large metal doors opened, pink guards coming out to guide them to the dorms. None of them wanted to move, but the presence of large machine guns were evident as it swayed them forward with reluctancy.

On the walk back, their feet seemed to drag on the floor as no one looked at each other– they couldn't. As they made their way to their spot, all beds were occupied but one, there's no words exchanged. The only sound is Daeho crying, hand over his mouth and failing to stifle his cries, and if Gihun had the energy he would comfort him. There were no words that could erase his grief. There was no way to end the loop early. 

Inho wouldn’t let him die easily to end it.

It was selfish, they both knew there was no reason for Gihun to stay the night in this loop when it would reset in the morning anyway. Gihun could start a fight, provoke a soldier, anything to have it end– But Inho held a warm hand on his lower back and guided him to the bed.

They laid down, the fight had left them. There might be a fight that would break out tonight, but they were laid beneath the bunks hidden from view. Junhee and Daeho were grouped together on one side, and Gihun curled up on his side facing away from Inho.

He knew logically that it wasn’t the man's fault, and he wanted to fall into the ease of blaming him for Jungbae’s death like he always had. This time, he couldn’t.

Gihun couldn’t bring himself to do anything but lay there, unmoving. 

Inho broke the tension as he laid on his back, staring up at the platform above them. He could feel his head tilting to glance at Gihun, but he didn’t turn around. 

“I’ve been having strange dreams.”

He didn’t have the energy to question him or play into the conversation more, he just laid there, and luckily Inho kept talking despite his silence.

“I can’t remember all of them, but this sickening sense of recognition keeps hitting me. I feel things I didn’t feel before. I was always… observant towards you, but this is different. I feel myself becoming more and more intrigued by you, Gihun. Call it obsession or delusion, but I know you feel it too. It comes in and out, like I’m on the shoreline and the waves keep crashing into me. Do you feel it too?” 

Gihun stayed silent, a subtle shiver ran through him as the words hit hard like a freight train. He couldn’t deny or accept these words as true, and he refused to keep pushing Inho away when there was something happening that neither of them could understand.

Instead, he turned, grabbed Inho’s left wrist, and pulled him closer.

Chapter Text

LOOP 9

He ran through the sea of people, elbowing other players as they muttered profanities his way– none of it meant anything to him.

After what felt like forever, he wormed his way through the crowd to get to the right side of the room as the masked guards were explaining the games to each player, finally getting to Jungbae– his friend was standing there, alive and oblivious to Gihun’s panic.

He turned around as Gihun’s shaking hand reached up to his shoulder, and his shocked expression tilted toward him, and then he was smiling.

“Gihun!”

He crashed into him, flinging his arms over his shoulders and hiding his face in his shoulder. Squeezing . Jungbae didn’t hesitate to reciprocate, holding onto his upper back with an equally tight grip. It brought a kind of peace Gihun hasn’t felt in weeks, grounding him back to reality– everything felt real again.

It was easy getting caught up in each loop, forgetting what mattered to him. Even if it didn’t end the time loop, even if it took him a thousand more tries, he brought back his old broken promise he planned to reinstalling to the forefront of his mind–

I’m not gonna let you die again, Jungbae.

• ▲■
•  

Time was always an issue in every loop– moments seemed to drag on for far too long or end too quickly, but he tried to feel present and aware of all his surroundings. He wanted to engage in as much conversation as he could with Jungbae, if only to hear his voice as a subtle comfort. 

It went the same way it always did. Gihun could rehearse these words in his head on repeat, a few small phrases changed each time but it was mostly the same dialog to him– It was all blurring together in his mind:

“It sounds strange, but I’ve played these games before. That’s where I’ve been the past few years. Yes, that means I won 45.6 billion won. No, I didn’t stop talking to you because you never lended me money, yes my mother is gone, how is your wife and your kids? I’m sorry they left you. I’m scared you’ll leave me, so stay close behind me and please– don’t die.”

The outcome was the same.

The first game was successful, a small handful of players died and he kept his mind from drifting to the memory of their bodies laying carelessly on the sand. It never got easier to see, only to ignore. 

The guilt was ever present, but he had to focus– he had to convince them to help him this time.

He waited until Daeho and Jungbae were bonding to even dare think about mentioning it outloud. Inho approached, teasing about dalgona as he bowed his head to hide a smile– that asshole.

Gihun, deep down, hoped he would feel bad for teasing when he found out the truth of his Gihun’s situation. He savored the idea of seeing Inho caught completely off guard again.

It would have to wait– he had to think of a good enough plan.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to get far without Inho noticing, so it was unavoidable that he would be apart of his group, plus if he was able to convince him enough, he would have a greater advantage– There were things that they had extensive knowledge about the island that could be useful.

Jungbae and Daeho could help too, but he didn’t want them risking their lives. 

However, Gihun was expendable– Gihun was replaceable. 

The largest issue was figuring out what exactly is keeping him here. Everytime he thinks about it too much, he’s swept away by the energy and chaos of the games, but there has to be something he can change that would end the loops.

It was beyond a revolution. It was much more than saving a certain number of people. It was bigger than the frontman himself.

Gihun stopped.

“I think I need to blow up the island.”

The chatter around him stopped. Inho was the first to speak up, not quite knowing what Gihun was aware of– not yet, at least. “Are you alright, Player 456?”

“Gihun, what’s wrong?” Jungbae piped up, moving to sit closer to his friend as Inho’s gaze hardened for a split second. He was too lost within his own thoughts to acknowledge it.

He could tell them all the truth, right then and there, but he’d be at risk of losing time to plan like last time if they began bickering or poking holes in his predicament. Inho also would be hesitant, but he's the one that Gihun needs to rely on most– it made him feel nauseous to think that, but deep down it was true.

There was no way he’d be able to pull off such a stunt without Inho’s help.

“I need to go to the bathroom. Do you want to come with me, Inho?” He turned towards the man, who had a sort of baffled look on his face as he took a moment to think before nodding along, his expression hardening.

Daeho and Jungbae exchanged odd glances between each other as Gihun stood up hastily, walking off to the doors. It would be lights out soon, but there were still so many players he knew no one else would notice. Inho followed behind him and he could feel his warm gaze on his back as Gihun knocked on the door, waiting for a pink guard to peek through the window at them.

A triangle guard was on the other side, seeming to notice Inho’s presence behind him as he opened the door and followed behind him. Gihun was just grateful he didn’t have to plead with them to open the door.

The tension in the air was thick, he could tell that the other man wanted to berate him with questions of how he knew his real name, but they both held their stiff composure until they were alone. Inho wouldn’t risk having a guard know his full name either, and they both understood that risk and hoped to avoid it.

The door closed behind them. Rather than walking to a stall and pretending, he turned to look at Inho.

He took in Inho’s put together appearance, clean unwrinkled tracksuit, and the glaring blue patch he proudly wore on his chest. It made Gihun doubt his whole plan. This was the same man who killed his best friend in front of him. This was the same man who ran the games.

Every version of Inho in his head was blurred together, and he didn’t know which one was standing in front of him.

Inho’s jaw was clenched as his eyes had narrowed towards him– he looked pissed . Before the confrontation could begin, Gihun rushed to talk first.

It was reminiscent of all those years before the games of him bargaining with the loan sharks, but instead of a group of thugs standing in front of him wanting to tear him apart with their teeth, it was Inho– and his bite was far worse.

Gihun took a shaking inhale before he started rambling.

“I know your name is Hwang Inho, and you’re the frontman. I know that your brother is looking for you, and there are VIPs coming to the island in a few days. I know this sounds insane, but you have to believe me. I’ve lived through this so many times and I don’t know how to stop it. One loop, I escaped early through the vents and got to your room– I found your file, so I’m aware that you won the games over a decade ago and became the frontman sometime after that– What more proof do you want, besides the scars littering my body, and a list of facts we both know are true that I shouldn’t have access to?” 

Inho still didn’t look impressed, but there was a small flicker of doubt he failed to hide on his face, the way his eyebrows scrunched up and his gaze faltered before he fixed it– Gihun’s words were getting to him, but barely. 

“They are harvesting dead players' organs behind your back– When you join the games to take part in the voting, the guards take all the bodies and instead of burning them, they sell the parts for money, or at least that’s what I think happens– I didn’t get that far that time.” He stutters, unable to grasp at anything else.

The only memories he has from the other loops are too personal– like what happened in the bathroom last time, or the games that Inho altered to make him fail, and both didn’t feel like the right thing to say. He settled for something more desperate.

“Now– I need to get off this island and destroy it– Are you going to help me, or not?”

Inho was silent, processing the onslaught of information Gihun threw his way.

He took a few moments. “What do you want me to do, and why should I do it for you?”

“I want you to help me dismantle the games. I want you to help me because, despite all odds against us, we’re friends.” Gihun said earnestly. It pained him to admit for so long, but it was true. Inho, in all forms, is a monster– but deep down, all those years ago, he was a person too.

Inho seemed caught off guard again, eyes widening before he composed himself. His mouth forming into a look is displeasure, but his eyes told a different story. “So your only plan is to blow up the island? Destroy the games like you’ve always wanted– and you expect me to help you with it?”

Gihun realized how ridiculous it sounded when it was relayed back to him.

“You’re the only one who can help me, and I don’t want to be stuck like this forever.” Gihun’s voice broke a little before he pushed through. “ It hurts , Inho.”

He looked– guilty . For a split second, Gihun thought he could see Inho express genuine remorse for the first time directly towards him, and not due to the losses that surrounded them, but Inho pushed that feeling away. His face turned stoic once again, like it never happened in the first place. 

“What’s your plan, then?”

Gihun worked his bottom lip in between his teeth, trying to think. The plan wasn’t fully fleshed out yet, and there was still so much uncertainty in what he was doing. 

He had to try, though. Jungbae would want him to, if he knew what was going on.

“There’s the boat Detective Hwang is on, we can call them– I saw a phone in your room once, could that connect to them?”

He hesitates. “Yes, it could. The connection might not be the best if they aren’t on the mainland, but it will work.”

Gihun nodded, a million thoughts running through his head all at once. “Okay, I need to get into contact with them and explain what's happening. Switch plans, maybe. I don’t exactly know how to stop it, but I’ve tried to do it alone so many times it's getting a little exhausting.”

Saying these things out loud left his skin feeling raw, like he just dumped all his insides out onto the floor and is exposing himself entirely to Inho. He didn’t look disgusted, though.

Inho’s gaze felt hot against his skin.

“To get to the room, we’ll need to hide you. It’s best not to raise suspicion. I’ll need to take your tracker out, and put it in him so no one will know you’re gone. If we do this, and we do it right, I can buy us more time.” 

Gihun asked, dumbfounded. “Won’t they realize it’s not me?”

There was a change in Inho’s expression before he looked closed off again. That same look he had on him when they played mingle alone together, or when he killed that other player in the bathroom to protect them.

“I’ll make him unrecognizable.” 

It felt like Gihun was submerged in a cold body of water, fear rushing over him. “What are you going to do?”

He almost didn’t want to know the answer– he knew he wouldn’t approve of it.

Inho shook his head sternly. “That’s my job to worry about, not yours. Let’s not forget what's at stake here. I’m going to call him in here, kill him, and once I get the knife from his belt we’ll get your tracker out.”

A shiver ran down Gihun’s spine, not wanting to imagine what Inho would be doing to the guard that would cause– that.

Before he could think, Gihun shot his hand out, stopping Inho from walking to the door. This could all be some elaborate trap he’s setting Gihun in, and he won’t know until he’s outnumbered. He had to tread carefully, even if he wanted to trust him—

“How do I know you won’t turn against me?” His voice, solemn and sulking as his eyes scanned Inho’s face, searching for any signs that he didn’t intend to keep his word.

“What makes you think I would betray you?” Inho’s eyes were intense, boring into him as they came face to face.

The air shifted around them, tension thick once again.

Gihun almost scoffed at the audacity. “You’ve done it before, I wouldn’t put it past a man like you to do it again.”

Inho stepped closer, mouth twitching into a sly smile not quite reaching his eyes. The amusement was still evident. Inho was enjoying this . “This is the first time you’re getting me to turn against my own people, Gihun. You have no idea what will happen, and that’s why it scares you.”

He tore his hand back as if touching Inho hurt him. Inho stared for a few moments more before turning back around and calling the guard inside, who seemed confused.

When the door shut behind them and turned all his attention to the guard, holding his hand out. “Give me your gun.”

The guard didn’t respond, just slowly taking the rifle off their shoulder before extending it towards him. Inho didn’t hesitate to secure it in his grasp, holding it tightly but not quite aiming it at the guard yet.

Gihun saw the guard staring at him beneath his mask, looking between the two men in what appeared to be bewilderment. Inho wasn’t turning the gun towards Gihun like he should be.

He raised it towards the guard, who flinched.

“Sir, can I ask what your intentions are?” Their voice was bordering on uncertainty. 

Inho’s hand sat on the trigger. “Take your mask off.”

For a moment, nobody moved. 

Slowly, the guard raised his gloved hand and pulled the mask off, leaving the balaclava on so only their eyes were visible. The mask stayed in their hand as their eyes were burning holes into Gihun, barely even glancing at Inho, which was ironic because the gun wasn’t in his hands.

Before either of them could process it, the gun was fired once in between the guards eyes and their knees gave out as their body crumpled onto the bathroom tiles. There was a pool of blood leaking out below their head where it had slammed into the ground on impact, and the sound felt like it echoed– even though Gihun knew it was just in his head. 

“No one should have heard the noise, but we still need to hurry.” Inho was searching through the pockets until he found what he was looking for. 

He turned to Gihun, knife in hand, staring at him expectantly. 

“I’m sure you’re familiar with what's about to happen.” Inho stated, eyes wandering to the faint scar behind Gihun’s ear that his long hair no longer hides.

“I can do it myself.” 

Inho didn’t hesitate– “Do you want to?”

“It doesn’t matter, we don’t have time.” Gihun grabbed the knife out of Inho’s hands, refusing to meet his eye.

He walked over to the mirror, finding himself in a familiar stance with him catching Inho in the reflection, watching. It should make him feel weird, but it doesn’t anymore. He doesn’t have time to reflect on that now. It barely hurts compared to what he’s gone through the past few days– had it become weeks at this point? Longer than a month? It couldn’t cause him to spiral yet, the tracker had fallen out of his open wound that began gushing all over his jacket. It would help the fake death seem more reasonable, if that was any help. 

He turned around, handing it to Inho with a slight shake in his hands that the other man refused to comment on.

Gihun watches as Inho unbuckles the utility belt and empties the guards cargo pants, hands moving swiftly to begin unzipping the uniform and tugging his shoes off. Inho is quiet when he’s focused, and his back is stiff with the way he's moving methodically. 

Inho turns around to catch Gihun staring at the guard on the floor, only to shove the pink suit in his hands and block his view entirely.

“Go get changed.” He leaves no room for bickering before Gihun hides in the stall. 

It’s not like Inho hasn’t seen him before, but it would be the first time he remembered it. Gihun didn’t want them to get distracted from their mission again. He hastily tore off the thin canvas shoes, kicking them under the stall door. Then, it was his tracksuit jacket and sweats before throwing the shirt underneath too. At least Inho couldn’t see him like this, scars littering his body in an unpleasant way– he sure didn’t look put together, let alone feel that way.

Silently he's kicking himself– why should he care what Inho thinks.

Stepping into the pink uniform was more of a challenge than he thought, but with gangly arms and legs he stumbled a few times before being able to zip it up. He tore open the stall door only to find the guard in his outfit, shoes and all. 

“This feels very wrong.”

Inho handed him the belt and its belongings, minus the gun. Gihun chose to not mention it, instead clipping everything on and sliding the balaclava over his head, wincing at the smell of blood and gunpowder.

His expression was unreadable as he handed him the mask, although Gihun didn’t put it on yet. “You’ll need to go through the vents like last time. You need to move faster if you want a better chance at making it out of this alive.”

“What? Why don’t I just walk with you? You said they won’t be able to recognize me anyway.” Gihun complains.

“It’s too suspicious if I have a triangle guard come into my quarters without anyone else around. This way, I have the ability to talk to the manager without raising suspicions, and you’d blow your cover anyway. You’re not fit to be a soldier, Gihun.”

He wanted to take offense, but the truth was sat in front of them. If Gihun got caught up pretending to be a guard, he would ruin their entire plan. There was no doubt he would step out of line and be punished, and Inho wouldn’t be able to defend him. 

Inho spoke again, voice less heavy with the weight of his words– almost like he was teasing him. “Besides, you seem to have already memorized your way to my room.”

Wait. 

Did Inho just– flirt with him?

No , Gihun pushed that thought away and even if his cheeks flushed, he chalked it up to embarrassment. Inho walked off to the stall, standing on the closed toilet and unscrewing each corner with the knife before closing the blade and handing it off to Gihun. He stepped to the side, right in the spot that Jungbae was to help him climb up last time.

He stared at the knife for a moment before putting it in his pocket and looking up at Inho, who was staring– and waiting.

Gihun walked forward as Inho seemed to be giving him a long look, before stopping him with a hand outstretched, but not quite touching his chest yet.

“Your shoes.” Inho said plainly when Gihun gave him a weird look, and when he glanced down to notice that one was untied, he didn’t have time to bend down and fix it before Inho was kneeling, tying his shoelace tight. Double tying them too, to match Gihun’s other one.

Oh.

Inho glanced up at him as he finished before standing.

Oh. Gihun felt his face flush– This is so stupid.

He barely had time to dwell on it before stepping on top of the closed toilet lid and motioning Inho over, he interlocked his hands together and Gihun took it as an open invitation to step onto them, hands grasping at the vent before Inho pushed him up with ease.

“Gihun.” He glanced down at Inho as he was handed the triangle mask, an unreadable expression pointed towards him. “Don’t get caught.”

With a lump in his throat, he swallowed roughly, nodding.

The vents were just as cramped as last time, even worse due to the mask he had to carry and the turned off radio in his pocket that shifted with every movement he made. 

He saw the orange glow from the furnace room and felt the heat filling the vents, pausing over it briefly before shuffling forward. He already knew what was down there, and he had something more important waiting for him up ahead.

• ▲■

After climbing up that ladder and pushing through the cabinet doors, he all but collapsed onto the floor. The uniform was ridiculously warm to wear, especially when shuffling through tight corners trying to be fast and quiet. His knees were aching, his chest pain was flaring up, but as he made contact with the tile floor in Inho’s room he felt some of the stress dissipate.

“Good timing.” 

Gihun flinched, hearing the frontman's voice pipe up from the entrance of the hallway as he saw Inho in his full attire. He glared. “Is the mask really necessary if it's just the two of us?”

He didn’t move, standing there with his hands limp at his sides. “I suppose it's not.” 

Inho’s hands slowly pulled back his hood before unclipping his mask as Gihun forced himself to look away, scanning the room until he caught onto the sight of the old dial phone. He heard Inho place his mask on the side table while Gihun made his way across the room, picking up the receiver. 

He paused. “ Shibal , I don’t have his number–”

Inho reached over, stepping into Gihun’s personal space as his body radiates warmth as he dials the numbers for him and doesn’t step back until its ringing. If it were anyone else, he would dismiss it as muscle memory, but this was intentional.

The receiver was still hanging in his hand as he looked at Inho, his face unreadable.

“You still have his phone number memorized?”

Inho turned around, presumably to get a glass of whiskey from his cabinet as the phone clicked and Gihun rushed to put it up to his ear.

“Junho?”

The sound of waves and heavy winds were cutting through, making it harder to hear him speak through the inconsistent cell service on the island. “ Hello– Gihun, is this you? ” 

“Yes! Listen, Junho–”

“ Hello? ” There was a shuffling on the other end of the line before the phone seemed to be brought away from his face. “ I think I lost him, Captain. Is there any way we can– ” 

The static took over, and Gihun felt a cold chill run through him. The connection was too bad, there had to be another way. He turns to Inho, who’s standing a few steps behind him and looking pale.

“Is this the only phone you have with service?” Gihun asks, hand muffled over the mouthpiece despite it being futile, Junho couldn’t hear him anyway.

Inho nodded solemnly before his jaw clenched and eyes shifted. He was hiding something. The glass in his hand was half full.

“What is it?”

The man was still silent, not wanting to confess to what he knew, but Gihun was running out of time– Everything would fall apart if they didn’t think of another plan, and quickly.

Gihun grabbed onto his shoulders, dropping the phone and letting it hang by the cord uselessly as the sound of wind was quickly replaced with a loud beeping, the connection had fully dropped the call.

He tightened his hold, moving his hands in a smooth motion to get the man's attention. Inho’s eyes flickered, meeting Gihun’s.

“Inho, you need to tell me or I won’t ever make it out of here.” He pleaded, slouching down to meet the man's lowered gaze, causing him to snap out of whatever spiral he was lost in.

His voice was quiet. “I need to call the Captain of their boat and tell him to fall back on our deal.”

Gihun stopped, hands falling off his shoulders.  “What deal?”

“We agreed that he would pretend to help Junho find the island but in reality, he would be leading them in the wrong direction. He was–” Inho swallowed harshly. “He was sabotaging their mission.”

The walls were closing in on them and Gihun’s world came to a screeching halt around them. It was like standing on the sidelines watching a car crash, or a tornado tear through your hometown. It was a sickness that spread through him, making him want to curl in on himself. Moments like these were like shock therapy– the world was starling him awake, reminding him that Inho isn’t just Inho.

He’s always the frontman first. That’s all he knows.

The soft tender moments, the heartbreaking confessions they share between each other– all the lines are blurred. Inho has killed for him, but he has chosen to do it anyway. Inho would sabotage his own brother for the sake of the games– he would shoot him in the shoulder just to push him away.

“Junho’s on that boat.”

The other man scoffed, running a hand through his hair as a few strands fell in front of his face. “You think I don’t know that? The deal was that he would be safe and kept at an arm's length–”

“By shooting him? By pushing him off a cliff?” Gihun yelled incredulously. 

Inho pushed Gihun into the table, shoving him back with his hand before Gihun could push back, knocking the phone off entirely and getting close to his face. “You don’t understand this situation as clearly as you think you do. I did what needed to be done to save him.”

“Were you more worried about saving him, or yourself? ” Gihun’s words were sharp and he saw Inho physically flinch at the sting of them.

Inho had made sure that there would be no errors this year. No escape– no way out. Gihun still couldn’t come to terms with that because that meant that he’d be trapped there forever. “There’s no way to end this and save everyone, is there?”

Inho paused, looking off lost in thought as he ran his head through everything he knew about the island that could have substantial information. “We have a self detonate option saved for emergencies, but it wouldn’t work for your plan.”

Gihun scoffed. “Why not?”

“It would kill everyone on the island unless you evacuated all the players, and I hate to break the news to you Gihun, but that's virtually impossible. Unless, you want to sacrifice the lives of everyone for your little thought experiment?” Inho nearly seemed amused. 

They were close, Gihun could see every spec of brown engraved in Inho’s eyes. Inho’s subtle whiskey scented breath warmed his cheeks as he saw Inho’s eyes fall downwards before flickering back up, the corners of his lips turned up into a sly smile as he inched closer, Gihun’s face now beet red as he tried to pull away despite his body wanting to react differently, and then–

A door was sliding open. There were loud footsteps coming down the hall as Gihun’s eyes widened, finding his mask and pulling it over his balaclava as Inho’s smile disappeared. They both tried making space between them before someone saw.

Inho pushed away, reaching for his mask and pulling his hood up with ease as he turned to face the intruder– a man dawning a similar uniform to Gihun’s, but in black with a matching square mask.

“Sir, there’s a few issues we must discuss soon. The planning isn’t quite finished yet, and–” He turned his head, catching the sight of Gihun and stopping, turning to Inho. “What’s going on?”

The frontman’s voice wavered before he found his composure, back straightening out as his hands were stiff at his sides. “It’s nothing, Number 056 and I were discussing some private matters. What did you want to discuss?”

The manager looked between the two of them, pausing with his eyes on Gihun for a few beats. “I don’t think it's appropriate to converse in front of a guard, Sir.”

Inho was quick to step forward, not quite blocking the manager’s view of the man, but enough to distinguish the gap between them. If the manager caught on, he wouldn’t be able to get close unless he ran into Inho first. Gihun can’t tell how intentional that movement was.

“Do you not trust my judgement?” The mask distorting his voice, causing it to sound deep and powerful as he stared down the manager.

“That’s not my intention–”

“Then what exactly are you implying?” His words cut like a knife, and he never even dropped his gaze piercing through the mask.

The manager paused, glancing between the two of them and struggling to come up with a reasonable answer. “I see you’re… occupied by personal matters right now. I’ll leave you two alone to have your privacy, and I’ll discuss everything with you before the previous games begin.” 

He bowed, just barely, towards Gihun before turning around– Inho followed quickly after him, leaving Gihun to watch from the other side of the room. 

“I’ll walk you out.” Inho insisted. 

The walk through the hallway seemed to stretch on as Gihun watched from the corner, not bothering to hide his appearance fully. He already seemed thrown off by him being in the frontman’s quarters, but if he leaves and catches word of Player 456 missing there will be bigger problems than the manager.

All of the soldiers would be looking for him.

The two men stopped by the door, and the masked manager had turned to Inho, seeming reluctant. 

“It’s– refreshing , to see you focused on something other than Player 456. However, I wish it remained on the games but I understand we all get… tempted sometimes. I’ll leave you two alone, we’ll talk in a few hours.” He spoke quietly, words placed with displeasure as he bowed slightly, walking himself out of the room as the frontman stood unmoving.

Even as the door closed, neither of them broke the heavy silence that filled the room.

It was only when Inho walked back, steps loud as his shoes thudded against the tile floor until he found his whiskey glass, taking his mask off and running a hand the hair that fell in front of his eyes.

“Are we not going to talk about that?”

“No, we have more pressing issues to deal with. What exactly is your plan once we get into contact with the rescue team? Where do we go from there, because I guarantee whatever is happening to you— this won’t be the end of it.”

Inho walked over to a cabinet, unlocking it with a key before pulling out a large brick shaped phone, inserting numbers and pressing it into his ear. Gihun stood and watched, at a loss for words.

The words of the masked manager rang in his head. “It’s– refreshing, to see you focused on something other than Player 456. 

Inho had been focused on him since the very beginning. Even his workers knew.

“This is the frontman speaking– Yes, I’m aware. There has been a change of plans, Captain. We need you to come to the island.” Inho’s words were monotone, his back turned to Gihun. “No, as soon as you can. I know he is, yes– it's urgent.”

Standing here, listening to one end of a conversation made him restless, he looked around the room Inho inhabited. It was vacant of photos, comfort, or any splashes of color beyond his small diorama– he’d have to ask about that later, if they caught a second to breathe.

There was a remote on the side table and a large screen in front of him. He turned, and Inho seemed occupied on the phone still, so he turned on the screen and muted it as soon as it flickered to life. 

Jungbae, Daeho, and Junhee were alive. They were just beginning the race– Gihun let out a deep breath. They were alive.

He jumped as a hand came up to his shoulder, bringing him out of his dazed thoughts. Inho was standing beside him, looking at him, holding onto him. This was the first time Gihun noticed the bags under his eyes that were a sinking purple, or the way his mouth naturally settled into a deep scowl.

Inho looked tired.

“We need to go. They are heading our direction and it may take a bit, but we need to meet them on the shore.” Inho’s voice was solemn as he nodded towards the hidden exit that Gihun crawled through earlier.

He swallowed, following Inho’s lead.

They climbed down the ladder until they were able to descend onto the sand. It was dark, the only light emitting from the small bulbs against the concrete wall and the dark water in front of them.

“Put these on.” Inho handed him an armful of heavy gear before turning around to grab his own.

Gihun put the mask over his face before pulling on the oxygen tank straps and securing it on his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Inho doing the same before putting on the long fin’s on, diving into the water as Gihun hurried to follow. The banging sound from above them grew louder as the cold water surrounded him, adrenaline pumping as he swam as fast as he could.

He was never very good at it, but the fear drove him forward, pushing through as fast as he could as he kicked out wildly. Inho was ahead of him, but the water was dark as the morning sun hadn't risen yet. 

After a few long moments, they swam upwards, chasing the pale moonlight that cascaded over the top of the water. When they reached the surface, Inho nodded towards the island and Gihun followed, swimming slowly behind him.

The water that clung to his uniform had weighed him down, Inho seemed to be having the same issue as they kicked through the shallow end. Inho tore his mask off, dropping his bag as the fins came off his feet with ease, Gihun following suit. 

“Why isn’t he here yet? They should be here.” Gihun said while trying to catch his breath, spinning in slow circles as his eyes squinted against the dark grey skies in an attempt to catch sight of Junho’s boat.

There was nothing but the endless expanse of the sea, waves crashing against each other as the wind picked up speed.

“I think they were far away when he called them. We need to hide, I think they’ll catch up soon once they get on the boat.” Inho was glancing around, taking in the sight of the trees and large rocks cascading around the island’s cliffsides.

Gihun turned to him, glaring. “You’re saying there’s been a spare boat this whole time? Why did we swim then?”

Inho almost scoffed at Gihun’s antics, walking towards a bed of tall rocks off to the side of the beach. It wouldn’t cover them by any means, but they could duck down and cower behind them if they caught sight of the pink guards. Inho looked down at Gihun’s outfit– he knew the attempts of hiding such a bright and blinding color was futile. He wanted to try anyway.

“It’s guarded at all times, and the moment we step foot on it, every guard on the island is aware of it. There’s a tracker built into the hull, too. This was the easiest way.”

Gihun sighed, head falling forwards as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing the wet bangs out of his face. They had a half assed plan, a dead end, and no way to see if anyone inside the games were still alive. Great.

“So if we stay here too long, the guards will catch us or it will all reset.” He sighed. The sun was beginning to rise over the waters at a slow pace, faded pinks and oranges reflected off the waves farther from the sea. The light hadn’t reached the island yet, Gihun didn’t think he’d be here long enough to see it.

God, when was the last time he left that dingy motel before getting sent here again? When was the last time he felt the sun hit his face? He was envious he wouldn’t be able to see it.

The rocks were uncomfortable and all he could think about was his friends and how he could plan for next time. He would start early, beg Inho to believe him, and take over as fast as he could. If he called Junho early enough, he could convince them to get a bigger boat. Maybe he could save everyone.

The cold air made his nose runny. It wouldn’t be long , he thought.

Inho’s voice was so quiet, it almost couldn’t be heard over the waves crashing in. “What do you think happens to everyone else once everything’s reset?”

That was something Gihun tried not to think about on purpose. It was hard enough to see what was happening during the loop, but the thought of the unknown and its endless possibilities was enough to shake him.

“Nothing, I hope. The loops never end well. I can only pray that the boat shows up before the guards do, even if I get sent back before. You still have a chance of making it out of here.” Gihun leaned back to the rocks behind him, his shoes damp as he let them dangle, his arms crossed over his chest as he mindlessly rubbed the scars through his uniform.

It was starting to hurt again.

Inho’s voice picked up again, barely louder than before. “I didn't know you cared so much about me.” 

Gihun knew what he was referencing. His time in the back of that limo determined to change the games– if that version of him were looking at him now, he knew all he would see is disappointment. Frustration, maybe.

This wasn’t that version of him– he hadn’t been that person for a long time. 

“Well, I do.” 

The sound of waves crashing acted as white noise, calming Gihun despite the inevitable. Every few seconds when the tide came back in, it would brush against their legs, not quite dragging them. The temperature was cold enough that Gihun had goosebumps on his arms, and he mourned the warmth of Inho beside him.

He could reach out, close the gap between them even for a few moments, but it couldn’t happen. 

Gihun’s voice was tired, even to his own ears. “What’s something I can say that would make you believe me next time? Something that I wouldn’t be able to find out any other way than from talking to you?”

Inho thought for a moment, a cloudy look falling over his eyes before he snapped out of it, turning to Gihun. “Min-Jung. My wife’s name was Min-Jung.”

He managed a weak smile.

“That’s a really pretty name.”

• ▲■

Inho felt the world shift around him, an odd sense of vertigo that came out of nowhere until he was stirred back to his reality. He was standing in the control room, hovering over empty unlit squares on the floor and staring up at the onslaught of large screens on the wall. 

The row of bunkbeds all with players slowly waking up. It was the same way they began every year.

It felt off, though.

He thought he heard Junho’s voice— but it’d been years since he stood on that cliffedge pointing a gun at his little brother and shaking . Inho’s hands itched, wanting to move and hold onto something. He felt like he’d keel over at any moment.

A masked guard is standing next to the wall as he slides over, making his way out the door. “Watch over the players for me, I will return once they are in the lineup.” 

With each step, the hallways seemed longer, dragging on for hours until he got to his quarters hastily taking the mask off. He must’ve not slept well last night, stressing over the games.

Stressing over– certain players.

Before he could register what was happening, his hands were reaching to pour a glass of whiskey. His hands no longer trembled as he stifled the thoughts plaguing him to the back of his mind, like always. Breathing in for six seconds, out for eight. He had to pull himself together, there was more at stake this year than ever.

His eyes wandered through the room absentmindedly, only for them to catch onto something–

The phone he left on its receiver was now knocked off, dangling there.

Inho’s heart skipped a beat.

It was only a few hours ago that he called the boat's Captain and received an update. There was no way the man's cover had been blown. There was no way Junho had been on the island.

Someone else was inside the island, and he was going to catch them.

Chapter Text

Inho walked hastily through the hallways until he ended up back at the control room, already advancing towards one of the computers.

“I need to see all the footage from inside my quarters in the last five hours.”

The masked manager walked up, lingering behind him as he exchanged odd looks from the other guards. “Sir, is there something wrong? The players are about to line up.”

He ignored the man for a moment, watching as the terrified pink guard trapped in the chair below him was frantically pressing buttons, trying to gain access to the security camera footage to his room. When the screen flickered to life, it showed his room empty as it had been for the majority of the day. 

That’s not right– someone was in there.

“Are you certain this is the correct footage?” 

The pink guard below him nodded, hands anxiously hovered over the keyboard. “Yes, sir. This is what all the footage looks like since you last left to come here.”

Inho’s hands tensed. 

It could have been a guard working behind his back, but if they erased the footage there would be a short glitch in the minutes that were sped up and ticking down, eventually catching up to when he was just in there. But he saw nothing. 

A voice picked up over the camera’s microphones from the player dormitory, and when he turned to glance at the large screen displayed above him, he watched as Player 456 stared right back at him.

Checkmate.

LOOP 10

It’s the blaring song that wakes him up. A song he’d grown so accustomed to he’s almost afraid of waking up and not hearing it fill the air. 

The pain in his chest is a recurring problem he always prayed he wouldn’t wake up with, though. It had dwindled down over time but now– it was burning. He remembered the arms around his neck choking him out. He remembered the bullets gliding through skin and muscle until he bled out slowly. He remembered all of it, despite his countless attempts of forgetting.

He sat up, pushing the blankets off him and bending over, watching as all the players gathered in a large group.

Shit.

Gihun hadn’t even thought about how he would get the attention of the frontman before he joined the games. There had to be something he could do that would get them to talk, and fast. Time was of the essence, and with the pain flaring up in his chest and the minutes ticking by– he already felt like the window of opportunity was closing. 

There were the guards standing at the front of the room he could talk to, but he knew it wouldn’t work. Even if he begged, they think that he is still planning on killing the frontman.

His eyes scanned the room, thinking. Then, it hit him.

A camera was drilled into the wall above his bed, the red light blinking at him unnervingly. If he knew Inho well enough, he could guess that he was watching that camera right now.

He stared directly at the dark lens, 

“Min-Jung. You told me her name was Min-Jung.” He says, just loud enough for the cameras to hear over the players' shoes scuffling against the floor and players murmuring to each other. 

Gihun hoped his words got to Inho as he climbed off the bed and rushed down the steps, the lines for each consent papers were already starting. 

He joined the lines that had formed and saw Jungbae had already finished early and stood off awkwardly waiting on the sidelines like most other players. The man hadn’t caught sight of Gihun yet, but if his plan was going to work, then–

The main doors to the room had opened and two pink guards were walking behind the frontman. His heart shot up to his chest in fear, before he quelled that feeling and pushed it down.

This had to work.

A few shocked gasps from fellow players had been let out as they all turned their heads. It was easy to assume that he was the one in charge, given his drastically different outfit compared to the guards' bright uniforms.

“Player 456, follow me.” His deep, filtered voice was loud in contrast to the silence of the players. Gihun had no hope but to listen, stepping out from the line and walking towards him.

Neither of their eyes drifted far from the silhouette of each other, not until Gihun was close enough for the guards to grab his arms and cuff his hands together behind his back as the frontman turned around, leading them out of the sliding door as players mumbled to each other.

Inho was unknowingly showing his weakness, not only to himself but his staff by creating such a hassle. All the guards would be talking about this, trying to figure out who Min-Jung is and why the frontman was losing his mind over it. Gihun didn’t expect this kind of reaction, but then again he didn’t really know what to expect. 

This gave him more time to talk to him, and despite the nervousness eating away at him, it was good. 

Jungbae was alone, though. All his friends were left alone– he pushed those thoughts away. He used to be in the marines, and in every other loop he survived the first round. This time would be no different.

Gihun was all but dragged through the halls, the tight hold of both guards on either side of him almost bruising his biceps. Then, a sharp pain trickled up his chest– A reminder that his time was running short.

He couldn’t help the pained groan he let out as he bent forwards, the guards pausing before dragging him forwards. Inho didn’t speak up, and Gihun couldn’t be bothered when all he felt was the pain.

God– Why now? He thought bitterly. If he had more range to move his hands, he would fold them over his chest in an attempt to alleviate the pain, but it was no use. The cuffs were tight against his wrists, and the more he struggled against them, the more it dug into his skin.

It wasn’t until they approached a large steel door that he was let go of, only to have Inho’s gloved hand harshly shove him inside once it slid open. He stumbled to stay on his feet, Inho walked in slowly after him as the door slid shut loudly. 

The guards had left, not daring to step a foot inside the room– It was just the two of them.

He meant to start his spiel about the time loop, or tell him about everything he knew so Inho was more inclined to believe him, but the tension in the room was thick and it made Gihun second guess himself.

Instead of his properly thought out plan, the words fell out of his mouth without him even processing them. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The frontman seemed taken aback, but his body was still stiff as he continued to stare. Even through the mask, his gaze felt sharp. Unnerving. 

“How did you manage to escape without the cameras detecting you?” His voice was sharp as he took a step forward, but Gihun never backed down.

“I didn’t.”

He kept getting closer, almost cornering Gihun against the far wall as they stood face to face. 

“There was no trace of someone getting into my quarters and yet the phone was left off the hook. I know it was you, Player 456. Who did you call?”

Gihun’s face contorted, wearing a confused expression- nearly pouting. He knew for a fact he didn’t get into Inho’s room– Hell, the cameras had been on him since he had woken up.

“I didn’t call anyone. I wanted your attention for something else, but I know for a fact I haven’t been in your room.”

His voice behind the mask was stern, cutting through the air in angry desperation. “Then why did you say that name, if not to taunt me?”

Gihun tried calming the beating in his heart, willing himself to soften his voice in hopes it calmed the situation. “It’s the only way for you to believe me, Inho.”

The frontman visibly twitched. “How do you–”

“Your name is Hwang Inho, you played the games in 2015 and won but your wife, Min-Jung–”

“Don’t say that name.” Inho nearly barked out, but Gihun stood his ground.

“She was sick, and you were alone. You pushed Junho away, you rejoined the games working under Oh Il-nam and you became the frontman. I know this because I know you, and this isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. You just don’t remember because I’m the only one stuck in this stupid fucking time loop!”

“That’s not possible. You’re lying.”

“How would I be lying? I asked you if there was anything I could say to make you believe me next time, and you said her name. As for the telephone being off the hook– I have no idea, you have to believe me.”

There was a pause.

“Why do you know all of this?”

“Because you’ve told me this before, even if you don’t remember it, and I need you to help me get off this fucking island. Please, Inho.”

He stood there, still as a statue before his voice filtered through the mask, quieter than before. Softer. “And I trusted you before? I took your word for it?”

“You wouldn’t have told me her name willingly– We both know that.” Gihun reasoned. He had a solid case in favor of Inho believing him, now he just needed to cross that bridge and have faith in him. 

“Okay.”

Gihun nodded, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Okay.”

“We need to build a plan, one more strategically than what you had before. If you keep trying different routes and getting stuck, we have an advantage of knowing what works and what doesn't.” He explained calmly.

“Well, can you take these handcuffs off me first?” Gihun sighed, exasperated. 

He could almost feel Inho rolling his eyes as he walked over, reaching into one of his coat pockets before pulling out a small key and grabbing onto the chain linking the two cuffs, tugging Gihun closer to him. He almost winced at the tight pull, but it didn’t last long until he heard the sound of them unlocking.

Then, a radio crackling to life could be heard clearly on the other side of the door that they’d come through. He whipped his head around to look at Inho, a panicked expression on his face as he caught Inho’s masked eyes.

He knew how this would look to the guards. The frontman standing there, vulnerable and unguarded with Gihun– Player 456 – now uncuffed and free to roam. Before he could come up with a defense as to why they were standing so close, so casually–

Inho grabbed Gihun by the arm, his hand tightening around his forearm as he tugged him to a room off to the side, one that blended perfectly into the wall. Inho pushed against the door, sliding it to the right as he pushed Gihun in and followed closely behind, grabbing at the handle on the inside and rushing to close it before the sounds of soldiers' boots filled the room.

It was cramped and dark. As Gihun’s eyes adjusted he could make out the shapes of boxes and paint cans stacked on shelves lining each wall. The space between him and Inho was so small he could practically feel his body warmth radiating out of the jacket. 

On the other side of the door was the sound of footsteps wandering the floor, but there were no voices heard. It was more than one person, that was for sure. 

They weren’t leaving, though. 

Inho’s back was facing Gihun as he stepped closer, a few short inches away from making contact. 

“Why are we hiding?” He whispered as quietly as he could manage, trying to tilt his head to the side so he could see Inho’s face before remembering that it was being obstructed by the mask.

Inho waited a moment, listening to the guards walking around the room– It sounded like they were moving things around. 

Then, it hit Gihun. This was the room where he met the VIP’s, but it was stripped bare of any bright colors or whimsical lighting. 

“If they know what's going on, it will all fall apart.”

Gihun nodded, before realizing that Inho probably couldn’t even see him. The mask had dark plastic webbing over the eye slits, and being in the dark was likely worsening his vision. Without thinking, his hands came up to the edge of the mask. He heard Inho sharply inhale, but his hands didn’t come up to stop him, and Gihun took that as permission.

It was only them, afterall. 

Cramped in a dark closet, waiting for the right time to leave or else their cover will be blown, and Gihun had no real reason for wanting to do this. He could make up an excuse about Inho needing to see in the dark, but there was nothing worth seeing in that room.

Other than Gihun– and maybe, embarrassingly, he wanted Inho to be able to see him like this. Maybe he wanted to see Inho in the same way too. 

One fleeting moment, that's all he wanted. How many times had he allowed himself these small moments to the extent that it was all adding up now. Every loop, there was something. Gihun had no excuses anymore.

He just wanted to be near Inho.

The mask slid off, pulling away from his face before turning upwards so he didn’t have to unbuckle it, almost afraid the noise would snap them back to reality. He pushed the hood off Inho’s head as the mask dangled freely between his pointer finger and thumb. 

Inho’s eyes were dark, staring into him as he blinked slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness without the mask. There was a small sliver of light at the bottom of the door, but it was nearly pitch black. Gihun could make out the outline of his neat hair as his eyes trailed his face, taking in every detail he could see within the dim room. 

The sound of furniture being dragged across the main room could be heard, but Gihun couldn’t be bothered.

Inho broke the silence between them, as he spoke as quietly as he could without drawing attention to the guards. “Did this happen before?”

“You ask that everytime.” Gihun said, almost kicking himself for sounding so breathless. 

Inho’s face contorted into a displeased look, one almost radiating jealousy. “What happened in those other loops to make me ask you that?”

Gihun shook his head before stopping, it was too dark to see properly. “Nothing happened.”

He heard Inho step closer as he nearly reached to grab the wall beside him before he reluctantly lowered his hands. There was a small relief that he wouldn’t be able to see his flushed face, but at the same time he felt a tang of disappointment. 

“Did you want something to happen?” Inho teased.

Gihun swallowed a lump in his throat.

“Soju. We should–” He could feel the flush on his face, less nervous about the man's response and more embarrassed at how warm he felt in the crowded closet. “We should get soju once it ends. Once we figure out how to end it.”

“Soju?” His voice was blank, but still quiet, devoid of any emotions. Gihun wished he knew what it meant.

“You asked me that, in the original loop. I thought I’d remind you of your promise.” It was his turn to tease the man, and as soon as the words slipped out his mind felt more at ease.

Like this was normal– That they weren’t risking their lives going against the games and trying to escape by hiding in a supply closet while the guards were outside the room, clueless to what was happening.

Inho seemed taken aback. 

Gihun wanted to lean in, and take what he wanted while he still had the chance. He wanted to savor it, and wait until the loops ended so Inho could be guaranteed to remember it forever, but it was so hard to wait when the end never seemed to be near.

The sound of the large door sliding had broken the tension of their tiny moment, and the echoing steps of guards had dissipated into the hallway. They stood so close to each other to feel the others' breath on their faces. Inho turned his head towards the door as Gihun kept staring– their usual roles had reversed. 

They both waited, and there was no sound. The coast was clear.

“Let’s go, they’ll be suspecting something is off soon.” Inho said in a low voice as his head was still turned.

Before Gihun could muster up the courage to do something, Inho slid the door open and stepped out, glancing around the room ensuring the coast was clear.

“We’ll have to find a way for us to talk that wouldn’t be suspicious. If we keep hiding around like this, we’re bound to get caught.” He said, back in his normal tone.

The guards had decorated the room with more vibrant colors, shifting some furniture in and adjusting the lights to their instructed colors. It had looked identical to where Gihun was taken to meet them, and he fought off a shiver as he focused his attention back on Inho.

“What do you suggest?”

Inho’s eyes darted up as he gripped his frontman mask again, holding it close to his chest. His voice sounded more professional again, nearly pretending that they weren’t inches away from each other a few minutes prior. “We can rejoin the games.”

“But— That’s what I’ve been doing. I thought you said we needed to try something different.” Gihun argued.

“You said you wanted to get off the island, but it will take hours until Captain Park will arrive. There’s no way we can look after your friends and hide around back here. If we have more people helping us, there's a better chance of you getting out of here.” Inho explained with a nearly pained expression seeping through the cracks of his calm facade.

Gihun wasn’t too pleased they’d be rejoining the games, but if there was no choice but waiting, then he supposed it’d work. “Fine.”

Inho nods. “How did you escape last time?”

“We weren’t as fast, but we took the diving gear from your emergency exit and swam on top of the island. The boat didn’t get there in time, though.”

His jaw seemed to clench for a moment before walking over to Gihun, handcuffs in hand. “I’m sure we’ll think of something, but we need to get you back to the dorms. I’ll join shortly after to avoid getting caught.”

Gihun stared at him, eyes squinting. “Do you really need to handcuff me again?”

Inho gave a halfhearted shrug, awkward in its nature as if he wasn’t used to doing it. “It’s a part of the charade.” 

• ▲■

Gihun walked to sit with Jungbae and Daeho, who had met while he was out of the room with Inho. They seemed to be getting along as they typically did, and it spurred him into confessing about the time loop again.

This time, there was no bickering between the two men, just a strange side eye before turning to Gihun with a ton of questions. It was the typical ‘are you sure? ’ and ‘if this is a time loop, did i say the same thing last time too? ’ that Gihun was forced to answer prior to actually discussing the issue at hand.

While they threw hypotheticals back and forth, Gihun’s eyes scanned the crowd until he found Inho dressed in his normal tracksuit. His hair was still partially slicked back from the gel he used when dressed as the frontman, but a few stray pieces had fallen in his face.

His face felt warm. It wasn’t a bad change, he’s seen the man with his hair like that before, but this was the first time he was seeing it like that with the tracksuit on. 

Not that it changed anything– It just looked so different.

Jungbae’s voice piped up with another question as Gihun watched Inho walk over and he had to force his eyes to look away. They didn’t have a plan like last time, and there was no real reason as to why Inho would want to go sit with them, but the man didn’t seem bothered trying to put up an act.

He walked over, smiling at Gihun as he felt his own mouth return the favor, nodding at each other. Jungbae didn’t seem to notice, too caught up in his hypotheticals.

Daeho was giving them an odd glance, though.

“What’s the trigger– like, what caused you to restart?” Jungbae rubbed a hand against his chin as if he was deep in contemplation. 

“Well, it's time based. I never see the fourth game, it all restarts no matter what I do. Oh– and it ends early if I die.” Gihun explained, his voice dying down at the end of the sentence. He secretly hoped he wouldn’t have to reiterate that one.

Jungbae closed his eyes and sighed, as if he was the one who was exhausted by all this. “No, Gihun. Think about what caused this all to start in the beginning.”

Oh. That.

“Uhm— I found out the front man's real identity, and they injected me with something that made me pass out. That’s all I remember.” 

Daeho’s eyebrows scrunched together as he caught Gihun’s eyes from where he sat. “Injected? If we find out what it was and inject you again, do you think it’ll stop? Oh, I know– What if this was the frontman's plan all along?”

“That’s not possible, and even if it was I don’t think he could manage to do that.” Gihun hummed, pretending to take it into genuine consideration despite his fast response.

He couldn’t blame Daeho– He once thought the same thing until he was proven wrong.

Jungbae gave him a weird look, reading into him– Gihun’s skin crawled. He hated when Jungbae gave him that look. A few times when they were both still married to their respective wives, he would try and hide something from Jungbae– like his wife's pregnancy before they were ready to announce it, or the fact that he started smoking again after the workers strike even when they promised to quit together.

This face meant Jungbae knew something, and he was finally putting the pieces together.

“So you know who the frontman is, but you haven’t told us? Don’t you think it’d be helpful for the plan, I mean–” He glanced around the room before leaning closer to Gihun, loudly whispering. Subtly wasn’t his expertise, after all. “Is he one of the players?”

Inho stiffened beside him as Gihun rushed to explain, a cold sweat building on his forehead. “No! No, he’s one of the higher ups. We don’t see him until later on, but it’s just me really.”

Shit.

Why was he even defending Inho? He could chalk it up to the plan, if Jungbae knew what truly happened and who Inho really was then he would be less inclined to follow through with their plan.

Gihun didn’t blame him, he thought the same thing for the longest time.

That was, until he started to know Inho more– When he knew he used to be a player, and when he knew Junho was his brother. It shouldn’t have changed anything. He should be angry, if not angrier than before, but something shifted between them. 

Inho knew it too, and while it worried Gihun to admit what that meant, it was true.

Jungbae still looked suspicious, eyes squinted as his gaze flickered to Inho. Oh fuck.

“How do you know this guy then, huh?”

Inho opened his mouth to explain, but Gihun rushed to beat him to it. “We have a pretty crazy history together, right? 

He glanced over towards him, watching as all the color had drained from his face. If he wasn’t stressing over Jungbae’s reactions, he would be laughing– but now wasn’t the time, because all the thoughts in his head were leaving him, and Jungbae was raising his eyebrows skeptically.

“A crazy history that your best friend doesn’t know? Hmm.”

“We met after I completed the first games. I was a mess after everything happened, I couldn’t even go home after I lost my mom. Inho helped me out of that– He gave me something else to work towards, and now he's here to help me stop the games.”

The words felt bitter sitting on his tongue knowing he's outright lying to his best friend. 

It was a lie too– Even with the distraction of finding the recruiter in the hopes of dismantling the games, he was still miserable. Holed up in that old hotel, not eating or sleeping– he was barely alive. Trash had littered the room and there was no sunlight that could seep through the windows. Isolated, was the only word he could think of. Lonely was another one.

Searching for the games had given him the energy to do something with the rest of this short life, but at what cost– now he was trapped in an entirely different way.

This time, he wasn’t alone.

Even with Jungbae’s skeptical eyes, they softened at the mention of Gihun finding comfort in someone outside of him. He knew how much he loved his mother despite their grievances with his gambling addiction, and even if he wasn’t quite fully aware of what Gihun had gone through in each loop, he was still empathetic.

“Hmm. As long as he makes you happy. I can’t believe you told him about the time loop before us!” Jungbae whined as Inho tried to suppress a scoff.

Daeho finally spoke up again, desperate to switch topics to avoid any more awkward tension between the three men. “You know, If it were a true time loop– like in those cool vintage movies, you technically wouldn’t know you’re in one.”

Gihun’s gaze hardened. “But I do.”

The boy's grin faltered. “Yeah, so– I actually don’t really… have any advice now that I’m thinking about it.”

“Oh– I know! Why don’t you just get off the island.” Jungbae said it, as if his solution was a no brainer. 

Gihun loved his friends– he wanted nothing more than to take them and get out of here, but he wanted to rip his hair out. They still had hours until Junho showed up, and they truly were only here to keep their cover up, but it was hard when all he wanted to do was snap. The frustration of everything was really getting to him.

“I can’t leave yet, the only boat has a tracker in it! We have to wait until Detective Hwang gets here and he might not make it in time again.”

“Switch boats, then.”

His hands stilled as they slowly pulled away from his face. “What?”

Jungbae shrugged. “Switch boats. You said it yourself, that detective guy has his own crew so why don’t you just get him to hurry back over right at the beginning of next time and then jump from their boat to his. Worst comes to worst, you just pop up back here again– but what if it ends the loop?”

Gihun sighed. “But– Jungbae you would be stuck here. I need to find a way to stop the time loop and save everybody. Let’s not forget that it's the whole reason I'm up here in the first place.”

Jungbae shrugged. “You can’t save us until you save yourself, Gihun. I thought you’d be smart enough to know that.”

“He’s right.” Inho’s voice came from beside him, sounding lighter than before. Less stern. “About everything. You should’ve gone to Jungbae first, he had all the good ideas.” 

Gihun managed a small smile, turning to look at Inho before the announcer's voice rang through the speaker.

Lights out would be in thirty minutes, and that was Gihun’s sign.

• ▲■

Gihun was rushing through the halls, following Inho as a door slid open leading them to a steep concrete staircase. The roof and walls were slim and they both had to slump their shoulders a little to get through.

On the other end was a cave, dense and hidden away like the one underneath Inho’s quarters this time with a larger opening in the far wall. It had long, thick vines that appeared to be plastic–  All to hide a small white boat that was pristine and clean, waiting in the water.

There was no time to stop and question as Inho’s hand came up to guide Gihun by his lower back towards the boat and stepping through the water before stepping onto it. They both stood inside, Inho giving him short instructions on how to steer as Gihun was struggling to process it all. He started the ignition and flipped a few small switches before turning back to Gihun.

Inho was shoving something in his hands before he could even register what it was– 

“You’ll need to steer West, eventually the boat will run out of fuel but Captain Park will be there by then. They shouldn’t be able to catch up to you, we can distract them for long enough. By the time they start tracking it, you’ll be back on the mainland.” Inho looked like he did back when Gihun shoved the ammo in his arms– full of uncertainty and remorse. 

Gihun took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “Will you make sure they survive the games?”

Without hesitating, Inho nodded. “I will.”

Inho turned, leaning over as his hands were on the helm of the boat, overlooking the controls one last time as he checked that everything was in working condition.

Then–

Gihun leaned in while Inho was distracted, and planted a swift and soft kiss on his cheek. He overshot by a little, and it landed closer to his jaw than cheekbones, but the reaction was still the same.

The man turned his head, eyes wide as Gihun couldn’t fight off the small smile from appearing on his face. He had wanted to do that earlier, but the timing never seemed right.

Inho wasn’t speaking, just looking at him with a shocked expression before he looked like he was going to move closer, but Gihun cut him off.

“ Soju , right?” He asked tentatively.

“Right. Goodluck, Gihun.” Inho called out as Gihun began steering, and he glanced down in his hand at the bronze compass left open in the palm of his hand.

The boat inched towards the exit, and when Gihun looked back to where Inho was standing, he found that he wasn’t there.

• ▲■

The waves were crashing against the boat as the wind picked up speed, blasting against his face as he tried to suppress a full body shiver. His eyes constantly scanned the water as far as his eyes could see, nervously darting around.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Gihun was completely alone. It was a weight off his shoulders knowing Jungbae, Daeho, and Junhee would be safe with Inho watching over them. There’s always a sinking feeling he gets when they are out of sight, but he had to try this– he had to see if this would end it, once and for good.

Minutes dragged on as the boat attempted to pick up more speed and the view of the island had faded into the background. The sky and the sea were both a muted gray, and his heart was beating faster than he’d ever admit.

He steered for as long as he could, the compass on the dash leading him north until the boat's engine had stuttered, finally running low on fuel. Inho warned him of this– he had told Gihun there would be no need to panic and yet that's all Gihun wanted to do.

His eyes flickered across the horizon again and he was all alone.

It didn’t feel right to be trapped in the middle of the water with no loud speaker instructing him on where to go and what to do. It felt wrong to be alone, and he vaguely wondered if he would even be able to be found out here.

What if this was it? What if he didn’t reset and he just died here?

Then– The sound of a motor was heard over the loud waves splashing around him. He turned his head, fearing the worst, thinking it was full of guards and guns and they were going to get him and force him back onto that godforsaken island–

“Mr Seong!” Junho’s high pitched voice shouted over the railing, frantically waving. They got as close as they could to his boat, but it was still a long ways up. 

Gihun’s hands were gripping the floor of the boat before Junho’s warm hands engulfed his own, pulling him up with a strength he was unaware of. A few others had rushed to grab a blanket, quick to wrap it around the shaking man. They were all murmuring around him, most seemed to not understand what was occurring. They came here for a fight– for revenge, not a rescue. 

“We were worried when we found out your tracker was missing, then Captain Park was able to get ahold of you. Are you alright?” 

Gihun turned his head to where the captain stood awkwardly, giving a small grimace before walking into the helm of the boat, getting ready to steer them away. He looked back at Junho, whose face was full of worry, but there was no sign of anger.

He didn’t know.

Junho had no idea that it was his own brother on the phone, working with the Captain, leading their team away with a fake trail of breadcrumbs. He hadn’t pieced together the odd chances of Gihun contacting him before the detective. 

Inho didn’t want him to know.

There was a slight temptation to confess, but he knew better– Gihun knew that wasn’t what Inho would’ve wanted. If what's happening is true, that each loop he goes through is becoming tangled together, not with his own body and its scars but Inho, then he must tread lightly.

Junho ushered to make him sit down inside the cabin as the boat began speeding away. The other men were all talking outside, following a gps and planning where to go next.

Gihun shuddered– how long until everyone else’s memory started merging like Inho’s? When would Junho remember?

The blanket around his shoulders tightened. He sat there, trying to will his body into relaxing on the leather bench as he watched the boat as it whipped through waves. 

There was a knock at the cabin door.

“We’re almost at the shore, Mr Seong.”

Gihun stood up, hands clutching the railing as he walked to the front of the boat.

The city lights were close as the sun began to rise, peeking out behind tall buildings as most of the boats on the loading dock were still out fishing this early in the morning.

He could see the grass, and they were suddenly swept up into the chaos of docking the boat and replanning their mission and Gihun’s eyes remained locked on the ocean. His mind still felt trapped on that island even hundreds of miles away.

• ▲■

The pink motel’s lights were still turned off. It was exactly how he left it– each window was covered from the inside, the camera's small circular lights were still blinking, and no one was around. And yet, Gihun was afraid.

It felt wrong to be this far from the island. Junho insisted he head back and rest, but the idea of sleeping made his skin crawl. He would wake up back there, 

The room was full of garbage and empty pill bottles he’d never bothered to clean out before rejoining the games. It had the days up until his disappearance marked on the calendar with a red mark on each date, and the air was stiff and unsettling. God, how long had he lived like this without even realizing?

Was he even really alive back then, like he is now?

It was all for nothing– Staying alive, counting down the days, spending hours and weeks and months searching for a man whose blood still stained his wall. 

Every attempt was futile. It was pointless.

His hands were shaking, the world was closing in, crashing around him. He was off that island, away from Inho and everyone else– the good and the bad and yet–

The door to one of his rooms opened, his legs carrying him there without recollection, and in front of him sat the pile of money he watched hundreds of people die for. 

At first, the number of people he’d lost had been 456– Including his mother, Sangwoo, Saebeyok– Then, it grew into Jungbae, and it keeps growing. Each death swept through his life, tilting him and shaking him to his core before wrecking him from inside out. 

How many people died in each loop? Mingle? Red Light Green Light? How many times did he watch Jungbae, Daeho, Junhee, Young-il— die?

Even Inho can’t stop it. The VIPs pay to see it every year, there’ll be a new recruiter to replace the old one, there will always be people wanting to play– and currently, in this reality, he’s stuck relieving it. 

The pile of money was taunting him, the only portions taken out were from his earnings and none of it even mattered. He should’ve thrown it into the ocean, or given it to charity, but he’d wasted three years for nothing

Tears were brimming in his eyes and he used the back of his shaking hands to wipe them away. His chest was burning. Every sound in his head was drumming against his head as it pounded in pain. He was crouching over in pain as he began to weep.

Freely, for the first time, he truly allowed himself to cry. 

His hands itched to hit something, to scratch and claw and kill– There was a bat hidden away somewhere, underneath the bed from before he bought all the guns and tore down the wall. It was light in his hand, wooden and cheap but sturdy enough.

The details didn’t matter, he hoped he wouldn’t remember anything anymore. The knowledge and guilt was killing him. He would never escape these memories. 

His grip tightened around the handle, before both hands were lifting the bat before swinging it down, causing the stacks of money to crash down and topple over to the ground. Most of the stack remained upwards as rage coursed through him, Gihun raised his arms bringing the bat higher up as he swung again, crumpling the paper bills below. 

The stack remained intact as he aimed to go harder, throwing some across the room as his heart was beating out of his chest and his whole body felt lit aflame. It burned, this urge to destroy– He wished it was the VIPs, or the guards, or anyone that agreed to keep playing each time they got to vote. The salvation was so close every time they could nearly taste it, and no matter what– It was ripped away. Thrown out. Burned.

 He felt so betrayed by everything, there was no stopping this feeling from erupting. There was no way to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.

He hated it– Another swing.

He hated this fucking motel– The stacks were flying against the wall, knocking things over.

He hated that fucking island. Those games– His hands were gripping on the bat so tightly it felt like his fingers would break.

The pile was nearly gone as he covered the floor in cash, most flying loose out of their neat stacks.

Gihun couldn't stop crying.

He was too scared to sleep out of fear of being reset, and he didn't deserve the faux comfort of his own bed. This wasn't his home– he didn't have one.

The closest thing to home was Jungbae, and he was hundreds of miles across the water, planning his own escape that might not even happen. Maybe it was inevitable– the reset. 

Gihun might be stuck forever, and his knees buckled as he fell to the floor with a loud thud, his body curling in on itself. He waited for what would come next.

Chapter Text

Hwang Inho never slept in the dark. 

The light of his bedroom– both at the games and in his old apartment– would stay on all night. It was a mixture of fear and precaution that stirred this odd habit to form.

Bedsheets around him felt tight as he stirred in his sleep, dreams becoming more vivid as he came closer to waking up.

His chest was beginning to heave. 

Panic soured through him as his eyes shot open– the same kind he felt when Junho’s body fell backwards as the bullet cascaded through his shoulder. When he turned around, placing the mask back over his face before walking off with stiff shoulders, the sound of his little brother's body hitting the water was enough to jolt him awake.

Sweat was building, trickling down his back as he tried his hardest to control his breathing again, the fear became all too familiar. 

His abdomen felt like it’d be torn through, not unlike the stitches after his surgery had felt– but it’d been so long since that feeling was there, and it was like something was ripping through him rather than being stitched back up.

With shaking hands grabbing the bedside table, he walked to the bathroom. 

His black tank top felt too tight against his skin as he struggled to lift his right arm high enough to take it off. This felt so wrong– he shouldn’t feel this weak. 

The dim orange light of the bathroom was barely enough to see the faint, pink wound almost akin to the color of a cat scratch only a few inches away from the matching scar he shared with Junho.

He had woken up with his hands trembling and breath ripped out of him. The night before, he had dreams of the same man who was laying on the other side of the island knocked out, and he felt a kind of guilt as he stared at the mask of the frontman.

What had Seong Gihun done to him?

• ▲■

The players were being escorted and changed as Inho was finalizing all the details of the games, contacting the VIPs to let them know it's about to be livestreamed. Everything was set to run smoothly, but there was still that nagging feeling in the back of his head he couldn’t shake. 

A knock came to his office door as he swiftly pulled the mask and hood over his head, standing to open the door.

On the other side, the square manager stood, body rigid as he got straight to the point. “Sir, the players are becoming more… aggravated. There’s been multiple that have woken up early in a disarray.”

“That's typical, is it not? They don’t understand what’s at stake yet. There’s a chance we need a stronger sedative, make sure to make note of that for next time.” Inho explained easily. It wasn’t uncommon that a player woke up early, but it typically happened once they were in the dorms, right before the music began playing.

“No sir, they are arguing with the guards over something else. They seem to have had vivid dreams while knocked out, some of them are saying they know what’s going on– Some said the first game was Red Light Green Light. I’m afraid we’re being sabotaged.”

Inho’s voice was flat, devoid of any emotion as he pondered what that meant. “ Sabotaged .”

“There seems to be a mole, sir.” 

He stood, feet swaying as he felt the sudden urge to pace and ponder– almost wishing the man would leave quickly so he could sit and have a drink alone. This wasn’t right– Inho had been watching Gihun’s every move for years, ever since he missed that plane and began hunting him.

It was exciting at first– their game of cat and mouse.

Now it was a threat. The VIPs would hear about it, and the integrity of the games would crumble. 

“Investigate everything that seems out of place, we don’t know what they have planned yet, and bring me Player 456. Make sure no one else reveals the first game.”

LOOP 11

Gihun’s head was pounding, everything felt like he was dragged through the mud. His muscles screamed and ached in agony, and the last thing he could remember was the bat in his hands as he swung wildly around the motel room. He felt the dry teartracks against his cheeks, but he couldn’t register where he was and why.

He was sitting, and it was uncomfortable– Gihun tried looking around the room to gain any hints as to where he was, but it was no use. 

“Player 456. Did you have fun playing the hero?”

Gihun froze.

His eyes slowly peeled open, almost afraid of what they’d see. A faint rustling was heard against the room. 

The frontman was standing across from him in a grey, concrete room with a large metal door behind him. He couldn’t see any guards, or anything else if he had to be honest. 

“Your attempts at ending the games were sloppy– miscalculated. The players have barely woken up and you’ve already been caught. Was that your intention?”

He tried to think– If the loop reset, why wasn’t he in the dorms? What could he have possibly done to get on Inho’s radar this early on?

The man seemed to sense Gihun’s confusion and reiterated. “You stole a boat, failed to escape, and called for help from a phone where the cameras didn’t even catch you. How long do you suppose we have until your little police officers show up?”

“The boats gone?”

Gihun’s eyes widened in bewilderment. The loop reset, or else Inho wouldn’t be doing this– but not everything went back to how it was before. Last time, before he convinced Inho to join his side, he interrogated him about the phone initially, but the boat– That was bigger. That meant–

Every time it reset, some things stayed permanent outside of himself.

A phone was one thing, a small blip on the scale of time that wasn’t reset like the rest of the island, but an entire boat gone–

The frontman’s voice cut through, angry despite the filter altering the sound of his voice. “You don’t get to ignore my questions so easily. Tell me, how long until they raid the island? Tell me who you called.”

Gihun waited a moment, eyes shifting between the two blank eyes of the mask, squinting in an attempt to see any resemblance of the man he once knew– the man he knows is under there, fighting off doubt and uncertainty.

“Detective Hwang Junho.”

He watched as Inho tried concealing his reaction, but even without seeing his facial expression, Gihun knew it struck a nerve.

“You know, for a guy that watches my every move, you tend to miss a lot. How did you expect me to be awake, steal a boat, and call your brother while all the guards brought us on the island unconscious? If you were good at your job, you’d notice, right?”

Gihun watched as Inho’s hands twitched, curling tighter into themselves before he nearly fought off a smile– he was getting under his skin.  

“I think you understand what’s happening here, you just don’t want to admit it. Your memory is scrambled and I bet you’re trying to find any logical explanation for it– for the way you feel . You’re not as cruel as you used to be.”

“Your memory seems to be misinterpreting this, Player 456.” His voice was still stern, but the way his shoulders moved as his breath quickened was enough to give Gihun a small victory. 

“Is that right, Inho? ” Gihun let out a small smile, unable to stop himself. “We’ve had this conversation plenty of times, we both know how it ends. Why don’t we stop this for once and for all?”

Inho was silent, jaw clenched and hands remaining at his sides curled into fists– Frustrated that Gihun could read him so well.

“You know about the time loop, don't you?”

Inho grabbed the front of his jacket, lifting him up from the chair as it dragged against the floor as he was pushed into the wall behind him. Not quite choking him, but holding him close enough that he could– and yet– he’s not. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. This version of me in your head isn’t real, that's not who I am.”

 “Your humanity shows more than you care to admit.” Gihun could almost grin at the way Inho faltered– He was taken aback, and finally after all these games they played together, he had caught him off guard.

What he was saying was true, they both knew it.

“You can fight back against what I say, but you can’t deny that I’m right. You can tell something has changed with me– and between us– even if you deny it.” 

The room was so silent, all that could be heard was the sound of their breaths mingling between them, Inho’s fast paced with panic as Gihun stood calmly despite the position he was in.

Inho’s grip remained on him, unbudging. 

Gihun smiled despite it all. “You’re becoming a better person, Inho .”

“That wasn’t me .” His voice, now wavering, spoke quietly as if he was trying to convince himself rather than Gihun.

“ But it was – They were all you.”

Inho shook his head, trying to shake whatever thoughts were brewing in his mind before they could slip out as his resolve crumbled. He stepped away from Gihun, almost afraid of getting burned by the warmth under his jacket.

“You never kill me.” Gihun says, voice hardening as his hands curled into fists. “I mean— You get close, or tempted to, but you've never once killed me in any version of this. Why is that?”

Inho stared off, not speaking. His jaw clenched, and Gihun knew it meant he was holding back. He'd seen him do it a hundred times, even if Inho would never remember.

“Are you afraid?”

This made him scoff, looking off to the side almost rolling his eyes in disbelief. “I've killed more people than I could count, in my first game and in yours. I've killed my own guards–”

“I wasn't talking about killing.” Gihun stepped closer, looking at him once again. “Are you afraid to lose me, Inho?”

Inho falters, shutting his mouth and just staring at Gihun– not his lips, or his hands, or his waist – just him. Dumbfounded and frozen, and it sparks a flare of satisfaction that he’s able to read him so clearly after all this time. That he knows what to say to make Inho freeze up, instead of it only being the other way around.

“What matters more to you,” He steps forward again, and Inho never steps back. “The games, or me?” 

Inho’s eyes widened, flickering between Gihun’s as he searched for answers within them, but this question had been floating in the man's head from the first moment they became close– closer than friends, or enemies, should be. 

“Don’t you already know?”

Gihun shook his head, his eyes never leaving Inho’s desperate gaze as he pushed for more. “I need you to say it, Inho. I need you to mean it. ”

A moment of silence passes between them before Inho steps closer, bringing them within inches of each other as he grabs the sides of Gihun’s slender face, not quite leaning in yet.

“Gihun, everything was always about you.” Inho voices his thoughts, sounding breathless as his resolve crumbles for the last time. “Ever since I saw you in that field, when it was raining and you were bleeding– still begging for your friendship to persevere past the violence of the games– I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

There’s a mere shiver that goes up Gihun’s spine, building as he wanted to push forward– or back– he couldn’t decide what he wanted, because Inho’s never looked so genuine, and Gihun didn’t know how to handle it.

Having the man look at him like that was intoxicating. He wanted nothing more than to grab him and pull him forward– letting themselves give into their emotions so heavily until they drowned in it. 

“All those times I dreamt of you, recently, right before I really feel like I’ve woken up in the morning– It was real?” Inho’s voice sounded unsure, nearly wavering between fear and excitement as his eyes flickered over Gihun, studying him.

The only thing Gihun could do was stare back. 

“If you are asking about something specific that's happened, I’ll tell you the truth. Even if it scares me– I promise. All you have to do is ask.” He said earnestly. 

They’ve talked about their feelings before in brief, fleeting moments that Gihun engraved into his mind. For Inho, up until now, it was all forgettable— but now, he was remembering. That knowledge might be what scares Gihun the most. It’s all he’s ever wanted, but it’s everything he’s ever feared.

Inho seemed to understand this too, and instead of asking if the soft conversations and subtle touches they shared had been real, it’s something more prominent– a kind of question that can’t be taken back.

“That kiss, was that real or a dream?”

“Real.”

Inho just nodded, looking off.

“I did it because I was hoping you’d remember– I uh, I wanted you to remember that. More than anything else.”

“Is there anything else you wanted me to remember?”

“I can think of a few things,” He began, watching as Inho’s eyes flickered to life again as he stared up at him. “Specifically things I’d want to do once we’re out of this– If that's– Well, if you’re interested.” 

He could feel the warmth burning his cheeks as he stumbled to find the words. It’d been years since he’d been with his ex wife or anyone else for that matter, but the way Inho was standing there waiting—

Gihun took a step back, not trusting himself to hold back if Inho kept looking at him like that. Instead, he cleared his throat, moving the conversation to something more serious.

“Do you think we actually have a chance this time?”

Inho looked skeptical, a look of doubt lingered in his eyes for far too long for it to be plausible. “Players are remembering things, either they think they were dreams or are convinced it's real– It was real, but they are still blinded by the promise of money.”

“You think people will still want to be greedy, even after all they’ve seen? All they’ve remembered?” Gihun glared. 

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it. 

“They might remember it as nothing more than a bad dream. One long, confusing, weird dream. It took me a long time to realize what was going on, and yet everytime I wake up my memory is still uncertain. If this is the first or second time feeling it, they likely don’t realize what's at stake.”

“It only took you that long to realize because you’re stubborn.” Gihun teased.

Inho’s eyes shot back up to his, the surprise on his face was evident. “You didn’t make it easy, in case you forgot.”

Gihun laughed– the noise was almost startled out of him. Jungbae had made him laugh countless times, even Daeho and “ Young-il ” did, but this abrupt sound coming out before he could even stop it–

He tried bringing a hand up to stifle the sound, catching a glance at the other man staring, Inho’s eyes kept moving down to watch his mouth until Gihun covered it.

“Stop– Enough of that. We need to plan, I don’t wanna do this again.” His voice still carried a hint of enthusiasm as he tried to get back on topic.

“You’re right.” Inho said, nearly sounding dejected.

“We need to try something different– We’ve gotten close, but there's still something missing. I think it's about the VIPs or the island, but I don’t know how to do any of it while saving people. I don’t know how to do any of it fast enough, either.” Gihun spoke about it easily, the words flowing with ease as each word had been stuck in his thoughts the last few days.

It was a puzzle with a missing piece. He was close, so close that he could almost feel the end coming near, but there was something else.

Inho tilted his head in thought. “Did you ever make it through the first game with all the players? If you could do it again, that would give the VIPs a good reason to rush over here. That could be your window.”

Gihun shivered. “That didn’t go well last time.”

The memories of peoples screams had haunted him– Gihun never forgot what happened. He didn’t forget how cruel the game could be, nor how cruel Inho could be. With the memories of each loop coming back to him slowly, he wondered if he remembered what he’d done. 

Gihun wouldn’t forgive him for it, and he would rather reset the loop at this very moment than have to relive that game of Mingle again.

Inho seemed to push past it. “We can try to convince the players to leave, but there’s no way I can do it as the frontman if we want a fair shot at taking down the VIPs. It's one or the other.”

He couldn’t imagine picking between saving people's lives and taking the VIPs. Logically, his plan was to save everyone, and it was the only solace he had for the weeks, near months he spent trapped here with no escape. It was his mission– his life goal.

But with the VIPs gone, there would be no more games. The rich men around the world would become too frightened to fly to another island and start it all over again, let alone be reluctant to sponsor one. 

There were eight of them in total this year, and Gihun was going to kill all of them.

There was a heavy weight of seriousness in Inho’s eyes, the implications of his words were not only a test to Gihun’s own morals, but his own– “Do you want to spare their lives, even after all they’ve done? For all the players to survive?”

Gihun knew that whatever he decided, Inho would follow, even reluctantly. They were in it together.

And he knew exactly what Inho could be capable of– and for once he wasn’t scared of it. He was excited.

“I want to watch them burn.” Gihun’s voice was surprisingly calm for the sheer amount of rage that had built inside of him. “This whole island, too. I want them to burn with it.”

Inho nodded, a mere pleased expression on his face as he finally peeled his eyes off Gihun and regained his composure.

“If we let the loop reset, we can set our plan into motion. When we both wake up, I can call the VIPs to come early while you play the first game and get the majority of the players to survive. If they vote to leave once the VIPs arrive, we can take them out quickly. I can find a way to keep you behind if I ask for you to join us for dinner, then they shouldn’t suspect too much since you’re a previous winner. If there's an increase in pay for the guards, they won’t question it too much.”

He bit the inside of his cheek nervously, taking in the information at hand. It was good– well thought out and with a few gaps that could lead to an error, but it was the most precise plan they’d come up with in a while. 

There was one thing nagging at Gihun. “I won’t have a weapon, though. Won’t we be outnumbered, especially if there's guards in the room?”

“There’s only servants, and I’m positive I can find a way around it. They don’t typically want them in the room after what happened during your games. I can hand you something if we walk through the halls alone, we would just need to be discreet.”

“Then what? Pray that once all the players are gone and we kill the VIPs, that's it?” Gihun asks incredulously. 

Inho’s eyes soften for a moment, his tone lower contrasting Gihun’s harsher one. “We’ll get you on Captain Park’s boat after we get rid of the VIP and we’ll blow up the island. It’s what you wanted, right?”

He pauses to think– “If Junho is nearby, won’t your ship be able to catch sight of them while it leaves with the players?”

“We can tell him to wait, that way we’ll have enough time to escort all players off the island and set up the detonator. I can sneak away while the guards and the officer are busy, and I’ll set it up. I could even finish setting it up this loop and most of it should stay if our previous theory was correct.” 

Gihun lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. This was going to work– his hands were itching to get going, to start preparing as soon as they can now that they have all these advantages, but it was a waiting game until the next loop.

Unless he ended it early.

The thought made him feel cold all of a sudden, a shock to his system as such a cruel thought had erupted so easily. He was desperate to shake it away, he didn’t want to think about his own death so easily, because Inho was standing right infront of him, and his friends were still in the dormitory.

He couldn’t give into these thoughts.

There was a large screen on one of the walls, dimly lit so it was almost unnoticeable as the players were all sitting around talking, and Gihun caught a glimpse of Jungbae.

Inho was looking at him, trying to read into what was running through his head. “We can knock you out while we wait for the loop to reset?”

Gihun shakes his head. “No, if we don’t know how things will end– if they’ll end after this… I want to spend it with the players. I want to stay with my friends until I reset.”

Inho nods, seeming to understand, eyes flickering towards the screen before taking a double take, glancing back up in confusion only a few moments later. 

His voice, thick with displeasure and unease, broke the silence of the room, nodding towards the screen as Gihun was trying to put the pieces together. “I think we should head back now then, there seems to be a surprise announcement.”

There was a loud bang that sounded out from the dormitory cameras as Gihun’s head whipped up to glance at it, only to be greeted by the view of the masked officer standing in front of the crowd of people, surrounded by guards with the guns drawn.

This wasn’t a scene Gihun was familiar with. “I don’t remember this happening.”

He turned, Inho watching just as intensely as he had been as he shook his head.

“A new rule has been implemented; All players who transpire and reveal the next game before it’s announced will be eliminated from the games in an attempt to keep equality among players. Those who have already broken that rule will be used as an example to set these expectations in place. Player 120, Player 230, Player 390, Player 222, Player 333, Player 388, Player 124 and Player 100 please step forward.”

Gihun’s blood ran cold.

“What's happening? What are they doing?”

Inho’s eyes grew wide, shoulders growing stiff with tension. “This wasn’t me.”

“What’s going on, then? They– Inho, they called our friends' numbers .” Gihun stuttered out, heart beginning to race– “You have to call it off– Now!”

The man rushed to grab his radio, pulling his mask over top.

“Officer, do you copy? Hold your fire– I repeat, hold your fire. This wasn’t what we agreed upon.” Inho nearly barked out the orders as they gathered their belongings, unsure of what they’d face while Gihun began impatiently pacing around the room trying to come up with a plan.

There was a sickening sound of silence until static brought the radio to life, the man's voice cutting out intermittently on the other end. “Plans changed, over.”

Inho’s hand tightened around the radio, resisting the urge to throw it. “ That bastard. ”

“We have to get down there and hurry–” Gihun made a move towards the door, but a hand on his elbow caused him to look back at Inho.

He was standing there, eyes wide and appearance growing more disheveled as he stared at Gihun– just like he did when Gihun first handed him that ammo that led to his own betrayal, but this time he looked more open– more afraid.

“If we go down there, I can’t protect you– I can’t save you this time , Gihun.”

Gihun’s eyebrows scrunched together. “I don’t need you to save me, I need your help saving them. Don’t you get it?”

Inho nodded, pulling out a pistol he kept in the inside pocket of his long gray coat and handing it out to Gihun with the handle facing him. “I’ll have your back, then.”

When they reached the large metal doors, Inho’s mask firmly back on as he powered through the halls as Gihun was running after him, there were sounds of people crying, a few more gunshots sounded off as a lump formed in his throat– maybe Hyun-ji formed an army without them, fighting back early– or Jungbae and Daeho used their knowledge and strength as marines to buy themselves some time against the guards. Or—

A familiar, shrill scream sounded out and as the doors opened, the square manger adorning the black suit whipped around with a machine gun in his hand, blood splattered against his suit.

There were bodies on the ground, countless faces he recognized, and–

Gihun was lifting the gun before he realized.

Inho was beside him, recognizing the familiar form of the trained pink soldiers surrounding them as he raised his own gun, not hesitating to aim for the chest or the knees as a sickening few pops were let out.

He was swift with his movements, taking down each guard even as a few raised their arms in a halfhearted surrender. Gihun advanced forwards to the masked manager, who stood sickeningly proud over the bodies that laid, still warm.

“These unlucky bastards must have bitten the dust–”

Gihun’s fist collided with the side of his face, a crunching sound erupted as the man below him nearly grimaced.

“You sick fucker– I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna kill you and make sure you don’t ever wake up again–”

The players around them had been pressed against the wall or hiding behind bunks, shaking at the smell of iron and fear that filled the room. 

He ripped the mask off, leaving the black balaclava on so he could only see the masked officers' eyes, which were devoid of emotion. It angered Gihun– his hands were shaking as he raised his right fist again to bring it down before the man flipped them over, as if Gihun weighed nothing.

His back collided with the floor as his head smashed into the laminate floor, the officers hands grasping around his neck as his eyes narrowed–

A loud, abrupt gunshot ripped through him, splattering blood over Gihun as he was shot through the heart– toppling over and going limp on top of him– and he felt panic surge through him as he still couldn’t breathe with the weight of the man atop of him.

His breaths were short, nearly gasping for air before the body was lifted off of him, the blood soaking through his teal tracksuit coat.

Inho stood over him, an alarmed expression plastered on his face as he reached for Gihuns hands, slowly helping him up as he checked over him for injuries.

Gihun was quick to stand, scanning the room as fear-streaken cries had finally died down, and the adrenaline coursing through him dissipated.

Geum-ja and Young-sik were slowly moving closer, arms looped around each other as tears ran swiftly down their round cheeks and eyes flickered from Gihun to the faceless bodies laid on the floor, full of guilt and pity.

He rushed to stand– now that the guards aren’t actively attacking and the officer is down–

The body's faces come into view, and he feels as if his heart stops beating for a few brief moments.

Gihun recognizes a young girl, one he wanted to protect because her eyes reminded him of his own Gyeong but older, but young– they were still so young, and scared, and her eyes were glued to the roof as he wished they’d start blinking, or she’d gasp for air and sit up. Maybe he wished she was crying so he could comfort her, or that her hand was gripped around his tracksuit as he held her head gently, trying to stop the bleeding—

And before Gihun realizes it, he’s crying wholeheartedly, unashamed to let the tears fall as he wipes the hair out of her eyes so she could see, even with her unblinking gaze.

And before Gihun knows, he’s calling out—

“Sae-byeok, wake up, please— Inho will get us help, we’ll get out of here— Oh god, oh god— Sae-byeok I’m so sorry –” He’s still holding her, barely casting glances as Inho while he stands over the scene, watching.

“Go check on Sangwoo– and Jungbae– oh god , where’s Jungbae?”

Inho’s voice breaks, just for a second, but Gihun’s too lost in his own grief to notice. “They aren’t here, Gihun.”

“Inho– stop fighting with me, they need your help, you have to hurry!” Gihun moves his hand towards the bullet hole in Sae-byeok’s chest, and as he glances he realizes–

Junhee.

The piercing, the messy hair cascading over her pale cheeks and childish face, it’s Junhee. His blurred vision had blinded him– and Sangwoo wasn’t even here. Neither was Ali. It was Daeho, Junhee, Jungbae– All these countless faces he knew laid before him, bleeding. 

“Oh, god–” His shaking hands came away from her body, her heart was no longer beating while the adrenaline rush dissipated. 

Gihun, the everpresent hero to Inho’s story, has crumbled right before his very eyes.

Yong-sik cried out, burying his face in his mothers shoulder. “I’m sorry– We should’ve been braver. I’m so sorry–”

The large metal doors slid open as loud footsteps echoed through the dorm. 

Pink guards were walking into the room, boxes in hand as they paid no mind to the bodies surrounding them– even the ones of the guards and the officer. Inho felt the warm stare of their eyes settling on his back while his mask laid on the ground behind him, but he didn’t care—

Gihun was sobbing on his knees as they dug into the floor, gasping for breath as Inho’s arms reached around him, squeezing for a brief moment before dragging him to stand as they made their way towards the door, eyes still lingering as they left.

• ▲■

Gihun was still hysterical, crying as Inho had to manhandle him out of the room and through the hall. He watched over them, checking every corner and keeping his ears open to listen for footsteps advancing towards them, but they heard nothing. Inho only heard the uneven breaths of Gihun.

His arm was still clutching onto Gihun’s waist as they made staggered steps towards a medical room, one without cameras. Inho would’ve rather taken him to his quarters, let him lay in his bed again like in his distant memories and have him warm and safe, but this room would have to do.

They didn’t know who else was looking for them, and Inho wouldn’t risk it.

Not for Gihun.

He walked to the medical bed, trying to get Gihun to sit before he toppled them over with his long limbs as he let himself be moved easily. 

“You have to knock me out, or kill me— Please, Inho. I can’t wait any longer, I have to leave, I have to save them this time.” Gihun pleaded as the tears never ceased.

Beside him, Inho froze, hands going still and voice growing tense. “What if you don’t come back?”

Another sob almost fell out of Gihun’s mouth as he tried to stifle the sounds of his grief. 

“Then I’ll still get to see them, please. I can’t go on like this. We can try again next time– We’ll end it next time, we have a plan set and everything, I just– Please, Inho. I can’t. I can’t. ” He begged, words breaking.

Inho nods, reaching into the drawer for a familiar vile and unopened disposable needle that he had once been injected with. He trusted Inho enough to not read the bottle— to not even glance at the vile as the man's hands worked meticulously, almost practicing as he drew the liquid into the needle, shifting their positions so that Gihun’s head was laying against his neck.

Both of Inho’s hands needed to be free to be able to inject him properly, so Gihun settled for holding his arms tight against his stomach, cradling himself. He thought of Junhee– he mourned her, not for the first time, but hopefully the last.

“ I’m sorry , Gihun.”

Chapter Text

LOOP 12

From the moment Gihun wakes up, he knows what he needs to do.

Inho was right in his suspicions as more people seemed to be aware of their surroundings.

The room was more quiet– less rushed questions, more silent eyes and unsure voices whispering among each other. A few people recited the same script as the first time, oblivious to the elephant in the room hanging over their heads, but it went by fast.

Jungbae knew a portion of what was happening, afterall the conversations they had before the first game began must be reminding him that something was happening– something bigger than themselves. He luckily didn’t question it, just standing close to Gihun as Daeho was quick to join them.

Junhee lingered nearby, they all silently grouped together. They knew it was bound to happen, and most of all they knew it felt right.                                

The first person to ask him about anything directly came as a bit of a surprise as he watched Hyun-ju approach him before he could go sit down, hesitant to reach out, but the desperation in her eyes made it seem important.

Gihun knows they haven’t really spoken, and he never got to thank her for all she did in the original loop, but now might be his chance.

“Excuse me, Mr 456, I just– This is going to sound weird but, we’ve met before, right? I feel like we know each other.”

He nodded slowly, treading lightly. If what Inho said earlier was true– certain players were regaining glimpses of memories and becoming more distressed when they remembered what the games were about– when they remembered what was about to happen to them, and the players around them. 

“We have met, do you remember where?” His words were slow, quiet and cautious– almost afraid to trigger a memory she might not want to remember, like one of Young-mi, or the endless gunfire they’d witnessed in the revolution. 

“This happened before if I’m not mistaken. I thought for sure it was just something I dreamt of, like a nightmare I had right before I woke up, but now I’m seeing everything and… does that make me sound crazy?” She laughed softly, almost out of nervousness as her hands were interlocked and fidgeting. 

Gihun took a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek trying to figure out what the right words of comfort might be but– he’d thought that no one else would remember, and then Inho’s frontman persona had dissipated and the walls he built around himself crumbled. Now, Hyun-ju was standing in front of him with wide, concerned eyes and Gihun felt guilty.

He should’ve found a way to end the time loop earlier so he could have saved everyone from remembering– unless it was bound to happen anyway. At first it was a cruel thought to wish that Inho would remember all their moments together, and now he does, but these innocent players are afraid because they know what's about to happen to them.

When his eyes scan the room, it seems like not everyone is aware, about half the room is sitting there calm and collected while waiting for further instructions, but the rest of the room were whispering quietly between themselves, glancing around nervously before the first game even began. 

“You saved me the first time. I was trying to help out an injured player and tripped– you were there to catch me. If players are remembering what happened, they’ll be afraid. They’ll make mistakes. If we work together to help every cross that finish line, we have a better chance of making it out of here alive with the vote. All of us .” Gihun’s voice was steady and quiet as Hyun-ji listened intently, her eyebrows scrunching together in focus as she slowly nodded.

“How do we know they’ll choose to vote out afterwards? Not everyone seems to be remembering, and the ones that do are just more afraid.”

Gihun paused for a moment, glancing around the room. She was right– not everyone was shaking and whispering among themselves while casting uneasy glances towards the guards. 

“We’ll figure something out– I have faith it will work this time, we just need to make it through the first game with everybody . Do you think you can help me with that?” He asked, glancing up at the woman as she nervously played with her hands before nodding.

“I’ll follow your lead.”

• ▲■●

His white shoes dug into the sand while the sun was beating onto his dark hair, a light chill was in the air through the open roof as he pushed through the crowd, letting Hyun-ju follow behind him as Jungbae struggled to catch up.

“Everyone– Everyone, listen up! Pay attention– Listen carefully! This is not just a game! If you lose the game, you die! Don’t talk, don’t move. The doll’s eyes are motion sensors!” he shouted, turning his back to the doll and focusing on the players in front of him.

There were fewer insults thrown at him– Gihun was met with slight nods from fearful eyes and a few sideways glances throughout the crowd until he heard the familiar robotic voice come from across the field.

“Green light!”

Their feet stepped forward in long strides, some already attempting to form lines from the staggered memories they did possess as Hyun-hi helped lead them forward. Gihun’s eyes never left the crowd, his hands coming up, raising them above his head as he stopped walking right before the dolls voice shouted out again–

“Red light.” 

Everyone stopped moving.

“Get in long lines, behind someone taller than you. It can’t detect all of us this way. Hurry!” Gihun’s voice boomed across the field, following after there were sounds of people scuffling before the doll called out once again and everyone froze.

No one died that round– Gihun let out a deep breath he had been holding, sensing Hyun-ji and Jungbae relaxing around him while they counted down the seconds until they could move again.

For once, he didn’t feel panicked. Gihun’s hands weren’t shaking, his voice was clear and definitive, and he knew what to do.

The doll called out– 

“ Green Light.”

He continued to walk forward, watching as the lines had formed faster than he’d seen before– Everyone was following their lead, even the more rowdy players he’d grown to recognize like Thanos, the purple haired boy and Namgyu were lined up together, focused on making it to the end of the field. 

Gihun’s strides were long as he checked the time– they were doing good. They were making progress.

“Red light”

Jungbae, who was hiding behind Gihun, spoke up, hiding his face away from the eyes of the doll. “What happens after this, if we all live? How do we get out of here without playing again?”

“We all have to vote to leave. Majority rules will still apply, but look– everyone’s too afraid to play another game. They know what happens. Even if they don’t fully remember it, they feel the fear. They know where it will lead them, even with a blurred memory.” 

“Green light!”

They were moving quickly, the first person in every row walked hastily as they led the rest of the players closer, nearly forming a wall of bodies that trekked through the sand.

This time, Hyun-ji spoke up. “You mean– this is the last time?”

“Yes, I hope so.”

She grows quiet. “That means, the prize money won’t be very much.”

“You don’t need to worry about the money– not once we leave.” Gihun’s voice was stern as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

There was a short lived moment where she seemed to hesitate before continuing. “If you say so, Mr Seong.”

“Red light!”

They all froze, so close to the finish line as sweat dripped slowly down Gihun’s back as the sun was beating down on them. They were so close– just a few more feet.

They had everybody, and somewhere up behind the cameras Gihun knew Inho was watching with a smug smile behind his mask. The VIPs would be pissed, but Gihun didn’t care– those bastards were as good as dead anyway.

“Green light!” 

The doll began singing once again as everyone at the front began breaking out in a full sprint. It became a mess, a tanglement of bodies as they flew over the finish line and shouted for the others to hurry. Gihun looked up, watching the doll intently as it continued to stare at its hand against the tree.

It was close– a few players were struggling to keep up as others rushed to help them move faster and before he knew it–

“Red light!”

They were all across the line.

Players were squished a little too close for comfort, the sheer amount of bodies alone was impressive as the sand remained clean. There was no blood splattering the field. No bodies laid unburied. 

A few players were whispering to each other, eyeing Gihun and Hyun-ji until the sound of the large metal doors creaking open had pulled their attention away. Slowly, they all trickled out of the room and out to the vibrant hallways Gihun knew all too well.

• ▲■

The vote weighed heavy in one direction as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding—

Majority of players voted for ‘O’ .

“Gihun! You did it, we get to go back home!” Jungbae shouted as he ran towards Gihun, wrapping his arms tight around his shoulders as he swayed him, unable to stand still even as he pulled back with his hands still on his shoulders.

Gihun’s heart felt a little more at ease as he tried to reassure the man. “Yeah, we did. There’s still a few things I have to do before I leave. After that, we’ll go get soju like the good old days, right?”

The other man paused, a smile slowly falling from his face. “What do you mean? Are you not coming back with us?”

“We’re finally leaving! Why do you have to stay behind?” Daeho asked, looking between the men nervously.

Gihun just shook his head, his voice reserved– nearly full of shame. He couldn’t handle the heartbroken expression Daeho was giving him, nor the betrayed look Jungbae was casting his way. 

“I’m sorry, we need to make sure the games are stopped for good. If not, they may try to recruit everyone here again or find new players. It’s the only way to stop it– The time loop doesn’t end when I leave the island. I know that now.”

The two men were silent, sharing a soft look between themselves before Jungbae piped up again. “Let us help, then.”

“No! There’s no way–”

“Gihun, you’re seriously not stupid enough to fight all those guys alone, are you? Let us help– we’ve done it before, haven’t we?” He voiced the last question more seriously than before. Their memories of the past few loops hadn’t been nearly as good as Gihun’s or Inho’s, but they

“Jungbae, I got this. Don’t worry about me– I’ll see you when I get off the island. You’ll be the first face I see, I promise.” Gihun said earnestly, 

He scoffed. “I better be, you still owe me a drink. You can’t be a cheapskate anymore man, you’ve got more money than any of us combined.”

Gihun tried smiling, but a solemn feeling came over him. “I’ll buy you as many drinks as you want.”

A voice came to life over the speakers, the familiar female voice he knew all too well announced that all players must return to their beds before the main doors opened and Inho– dressed in his frontman attire accompanied by a few guards– had come through.

“ Player 456, follow us .” Inho’s voice rang out through the mask as he stood stiffly, waiting for Gihun to say his goodbyes.

It was eerie, hearing him talk like this infront of everyone and he prayed no one realized it was ‘Young-il’ underneath that mask.

Everyone around them turned to watch, confused as Gihun was being escorted to leave without the rest of the group. 

He turned to his friends. 

“Is this a part of your plan?” Jungbae looked uneasy as Daeho was clinging onto his shoulders, leaning his weight onto the man from behind while we glanced between the frontman and Gihun.

All he could do was nod and give a halfhearted before walking off to the door. “I’ll see you later, Jungbae.”

The pink guards surrounded him, holding their guns a little tighter as he walked behind Inho, following them out into the hallway away from his companions and towards the next part of their plan—

It would be time to kill the VIPs.

• ▲■

The guards fell away as Gihun’s hands were cuffed by a triangle guard to keep appearances up, leaving Inho alone with him as they stepped towards the frontman's quarters, letting the door slide shut behind them. Inho kept walking towards his room, Gihun’s hands still tight behind his back as he expected the man to follow– in which he did. 

“Aren’t you going to uncuff me? No one is around.” Gihun asked, nearly motioning towards his hands despite being unable to move them well.

“Hm, what if I prefer you that way?” Inho turned, a sly smile on his face as he dug into his closet reaching for a familiar gray coat– one he was already wearing a nearly identical copy of.

Gihun felt his face flush before rolling his eyes– it was nice to be able to talk like they were regular friends and not tied together due to a weird time loop and fucked up games they ended up on opposing ends of, but getting to know and understand the intricacies made him realize Inho got way too much joy out of teasing him like this.

He tried his hardest to avoid the question, willing the warmth to dissipate off his face as he focused on the task at hand. He nodded towards the cloak Inho was holding– “How many of those do you have?”

Inho turned to look at him, a blank expression on his face. “Enough.”

He laid the coat on the desk beside him for a moment before taking his gloves off, slowly walking behind Gihun. A shiver ran down his spine when he heard Inho’s footsteps stop directly behind him, but not out of fear–

It was nervousness– more so excitement. 

The man was quiet as he felt Inho’s calloused hands settle around the rope, untying it with care until Gihun’s wrists were set free. 

Inho assisted Gihun in putting his jacket on, the heavy thick fabric sliding up his arms until it sat comfortably on his shoulders before he turned around, letting the man in front of him zip up the front and flatten out the front lapel.

Inho’s hands came up to Gihun’s shoulders, smoothing out the thick fabric as it weighed him down. There were no creases in the fabric from wear or tear, but Gihun let the man's hands linger anyway for a few moments longer before they slid off. 

“Where are they right now– The VIPs?” Gihun’s voice was still quiet so as to not ruin the quiet moment. He didn’t know how many of these they would have left before being separated again.

It was a different kind of torture for him, not knowing where Inho would be or if he was okay. 

Inho’s expression was unreadable. “They just landed. We still have time.”

Gihun waited, letting out a quiet sigh. He wanted nothing more than to get the both of them off the island as fast as they could. “We don’t have time to waste anymore, Inho. The players are getting off the island now, right? Why don’t we go now?”

“You have no patience, Gihun. Everything will work out, you just have to wait for the right timing.” His words offered little solace to Gihun, so Inho continued in hopes of calming his nerves. “They’ll go to their quarters first to settle down and change before meeting us in the main room. If you’re quiet, there's a way you can eliminate them before anyone finds out our plan.”

Gihun nods along, chewing at his bottom lip with nervousness. 

Inho stared up at him, analyzing for a moment. “I have something for you.”

He waited, but the man didn’t continue. Gihun laughed awkwardly. The intense stare he had was almost unnerving. “That sounds ominous.”

Before he could say anything else, Inho stepped back quickly as he walked towards the black and gray bed, kneeling on the floor beside it and reaching underneath. A large, black rectangular box was pulled out and Inho clicked the buttons on the side to open it in swift movements.

From where he stood, Gihun couldn’t see much of it but as Inho turned around–

“It has a silencer, and the scope doesn’t go too close as you’ll only be a few meters away. I heard about how familiar you’ve become with guns, but I wanted to choose a safer option. Just in case.” Inho says cautiously before handing it over to Gihun in careful movements, eyes flickering back up to his face as he waits for a reaction.

“So this is what I’ll use to kill the VIPs?” 

Inho nodded. “You don’t seem to be a fan of hand to hand combat. This way is less… personal , I suppose.” 

Gihun nodded before his eyes flickered between Inho’s. “What will you be doing?”

“I need to set up the rest of the explosives to ensure the island can’t be used to rebuild the games on. This all ends today, we’ll make sure of it.” His voice sounds stern but there's a hint of remorse hiding behind his words, he almost gives Gihun an apologetic grimace. 

He reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a black and silver knife before handing it over to Gihun. His hands don’t hesitate to brush against his as Gihun grabs it, mirroring where Inho had it hidden in his own jacket.

“Kill the VIPs, come back to the control room if Junho hasn’t found you yet, and we’ll set up the timer to detonate the island and we can leave. As soon as you’re ready, give me the word.” Inho started with intensity, nodding at Gihun as he began to understand.

“I’ll see you once it's done, then.”

• ▲■

Gihun wasn’t born to be a hunter.

His father wasn’t around from an age so early he could hardly remember a face or a name, and with the amount of love his mother held for him, he barely cared. He’d heard stories from his friends in school whose fathers enjoyed hunting on the weekends out in the designated land for hunting gorani – water deers that hid in tall reeds and in bushes by the shore.

From the years in between games, he had never partaken in the act of hunting. Killing undeserved animals wasn’t something he’d ever wanted. In fact– killing anything had been against his morals, even before the games. It just wasn’t right. It wasn’t natural. 

The analogy of horseracing and players' lives that was once discussed had brought a sickening taste of his tongue, and that wasn’t even about killing horses– just betting on them.

Now he stood, rifle in hand with a silencer attached to it and he was dawning the frontman's cloak and hood. It was too wide in the shoulders and came up higher on his legs than it did Inho’s. The sleeves were loose around his biceps, he didn’t quite have the muscle to fill the gaps. It was meant to act as camouflage, even without the mask he could blend into the dark gray walls of the VIPs quarters and dim hallways.

These men knew nothing of the long, winding colorful hallways and blaring music. They knew nothing of grief or heartache– they knew nothing about him. Player 456 existed as an idea, but Seong Gihun was a name that wouldn’t ring any bells.

He was nothing to them– just another number on a horse in the race.

The heavy metallic weapon laid in his hands as he loaded it with ammo. His shots would be precise and fast– there would be no reason to count the bullets. They wouldn’t even see him coming. 

He walked through the back corridor, all guards in this wing had left to escort players off the island. Servants were preparing the main room for later but none had been allowed back here.

Gihun stepped forward, his borrowed black boots silenced against the textile carpet that ran through the whole hallway. Long vibrant vines stretched from the roof to the floor hanging from pale pink ceramic plant pots secured on the walls and dim, orange lighting filled the halls. There were 10 doors, a few had remained open with their lights off as Gihun rounded the corner, stepping towards the first one in silent and swift movements.

There was a small living room space that held an electric fireplace and large stiff chairs. It was empty and dim as the only light emitting nearby was from the main bedroom where one VIP was unknowingly being watched through large op

It was easier hunting man than animal , Gihun thought. Based on what he knew, the forest was alive and constantly moving. A small shift in the grass from an insect or birds chirping through trees but here, in this insignificant but extravagant room laid nothing more than a man, slowly moving through the room as he finished getting changed into a grey and gold suit.

Timing is everything. When the moment arrives, the hunter exhales, steadying the weapon, and pulls the trigger or releases the bowstring. If done right, the deer will collapse swiftly. 

Gihun hid behind the door, rifle raised as his hands became steady. His breathing was quiet and steady, and he would not miss.

As the man walked closer to the bed, back turned to Gihun as he returned some items into his large leather suitcase, and Gihun’s finger pulled the trigger.

Then–

A short grunt was let out as Gihun struck the back of his head, his upper body falling forwards onto the bed unceremoniously. Luckily, it wasn’t too loud and Gihun prayed that the walls weren’t thin. He stood, gun slightly lowered as he watched intently before confirming he was dead.

He didn’t care to step forwards towards the body, and as he walked outside the room, he caught sight of that man's gold lion mask laying on his bedside table. His hand was on the door handle, pausing to listen for any sounds of life walking through the hall before turning it open quietly and stepping out.

Gihun walked towards the next door and tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

The body now lifeless on the bed couldn’t taunt him. For once, he had been in a room with the richest of men and there was no mockery– just the few, glistening moments of satisfaction Gihun felt before a wave of guilt rushed over him.

Before the games, or even outside of their actions on this island, they had families. Somewhere out there was a mother and children waiting–

Gihun shook off that thought.

He remembered Sangwoo’s red eyes as they fought, kicking eachother onto wet sand until he took his own life. He remembered what happened to Jungbae over and over again– He knew what the VIPs did behind closed doors.

The guilt wouldn’t stop him, even if deep down a part of him thought it was still wrong. It didn’t matter. He just couldn’t– wouldn’t , think about it.

Deer. He told himself.

It was all a part of the hunt.

His footsteps were quiet as he moved into the next room. The hallway was still empty as he turned the door handle and nudged it open slowly, ensuring it made little to no sound. There was a humming heard from inside the room, relatively loud and out of tune and Gihun’s eyes scanned the room– no sign of the man.

Each room had a similar layout of a small living room then a large bedroom, and while all the lights were on and bright, Gihun couldn’t find him.

He stopped and listened.

Running water, humming, and plastic bottles thumping softly against tile.

The bathroom.

Gihun approached, gun raised with both hands as he twisted the handle, peeking inside the steam filled room as he caught the faint outline of a shorter, older man behind the curtain– oblivious to the eyes watching him.

Deep breaths.

He moved his pointer finger onto the trigger—

Thud.

The man’s body hit the tile too loudly and Gihun almost cursed.

Someone next door was bound to hear, but he didn’t want to swarm into the next room. There was no rush for now, and if one person did hear the sound and they cared enough to investigate then he could advance further, killing two birds with one stone.

The water kept running as the bathroom heat became unbearable, blood seeping out of the man's body down the drain in slow circles. 

Gihun stepped out, waiting behind the bedroom door as he peered out into the living room. He waited, and then the sound of a knock on the main living room door–

“Are you alright in there? Don’t tell me you had a heart attack before the first games started, did you?” One of the other VIPs spoke up, English words blurring together as the door muffled the noise. 

He didn’t seem inclined to wait for a response before pushing the door open, eyes scanning the room for his companion before catching sight of Gihun, but before he could register what he was doing, the bullet had already made its way in between his eyes as his knees crumbled.

Fuck– that was loud too.

He could stay stationed where he was, wait for each of them to come in one by one to investigate the strange noises and absence of their friends while he took them out one by one, but he didn’t think this through–

The strong iron scent filling the air was making him feel sick.

This should’ve been Inho’s job, he didn’t even know why he had to be the one to do this–

“Player 456, what a surprise.” 

A man standing in front of the door smiled wickedly, movements slow and deliberate, as if he was unafraid. He wasn’t wearing a mask, and yet his face was still closed off, leaving Gihun unable to tell what his intentions were.

There was no flinching even as Gihun raised the weapon in his hands towards the man's head. Not even a spark of fear was lit in his eyes– this man was soulless. Devoid of real human emotion. All he felt was greed.

“Stop moving or I’ll blow your fucking brains out.” Gihun’s voice seethed, hands slightly shaking.

If the others came into the room, he’d still be outnumbered, but the man in front of him seemed to have more muscle and height over Gihun’s own lanky frame.

He held the gun up tighter before the hand raised his hand—

The lights in the living room flicked off, the faint glow from the bathroom door was casting small shadows around the room, but everything was dark. Gihun heard movement, but he couldn’t tell where it was from and he felt his heart skip a beat—

Before he knew what was happening, he was pushed against the door with a hand tight around his mouth while his wrists were bound above him uncomfortably. His breath quickened as he felt his heart rate skyrocket. 

Then, a noise was heard on the other side of the door. 

The distinct sounds of footsteps and a familiar, boisterous laugh had floated down the hall from the other VIPs as the man in front of him tightened his hand, squeezing his cheeks so hard he was afraid it’d bruise. 

“Let’s play a different type of game, Player 456.” He whispered before Gihun’s mouth was released, only to hear a faint click and cold metal meet his neck.

He snuck a gun onto the island– he must have paid someone off as to not alarm Inho, but that meant–

Gihun glanced towards his own weapon that laid flat on the floor a few feet away, unable to reach. 

“Ah, I see. You’re trying to kill me too, is that right?” He sneered, digging the barrel of the pistol deeper into the side of Gihun’s neck as he struggled to pull away.

“Go to hell.” He spat out, kicking his foot out to hit the man's shin as his grip faltered, and Gihun took that opportunity to headbutt him.

It was a loud, cracking noise as he’s pretty sure he broke the man's nose given the blood dripping down his face and the loud groaning he let out as his hand cradled it. Gihun’s back was still against the door, his head pounding as he heard the confused voices of the other VIPs in the hallway, their footsteps approaching as there were loud gunshots ringing out in the hall.

Gihun took this moment to his advantage, winding up his leg to kick him in the chest hard enough to wind as his boot made harsh contact with the mans chest while he crumbled, it didn’t last long until he reached into his pocket and brought out a small switchblade Gihun failed to notice in the dark room–

“Fuck!” He shouted as he took a few quick steps back, his ankle burning as he felt it bleed from the contact. He tried finding his old gun, but it was no use.

He watched as the man stood up, stalking towards him wrapping his bicep around his neck, placing Gihun in a chokehold as his elbows dug backwards, hitting him in the ribs as he tried to escape, but the man's hold didn’t falter.

It wasn’t the door swung open hard enough to dent the wall as Inho ran in, dawning his long gray coat without the mask, gun raised but unable to shoot. The VIP was using Gihun as a human shield. 

Inho’s eyes were wide as they flickered down to Gihun’s chest, willing him to remember–

The knife.

His hand slid beneath the coat, reaching for it and jamming it into the mans arm as he screamed into his ear, letting Gihun go.

He didn’t turn his attention to Inho despite the gun being raised, instead turning to Gihun and raising his arm to strike, fist colliding with his jaw as they tumbled to the floor.

Inho’s hands were coming around the back of the mans suit, dragging him backwards and off Gihun as he struggled to focus his vision, black dots spotting his eyesight as he watched the man struggle against Inho’s tight hold as he was choked out by the buttons on his collar.

He threw the man to the ground, before turning to the nearby fireplace and grabbing one of the long black rods in his hand in slow, meticulous movements as he walked towards the man.

“ No– No! I’m sorry, it was a mistake, he just attacked me first– I’ll pay you extra, I’ll sponsor the entire fucking games next year, please don’t– ” He pleaded as Inho’s face never changed.

Gihun felt frozen.

Inho tightened the rod in his hand before raising it swiftly, and just as fast as it was raised, it came down with a sickening crack against the VIP, and Gihun’s stomach lurched. It was a sickening sight, one he couldn’t stand initially– his eyes clamped shut as he heard the other man yelling before it was over as quickly as it started.

His eyes finally opened as he tried to steady his labored breathing, analyzing the body laying against the hardwood floor a few feet away as it finally stopped moving.

Inho was standing, chest heaving as his eyes narrowed towards the body, bleeding and unmoving. Blood splattered his face and body in messy patterns, dripping off the weapon as his chest heaved.

“How’d you know?” Gihun’s voice shook, hands holding the upper half of his body up as his legs struggled to find traction on the floor with all the blood spilled around them.

Then, Inho was standing above him with an outstretched red hand, and Gihun didn’t hesitate to take it as he let the man pull him up to stand.

Inho seemed to be calming down, his mind becoming less fogged with the ritual act of killing the man, returning his focus to Gihun as he caught his breath. “I was watching the footage while I was–”

Gihun launched forward, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling him forwards until his lips crashed into Inho’s.

It was harsh and desperate, the way their lips moved in tandem as Inho didn’t hesitate to reciprocate the kiss, bringing his hands to Gihun’s waist in a tight hold as the blood on his palms left handprints where he held him.

All Gihun could smell was the blood they both seemed to be covered in, he didn’t know where one of them ended and the other began as he tugged Inho closer by the damp skin of his neck, and he knew it would be red, and he couldn’t help but want more of everything–

Inho was the first to pull away.

“Tell me you don’t want this– Tell me to go away.” Inho pleaded, voice wrecked as he stared at Gihun’s lips and ran his hands up and down the side of Gihun’s curved hip, watching the red stain his shirt..

Gihun couldn’t comprehend that the same man who helped run the games for years, the hands that were calloused and faintly smelled of gunpowder and iron, could hold his head so gently in his hands– He’s never felt such a tender touch. Warm, unyielding, alive.

It nearly disgusts him. He shouldn’t feel this tug in his heart towards the man. There’s no justification for this kind of tender touch, and he's frozen with fear over not having a reason for doing it– he just wanted to. He wanted it so badly, it's tearing him apart inside. 

Gihun pulled back, just for a moment as Inho’s hands were still wrapped around his sides holding him there. “We shouldn’t be doing this–”

Inho brought him closer, tugging him down to meet him halfway Gihun let himself fall into it.

I wish I didn’t want you–

Inho deepens the kiss, brushing his tongue over Gihun’s bottom lip as he gasps, letting him in. He feverishly grabs at his waist, bringing their bodies closer until they are flush together. 

But my god, I do– I can’t help it. This is killing me, Gihun thinks. 

It’s a kind of hunger.

One he felt with the thrill of chasing the recruiter, risking his life to sit in the limo with the frontman, and it was a stronger urge here.

His own hands coming up to brush against Inho’s jaw and bringing him as close as he could with a kind of desire he hasn’t felt in– probably in his whole life. It’s a fire roaring inside of him, begging to just bring him as close as he physically can and keep him there.

Inho pushed him further into the wall, nearly knocking the air out of his chest as his grip tightened on the man's jacket and pulled him forward. His knee coming to rest between Gihun’s thighs as he was pulled closer, now 

Eventually, they have to pull apart for air, and Inho’s hold on him never falters. 

He feels his face flush red as he’s borderline panting, and Inho looks him up and down soaking in his appearance. Gihun feels his heart beat faster as he sees the effect he has on Inho– That he was the one to make him look like that, cheeks flushed as he had a dazed look in his eyes.

It nearly makes him laugh.

Inho’s eyes keep scanning his face as he tried catching his breath before Gihun watched as his eyes darkened, leaning his head downward and latching onto his neck–

“Ah— Inho…” Gihun whined, raking his hand through the back of the man's hair as he pulled on it lightly, as if debating whether or not to pull him closer towards him or to push him away.

The kisses on his neck slowed, turning into bites before he bit his lip, hoping to muffle the sounds he nearly let out.

Gihun tugged on his hair, which only spurred the man further–

“Inho,” he gasped. “We gotta go. The boat’s gotta be here soon–”

That was finally what caused the man to let go, even as he saw him reluctant to do so. When he brought his head back up to level Gihun’s, he looked less hungry and more upset at the fact that Gihun was hurting, even if the blood covering him wasn’t his.

His hands were gentle, holding his cheeks in the palms of his hands as his left thumb lightly traced back and forth as he let out a deep exhale.

“Gihun.” He whispered. “ Gihun, Gihun– Gihun.”

It was like a mantra as he leaned in closer, like he couldn’t believe he was standing in front of him. Inho was the one to break the distance this time, slow and languid as he tried kissing the pain away from him. Gihun accepted it with grace and gratitude as he felt his shoulders finally relax. He pushed Inho’s shoulders back lightly after a few moments.

“We need to leave. Let’s go home, Inho.”

And for the first time in forever, Inho looked remorseful, as if the idea caused him to feel guilty. Instead of saying anything, he just nodded, following Gihun as he took his hand and led him out of the room.

Outside the room lay the other VIPs as Gihun averted his eyes, dragging Inho out of the area and back towards the main hallway leading to the control room before Inho stopped him, causing Gihun to turn and look at him face to face.

“There’s one last thing I need you to do.” Inho said as Gihun nodded, beginning to grow concerned at Inho’s faltering composure. “Take this, and burn the file room in my quarters. It’s the only copies besides the ones in the control room and most of the explosives are planted right below it. There’s a gas canister inside already, we need to make sure we burn all of it– This whole place, there can’t be anything left, Gihun.”

He froze, eyes caught onto the lighter outstretched towards him– “All of it? The police–”

“The police are corrupt and paid off by the richest men in the world. That's the only reason this island hasn’t been found yet. If we keep any of the evidence, they’ll find it and track us down. Everybody.” Inho’s voice was strict but Gihun understood.

That was all it took to convince Gihun before nodding and taking the lighter.

• ▲■

Gihun rushed through the halls, trying to remember what turn to take and when as the colorful walls blurred together into a jumbled map in his memory. He had to slide through a side door, holding up a square mask he’d stolen as it opened, leading him up a large empty staircase up to Inho's room.

He had the old, metal lighter in the palm of his hands that felt cool to the touch. Before they reunited, Inho had warned him of being vigilant– No paper can go untouched. 

There would be no police investigation to help catch whoever was running the other games, if they were assuming that the existence of games in other countries or islands are plausible– Gihun couldn’t be certain.

A small part of him prayed no one else but Oh Il-nam would be cruel enough to create something like this, but a larger part of him couldn’t deny the chances– The rich would never learn. If Gihun didn’t do this, they would track down the previous winners. They would track down Inho. 

Any proof of their involvement had to go. The bodies had already been castrated, and by the end of tonight there will be nothing remaining of the games.

No evidence, no plausible deniability, nothing.

The boxes lined the wall as his hand reached down towards the gas canister. It was full, and Gihun walked over to the nearest shelf, tilting it so the nozzle would drip the gasoline and drench the papers. He kept going, walking slowly sideways making his way through each of them, knocking over the tallest boxes into a pile on the floor between shelves. 

He thought of Inho’s picture from years ago trapped somewhere in the binders from years ago. Back when he was just like Gihun— When they both had something bigger than themselves to lose.

Gihun kicked the last of the binders towards the pile, the sick smell of gasoline wafting through his nose neary burning it without the ventilation in the room. 

The fire was bound to spread fast.

He stepped back, flicking the lighter open before causing a spark. The flame was strong and tall, unwavering without any wind in the room as he threw it towards the boxes and stepped back swiftly.

It ignited with speed, cascading over the boxes and plastic folders and Gihun tried to watch it before the burning smell was too much.

He spun around, exiting the room quickly before walking out, rushing down the halls again to return to Inho so they could go through with the final step of their plan—

Detonating the bombs and finding Junho.

• ▲■

The hallway was stiff with its silence, the only sound echoing through was Gihun’s rushed footsteps. He knew Junho would be on the shore somewhere, possibly struggling to find an entrance into the island, and Inho was still up in the control room finalizing the last of the details.

All the loose ends were being tied together, but there was still something bothering Gihun, and as he rounded the corner—

A pair of hands grabbed at him, and before he could register who it was, his legs were swept out from underneath him as his back made a harsh impact with the ground below him.

“Mr Seong?”

He opened his eyes as Junho stared down at him, regret etched on his face as he quickly tore his hands out of their aggressive hold on his jacket.

Gihun’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Junho?”

“Shit– I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was you, I thought–” he cut himself off, reaching out his hand to help the older man stand up. “Nevermind. The boat is here, is everything ready to go? Where’s–”

“Junho.” Inho’s voice was tense as he stood at the doorway of the control room, towering from where he stood at the top of the stairs watching the scene below with an unreadable expression. “You made it on time.”

Gihun watched as Junho tore his eyes away, focusing back on him. “I can bring you to the boat, we have everything ready. We got word back from some of our men on the main island and they say the boat with the players has already arrived and began dropping them off.” 

He nodded, glancing over at the shorter man who still stood a few steps away from them, watching intently as Junho refused to turn his head towards him. The silence was deafening. 

Inho was the first to speak up– “Can we have a moment alone?”

Junho nodded, looking between the two men. “I’ll see you both on the boat.”

His footsteps carried the sound down the hallway until he was too far to hear, and Inho stepped closer, walking down the stairs until they were eye to eye. The man seemed nervous– Gihun had never seen him so worked up before, it was unnerving. 

Inho took a moment to look over at him before speaking slowly. “I need you to leave without me. Gihun, I know how it sounds–”

Gihun’s heart dropped to his stomach as he felt a rush of panic surge through him. “I can’t do this without you.”

He looked taken aback before steadying his words. “You don’t need me, I can’t leave the island this easily. If they want to find me, they will, and that will put you at risk too. That’s not something I can live with, Gihun.”

He felt this raw sense of anger and frustration building up inside of him— this stubborn man was immune to listening. He couldn’t understand what Gihun felt towards him even after all this time spent together, even after earlier. Inho didn’t know the effect he had on the man, and he couldn’t comprehend how it must’ve felt for Gihun to be able to save every player from the games but not be able to save him.

“You’re not someone I can live without, Inho. Don’t you get it?”

He looked guilty, his mouth opening and closing before taking a shaky inhale. “Someone needs to detonate the bombs. If it goes wrong, I’m the only one who knows how to fix it.”

Gihun scoffed. “This wasn’t the plan!”

“It wasn’t yours, it's mine. I have to do this otherwise, all of your efforts have been for nothing. Don’t you get that?” Inho snapped. “You can’t save everybody. Not this time.”

“So what, you expect me to leave you here to die? That’s bullshit, Inho. You wouldn’t do that to me. We can leave together–”

“Gihun.” Inho’s hands came up to cup his face, and he thought he saw the remnants of tears in his eyes that remained unshed. “If I can make my way back to you, I will. I swear.”

He felt his own chest tighten as the urge to cry consumed him, and his voice cracked as he let out a broken and empty laugh. “You still owe me a drink, you asshole.” 

Inho tried managing a small smile, but when he failed to uphold the facade, he did something Gihun could cherish for longer–

His hands softly pulled Gihun closer until he kissed him softly, it was unhurried compared to their first one, and Gihun was quick to reciprocate as he tried pushing closer towards Inho. Wrapping his arms around the mans back, he wanted to pour all his love, anger, and hurt into it— but all too quickly, Inho pulled away.

They couldn’t stay for longer. 

Inho knew if he was pulled in for another, he wouldn’t be able to walk away so easily, even as Gihun’s eyes were full of unshed tears, Inho was able to find the strength to walk away back to the control room.

• ▲■

The boat was moving quickly, crashing against the waves as it struggled to get farther from the island. It was never said out loud how far the explosion would reach, or how many people it would affect. People from Seoul were bound to notice, spreading the news like wildfire through each city until the whole world knew what was going on. 

Gihun’s chest felt tight– the evidence was destroyed. Some of the richest men of the world are bound of pay off the investigators and news anchors in favor of keeping it quiet, incase there are other games, but Junho–

His hands were gripping the wheel and his jaw was clenched. 

It didn’t go unnoticed that the rims of his eyes were red too.

Junho would keep searching. He was bound to want to find Inho to ensure he was laid to rest despite their rocky past, and he didn’t seem like the type to stop there. Over three years of searching, he was bound to keep going.

If Inho were here to talk him out of it than maybe–

But he was still back on that island.

The brisk air was harsh against his face as they kept going, one of Junho’s crew members wore a large pair of black binoculars scanning the waters around them in an attempt to catch anyone approaching them.

They didn’t even have a big enough time to fight back if the guards caught them and they couldn’t trust the police, at least not anymore. It was a fact Gihun knew for a long time, and it made him feel sick to his stomach. They were alone in this battle, and they only had each other.

It was quiet for a few moments.

“We should stop here, make sure he doesn’t need backup.” Gihun’s voice was hoarse, barely able to be heard by Junho under the sound of crashing waves.

The man’s voice was devoid of emotion– “He seemed sure of himself that he would have it handled.”

“I don’t want to find out late that he needed it and was unable to ask. Stop the boat, Junho.” He commanded. 

They waited, Gihun’s eyes never left the sight of the island as he tried to catch sight of anything moving on the surface. There was no sign of life, no songs playing, no people shouting, just the trees blowing in the wind as Gihun tried his best to memorize the landscape before him.

Inho was somewhere in there, alone.

Gihun wished he would just listen, follow his lead and trust him for once–

He knew logically this was needed, this might be one of the only ways to end the loops and let him return home without the fear of waking up on that island again. Still, Inho’s plan that went behind his back, one without any chance of reconstructing or reasoning, filled him with betrayal– a feeling he had not felt in so long. This hurt, this ached– he didn’t know if he would ever heal from this if Inho didn’t make it out alive.

The men on the boat were silent–

Then, the island erupted.

A loud, cracking sound echoed over the water before a loud boom came followed by the sight of fire catching through the trees. 

The water was crashing against the side of their boat from different angles as the rocks on the cliff sides came crashing down, hitting the water causing strong ripples to soar over the water and tilt their boat as the crew grabbed onto the nearby railings.

“Jesus– What is he doing?” One of the crewmates asked, whipping his head towards Gihun and Junho as the rest of their team watched cautiously.

More loud, erratic booms came from the tip of the island as debris flew off and haphazardly around the island. Dust began to coat the grass in a thick layer while smoke was now steadily floating up into the clouds. The fire was so bright compared to the dark cloudy sky, it almost hurt to look at it.

It hurt Gihun to watch, knowing what and who was burning with it.

Slowly but surely, it all crumbled too much that the island was flattening as fire spread. It was almost unrecognizable as it began to burn to a crisp. Every memory he had on that island would soon die with it, and when Junho turned the boat into drive and started steering away, Gihun only prayed that there would be some memories he got to keep all to himself. 

• ▲■

The boat was rocking against the dock, swaying back and forth on each side as the waves tilted it every few seconds. Gihun’s legs were unsteady

“Gihun!” Jungbae shouted from the shoreline, running towards him. It was still dark outside as the sun began slowly peeking through the horizon, and Jungbae was wearing a grey sweater and sweatpants as he had a big grin on his face, one full of relief. 

He briefly caught a glimpse of a few others on the shoreline, he could barely make out the stature of Daeho and Junhee standing close together in the distance.

Jungabe’s arms wrapped around him tightly. “I’m so glad you made it out.”

Gihun was quick to reciprocate the hug, hiding his face in Jungbae’s shoulder as he tried grounding himself in the present moment—

They were both alive, all the players were alive, and the island had crumbled into the water. It was all gone, and he could only hope that meant it wouldn’t reset. He wanted to stay here, with his friends, and he didn’t want to be afraid anymore.

His chest felt heavy as he swallowed the urge to cry, instead trying to conceal his sadness and relief in a joke. “You’re just glad I can finally buy you that drink now.”

Jungbae let go, arms sliding off his shoulders as he looked up at him with a solemn smile. “You should come stay with us, just for the night. After all that happened– all that we started to remember, we should stay close. Don’t you agree?”

It was hard to argue with logic like that, because as much as Gihun wanted nothing more than to hole himself up in the pink motel and wait for Inho to magically appear, he knew it would drive him crazy. He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight out of fear it’d reset anyway– Jungbae gives him a stern look, and Gihun can’t find an excuse to decline.

He nods, and Jungbae smiles. The sun is starting to coat the sky in light shades of pink and orange as they turn around, walking towards Seoul, hoping to sleep easy that night.

Chapter Text

Gihun’s heart was racing as he shot up in his bed, grasping for his chest. The sheets felt thin and the mattress was stiff, the lights were off but a part of him felt like he woke up early, like the sedatives they gave him wore off too early or–

“Mr Seong?” A small, feminine voice spoke up from nearby as he frantically looked around the room. 

It was too dark to see anything, and his heartbeat still was refusing to calm itself. 

Quiet movement was heard from across the room as his eyes were adjusting to the dark, but everything still felt so blurry, and before he knew it–

The lamp nearby flickered on.

Junhee was sitting up from the queen sized bed across the room as Daeho slept softly on the other side. Gihun’s panic subsided as he glanced around the room, noticing the beige walls– a color he’d never seen on the island. There were old family photos of Jungbae’s family lining the walls, old photographs of his kids were hung proudly despite him not speaking to them anymore. The ones of him and his ex wife were gone, replaced by empty space with the nail still stuck in the wall from where he had taken them down from. 

Speaking of Jungbae, his eyes trailed over to the other side of the room where an old twin sized mattress laid on the floor, housing a snoring Jungbae wrapped around a bundle of blankets. Gihun’s own mattress mirrored his own, but there was a lack of blankets or warmth as every night since they’d returned, he would wake up in a cold sweat, sometimes shouting.

“ Mr Seong , are you alright?” Junhee whispered as her brows scrunched together in concern, mouth beginning to form a frown as he snapped out of his train of thought.

He shook his head, almost sighing to himself. “It’s okay, Junhee. It was just a bad dream, I’m sorry for waking you.”

She didn’t seem to take his response lightly as she grabbed a large housecoat– one he’d bought her after she complained about the cold November air that filled the house— and grabbed her slippers before walking up to his bed. 

Gihun looked up at her, confusion evident as he waited for her to say something, but she just gave him an expecting sort of look.

“Are you gonna come with me, or will you make me walk by myself?” Junhee said, threateningly. 

Her and Inho both had that silent but intimidating look about them, and it made his chest pang with emotion– they were similar in their attitude, but Junhee carried herself differently. Gihun admired it, but at the same time he wished the constant reminder of who he lost wasn’t this painful.

Inho would’ve liked to be here, with them–

“You’re really going to make me walk the streets of Seoul alone? What if those pink guards come and kidnap me?” She pushed before Gihun scrambled to get up, following her. “That’s what I thought.”

It had been a week since he’d come back.

They had been laying low in Jungbae’s townhouse, only going out at night and with another person in case they ran into trouble. It was terrifying at first, no one was able to sleep until the weight of exhaustion became too heavy to bear. Jungbae and Gihun had taken shifts watching over the younger two, but after a while, it was only Gihun. Then, when his body was finally running out of adrenaline to sit upright, the nightmares began.

Even before the time loop started, they had been similar– waking up in that bed, surrounded by people he knew would soon die. It had been real, though. He lived through his worst nightmare and escaped but now, he couldn’t remember the last time he woke up peacefully.

More often than not, one of his friends had to shake him awake to subside his crying.

No one blamed him, but the pity in their eyes was something he could only handle for so long.

Junhee was quiet, though. Daeho and Jungbae like to fuss over him, wrapping him in blankets despite his protests about the heat or handing him a cup of tea he couldn’t bother to touch. Junhee, on the other hand, took him out on walks.

They were quiet, didn’t speak much. Their counterparts would always find a way to fill the silence and if Gihun was the same man he was before entering the games, he would be the same. Now, he couldn’t think of many things to say, let alone to Junhee.

There were things he was curious about, though.

Outside, the ground was damp from rain as the streets were empty and desolate. They were walking to the nearby store, as Junhee tended to do with him. A few thoughts plagued his mind and before he could reconsider asking–

“Why haven’t you and Daeho visited your family yet?” Gihun blurted out, breaking the silence despite already knowing the answer. He just wanted to hear it outloud.

It was obvious that many young people who joined the games wouldn’t have family, otherwise they wouldn’t have entered in the first place, but Daeho and Junhee didn’t mention younger siblings that needed protecting. They never brought up families that needed help, or people they owed money to– nothing.

Gihun knew about Junhee’s ex boyfriend, and he knew about Daeho’s less than ideal father, but the idea that they had nobody in their corner? He couldn’t handle it. They hadn’t received any money from the games as everything on the island burned down, but within the first day of returning, Gihun took out a handful of cash.

Well– more than a handful.

The first person was Hyun-ji, as he promised during the last game that she wouldn’t need to worry about the money and he swore to himself that he’d keep that promise. 

Geum-ja and Yong-sik had invited her and Young-mi to stay with them until they decided where to go next– just as Jungbae did with Daeho and Junhee. When he knocked on the door, two large duffel bags in hand, Geumja looked as if she was about to cry and that was before he’d even revealed he had money.

She insisted he stay for dinner, preparing an even larger portion of food than she anticipated as he attempted to find a polite way to decline, but then Young-mi and Hyun-ji insisted too, and Gihun couldn’t find it in himself to decline.

It was strange, he had barely talked to them during the games, and yet they let him sit at their table. They let him eat a homemade meal she’d been cooking all day. They invited him to stay the night, if he needed.

The house was warm with gratitude and care— it was one of the greatest gifts Gihun had been given in a long time.

Then came the money–

After he insisted on washing dishes with Yong-sik, letting the man fill the silence with endless one sided banter as he didn’t find the energy in himself to keep talking, they dried their hands and sat down. That was when he placed the two heavy bags on top of the empty table they all sat around.

“This is for you– all of you. It’s the least I could do since you never received your fair share of the earnings after we escaped.” His voice was quiet as they sat in awe, no one reaching to open the bags.

“Mr Seong…” Hyun-ji whispered as Gihun unzipped the bag, handing out each portion of a few of them to let out surprised gasps.

It was quiet until he finished handing out the money, the shock filling the room with silence. 

“We can’t– There’s no way we can accept this, let alone pay you back.” Young-mi spoke, eyes full of tears as she tried comprehending the amount of money on the table.

“I never want this money back. It’s yours– you deserve it. It is, truly, the least I could do.” 

Guem-ja’s chair scraped out from beneath her as she moved around the table to walk up to him, and despite her short stature, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged as tight as she could. 

Even the memory warmed him as the cold air brushed against his arms, making him suppress a shiver as Junhee wrapped her robe tighter around herself, unable to answer his first question as she looked off.

“Do you have anyone that you’re… still wanting to see now that you’re back?” Gihun hesitated, voice staying quiet.

“You think if I would’ve joined the games if I had anybody?” She scoffed, looking away.

Gihun didn’t blame her for her attitude, it was a dumb question after all, he just hoped deep down there was something he could help her with beyond handing her a wad of cash and sending her on her way.

He didn’t know how to do this stuff—

His daughter had moved to America before she went through her teen years, and now her voice had grown along with her mind and both were things he could never really understand. A barrier of languages, an ocean between them.

Saebyeok was never his daughter, and despite his hand wrapped around her elbow as he guided her through the riot and her small quips towards him, making him get his shit together during the stress of the games, and how he held her when she was bleeding— she was never really his.

Junhee wasn’t either, but it appeared that Junhee wasn’t anybody’s daughter.

Maybe she didn’t want to be, but the way she clung to Jungbae and Inho’s presence in and outside of the games— there might’ve been something more, waiting patiently underneath. A part of her that wanted someone standing in her corner, waiting. 

“I just wanted to make sure you have someone looking out for you, besides me and Jungbae.”

“And Daeho.” Junhee was quick to intercept. 

“ And Daeho .” Gihun reiterated, nodding his head in approval. 

“Geum-ja too. Her family is nice.”

Gihun nearly laughed, only managing a small smile as he was outsmarted by Junhee’s wit. “You have lots of people by your side, then. Money shouldn’t be an issue either. You and your baby will be safe.” 

He feels a weight lift off his chest, even as Junhee never explicitly said anything about 

“You word it like you’re leaving. Why would you say something like that, Mr Seong?” Her words were blunt. He hadn’t even told her what he was thinking about and yet she already dissected his brain enough to find the meaning in what he said.

“I think I need to… spend some time alone.” Gihun confessed for the first time outloud. “I’m grateful we all made it out together, but I’m– I lost a lot on that island. I don’t think I understand who I am anymore.”

His throat felt caught on the words that spilled out of his mouth, a sick feeling settled in his stomach as the silence overtook their shared space. 

• ▲■

The bar was bustling with life– young adults, probably university students all preoccupied with the excitement of their youth. One looked familiar, like the girl he once knew during his first games and Gihun’s heart tugged at the memory. He never got to see her look that happy,

Gihun was sitting in the back corner, nursing a bottle of soju and drinking it straight– he didn’t care if he occasionally got strange glances from other patrons. He deserved it, after everything that happened.

It felt odd sitting in a place where no one was afraid. For a long time he was hidden away in the dark and dingy pink motel, kept awake every night due to the neverending nightmares. He hadn’t gone outside in the sunlight until him and Inho climbed to the shore, where the loop had reset naturally and all Gihun could be bothered to think about was kissing Inho.

That thought stung, he hurried to lift the cool glass and tilt it towards him, as if drinking more would burn that thought away. The thought of Inho.

He hadn’t seen him since that moment.

The island burning, a warm light cascading over the pale sea that surrounded it. He hoped the island crumbled, sinking deeper into the ocean floor until everything was buried heavy under the sand. Gihun could only pray that everyone who died there was laid to rest– even if there were no bodies remaining. 

He hoped it was the end of everything.

A deep still plagued him. Even at night, far away from the danger and even farther away from that sinking island, he still found his hands shaking. It had only been a week at most, but the time had warped so heavily in his mind nothing felt normal anymore.

Still, he sat there drinking, listening to the people around him laugh carelessly. He wished it was that easy.

He glanced towards the bar, soju almost empty and he caught sight of a young couple. Surrounded by their friends, ordering drinks and delivering loud laughter, he saw the two of them holding hands discreetly under the bar. The girl had this look in her eyes everytime she turned to glance at him, but when she focused her attention back on the group, the man's eyes still remained on her.

Gihun bit the inside of his cheek, bringing the bottle back up to his lips in an attempt for quick relief– it was futile.

He’d have to stand to order another one soon.

The noise of the bar had blurred around him, chairs dragging against the floor and chatter growing louder. Quiet music was playing softly– a song he didn’t recognize.

“Excuse me, sir. Is this seat taken?” A voice so familiar had spoken up from the end of the table, and when he looked up–

Gihun jumped up, sliding out from the booth before he could think twice, wrapping his arms around Inho– who stood there, hands limp at his sides. The subtle smirk that he wore when he approached fell off into a dazed expression, and Gihun caught onto what he had done.

“Ah– I’m sorry, that was– abrupt. I just–” Gihun pulled back despite the urge to pull him closer, he let his arms fall away from Inho as the man just stared back at him. “ I can’t believe you’re here .”

“No need to apologize, Gihun.” Inho managed a weak smile before his eyes shifted to the table. “I’ll go get us another round.”

Gihun wanted to follow him, but he knew it wasn’t rational. It was a small bar, and he’d most likely be able to see Inho the entire time, but still– the thought of being separated again, after everything, seemed unbearable. 

So he sat, and he waited. Inho walked with ease, his shoulders tense but it was easy for him to weave between a small crowd of people to get to the bar counter. He even smiled at the bartender, making short but polite small talk as he ordered before walking off. Gihun felt jealous, but he was unsure what there was to even be jealous about in the first place.

Inho placed the two bottles in front of them, noticing a lack of shot glasses on the table. “Were you just drinking straight from the bottle?”

He felt his face flush a little before he scoffed. “Well, I thought I’d be drinking alone.”

“Hm, did you really?” 

Gihun was gonna kill him. “Yes, I did. It took you all week to find me, you know? We promised to get drinks, it's impolite of you to leave me waiting like that.”

Jungbae’s words from weeks ago rang through his head– The Seong Gihun he used to be still reside in him, just hidden under layers of pain and fear. He almost didn’t recognize the tilt in his voice, boarding on teasing as he felt the corners of his mouth turn upwards before he could wipe it away.

It felt good to bicker, even if none of his words carried any weight to them. This felt– normal. A kind of normal he hadn’t felt for years.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to find ways to make it up to you then.” Inho flashed a quick smile before tilting the bottle towards his mouth, Gihun staring at the way his throat moved when he swallowed.

Gihun couldn’t deny the warmth growing on his cheeks, but hopefully the dim light of the bar had masked it enough that Inho wouldn’t have noticed. When he stopped fidgeting with the bottle in his hands and finally glanced up at Inho again, the man’s stare seemed to be lingering all over his face, as if taking the sight of him for the first time.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He grumbled, face morphing into an almost pout as he complained– it felt good though, sitting under the man's gaze that didn’t stop or falter even when confronted about it.

All those times during the games when they bickered and argued and Inho kept looking at him– Now, they had time. There was no ‘ next game ’ they had to prepare for. There was no revolution they needed to plan, or time loop Gihun needed to convince Inho of– There was nothing.

It was just them, together, sitting in a bar and having soju like they promised months ago.

Inho looked… different under the lighting of the bar.

His hands traced the lines of the label etched on his soju, nervously glancing around the room as their conversation faded. Across the bar, one of the groups of people had begun bickering loudly as two high pitched female voices were shouting drunkenly over each other. 

Then, the sound of glass breaking.

Gihun’s body tensed up, his mind kicking into fight or flight mode as he tried finding the source of the noise. Their cover was blown, someone working on the island had found them– 

A warm hand reached out towards his, prying the bottle he had been gripping onto and moving it to the side, replacing it and interlocking their hands together. It was Inho, he barely registered as his eyes still scanned the room and his breath had quickened once again in panic.

The hand intertwined with his was tracing small circles on the back of his hand, and when his ears no longer felt like they were buzzing, he turned his eyes onto Inho.

He was giving him a strange look– not one of displeasure or disappointment, but one that Gihun hadn’t really seen the man make before.

“Gihun, let's get out of here.” Inho’s voice was a soft rumble, ripping Gihun’s focus from the loud noise surrounding him.

He barely registered the fact that he was nodding his head. 

Inho slid out from the booth as his hand never left Gihun’s hold. 

As they stepped out of the bar, Inho holding the door open for Gihun as if it were second nature, the crisp air seemed to calm him down a little. 

Then, Gihun noticed this was one of the first times they were walking side by side rather than one of them leading the other. It was weird. If Gihun glanced to his side, he could perfectly make out the outline and minor details of Inho, or if he turned his head enough he could stare straight on, unashamed—

“You’re staring, Gihun.”

He didn’t have a solid excuse. After everything, he knew they liked each other, but this– holding hands after going to the bar, walking down the street like it's normal, as if they both aren’t scanning their surroundings for a familiar pink uniform or teal tracksuit– They were acting like this was a fresh start. In some ways it was, but they both knew better than to be naive about it.

They’d always have a part of them lost in that sunken island.

Gihun took a shaking inhale as he let go of Inho’s hands, snaking his arm around the crook of Inho’s elbow and tugging him closer so with every step, they brushed shoulders.

His heart was beating so fast, even after the initial panic in the bar subsided.

God– What did they even have in common besides the amount of people they’d lost, or killed? If they weren’t on the island, where did they stand with each other– What were they even supposed to be if not a player of the games and the man running them?

Inho’s voice pulled him out of the spiral he was falling down into–

“Are you still staying in that– motel? ” Inho made a near disgusted face at the end of it before correcting himself, remembering his manners.

Gihun nodded. “I never thought this far ahead, I don’t know where to go. I know I should stay hidden, and I still have all that money– I just don’t know where to go. I stayed with Jungbae for a bit but… I felt like I needed to leave.”

He admitted sheepishly, for the first time feeling embarrassed at the prospect of having open choices in the way he could spend the rest of his life, but he still couldn’t make up his mind.

Inho nodded along, seeming to grow quiet. He seemed to understand the feeling, they were the only two victors after all.

His friends counted, but Inho and Gihun had to live through the games prior to them stopping it. There wasn’t a day that passed where he wasn’t grateful that they were mostly spared from being the last ones standing. He was glad they made it out together.

Gihun was snapped out of his train of thought by Inho tugging his arm close as he stared up at the older man. 

“Stay with me.”

His brain felt like it was short circuited.

“What?”

“You should come stay with me. It’ll be safer, and then you won’t have to worry about the future as much.” Inho spoke as if it was already decided.

He barely registered the fact that he was nodding before the man was leading him in a different direction, grabbing onto his hand and interlocking them once again. 

The streets of Seoul weren’t busy this late at night on a weekday, but each time someone passed them on the sidewalk, the hand interlocked with Gihun’s had tightened for a few seconds until they were out of their view. 

Everytime, without a doubt. 

Gihun tried to make the warmth on his cheeks go away despite the crisp air blowing in his face. It would be winter soon, and he knew the motel’s heating didn’t work given the last few winters.

The prospect of staying with Inho sounded nice, even if the idea of it made him nervous. 

He knew Jungbae’s place was always open, but the idea of waking them up every night with nightmares made him shiver— he didn’t want to disturb the peace they had built.

Gihun knew they felt guilty over what happened, even if it was no one's fault.

He just couldn’t stand the way they pitied him– that wasn’t what he wanted. Gihun wanted to be understood, but he didn’t want them to constantly treat him like he was fragile, even if he felt like it a lot of the time.

Inho was different– he’d always known that.

Through a few cramped alleyways and shortcuts, he stared up at a tall dark gray building illuminated by large windows with light seeping into the night. It was more expensive than Gihun thought, but he truly shouldn’t have been so surprised. The expensive whiskey, the large elaborate furniture, all of it– Inho had become accustomed to that kind of lifestyle once he was granted the opportunity. 

There was one major thing about a building like this, and that was the security.

There was a man at the door who unlocked it and let them in, there was a woman sitting behind the desk nodding at Inho as he passed through the lobby, her eyes lingering on Gihun before turning back to her computer. He had people watching over at all times, and while it may not guarantee his safety in the long run, it was enough to bide the time. 

Both men were silent in the elevator, Gihun’s cold hand still held Inho’s as he shifted closer until their shoulders touched– it made a loud ding at one of the highest floors.

The apartment was spacious with a large kitchen and decent sized living room, and while the furniture seemed brand new, it was the blank walls and lack of personal items that caught him off guard.

He shouldn’t be surprised given how Inho’s room on the island had looked, but it was more saddening. 

“When did you move in?” Gihun asked, trying to break the silence of the room.

“Yesterday. It took me a while to get back here.”

Gihun turned around, taking a better look at Inho’s face now that they were out of the colorful bar lights. There was the butterfly stitch over his temple that had gone unnoticed by him after the initial shock of seeing him. 

“What happened here?” His voice was softer than he intended as his hand reached up. Inho nearly flinched away, but he caught himself before freezing, eyes flickering frantically as he watched Gihun’s hand brush over it with care and caution. 

“It was nothing, just an aftermath of the explosion. You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” Inho said with a soft but stern voice, grabbing onto Gihun’s wrist lightly pulling it away from the injury as he watched the man stare at it.

Finally, Gihun’s eyes tore away from the cut and down towards his eyes. “You’re not invincible, Inho.”

“You weren’t either, Gihun.” He said seriously, giving Gihun that intense stare he knew all too well.

“Junho hasn’t mentioned seeing you. Does he know you’re–” Gihun cut himself off.

“Alive? Not yet, although I suspect he assumed I would be. He has a habit of doing that.” Inho hesitated. “I’m not quite ready to see him, if I’m being honest. There’s a lot we would need to discuss.”

Gihun nodded slowly, not wanting to push any further. Then, softer words he had wanted to confess since laying eyes upon Inho had bubbled up inside, like if he didn’t say it now or soon, he’d implode.  

“I’m really glad you made it out. I was worried.” He consoled, trying to form as much meaning and honesty as he could into the simple confession, and Gihun craved to say more.

Inho smiled, the stress leaving his shoulders as he let himself relax a little. “I’m glad I made it back to you.”

Sharing this space– this moment with him a few inches away from each other felt grounding. This was what he wanted, in all those quiet moments in bathroom stalls and the dark dormitory. There was no rush, now.

This heaviness he’d been carrying in his shoulders had still weighed him down, a feeling he had never been able to unshake even as the soft sense of satisfaction overcame him when that island burned to the bottom of the sea. 

Grief was an emotion he felt like he could never escape, it had followed him for as long as he could remember. Before the games during the time he spent at Dragon Motors, losing his daughter as she moved across the ocean far away from him, and everything that happened in the walls of that warzone he had been forced to dream about every night for three years.

It all came crashing down– a different kind of fear.

He didn’t know what to do with the rest of his life.

There might be other games in other countries that Inho may even know about, but he’d been caught up in the chase of cat and mouse for so long, his body felt more brittle than before. His shoulders sagged more, he’d lost weight– he lost himself the day that he won the games.

Inho saw the uncertainty, the guilt weighing the other man down as his eyebrows furrowed, trying to search his face for any reason of his sudden despair in a quick attempt to fix it.

“Gihun–”

His arms wrapped around Inho’s shoulders, pulling him close as he bent down until they were at equal heights, Gihun standing slightly taller than him as they gripped each other and hugged. His hands were shaking as he clawed at the back of Inho’s jacket, dragging him closer. It was hard to breathe. Inho’s hands slid around his waist with ease, as if they’d done this a hundred times. They brushed in lines from his lower spine to his shoulder blades a few times until it wasn’t enough– he was placing his hands on either side of his hips and bringing them closer. 

It still felt like it wasn’t enough– Gihun wanted to claw at him until they were closer, nestled in each other's skin until they couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.

Inho rested his closed mouth against the shoulder of Gihun’s jacket.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” Gihun whispered quietly, as if the confession would break the heavy blanket of silent comfort that was laid over the room, engulfing them.

Inho was fast to respond– “You won’t be.”

• ▲■

“Can’t sleep?” Inho’s soft, sleep filled voice broke the silence of the room as he shifted closer, watching Gihun.

“No, I just– I keep getting scared it’s going to reset again. I know logically we’ve passed that point a few days ago but I can’t bring myself to close my eyes for long enough. I’m worried it’ll all disappear.” Gihun’s eyes were still staring up at the ceiling, unable to move them– afraid of what he’d see, like it would all be some dream that he’d wake up from.

Inho was silent for a few moments, staring at him.

“Let me help you forget.”

Gihun scoffed, unsure of what the man was getting at. “I don’t think that’s possible, Inho.”

“I’ll show you. Do you trust me, Gihun?” He’s looking up at him

He nodded.

Then, Inho was moving closer.

A hand was sliding up his shirt, warm against his cold skin until it slowly traced small circles against his ribs, before his grip tightened and he forced him to lay closer to his chest, leaving no room between them.

His lips came to latch onto Gihun’s neck lazily, before nibbling on the soft untouched skin there, getting a taste of him that was intoxicating– Inho was addicted already.

Gihun’s hand came to grip Inho's in a poor attempt to bring him closer, his breath getting caught in his throat. 

Oh.

This is what he meant.

It was like a switch flipped in Gihun– from a moment of feeling lost and untethered, Inho was here to unravel him in a new way.

The hands lifting up his shirt– Inho’s shirt, that was far too big on him – bringing it over his head as Inho latched back onto his neck before moving down, kissing along his collarbone before making his way to Gihun’s chest. He pushed Gihun gently by the hips onto his back as he moved himself to settle between Gihun’s legs.

“Inho…” Gihun panted, voice trailing off as he saw Inho look up at him with hunger in his eyes before he latched onto Gihun’s left nipple, and a jolt was sent down his spine.

He lapped his tongue around it before nuzzling his face between Gihun’s tits, sucking a few marks on the left one before moving his face towards the right one, and lightly biting down on it.

“ Oh fuck –” Gihun let out a broken gasp as his head his the pillow, thankful for the soft cushioning as opposed to the headboard a few inches away.

Inho couldn’t resist finding friction against Gihun’s ass as he left a few particular dark marks, kissing over them afterwards as his hand squeezed as one harmlessly. He wanted to keep going, trail down Gihun’s body but first, he had to be sure of something.

He let go of Gihun’s chest, dragging his hips forward as he brought himself up towards the side of the man's face. 

Inho’s lips brushed Gihun’s ear. “Did you forget yet?”

His hips bucked towards Gihun’s as his legs tightened around his waist, hands coming up to Inho’s shoulders as he clutched onto his shirt in a poor attempt of taking it off. 

“F– Forget what?” Gihun mewled as he felt small puffs of hot air hit his neck, Inho was laughing.

He watched as Inho leaned back, bringing his head down to kiss him gently for a moment before pulling away again, leaving Gihun breathless.

“Nothing– that’s good.”

Gihun nearly grabbed the pillow beside him and slapped him – “Stop teasing me, Inho. Fuck– you’re driving me insane.” 

Inho’s expression grew dark once again, hands coming to rest at Gihun’s hips as he squeezed his waist between his hands, almost hoping he’d leave bruises. “I wouldn’t wanna ruin the fun of it, would I?”

Gihun tried bringing his hips up to drag against Inho’s, the hands on his hips tightened. He sighed. “What happened to– ‘ I’ll just have to find ways to make it up to you? ”

“Hmm, using my own words against me, Mr Seong. I see how it is.” Inho gave a sly smile, enjoying watching the man squirm beneath him.

“You deserve it, making me wait so long. I thought you were gone.” Gihun’s hand came up to unbutton Inho’s shirt slowly, watching as his skin came more into view and he bit his lip to hide the excitement.

He traced his hand down Inho’s abdomen once the shirt was completely off, brushing over the scar on his stomach while admiring the taut skin around his chest. 

The man leaned his head down, lips brushing softly over Gihun’s. “I’m right here– I’ll always be right here.”

Inho’s hands slipped under the band of Gihun’s boxers, pulling them down as his cock sprung free and the cold air nearly made him wince before Inho’s head bobbed down, taking the head into his mouth for a moment, tongue flicking to the slit as he tasted Gihun’s sweet precum. 

Gihun was close– too embarrassingly close as his hands shot up to tug on Inho’s hair, pushing him off effectively.

“You didn’t like it?” He teased, trying to conceal a smile.

Gihun rolled his eyes. “You’re such an ass.”

“If you liked it so much, why’d you make me stop?” Inho pulled his face closer, trying to catch a better sight of Gihun through the shadows of the room as his face flushed.

He mumbled something, but Inho wouldn’t let him avoid answering– his hand came up to his chin, pulling him closer towards him as he tilted his head, waiting.

Gihun swallowed his pride, voice barely loud enough to be heard over the silence of the room. “I wanna cum while you’re inside of me.”

Before he could feel more ashamed of saying such a thing out loud, his mouth was captured in a searing kiss as Inho’s lips nearly caused his own to bruise with how rough he was– Gihun couldn't help but moan as the man bit his bottom lip for a second before pulling away.

Gihun was struggling to catch his breath, Inho dousing his pointer and middle finger in lube before the cold touch brushed against Gihun and he nearly gasped at the feeling.

He was uncertain of the feeling when Inho’s hands brushed against a spot that made him shake, hands clutching as he felt his brain short circuit. 

Oh– It felt good.

Inho’s hands were rockin into him at a steady pace, opening him up slowly as they occasionally brushed that same spot that left Gihun seeing stars as the man inserted a third finger and Gihun snapped.

“P–please… Inho.” Gihun begged, short and blunt nails digging into Inho’s sides as he writhed uncomfortably.

“Please, what?” Inho cooed, watching with intensity as Gihun struggled to find the right words.

“God– just fuck me already, please. ” His voice cracked.

Inho wasted no time, pulling his fingers out harshly before wiping the access lube on himself, reaching for the bottle to grab more as the man below him shifted, unable to sit still as he arched his back in an attempt to entice Inho into hurrying.

Gihun gasped as Inho pushed in, going gently as he wrapped his legs around his hips and brought him closer until they were pressed together.

Watching his cock sink into Gihun as he moved slowly, Inho groaned. His hands clenched into the sheets as Inho gripped his waist, pulling and pushing him as he pleased. It didn’t take long until he was snapping his hips forward, chasing the wet heat and lowering his head to mouth as Gihun’s neck, chest– anywhere he could reach.

“I’m close, Inho… fuck. ” He gasped as Inho began to lose his rhythm, burying himself deeper into Gihun as he held onto his hips tighter, one hand reaching to hold Gihun’s cock in his hand as the man below him grew louder, his jerking as he came.

“Gihun… Gihun.” Inho repeated his name like a prayer, willing himself to calm down as he rode the aftershocks, nearly overstimulating Gihun as he grew pliant under his touch, fighting for focus. 

Finally, Inho slowly pulled out as the other man winced, looking up at him.

Inho’s hair fell in front of his eyes as Gihun reached up, pushing it back as he smiled at the man, both breathless. He tugged on the short strands, bringing him down to kiss him once more as Inho stood up.

“Come shower, jagiya .” He ushered, helping Gihun by dragging him to stand, guiding him to the bathroom unrushed.

The shower was warm, running for a few minutes before Inho brought him in and let him relax under the stream of flowing water. They took turns washing each other's hair, slowly learning the pattern of each other. There was no rush. They had time.

When the water grew a little too cold and Gihun had resorted to leaning his head in the crook of Inho’s shoulder, he reached behind the other man to shut off the water before grabbing a towel and handing him a pair of his clean boxers and shirt– he knew Gihun usually ran cold. He knew everything about the man.

It was comforting, and steadying, and for once Gihun didn’t feel like he was on the verge of disappearing.

The bedsheets were warm from previously as they silently climbed in, finding themselves drawn in the middle like a magnetic force. 

He rolled towards Inho, wrapping his arms and legs around him as tight as he could as he felt the other man let out a soft laugh before his arms wrapped around his shoulders, hugging him back just as tight until he fell asleep– for once peaceful. 

●▲■

“Gihun– c'mon, let's go get another round! The others should be here soon.” Jungbae nudged his shoulder, moving to stand as he slid out of the booth before pausing as he noticed the glazed look in Gihun’s eyes.

It was the first time he left the apartment since last night, and while he was hesitant, Inho insisted he went. He knew how much these people meant to Gihun and how badly he needed the reassurance that they were alright, that they were alive after all this time. It sounded selfish, but Gihun wished he could lay in bed with Inho forever, even if they were locked up in that apartment he could wither away happily. He finally got him within arms reach and no clock ticking down above him– he didn’t want to let him go.

“Mr Seong, are you alright?” Junhee asked, head tilted as her eyebrows scrunched together.

Gihun snapped out of it, at least enough to wave her off. “Yes– sorry, I just got caught up in my thoughts. I’m alright, Junhee.”

The girl didn’t seem convinced even as Daeho shrugged and went back to his food, possibly stuffing his face in a way to ease his own tension until the rest of their group arrived. Jungbae was quick to change topics again.

“Let’s go get a few more drinks, you certainly owe me, don’t you?” He nudged Gihun, convincing him to stand slowly as they walked over towards the crowded bar.

Even with the line in front of them, things moved quickly as drinks were handed out and bills were passed back and forth. Jungbae was the first to break the silence.

“How is he?” He asked, as if it were nothing more than a simple question about the weather. 

Gihun froze.

“Who?”

Jungbae nearly rolled his eyes as he sighed. “ Inho. How is your Inho?” 

He felt a cold sweat build up, his throat felt impossible to swallow as he felt the words hit him like a truck. Jungbae knew he was on the island, but unless he pierced it all together, then —

“You knew?” Gihun’s brain stuttered out a reply, not quite landing on the one he hoped for.

The anxiety was eating away as Jungbae took a break from the conversation to wave down the bartender, ordering a round of soju and an iced tea for Junhee. He didn’t speak, or even glance at Gihun until the bartender walked off with the cash in hand, leaving the two of them alone once again.

“I only pierced it together recently. I figured it was weird you two are so close out of nowhere, and you’re not a good liar either. You should know by now– I can always tell when you’re bluffing.” Jungbae laughed to himself, but he wasn’t quite as entertained by the idea.

So he must know, Gihun thought. He must know what happened, and he hated him. This would be the last time they’d ever see each other, and the guilt would kill him, and—

His voice sounded tight as he fought to find a logical explanation. “Jungbae, I’m so sorry, I–” 

Jungbae shook his head, taking a deep breath for a moment.

“I don’t need to hear an excuse. I don’t even need a reason. Gihun, you’re one of the only real friends I have left, and I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through in there. We were lucky to have very little memory of it all, but you?” Jungbae’s voice grew thick with emotion for a moment before he cleared it. 

He watched as the man's back tensed up before releasing it all with one deep exhale, giving himself the strength to continue.

“You saw all of it . My body may not remember the pain of it all, but it can recall the times you saved me even if I don’t remember. After all this time, I still feel safe with you, because I know you’ll do what it takes to protect me– to protect us.”

They’d rarely had talks like these, it felt so foreign in his ears to hear Jungbae speak so freely about something he’d put so much genuine thought and effort into. After all these years, they can still lay out all the cards on the table, and Jungbae will never fail to surprise him.

The tears welling in Gihun’s eyes cleared, but the lump in his throat remained. “But what about–” 

“I don’t like him, but I know you do. Besides, he probably only killed me once, or else I would remember it more.” Jungbae attempted to joke, but his voice was thick.

Gihun was quiet with guilt as the drinks arrived, but neither man made a move to return to the table where they heard quiet laughter from Daeho echo through the crowded room.

“He’s the one that helped you out of it, right?” Jungbae asked.

Without a minute of hesitation, Gihun managed a small smile. “Yeah, he was.”

Even after the first few loops, right when Gihun was ready to give up, Inho was there to save him time after time even after he was pushed away. 

“And you’re the one that got us out of there. I guess if he’s half the man you are, and you care for him– in whatever way– he’s good in my books. This all makes you the hero of Ssangmun-dong. Isn't that right?” Jungbae teased, nudging him in the side as he forced a quick laugh out of Gihun in an attempt to lighten the mood before they returned.

“I would have done it a hundred more times.” Gihun turned to Jungbae earnestly. “I’m really glad I have you again, Jungbae.”

The man smiled as he handed an armful of the drinks to Gihun, piling them into their hands in whatever way fit as they slowly made their way through the sea of people. “You always have me. Plus! Now we have our own little group too! The kids are happy you’re coming out more. I know it's probably pretty soon but, I think all the bad memories you’ve had could hopefully be replaced with good ones. Not immediately, of course, but soon.” 

Gihun’s hands nearly hurt with how tightly he was wrapping his fingers around multiple bottles as they arrived, Yong-sik quickly standing to help take a handful as they passed them around, overhearing the conversation around them.

Geum-ja was in the middle of a quiet ramble. “Are you sure you’re being taken care of? You know, those boys know nothing on how to deal with a pregnant woman. If you come stay with us, I can make sure you’re well fed–” 

Jungbae laughed at her, eyes crinkling up into an endearing smile. “Ah, Miss Geum-ja you worry too much! We’ve been taking good care of her, and once she gets closer to her due date, we’ll call you for help. When my wife was pregnant, she’d demand I go to the store everynight and buy her whatever she wanted. Junhee here isn’t as demanding– not that we’d mind!”

“Speak for yourself, ahjussi. ” Daeho mumbled.

“I don’t make you go out that often, and when I do, we go together. Stop whining.” Junhee jokingly hit his shoulder, and his fake frown was easily broken as they laughed silently to themselves. 

Hyun-ji and Young-mi were discussing plans for their trip, hoping to convince Yong-sik and Geum-ja to join them on their travel to thailand while the group discussed the pros and cons. It was nice now that they were here to drown out the silence as Gihun let himself sink into the back of his booth seat, listening in on everyone chattering.

The exhaustion of the day was creeping up on him, and even though they haven’t been out for long, he knew he wanted to head back soon. Back home.

“I think I’ll head out, I’m still pretty tired from the past week.” Gihun spoke up, waving his goodbyes to the group as he gathered his things and bid them a goodnight.

“You sure you don’t want to come over? We’re gonna stop by that chicken shop on the way back.” Jungbae enticed him, but Gihun shook his head.

“Ah, it’s alright, I should head back to the apartment.” 

Jungbae seemed to catch onto what Gihun was saying, but before he could backtrack and come up with an excuse, he saw Jungbae smile slightly as he began to understand. Gihun wasn’t going back to the motel, he was going back home to something greater. Something more important.

“It’s okay, next time we’ll go out, we should get a table with more seats– we can invite everyone out, right Gihun?” The other kids agreed as Gihun let out a chuckle.

“Right.” He grabbed his jacket, sliding his arms through the sleeves as he waved his goodbyes. “Walk home safe, call me soon!”

There were a few people crowding the outside of the bar as he pushed through, scanning the streets for an unwanted familiar face before trekking towards the apartment, legs carrying him with speed for the whole duration of his walk.

He knew what would be waiting for him on the other side. 

• ▲■

The apartment lighting was warm as across the room, a black vinyl record spun in circles while quiet jazz played. Inho was standing by the counter, turning around to watch Gihun take his shoes off and place them on the rack beside the door before he turned back to prepping dinner.

“You didn’t stay out long, I thought you would take him up on that offer.” Inho said.

Gihun could nearly laugh. “Of course you were listening in on that.”

He hung his jacket up, watching as Inho shrugged. The man was silent for a few moments, letting the calm and quiet moment linger between them as for once, they were unhurried. 

“I just get worried, that's all. It’s still too early to get comfortable.” Inho says slowly.

He thought of how protective Inho was during the games over Junhee, and how he always tended to lurk around Gihun even when he was standing in another room. He thought that maybe Inho was tired of being alone, wearing that mask for years probably weighed him down. 

Gihun walked closer. “Do you miss them?”

Inho continued moving chopped onions into the pan as they sizzled, making contact with the oil as a warm aroma filled the kitchen. He shrugged. “Some of them.”

He stared at Inho’s side profile as he came behind him, not quite coming into contact yet. “Do you miss me?”

“Maybe.”

Gihun closed the gap, draping his arms around Inho’s shoulders and rubbing his cheek against him as if he were a cat, intently watching the man cut vegetables with a kind of precision he wasn't capable of.  

“Jungbae said you should come out next time. Will you?” Gihun leaned closer as Inho’s movements with the knife and cutting board stopped, turning his head towards the taller man slightly.

He stilled completely, putting everything down as he shifted to face Gihun fully, the man loosening his hold around his shoulders as Inho’s eyes flickered from his eyes to his mouth.

Then, he leaned in, capturing Gihun in a soft kiss as he melted into the touch, letting Inho wrap his arms around his waist as he became pliant in his arms. “Is that a yes?”

Inho hummed. “I suppose– anything for you, really.”