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fly me to the moon

Summary:

Fix-it where everyone lives a happily ever after, starts when Hyun-Ju finds the exit ! And no, MG Coin won’t kill her this time‼️

Notes:

Hey, y’all‼️ I watched SG3 earlier and I was very… let’s just say, EMOTIONAL when I watched it. So, for that, I’ll make MY dream squid game ending that SHOULD have happened. I’ll start this fictionalized season when Hyun-ju finds the exit.

Chapter 1: fly me to the moon

Chapter Text

Crippled, but determined, Hyun-Ju staggered through the dim corridor. Her breath was heavy, her leg bleeding, but relief washed over her as the exit finally came into view. She couldn’t leave yet—not without Mrs. Jang, Jun-hee, and the baby.

With resolve burning through the pain, Hyun-Ju returned to the vibrant, color-drenched room where the three waited. Her eyes softened as she stepped in.

The ebony-haired woman offered a reassuring smile. “I found the exit, come on, let’s hurry.”

Mrs. Jang immediately helped Jun-hee rise, while Hyun-Ju stepped forward and carefully took the infant into her arms. Both women’s eyes dropped to her injured leg.

“Are you alright, Hyun-Ju?” Mrs. Jang asked, her tone lined with worry. “What did that bastard do to you?”

“It’s nothing, just a little scratch on the leg. I can still walk. What we should be worried about is Jun-hee and the baby.”

Despite the searing pain, Hyun-Ju supported them all. These women—this child—meant more to her now than her own survival. She saw Young-mi in each of them, even the baby. They had to live—for those who couldn’t. Jung-bae. Gyeong-seok. They didn’t die for nothing.

---

Yong-sik sprinted through the starry room, fear gnawing at every step. He didn’t want to die. He just wanted to be with his mother, to have a normal life in Bongcheon-dong.

Out of nowhere, a crazed pupil of the shaman blocked his path.

“Kill me! As Master Seon-nyeo said, even if I die, we will all go to a heaven full of seas and pleasure!” the man yelled, then hurled himself onto a blade.

Yong-sik froze, horrified. The man’s lifeless body slumped at his feet. He gulped, shaking, grateful at least he didn’t have to do it himself.

---

Back at the hallway near the exit, the women heard the sound from the intercom:

“Player 007, passed. Player 125, passed.”

Geum-ja exhaled in both relief and dread. Her son… She didn’t want him to kill, but what choice did they have?

Elsewhere, Dae-ho curled into himself in a pink-colored room. He sobbed quietly, the soft colors reminding him of his sisters’ bedrooms.

“It’s not your fault…” their voices echoed in his memory, as if still trying to protect him.

But his thoughts were a chaotic mix—past bleeding into present. He had blamed Gi-hun, but it wasn’t about him. He was reliving the moment his marine unit was wiped out. Only he survived. Again.

He mixed present reality with the past, when he yelled at Gi-hun, when he blamed Gi-hun, all he could see was a past version of himself and a mirror of his present self. He was blaming himself for what had happened, for the many brave lives that were ruined, especially Mr. Jung-bae’s death. The image of Jung-bae being hanged up, all bloodied and harmed… it added to his guilt and trauma. He loathed himself, for being such a loser. The loser that always survives.

The vision of Jung-bae, bloodied and hanging, pierced him with guilt. He hated himself for surviving. Again.

---

The four women finally reached the door to the exit. The song “Congratulations” played, its cheer clashing bitterly with the horrors they had endured.

Suddenly, a scream.

The crazy shaman lady and bastard Player 100 charged at them, madness in their eyes.

“No, you are not deserving of living! And so is this child, such a curse!”

Hyun-Ju immediately handed the baby to Mrs. Jang and stood in front of the group. She met the shaman’s attack with a punch straight to the face, but before she could recover, Player 100 grabbed her by the hair.

Again with the hair. Why did they all go for the bob?

He shoved her toward the wall—but before he could finish the job, a blade sliced through the shaman.

Gi-hun.

He stabbed the shaman while Hyun-Ju twisted and drove her own blade into Player 100.

The women tensed, wary of Gi-hun’s mental state, but he tossed his weapon aside.

“Let’s go, we better hurry.”

“Thank goodness, Mr. Gi-hun!” Geum-ja cried with joy, her voice breaking.

As they fled through the exit, Hyun-Ju faltered. Her leg was failing.

Gi-hun stepped beside her and gently pulled her arm around his shoulders to support her.

“Thanks,” she whispered, pain flickering in her eyes—but also something deeper. She had made it. They had made it.

---

Back in the dormitory, now eerily quiet, the survivors gathered.

Hyun-Ju sat, using her jacket to press against the gash on her leg. Beside her, Jun-hee rocked her newborn gently in her arms.

“Thank goodness we survived,” Mrs. Jang said, her voice the light they all needed.

Gi-hun simply nodded. He was alive—but it didn’t feel like it. Dae-ho’s words rang endlessly in his head, guilt shadowing every breath.

His trance broke at the sound of the baby gurgling.

“What will you name her, Jun-hee?” Hyun-Ju asked softly.

“I’ll name her after the two women who helped me give birth… Geum-ju. A mix of Mrs. Jang’s name and your name, unnie.”

Unnie.

Hyun-Ju smiled faintly. The word warmed her. It reminded her what they were fighting for. For every soul lost.

The dormitory doors opened. The red and blue teams had returned.

Hong-sik ran to his mother. Myung-gi paused, stunned by the sight of Jun-hee and the baby in her arms. Geum-ja ran to her son.

“You going to your bitch?” Nam-gyu smirked.

“She isn’t a bitch. Our alliance’s over.” Myung-gi walked away.

“Eomma, I missed you!” Yong-sik cried, throwing his arms around her. “I’m so happy all of you are safe, and so is Jun-hee’s baby.”

Geum-ja laughed softly, running her hand through his hair. “What happened to you, my boy?”

“It’s a long story, eomma. I’m just glad that we’re all alright.”

---

“Jun-hee,” Myung-gi said as he stepped forward. But Gi-hun and Hyun-Ju—though injured—blocked his path with ice-cold glares.

“Mr. Gi-hun, noona Hyun-ju, it’s alright. We’ll just talk,” Jun-hee said, her tone calm.

Reluctantly, the two stepped back. Gi-hun drifted to a corner, silent. Hyun-Ju stayed close, but out of earshot.

Jun-hee cradled her child, eyes sharp. “I thought you were a man of your word. But I should’ve known better.”

“I wasn’t able to find you, but I’m happy that our baby was delivered safely—”

“My baby,” she snapped. “Mrs. Jang and unnie Hyun-Ju helped me and the baby. Those ladies helped me when I needed you the most. Now, fucking leave me alone.”

Myung-gi sighed, lowering his head. He understood. She needed space—and trust wasn’t something easily restored.

In the corner of the dorm, Dae-ho curled into a bunk, alone. Still shivering. Still lost. Gi-hun watched him, unsure what he felt. Grief. Guilt. Anger. Maybe all of it.

---

Meanwhile, far from the dorms, Gyeong-seok sat hidden in a darkened hallway. He had barely survived—and only because of a guard’s help.

But none of that mattered now.

Na-yeon. His daughter. His only hope. How was he going back to Na-yeon? He needed to see his daughter again, to be with her is the only thing he could ask for.

Then, his mind flicked to Hyun-Ju. That iron-willed woman who had carried them through the chaos. She had to be alive. She had to be. Tomorrow, he’d find her. Even if he had to keep pretending to be a guard.

He owed her. He owed them all.

Chapter 2: and let me play among the stars

Chapter Text

Hyun-Ju always loved classical music.

There was something elegant, controlled, and deeply emotional about it—something that reminded her of the order she once lived by. Even in the chaos of her studies and the grueling days of army training, she always kept it on repeat in the background. Vivaldi, Debussy, Bach—they steadied her, focused her.

But now, she fucking hated it.

It always played in the same haunting, synthetic echo from the loudspeakers before another death game began. It had become an alarm of impending horror. A twisted symphony for suffering.

Still, when she heard the notes now, she knew one thing for sure: they were alive. They had survived another night, another bloody game, and had been granted another day. Even that had become a rare blessing.

They slept together now, the four women, near the same bunks. It wasn't just for comfort—it was for Geum-Ju, the baby. Jun-hee’s daughter. They took shifts watching her through the night, making sure she was warm, breathing, safe. She represented something no one else in that room had anymore—new life, hope, a future.

Hyun-Ju sat up slowly, wincing as her back cracked. The floor was cold beneath her feet, her military instincts kicking in as she immediately scanned the room. No threats yet. Just another eerie morning. Her first thought, as always, was the baby.

She knelt by the sleeping bundle wrapped in torn blankets and gently touched her cheek. “Good morning, Jun-hee, Geum-Ju, and Mrs. Jang.”

The other women stirred at her voice. Jun-hee, exhausted but smiling, gave her a weak nod. Mrs. Jang, ever the comforting presence of the group, returned the greeting with a warm chuckle.

“Morning, ladies.” Mrs. Jang's voice carried warmth even in the cold air. Jun-hee and Hyun-Ju smiled back, holding on tightly to any sense of normalcy.

Even baby Geum-Ju, as if sensing the peace, let out a soft giggle.

“She’s giggling.” Jun-hee’s eyes sparkled as she cradled the baby. In a place like this, the sound was like the first raindrop after a long drought.

“She looks so much like Jun-hee.” Yong-sik’s voice broke in from the other side of the room. The unlikely comedian of the group, his timing was always oddly perfect.

Everyone laughed—genuine, brief laughter. The kind that reminded them they were still human.

On the other side of the barracks, Gi-hun lay on his bunk bed, eyes glued to the ceiling. His hands were fidgeting, his lips moving silently. He was rambling again, plotting something. Or perhaps he was just haunted.

Next to him, Dae-ho was doing the same—both men lost in spirals of thoughts too heavy to carry. They hadn’t spoken much since the failed rebellion, but their silence now said more than words ever could.

Mrs. Jang, observant as always, sighed.

“Hm, I hope they make up, somehow.”

“You can’t blame Mr. Gi-hun, it was Dae-ho’s fault—” Yong-sik began defensively, but Hyun-Ju cut in firmly.

“I believe Dae-ho had suffered trauma before, I’ve seen many people go through that as a general.” Her voice held authority. “And about Mr. Gi-hun, I believe he has survivor’s guilt. He only wanted to save everyone, but it just became worse. It’s not any of us’s fault, it’s the people above us making us be like this. I further understood it after the Mingle game… we shouldn’t hate the player, we should hate the game.”

Mrs. Jang nodded solemnly. “Hyun-Ju’s right, it’s the game that’s unfair.” Jun-hee, quietly holding her daughter, agreed.

That morning, like all mornings, the voting commenced. Os against Xs. Even after so much, even after loss and betrayal, the Os continued to dominate. A landslide vote. The Xs had no choice but to comply.

---

Far above them, behind countless screens and security systems, the Frontman sat. He observed silently, focusing especially on Gi-hun.

The man was unraveling. That much was clear.

Suddenly, the silence was broken. A guard approached quickly, voice tight with urgency. “Sir, the VIPs are near.”

The Frontman didn’t flinch. “Alright, bring the food to the players.”

With that, the guards dispersed. The machinery of the day’s horror creaked into motion again.

---

The players, starving and trembling, lined up for their rations. Some were silent. Others mumbled prayers. Everyone looked thinner than they had just days ago.

Each of them grabbed their food. But in a quiet, moving gesture, every one of the group—Hyun-Ju, Yong-sik, Gi-hun, and Mrs. Jang—gave their milk to Jun-hee and baby Geum-Ju.

“What about you, guys?” Jun-hee asked, her voice wavering. She hated the thought of them sacrificing for her.

“The baby needs it more.” Gi-hun answered without hesitation. The others nodded.

“We already took a drink,” Geum-ja added gently. “It’s more important for the baby and for you.”

“Thank you.” Jun-hee’s voice cracked with gratitude.

Elsewhere, Min-su stared down at his meal. His fingers trembled. The pills were still tucked into his sleeve. He had taken one yesterday and stayed awake until dawn, riding the sickening effects of the drug. He wanted another—but he knew he had to conserve it for when the game started. That’s when it counted.

He took a bite of the stale bread and thought about Se-mi. Alone. In pain. He had to stay strong.

Dae-ho sat on his bunk, silent. He chewed his bread methodically, like it was punishment. Across the room, he thought he saw Jung-bae. A hallucination? A memory? No. It was just Gi-hun, staring at him with unreadable eyes. Dae-ho looked away, swallowed hard, and finished his milk. The past hurt too much to hold eye contact.

---

Outside the island compound, the first of the black stretch limousines arrived. Long, sleek monsters of wealth.

From one vehicle emerged the Eagle-masked VIP, flanked by guards holding up an umbrella. He was loud, flamboyant, unbothered by the horrors beneath them.

“What’s up, people!”

A groan came from beside him. The female Panther-masked VIP didn’t hide her disdain. “Good morning to you, too, you jackass.”

More limos arrived. The Buffalo-masked VIP exited next, laughing.

“How was the Kobe beef I sent you, pervert?”

The Eagle-masked man let out a guffaw. “No, I still prefer the prostitute you sent, you motherfucker.”

As they strolled, cloaked in riches and sick humor, the Lion-masked VIP tried to steer the conversation. “Who shall win this year’s game, no?”

“We’ll see later.” The Bear-masked VIP laughed, his voice deep and cold.

---

Back inside, the tension grew. Jun-hee and baby Geum-Ju were surrounded protectively by the others. But everyone knew—protection didn’t mean much once the games started.

The speakers crackled.

“The games will start in a few minutes.”

Hyun-Ju exhaled sharply. “Back to reality.” She stood from her bunk.

“I hope we’ll all survive.” Mrs. Jang bit her lip. “But are you sure you’ll be able to play, Jun-hee?”

“I have to,” Jun-hee said. “For the baby.”

No one argued. How could they?

They marched into the game room. The lighting was colder, more artificial than usual. At the front of the room stood two giant dolls—the female one from the first game, and a new male counterpart. Both held massive ropes in their stiff, mechanical hands.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what this game would be.

The speaker confirmed it.

“For the 5th round, the game that all of you will be playing is Jump Rope. The rules are simple. All of you will have to cross the track line and avoid getting hit by the jumping ropes in 20 minutes. If you aren’t able to cross through the line within the five time limit, you will be eliminated.”

Gasps echoed. Whispered curses. Fear.

“Eomma, how can you—” Yong-sik tried to object, panic rising, but his mother shut him down with strength.

“As I’ve said time and time again, I survived the Korean War. I won’t die by some foolish children’s game.”

Then, as tension mounted, Myung-gi walked up to Jun-hee.

“Give me the baby, I’ll cross the jump ropes with the baby while you cross the track.”

Jun-hee’s eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t trust you with the baby. I’ll handle the baby on my own.”

“You’re risking the baby more—!” Myung-gi’s voice rose, but he was cut off—this time not by Jun-hee, but by the others.

Gi-hun stepped between them. “The lady said she didn’t trust you.”

Hyun-Ju’s voice was firm. “She said she didn’t want you to hold the baby. Who are you to decide that?”

“I’m the baby’s father. You?” Myung-gi growled, shocking everyone.

Mrs. Jang didn’t flinch. “We’re the ones that helped her give birth, when she needed you the most. So back off Jun-hee and her baby.”

“Just go, Myung-gi.” Jun-hee said quietly, holding her child closer.

Myung-gi scowled and turned away. From the back, Nam-gyu chuckled.

“You just got roasted.”

“Shut up,” Myung-gi snapped.

The team of Xs gathered again. They were worried, but determined.

“Don’t worry, I can handle this,” Mrs. Jang said. “What we should be more worried about is the baby and Jun-hee.”

Hyun-Ju looked at Jun-hee. “It’s possible the game will be harder for Jun-hee since she just gave birth, has a fractured leg, and a baby. If it’s okay for Jun-hee, someone else should carry the baby.”

Jun-hee hesitated. “I don’t want to burden you all with the baby.”

“If it’s okay with you, Jun-hee, I’ll carry the baby,” Gi-hun offered gently. “I have a daughter, and like my daughter, I would do my best for your daughter, too.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Gi-hun?” Jun-hee asked.

“I’m sure, Jun-hee.”

“Thank you so much.” She bowed, handing over baby Geum-Ju.

“The game will start now.”

The ropes began to swing.

Chapter 3: and let me see what spring is like

Chapter Text

Above them, behind the black steel railings of the second-floor observation deck, a figure in a red mask stood tense.

Gyeong-seok.

To anyone watching, he was just another faceless guard in red, stiff and still—but inside, his nerves twisted like the ropes below. Beneath his uniform and mask, sweat rolled down his back. His eyes stayed fixed on one side of the room—on them. On Team X.

He spotted Hyun-Ju first, ever poised, a storm waiting to be unleashed. Then Gi-hun, cradling the baby like she was made of glass and gold. Then Mrs. Jang. Then Yong-sik. Than Jun-hee, limping but alive. They were his side. They were good.

And right now, they were all dancing with death.

---

The rope slapped the floor again, a blur of speed and force.

Gi-hun took one last deep breath before lunging forward. With Geum-Ju bundled tightly against his chest, he dove under the first rope. It missed them by inches.

The second rope came fast. His knees hit the floor hard—pain shot up his spine—but he kept going.

One step. Two.

On the fourth step, the rope whirled past his face. He ducked and sprinted. Gasps filled the room as he passed the line. Safe. Baby Geum-Ju started crying again, but he pressed her against his chest, whispering, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

From above, Gyeong-seok exhaled quietly. He made it. That’s one.

---

Hyun-Ju was next.

Years of military conditioning kicked in. She waited, muscles coiled, watching the ropes like a soldier watching mines. With a quick motion, she darted forward. The rope grazed her shoulder, but she didn’t slow. Her boots slammed into the floor—her balance near perfect.

Each breath burned her lungs. But she kept going.

Gi-hun turned as she crossed. “Come on—come on—!”

The final rope swept the air.

Hyun-Ju rolled under it like a bullet, landing on her back as she skidded across the finish line. Gi-hun caught her hand and helped her up.

“We’re good, the baby is good.” she muttered, panting.

Gi-hun didn’t answer.

Behind them, the game room was descending into chaos.

---

The O team was breaking.

They had won the vote. They had strength in numbers. But that also meant they had targets on their backs.

Two men were already fighting—one accusing the other of sabotaging their last vote. Another O player had tripped and was clutching his ankle while others ignored him.

And in the midst of it, one man’s eyes turned toward the baby.

---

From above, Gyeong-seok stiffened. He saw it before anyone else.

The man—Player 96—broke into a run. He wasn’t heading for the finish line. He was heading toward Hyun-Ju. Toward Gi-hun. Toward Geum-Ju.

“No…” Gyeong-seok hissed under his breath.

The guards around him didn’t notice. Their attention was elsewhere.

Player 96 roared as he sprinted toward the trio, face contorted with desperation. “You don’t get to win! That baby is the audience’s pet, huh?! Let’s see her survive this—!”

“Geum-Ju!” Jun-her screamed, worried deeply for the three people who already passed, especially her daughter.

Gi-hun turned, shielding Geum-Ju instinctively. “Hyun-Ju!”

But she was already moving.

---

Hyun-Ju launched herself forward like a missile.

She slammed into Player 96 before he could reach the baby. The impact was brutal—two bodies colliding at full speed.

They hit the ground with a grunt. The man tried to grab her, but Hyun-Ju landed three quick punches—his jaw cracked beneath her knuckles.

“You ever dare touch the baby again—” She growled.

Player 96 reached into his pocket for a hidden shard of metal from the sword of the past game. “I’ll kill you!”

He swung.

Hyun-Ju caught his wrist midair and snapped it sideways. The shard dropped to the floor.

With a final elbow strike to his temple, Player 96 slumped unconscious.

---

Gyeong-seok was still, fists clenched behind the mask. His heart pounded. She was okay. They were okay.

But the fight had consequences.

“Player 96, eliminated.”

The rest of the O team froze.

They had seen Hyun-Ju take down a man twice her size in less than ten seconds. Bloody, efficient, fearless.

She stood now, shaking, hair clinging to her face. “Anyone else want to try?”

Her voice echoed across the floor.

No one answered.

17 minutes remained on the countdown. The dolls' arms still moved the ropes mechanically, but the crowd was paralyzed.

Mrs. Jang had tears in her eyes as she watched Hyun-Ju pick up the fallen shard and toss it across the floor.

Jun-hee looked on in awe. Her baby was safe. Hyun-Ju was their shield.

Gi-hun placed a hand on Hyun-Ju’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

She didn’t speak. “For everyone’s sake.”

---

Far above the game floor—above the red-suited guards, above the blinking cameras and blood-splattered tiles—was the observation lounge.

A dome of crystal and obsidian. Walls lined with soundproof glass. Cushioned chairs in gold trim and velvet. Screens hovered holographically in front of each VIP, showing live angles from every part of the game floor.

The true audience of the Games.

The billionaires. The monsters. The ones pulling the strings.

A servant in black poured golden liquor into the crystal goblet of the Eagle-masked VIP as he leaned forward in his seat, eyes glued to Screen 5—the one focusing on Hyun-Ju and Gi-hun.

“Well, well…” he purred. “That woman. She moves like a goddamn panther.”

The Panther-masked VIP, seated beside him, chuckled. “Of course she does, darling. She’s former military. South Korean Special Forces. I read the dossier. Trauma file’s thick enough to make a good pillow.”

“Betting odds just spiked,” the Lion-masked VIP added, flicking through digital stats on his glove. “Hyun-Ju and the ex-winner Gi-hun?—they’ve survived all five rounds. Clean record, but this Gi-hun guy may be the first one to win twice.”

“I’d bet on the woman,” the Bear-masked VIP grunted. “She didn’t hesitate. She nearly took that man’s head off just now. Beautiful form. No wasted motion.”

Eagle-mask laughed, swirling his drink. “Forget form, did you see her eyes? That’s rage. Pure, high-quality rage. She’s protecting the baby like it’s a damn talisman.”

Panther-mask rolled her eyes. “Because it is. That baby’s the emotional wildcard of the season. Sentiment equals screen time. Screen time equals bets.”

“I’m raising my bet,” said the Buffalo-masked VIP. “One billion won on Hyun-Ju surviving the next two rounds. Two billion if she kills more than three O players.”

“You’re underestimating Gi-hun,” Lion-mask countered. “He’s steady. Watch his shoulders—he absorbs panic. That’s leadership under fire. Besides, he already won before.”

The room filled with murmured chuckles, bets, and shifting numbers glowing in the air. The VIPs watched like they were at a horse race. Except the stakes were real people. Real pain. Real death.

On-screen, the moment when Hyun-Ju elbowed Player 96 unconscious was replayed in slow motion—again and again—from three different angles.

Panther-mask pointed at the shot. “That’s the moment people will talk about. She didn’t hesitate. That’s what makes her a crowd favorite.”

“Looks like your precious Player 39 pissed himself,” Eagle-mask snorted, pointing at a frightened O team member backing away from Hyun-Ju.

“I’ll bet 50 million he’s the next to die,” Buffalo-mask replied.

“Deal.”

The betting screen flashed and locked. Wagers accepted.

As Hyun-Ju stood guard beside Gi-hun and the baby, the VIPs leaned forward, drooling like wolves in silk. They loved this part—heroes breaking, rising, bleeding for survival.

---

Back in the game room, the countdown hit 15 minutes remaining.

Chapter 4: on Jupiter and Mars

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Time Remaining: 17:00

The metallic voice from the speaker system echoed once again across the concrete chamber:

“Seventeen minutes remain. All remaining players must cross the track or be eliminated.”

The ropes spun steadily—cruel metronomes counting down to death.

In the staring of the room, Team X stood huddled near the edge of the game line. Dust and blood clung to their clothes. Tension clung tighter. The air was thin with silence.

Gi-hun held baby Geum-Ju against his chest, a small blanket wrapped around her like a prayer. The baby was still calm, despite the chaos.

Hyun-Ju had her eyes on the O team—still stunned from her takedown of Player 96.

But it was Jun-hee who broke the silence.

She sat slumped on the ground, breathing heavily. Her lips were pale. Her injured leg—still fractured from the childbirth sprint just a day ago—throbbed visibly. Her hands trembled as she looked at the rest of the track ahead.

“I… I can’t do it,” she whispered.

Gi-hun yelled to her. “Yes, you can. We’ll wait for the timing—”

She shook her head. “I can’t jump. Not with this leg.”

The others turned. Mrs. Jang, Yong-sik, Dae-ho,—even Myung-gi—they all gathered around her, forming a tight circle like a family to protect her.

Jun-hee swallowed. “Even if I try to walk between the ropes… I’ll be too slow. The baby made it… that’s what mattered.”

“No.” Mrs. Jang said. “You matter too.”

“But I’ll just weigh everyone down.” She touched the ground with her fingertips. “Don’t risk yourselves for me.”

There was a long pause.

And then, Dae-ho stepped forward.

“I’ll carry her,” he said.

All heads turned to him.

Jun-hee blinked. “What?”

“I’ll carry you across.”

Jun-hee was stunned. “You… you don’t have to—”

“I do,” Dae-ho said firmly. His face wasn’t full of fear, not this time. It was tired, raw, filled with something deeper than guilt. “For everything. For the rebellion. For failing you all. For not being there sooner.”

Gi-hun stared at him cautiously.

Myung-gi took a step closer, fists tightening at his sides. “No.”

Dae-ho ignored him. He bent toward Jun-hee. “If you let me… I swear I’ll get you across.”

Jun-hee didn’t answer.

Her eyes were filled with emotion—confusion, grief, gratitude. But above all, desperation. She knew she didn’t have another option. Not with her body failing her.

She gave a slow nod. “Okay.”

Dae-ho lifted her with surprising gentleness. Her arms wrapped around his neck, instinctively clinging. He adjusted her carefully—balanced her weight like a soldier with a wounded comrade.

Myung-gi’s face twisted in pain. “I should be—“

Jun-hee and Dae-ho crossed the starting line.

---

16:00

The ropes swirled like blades now.

Dae-ho stepped to the edge of the track. He inhaled deeply. The air stung his lungs. The first few moments would be critical—get timing wrong, and Jun-hee could be flung from his back. He couldn’t let that happen.

The team tensed as the first rope neared.

Hyun-Ju gave the signal. “Now!”

Dae-ho dashed forward, carrying Jun-hee tightly across his back.

The rope whooshed past. He ducked just in time.

The second rope came immediately after—closer than expected.

Jun-hee screamed, bracing.

But Dae-ho spun his torso sideways, avoiding a direct hit. The rope scraped his shoulder but didn’t knock him down.

Step. Step. Dodge. Step.

His muscles screamed. Jun-hee’s weight was light, but in this moment, with fear and adrenaline flooding him, it felt like he was lifting a world. His body trembled with effort.

From above, Gyeong-seok—still disguised as a guard—watched with clenched teeth.

Come on… come on.

Hyun-Ju shouted again. “Now! Jump!”

Dae-ho launched forward. Jun-hee screamed again—not out of fear, but out of disbelief.

They crossed the midpoint.

Three more swings.

Dae-ho staggered. The rope nearly clipped his leg.

Jun-hee gritted her teeth. “Let me go—drop me if you have to—”

“I’m not dropping you,” Dae-ho growled.

He jumped.

The rope missed them by half a second.

Then the final stretch. Dae-ho’s legs burned. Sweat blurred his vision.

But the line was near.

And with a final heave, they crossed it.

Jun-hee sobbed into his neck. He collapsed to his knees, breathing like a man who had just finished a marathon.

Hyun-Ju ran to them. “You did it.”

Gi-hun nodded. “… Good job.” He gave Geum-Ju to Jun-hee.

Only Myung-gi stood in silence, his jaw trembling.

He didn’t say a word.

---

13:00

There were still two more Xs left on the wrong side.

Mrs. Jang and Yong-sik.

Mrs. Jang dusted her hands. “Well… guess it’s our turn.”

Yong-sik looked hesitant. “Eomma—”

“I told you. Korean War. Your shitty dad.” She patted his cheek. “I’ve survived worse.”

Yong-sik blinked, then nodded.

Hyun-Ju and Gi-hun moved to help time the ropes.

“Ready?” Hyun-Ju said.

“Ready,” Mrs. Jang answered.

They stepped into the track.

Their pacing was near perfect—Mrs. Jang’s steps were deliberate, confident. She didn’t panic, didn’t rush. She ducked the first rope. Yong-sik followed her, eyes wide but trusting.

Midway through, one of the O players panicked and tried to lunge toward the line early.

He tripped. The rope slammed into his chest and flung him backward into another player.

Dead.

Mrs. Jang flinched yet she pressed forward.

The second rope came faster. Yong-sik stumbled slightly—but she caught his hand, stabilized him.

Hyun-Ju shouted, “Now!”

And with a joint sprint, they crossed the line.

Team X was whole again.

---

11:00

Only four O players had crossed.

Three others were still arguing about who would go next.

Another fell to the rope—blood painting the tiles.

Myung-gi, standing off to the side, said nothing. His eyes stayed on Jun-hee and Dae-ho.

---

10:00 minutes.

Jun-hee sat upright now, eyes still red, but her posture straighter.

Gi-hun handed Geum-Ju back to her. The baby immediately reached for her mother’s necklace and gurgled happily.

Jun-hee smiled faintly.

“She’s happy,” she said.

“She doesn’t know what we’re in,” Hyun-Ju replied. “And that’s a blessing.”

Mrs. Jang sat beside them, massaging her knees.

Gi-hun looked over at Dae-ho. “That was brave.”

Dae-ho didn’t answer. He just stared at the bloodstains on the floor behind him.

“Why’d you do it?” Gi-hun asked.

Dae-ho sighed. “Because no one else did. And because… maybe I’m tired of being a coward.”

Gi-hun nodded slowly. “You’re not a coward now.”

---

8:00 minutes.

More O players tried to cross—two made it. One fell and was dragged off.

The ropes were faster now. More vicious.

The room was emptier.

But Team X was complete.

They sat in a quiet circle, bruised, scraped, but alive.

Notes:

don’t worry abt Myung-gi, Min-su, and Nam-gyu, i haven’t forgotten them lol—so is the people in the boat and No-eul, wait for the next chapter !

Chapter 5: in other words

Summary:

I AM SO SORRY , I CAN’T REPLY TO ALL OF YOUR COMMENTS \(//∇//)\ ! MAYBE TOMORROW I’LL REPLY TO Y’ALL, BUT JUST KNOW I LOVE Y’ALL !

Chapter Text

The hung-over hum of the jump ropes filled the cavernous room with a relentless beat, each swing echoing like the ticking of a bomb. Team X—now seven strong after Jun‑hee’s harrowing carry—stood battered but resolute on the safe side of the track. On the other side, eight O-team survivors thus far stared back across the rope-line, bloodied and unsteady but still alive.

Amid them, Min‑su paced. The pale light reflected off his shaking hands, both fragile and dangerous. He hadn’t spoken much—not since Se‑mi’s death—but now, a dangerous glimmer had awakened in his eyes.

He glanced toward Nam‑gyu, the loud, arrogant O-player who swaggered among his team and killed Se-mi. Nam‑gyu’s smirk had barely faded after the scramble over the ropes.

He remembered the shards of Thanos’ drugs in his pocket—the pills that kept him awake and savage. He’d saved them as a last-ditch offensive, and now felt the moment had come.

Nam‑gyu glared across him. He looked tired—but he looked hungry. The sight of Min‑su tossing Thanos’ drugs over would incense anyone desperate enough.

Min‑su bent low, making it appear as if he dropped the cross necklace that contained drugs over the track. Then, with casual slithering, he slunk back into the gathering.

Nam‑gyu’s head jerked as the necklace glinted under the lights. He raised a fist. “You—!”

He flung himself forward, one greedy step onto the other side.

The ropes had slowed momentarily—uncertain. Then they resumed.

Nam‑gyu lunged to grab the vial that lay inches inside the swinging ropes’ path. He wasn’t calculating. He was frantic.

The first rope struck his wrist. He snarled, ignoring the pain.

The second rope smashed across his back.

Blood sprayed as he staggered.

Before the third swing he bent over to regain balance—promise of death in his eyes.

But Min‑su had studied him too well. Nam‑gyu’s addiction, his recklessness.

He fell forward into the rope’s second arc. It whipped across his neck and chest with brutal force.

There was a horrible, wet smack. His eyes widened.

Min‑su stepped forward, face calm and empty, as Nam‑gyu’s body jerked twice—and then slumped lifeless under the ropes.

Silence ripped across the game room.

On the O side, some players gasped. Others sneered. No one moved to help—fear had infected them. One collapsed to their knees, while Min-su and Myung-gi used it as a chance to make it to the end of the game.

Mid‑crossing near the end of the game, the ropes dinged into Myung‑gi’s foot. He stumbled—but caught his balance.

He faltered.

Dae‑ho put a hand out—but didn’t help.
“You okay?”

Myung‑gi straightened. “I’m fine.” He spat the words out.

His gaze darted to the couple. Dae‑ho and Jun‑hee.

“Of course you are,” Hyun‑Ju replied softly—accusation clear.

He avoided Jun‑hee’s eyes. His jaw clenched—teeth grinding.

But his gaze snapped back to Dae‑ho. Watching.

He watched the soft way Dae‑ho whispered to Jun‑hee. The warm kiss Jun‑hee planted on Geum‑Ju’s forehead. The silent pride in Gi‑hun’s solemn nod.

Myung‑gi’s fists twitched. He tried to swallow the bile rising in his throat.

But he said nothing.

The speaker buzzed again:

"4 minutes remain. Seven O-team members remain, eight X-team members remain."

Gi‑hun corrected the count in his mind, discouraging panic. He looked at Jun‑hee. She nodded.

For a heartbeat, the ropes paused.

Hyun-ju knelt to help Jun‑hee shift the baby—a reminder of why they fought.

Dae‑ho stood beside Jun‑hee. He brushed hair from her forehead. Their eyes met. In that moment, they weren’t players. They were just two humans.

Myung‑gi pressed his back to the wall, watching from the corner.

All members of the main team X made it across. Blood. Bruises. Exhaustion.

But they were alive.

O-team members followed—still 8, so the next game, they would probably win.

A buzzer rang out. Final.

A voice echoed: “The fifth game has concluded. Remaining players will proceed to the dormitory zone.”

Cheers erupted from some. Sobs from others.

But for Team X, there was only silence. Exhaustion.

They had survived again.

Mrs. Jang wiped Yong‑sik’s sweaty forehead. “We did it—again.”

Gi‑hun sat beside Jun‑hee. “I’m proud of us.”

Dae‑ho lingered beside them, eyes distant. His redemption was complete—but at what cost?

Myung‑gi hovered nearby, venom in his silence.

Min‑su melted into the shadows again, expression unreadable.

Hyun‑Ju stared at the exit tunnel. “Whatever’s next—I want to know we’re still us.”

Gi‑hun squeezed her hand. “We are. We will be.”

But tension crackled. Myung‑gi's loneliness, Min‑su's guilt or calm… this game had eroded something deeper than flesh and bone. It was corroding trust.

---

The lights in the dormitory room were dimmer than usual, casting elongated shadows on the tiled floor. Most of them rested but Dae-ho was assigned to watch over Geum-ju.

Gi-hun didn’t.

He sat near one of the steel walls, Keum-Ju asleep beside him in a bundle of old towels. He gently rocked her basket, eyes staring into nothing.

Dae-ho approached quietly, soup in hand.

For a moment, Gi-hun didn’t react.

“I was going to sit here,” Dae-ho said quietly, not forcing it.

Gi-hun looked up, tired. “There’s space.”

Dae-ho sat. They didn’t speak for a while.

They listened to the faint hum of generators. The occasional rattle of pipes. The ever-present hum of surveillance above them.

Then Gi-hun finally broke the silence.

“I never got to say goodbye to Jung-bae.”

Dae-ho flinched.

Gi-hun continued. “He believed in something bigger than himself. And I didn’t take him seriously at first. I didn’t believe in anything except surviving. But he… he believed in all of us.”

“He was the one who kept us together after the second game,” Dae-ho murmured. “He’s the only reason I didn’t walk into the minefield when it was my turn. Said we still had time to make things right.”

Gi-hun smiled weakly. “That sounds like him.”

They both stared at the floor for a moment.

“I hated you, you know,” Gi-hun admitted. “After the rebellion fell apart. After Jung-bae died. I thought you were a coward.”

“I was,” Dae-ho said simply.

“But after thinking about it… it’s not your fault. It’s the people who play with humans’ lives, who think we’re just horses.” He sighed. “And, you carried Jun-hee. You risked your life for her and her child. That wasn’t a coward move.”

Dae-ho’s eyes welled slightly. “Maybe I finally stopped being one.”

The silence returned for a moment, but it was warmer now. Not sharp like before.

Then Gi-hun’s brow furrowed.

“Wait a moment, when… the bodies were hanged up earlier… did you see Young-il’s body?”

Dae-ho thought about it. “Come to think about it, no…”

“They said he was executed. But…”
Gi-hun’s eyes narrowed. “I saw what they did to the others. Jung-bae. All of them. Publicly. To scare us. But not In-ho.”

Dae-ho’s gaze sharpened. “You’re right. No body. No execution. Just… gone.”

“They said he died. But what if he didn’t?”

Dae-ho rubbed his jaw. “If he’s alive…”

“He might have escaped. Or maybe… he was taken somewhere else. Why wouldn’t they show us if he really died?”

Gi-hun’s voice was quiet now, cautious.

“What if he’s still on the island?”

Dae-ho glanced at the cameras in the corner of the room.

“Then we better not say it too loud,” he whispered.

They looked at each other. For the first time, truly aligned.

Not as survivors.

As comrades of the fallen. And maybe… as men preparing for something bigger.

Chapter 6: hold my hand

Summary:

SO SORRY FOR THE LATE NEW CHAPTER, MY PHONE GOT STOLEN WHERE MY UNRELEASED CHAPTERS STAY \(//∇//)\ re-wrote this with my new phone hihi

Chapter Text

The sleeping quarters were shrouded in a thick silence, broken only by the faint hum of the facility’s cooling system and the muffled moans of exhausted players.

Hyun-Ju’s eyes fluttered open.

Something had tugged at her—maybe it was instinct, maybe it was anxiety, or maybe it was just the relentless stress gnawing at her brain. She looked over at baby Geum-ju, nestled safely in Jun-hee’s arms, then slowly sat up. She glanced at Mrs. Jang and the others, confirming they were all asleep.

Quietly, she slipped out of the bunk.

Her boots made the softest scrape on the floor as she crossed the room and exited into the hallway. She walked briskly toward the bathroom stalls.

But just as she turned the corner, her steps faltered.

One of the guards stood by the bathroom entrance. His rifle was slung over his shoulder, but he wasn’t rigid like the others. He had the mask, the uniform, the posture… but something felt off.

Hyun-Ju froze. Then the guard turned.

For a moment, nothing happened.

And then—his fingers reached up.

He removed the mask.

It took everything in her not to scream.

“… Gyeong-seok?”

His face was worn, bruised under the mask. But it was him. Gyeong-seok. The one who was supposed to have died in the Rebellion. The one she had mourned in silence. Alive.

“Hyun-Ju,” he whispered, stepping forward. “You’re alive. You survived.”

Hyun-Ju blinked fast, the emotions overwhelming her. She rushed forward and embraced him, wrapping her arms around his torso like she never wanted to let go.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered. “I thought—”

“I escaped. Barely,” Gyeong-seok replied, his voice choked with emotion. “I’ve been posing as a guard ever since. A red guard… helped me survive. That guard is still here too, planning. Waiting.”

Their reunion burned quickly into urgency as they stepped into the shadows of the hallway.

Gyeong-seok leaned closer. “Listen. There’s a plan. There’s a route through the incinerator room that only guards have access to. It leads down to the old dock—the one used for secretive cargo deliveries. That guard already intercepted some schedules and mapped out a time we can slip out.”

“But…” Hyun-Ju hesitated. “The others. The baby. Jun-hee.”

Gyeong-seok’s face darkened. “I know. That’s why we need more time. But the sixth game… it’s soon. After that, the security changes again. We have to act fast.”

Hyun-Ju nodded slowly. “Then let’s do it. I’ll talk to the others we trust. Gi-hun, Mrs. Jang, maybe Dae-ho. But only them. No one else.”

“Tonight, I’ll sneak you a guard keycard,” he said. “Keep it hidden.”

Then they heard footsteps.

Gyeong-seok’s mask was back on in an instant. He straightened and turned his back as two patrolling guards passed by, nodding at them in silence.

Hyun-Ju played her part, walking past with a calm expression as her heart pounded against her ribs.

They had a plan now.

They had a chance.

---

A small fishing boat approached the island under cover of fog. Aboard it, Jun-ho stared at the looming structure ahead—the towering cliffs, the dull blinking lights at the uppermost tower. The hell he had spent years trying to rediscover.

He finally found it.

After so many dead ends, betrayals, and half-truths, Jun-ho had traced a leaked transmission from that damned captain. His stolen compass and encrypted map had led him through open waters. And now—he was here.

---

The next morning arrived harshly.

Classical music once again blared through the speakers.

Everyone groaned and stirred.

Jun-hee clutched her child, while Gi-hun and Dae-ho instinctively placed themselves protectively near them. Myung-gi shot another glare at Dae-ho, though he said nothing.

“Players, prepare for the sixth and final round,” the announcer said.

Guards entered and passed out their uniforms—more formal, more ceremonial. Red. Like the blood yet to be spilled.

Hyun-Ju glanced at Gi-hun, then to Mrs. Jang.

She would tell them now.

They had one more game… and then they could try to escape.

---

Jun-ho crept through the underbrush like a ghost.

The salt air clung to his clothes as he slithered up the sloped edge of the island. His boots sank slightly in the mossy soil, and every crunch of leaves underfoot was met with a held breath.

Above him towered the facility—the twisted place that had haunted his dreams.

From a distance, the place looked like a warped resort, but as Jun-ho drew closer, he saw the faint outlines of security turrets, cameras mounted on tree branches, and motion detectors embedded into the stone walls. The architects hadn’t designed this place for comfort—they’d built a prison disguised as paradise.

Jun-ho had memorized the rotation of the guards from satellite patterns and intercepted guard transmissions. He slipped between the cameras, heading toward the southern supply dock. From there, he'd enter through the lower maintenance shaft—where forgotten service tunnels ran under the compound.

He never expected anyone else to be there.

Which was why he immediately tackled the dark-haired woman as she rounded the corner.

Jun-ho twisted her arm, shoved her against the wall, and pressed the muzzle of his pistol to her temple. “Who are you?” he hissed.

The woman struggled briefly before realizing it was pointless.

“I asked who you are,” he repeated.

“Stop. Wait. I’m not one of them,” she gasped, her voice strained but determined.

“Everyone says that until a bullet’s in their head,” Jun-ho said.

“I’m with the players!” she snapped. “I’m trying to take this place down.“

Jun-ho blinked.

“You’re with the guards,” he said.

“No. I infiltrated. I’m only here to find out what happened to my daughter, and to help the remaining players. Tonight, we make our move.”

Jun-ho slowly lowered his gun, but he didn’t holster it. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because if I were one of them, you’d already be dead,” she said, staring him dead in the eyes. “Do I look like I have a radio on me? Do you hear alarms?”

Jun-ho didn’t answer, but the doubt in his eyes gave way to curiosity.

No-eul took a step back, rubbing her shoulder. “I’ve been planning this since the very beginning. There’s a window—after the sixth game. That’s our only chance. If we don’t act now, they’ll kill everyone and erase the evidence.”

Jun-ho’s mind raced. Everything she said checked out… if it was true.

He finally holstered his pistol. “Then we work together,” he said. “But one betrayal—one signal to the guards—and I shoot you myself.”

“That’s fair.” No-eul said, her expression grim. “Tell me what you know and I’ll tell you what I planned.”

She turned, beckoning him to follow.

The hunter had found an unexpected ally.

And the players' hope for survival just got one step closer.

---

The fluorescent lights buzzed back to life.

Their sterile glow crept across the dormitory like cold fingers, brushing over the bruised faces and broken bodies of Team X. The survivors stirred—groggy, disoriented, and sore from the last brutal game.

Hyun-Ju sat on the edge of her cot, her eyes wide open. She hadn’t slept at all. She always did that during her tenure as a general, planning an plotting.

She looked to Dae-ho first, then Jun-hee, her leg still bandaged. Mrs. Jang rubbed her temples while Yong-sik flexed his sore shoulders.

Seven survivors.

No time.

Hyun-Ju stood. “Everyone, listen to me.”

They looked up, bleary and blinking. Gi-hun, still cradling Geum-ju, nodded silently, already alert.

Hyun-Ju took a breath.

“There’s a way out of here.”

The room froze.

“You're joking,” Yong-sik muttered, shaking his head. “That’s impossible.”

“No, it's not,” she said. “Last night, I saw someone… a guard. But he wasn’t one of them. It was Gyeong-seok, player 246.”

Dae-ho’s eyes widened. “He’s alive?”

“He is,” Hyun-Ju confirmed. “And he’s working with someone—a red guard. They’ve been planning an escape. We have one shot.”

The silence was heavy. Hope, raw and fragile, danced across their expressions.

“What's the plan?” Mrs. Jang asked, her voice low.

Hyun-Ju looked around. He saw that damned MG Coin staring at their group with bloodlust. She softened her voice.

“We wait until after the sixth game. During the reset period, the guards change shift and the outer hallways are less guarded. Gyeong-seok will reroute the power for exactly three minutes. That’s when we move.”

“Move where?” Gi-hun asked.

“There’s a maintenance tunnel that connects to the southern docks,” Hyun-Ju explained. “They have clearance to open it. From there, they will secure the boat. We get Geum-ju out first. Then us.”

“But if it fails…” Jun-hee murmured.

Hyun-Ju looked at her. “Then we die. Either in the escape… or in the game.”

Gi-hun stood, holding the baby close. “I’m in.”

“Me too,” Dae-ho said, stepping forward beside Jun-hee.

Jun-hee nodded, wincing as she shifted her broken leg. “Count me in.”

Mrs. Jang exhaled sharply. “If this baby makes it out of here… maybe some part of us still wins. I'm in.”

“Let’s go out of this hellhole.” Yong-sik said quietly.

Then, the announcement boomed over the speakers: “Sixth and final game preparations are underway. Players, prepare.”

Hyun-Ju clenched her fists.

They were going to make it out.

Or burn the whole place down trying.