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After the Mingle game, you were exhausted. Everyone had returned to the main room, and the lights would likely shut off in thirty minutes.
You said goodbye to Gi‑hun, Jungbae, Young‑il, Daeho, Hyun‑ju, Geum‑ja and her son Yong‑sik, then retreated to the bunk bed area where Junhee lay. The reason? You had spent days caring for her. She was nine months pregnant, trembling with fear, but you were there—steady, silent.
—Make sure you rest, Junhee. You know I’ll take care of you tonight, because… I still can’t sleep —you whispered, brushing her hair as gently as one would a sister’s, though you’d known each other only a week.
She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.
You lay down on your own bunk, gazing at the ceiling. Noise filled the room, but your body had run out of strength; fear felt like an afterthought.
You began twisting strands of your orange‑dyed hair, missing home, that other life that now felt so distant it almost didn’t belong to you anymore.
Then you felt someone sit on your mattress.
—Are you okay? —Daeho asked softly.
You knew many things about Daeho. He had become my best friend since the very first game. He was 25 and had served in the Navy, the youngest of 4 sisters.
Me? I was 22 and worked at a konbini store to pay rent for my apartment, since I was an exchange student from the University of California to Seoul National University—and I ended up here to avoid falling further into debt.
—Daeho… I didn’t think you’d come —you murmured, averting your gaze.
He settled quietly beside you, his long hair falling gently, wearing that crooked smile that always disarmed you.
—I couldn’t sleep. I figured you couldn’t either.
—I haven’t slept well since the first game… —you said, voice trembling— closing your eyes didn’t offer comfort anymore.
He nodded without looking away.
—You nearly lost your glasses in Mingle—you were practically blind out there.
—I know… —you blushed— Thank you for saving me. If you hadn’t grabbed me and pulled me with you…
—You’d be dead —he said, matter‑of‑fact, but not harshly— That wasn’t going to happen. Not while I’m here.
Your cheeks heated. He was always so direct: honest, caring, comforting.
—By the way, your Korean… is excellent —he said suddenly.
—Excuse me?
—Yeah. It’s beautiful. Even the words you mispronounce sound beautiful when you say them —he smiled, and you giggled, hiding your face in your hand.
—Daeho...
He reached into his hair and took off the hair tie he always wore.
—I want you to have this.
Gently, he slid it onto your wrist.
—It’s not for good luck. Not for style. I just want you to have it.
—Why?
—Because I need to believe something is worth holding on to. That someone will remember me, even if everything ends.
His fingers brushed your skin. You didn’t know what to say.
—Promise me you’ll never take it off.
You nodded—your heart felt like it might burst.
—I never will.
He smiled. Without warning, he kissed slowly your forehead and he wrapped you in a tight hug—as though it was the only thing he knew how to do right in this world.
And then he spoke.
—...........I love you.
You froze.
You couldn’t breathe. Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure everyone heard it.
—I… I love you too, Daeho —you whispered, voice shaking.
He pulled back slightly, still smiling—like he’d just won the hardest game.
He placed a hand on your cheek, leaned forward slowly to kiss—
Until the alarms blared.
TIN TIN TIN TIN.
—What now? —he said, frustrated.
The door opened, and guards started serving dinner.
Junhee stirred, groaning.
—Dinner again? How many times must we pretend this is normal? —she mumbled.
You helped her sit upright and gave her a fragile smile.
Everyone gathered to eat, sitting in a silent circle—like a warped campfire with no warmth.
Daeho sat next to you, didn’t say a word. He placed his dessert on your tray, and that was enough.
Later, the lights dimmed. The room slowed as if the air thickened. Everyone laid down—Junhee breathing painfully in sleep.
You stared at the corner of the ceiling. Then he appeared.
He walked over carefully.
—Do you want me to stay?
—Yes… please —you whispered.
He lay beside you, respectful and protective.
—Can I tell you something? —he breathed.
—Of course.
—I’ve been thinking about Junhee… and her baby.
—Yes?
—I figured if we survive—we'd take care of her together. Something like Junhee's personal babysitters. Doesn't that sound nice?
You turned to look at him.
—Really?
—Yes. I saw him in a stroller, the baby holding your finger… you laughing at something silly. It’s stupid, I know. But it’s all that keeps me sane.
—It isn’t stupid. It’s beautiful —you said, tears threatening.
—What about you? What did you imagine?
—I saw myself going back to university—and you waiting at home. Maybe with ramen and… coffee.
—And I’d give you a welcome‑home kiss?
—Yes…
He smiled. So did you.
He pulled you close again, softer this time.
You tugged at his green sweater sleeve and completed the unfinished moment—
You kissed him.
It was the second kiss of your life. The first one happened at age twelve during a spinning bottle game.
His lips moved gently against yours. He was surprised, but closed his eyes immediately, leaning in.
Even though he looked like a strong former-marine man, his flirty, romantic, bubbly and delicate personality disarmed you inside.
When you parted, he stroked your hair as if holding back tears—like he sensed he might never see you again.
—Sleep, princess. I’ll always take care of you —he whispered, pressing you close, holding your hand.
You closed your eyes—safe in his arms.
He took care of you—just like you’d done for Junhee.
And for the first time… you slept without fear.
Epilogue
What no one knew…
…was that this would be their last night together.
Daeho died in the very next round.
The hide‑and‑seek game was merciless.
Namgyu and Myung‑gi trapped him in a corner with no exit.
You realized something was wrong when every other player returned… except him.
Your body collapsed, almost faint.
You screamed his name, your throat hurted a lot, almost voiceless, tears uncontrolled.
The pain was deeper than fear.
And they did comfort you.
Junhee was the first, trembling as she’d hugged you.
Geum‑ja brought water, a blanket, and stayed at your side while crying for Hyun‑ju too.
Gihun arrived, silent, his eyes red. He knelt before you and held your face:
—I am here. I am with you.
But nothing felt right—because Daeho was gone.
Your throat was on fire; your stomach twisted—not hunger, but grief, rage, the certainty you had lost him forever.
Hyun‑ju, player 120, died too, this time in Myung-gi's hands.
She showed them a secret exit behind a door—but it was too late.
Geum‑ja broke after that.
Her son Yong‑sik tried to kill you, Junhee and his baby to save himself.
Geum‑ja stopped him. She killed him first.
Then she gave in—no food, no sleep, no tears.
That night, she hanged herself from a bunk.
You and Junhee found her at dawn. Her feet bare, the rope taut.
You two cried effortless across the room.
Junhee collapsed into your arms—both of you shaking, grief‑wrecked.
Then came the rope-crossing game.
Junhee couldn’t make it.
Only two days passed since she gave birth. Weak, injured, exhausted—she still tried.
You held her hand. Encouraged her. Helped her keep moving.
—You can do this —you said.
—Not without you —she replied.
But time ran out for her.
She looked at you with broken love.
—Do it for the baby, Samantha... live for her.
You broke down—sobbing, pleading.
She caressed your cheek.
—Go. You still have life ahead of you.
2 minutes left
You trembling, leaped across the rope, dodging and jumping as the crowd roared.
Gihun screamed from across:
—Keep going! You’re almost there!
Junhee watched you quietly, with tears in her eyes.
—Thank you Sam… for everything —she whispered.
3 Seconds left.
She jumped.
Player 222: eliminated.
You crossed in time—barely—but not intact.
Your scream tore through something primal; not human.
Gihun held you. You shook. The baby cried.
For the first time… you wished life would just stop.
Since then, Gihun was your only family.
You slept clutching the baby.
He brought you food and protection.
He never left your side.
He allowed you to cry without asking.
He stayed silent with you.
Then the final round arrived.
The Squid Game final.
This time… on a high platforms.
Your uniform changed—now a blacksuit style. A cruel disguise for what would become your end.
You had the baby strapped to your chest in a makeshift vest. You hugged her as if your body could shield her from everything.
But the world doesn’t spare the kind.
It doesn’t spare those who defend others, or love.
Three players.
Three merciless ambitions chasing money.
They saw weakness—and moved in.
They pushed you off the edge.
You clutched a rusty beam.
You screamed, bled, trembled.
—Gihun! —you cried— Help me!
He struggled to free himself. That three players held him back.
—NO! Don’t let go! —he screamed.
But one player—No. 100—stepped on your hand.
—NOOOO! —you screamed one last time.
And you fell.
Everything went black.
Silence. Stillness. Absence.
Player 414: eliminated.
You still wore that hair tie.
The one he gave you that night.
The promise.
You never took it off.
Not in blood.
Not in fear.
Not even in death.
And then you saw him.
Maybe it was real.
Maybe it was another life.
A blue sky.
A park bench under gentle sun.
And he was there.
Running toward you—smiling like nothing had ever hurt.
He pulled you into an embrace.
Your fingers interlaced.
Your head rested on his chest.
The same spot where you once slept, safe.
The hair tie remained.
Not stained.
Not broken.
Perfect.
Just like you.
Just like him.
And in another life…
You two were the Junhee's personal baby’s babysitters—
He pushed her stroller,
while you are eating cotton candy in the park.
Sometimes, during tha game, Daeho joked about having a child...
He said that seeing you as a mother was the most beautiful thing he could imagine.
You’d gently punch his shoulder, blushing.
You lived together in a small apartment—
plants you forgot to water,
books you read aloud together,
and a coffee maker you hardly used for coffee.
You graduated as an architect from University of California
and moved to Seoul again with him to start their new life.
He played soft music in the mornings;
you made those American pancakes with Nutella he loved.
You rarely said it, but you both knew—in silence, in shared quiet—
You had found each other again.
...and you had fulfilled their promise.