Lieutenantbatshit - Kept You Waiting, Huh?

CHAPTER 15 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

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WARNING: 18+ content ahead. Read at your own risk.

——

The alley was silent, save for the slow dripping of water from a rusted pipe. The flickering neon sign of a half-abandoned pawn shop painted streaks of red across the pavement, casting an eerie glow over the lifeless body slumped against the grimy brick wall.

In-ho crouched down, his gloved fingers skimming the bloodstained fabric of the recruiter’s coat. The wound was deep — clean but ruthless. The work of someone who knew what they were doing. Someone driven by more than just desperation.

Someone like you.

His jaw tightened. Even in the dim light, he could make out the faint smudges of shoe prints leading away from the scene. The fight hadn’t been long. The recruiter never had a chance.

In-ho pulled out his phone, pressing it to his ear. “Clean it up,” he ordered, his voice cold and detached. “No traces.”

A curt response from the other end was received, then the line went dead. He pocketed the phone and straightened, his gaze sweeping the empty alleyway. The city was restless tonight— the streets hummed with distant car horns, the murmurs of late-night wanderers. But the shadows told him what he needed to know.

You were close, as if you were a ghost slipping through the cracks of the city, moving unseen, leaving only a trail of destruction in your wake.

He stepped out of the alley, his sharp eyes scanning the streets. Then, he saw her.

Jun-hee.

She stepped out of a nearby gas station’s convenience store, her figure framed against the glow of the automatic doors. She looked exhausted, dark circles smudging beneath her eyes, her hair slightly unkempt. But what caught his attention was the small bundle in her arms, wrapped in soft yellow fabric.

A baby.

His chest tightened. He lingered in the shadows, unseen as she adjusted the child in her arms, murmuring something softly before disappearing into the night. She thinks he was dead, and for the first time in years, that was an advantage.

In-ho remained in the shadows as he turned back to his car, slipping behind the wheel as he started the engine. He didn’t have time for her. He had more important things to find.

You.

The city stretched out before him, endless roads weaving like veins through the darkness. He drove without direction, relying on something deeper than logic — instinct and memory. He took long roads, passed by streets you used to walk, and places you used to go when you wanted to disappear. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, pulse steady but tense.

He knew you were running. But he also knew you were getting tired.

It wasn’t until he turned onto a quieter street, past dimly lit clubs and bars, that he found you. The bar was a rundown hole-in-the-wall. It was the kind of place that reeked of spilled alcohol, cigarette smoke, and bad decisions. Through the rain-streaked windshield, he saw you. Your head was thrown back, half-empty glass in hand, body slumped against the counter in a drunken mess. Even from the car, he recognized that recklessness, the barely contained fire burning in your veins.

In-ho sighed, pushing the door open. Your figure stilled recklessness, your posture feral like a wounded animal ready to lash out at anything that came too close. Your chair had been knocked over, glass shattered to the floor. Two men held you back, gripping your arms as you thrashed, trying to break free. The bartender looked wary, unsure whether to intervene.

“Let go of me!” Your voice was sharp, slurred but venomous.

“Calm down, lady,” one of the men sneered. “before you do something you regret.”

The moment your eyes met In-ho’s, something in it shifted. The rage, the fire— it was still there. But now, it burned with something else. The entire bar fell silent as in-ho stepped forward.

“Let her go,” he ordered. His voice was calm and cold — but final.

The two men hesitated, their grips tightening as they looked him up and down, sizing him up. In-ho rolled his eyes, pulling out a stack of cash, tossing it onto the counter.

“For the damages.”

The bartender’s eyes widened, nodding quickly before the two men finally released you, muttering curses under their breath as they backed away. In-ho stepped closer as your body wavered, your legs unsteady from the alcohol, and before you could fall, his hand caught your arm, steading you.

You flinched, your breath hitching at the touch. You managed to give him a glare despite your legs wobbling. “Let me go.”

He didn’t.

Instead, he guided you towards the exit, his grip firm but careful. The night air was cold against your flushed skin, and you sucked in a breath, trying to gather whatever scraps of sobriety you had left. But before you could twist free from his grasp, he opened the car door and ushered you inside.

“In-ho,” you murmured, his name falling from your lips like an accusation, more like a plea.

He didn’t answer. He simply closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. You slumped against the seat, eyes hazy, fists clenching at the leather beneath you. As he started the engine, he spared you a glance. “Let’s go.”

The tires rolled over wet pavement, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as he drove. And for the first time in six months, you weren’t running.

The hum of the car engine filled the silence between you, a low vibration that barely reached the surface of your awareness. Your head lolled against the window, the cool glass pressing into your burning skin. You were drunk — far beyond your usual limit — but the fight, the chaos, and the exhaustion had drained what little resistance you had left.

And then there was In-ho.

Sitting there, hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Not saying a word. Not asking you anything. Just existing beside you, like he had been pulled from some distant memory and placed into the present.

The weight of it settled over your shoulder.

Six months of running, of hiding, of fighting against the inevitability of his presence in your life. Six months of trying to forget him, only to realize that forgetting was impossible. He had burned himself into your bones, branded himself into the very structure of your being, and no amount of running could erase him.

The streetlights outside passed in soft glows, streaks of golden light washing over his face in fleeting moments. You watched him through heavy lids, tracing the sharp cut of his jaw, the shadows beneath his eyes, the way his lips pressed together in a firm line.

He had aged. Not in years, but in burdens. And maybe, just maybe, you were part of that weight.

A bitter chuckle slipped past your lips before you could stop it. In-ho’s gaze flicked toward you for the briefest second, sharp and assessing, before returning to the road. You tilted your head back against the seat, staring up at the car’s ceiling as the alcohol in your system dulled your inhibitions, loosening your tongue.

“You know…” Your voice slurred, thick with exhaustion and liquor. “I thought about killing you too.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he didn’t react.

You laughed, hollow and tired. “I did. I planned it in my head. What I would say and how I would do it. What I would feel when it was over,” you turned your head, meeting his gaze with half-lidded eyes. “But the problem is…”

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat.

The problem was that you couldn’t.

Because despite everything, despite the betrayal, the pain, the war that raged inside you every time you thought of him — he was still him. The boy who had once picked daisies for you, who gave you the paper ring, who memorized the constellations just so he could tell you stories about the stars, the one who taught you games, who had always found you, no matter how far you ran.

Your breath hitched, your vision blurring. Not from the alcohol, but from something much deeper, much more dangerous.

Your voice broke when you whispered, “I missed you.”

The words landed like a gunshot.

In-ho’s hands clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles going white. His breath faltered just for a moment, but it was enough. Enough for you to know that it hit him, that he had missed you too.

But he didn’t say anything. He just kept driving, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

You let out a soft sigh, a weary exhale as the weight of the night, the exhaustion, the emotions swirled into something too heavy to hold. Your body sagged against the seat, and before you could fight it, your eyelids drifted shut.

The last thing you felt was the car slowing, the warmth of the heater brushing over your skin, and the lingering presence of him. He was silent, unmovable, but he was there.

——

The weight of consciousness settled slowly, like a fog lifting from the shore. Your head throbbed with the unmistakable ache of a hangover, your body sluggish and warm beneath the silk sheets. A familiar scent lingered in the air — clean, crisp, and laced with something deeper, something that made your stomach twist before you even dared to open your eyes.

The air was thick with the distant hum of the ocean, waves crashing in a rhythmic lull. Then it hit you. The room, the sensation, the unsettling deja vu crawling up your spine.

You were back on the island.

Your eyes shot open, darting across the dimly lit room. The sleek black walls, the opulent yet sterile furnishings, the single glass of water resting on the bedside table. The weight of reality settled in your chest, heavier than the remnants of alcohol in your system. You swallowed, throat parched, reaching for the water with an unsteady hand. The cool liquid did little to ease the heat rising beneath your skin.

Then, the sound of water ceased. The bathroom door clicked open, steam rolling out in thick tendrils, curling into the room like ghosts of the past. Then, In-ho stepped out.

Fresh from the shower, his damp hair clung to his forehead, his expression unreadable, controlled as ever. A dark robe hung loosely over his broad shoulders, barely tied, revealing the lean muscles of his chest, the sharp lines of his collarbones. Water droplets traced slow, lazy paths down his skin, disappearing beneath the fabric that barely clung to his waist.

Your breath hitched. You should have been furious, should have screamed, thrown the glass against the wall, demanded why he had brought you back here of all places. But instead, you sat frozen, pulse hammering against your ribs, fingers gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white.

He didn’t speak at first. He simply stood here, watching you, his dark eyes scanning every inch of you, reading you as easily as he always had. And despite everything — the pain, betrayal, the war waging inside your heart — your body betrayed you.

You hated how easy it was for him to affect you. How, even now, after everything, he still had this power over you.

“In-ho…” your voice was hoarse, weak, a plea you didn’t mean to make.

He exhaled slowly, stepping forward. The air between you crackled, charged with something dangerous, something inevitable.

“You sad you missed me,” his voice was low and steady, but there was something else laced in it — something raw. “Do you still?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, to spit venom, to remind him of everything he had done. But the words never came. Because he was already there, standing over you, one knee pressing into the mattress as he leaned closer. The heat of his body seared into your skin, even through the thin sheets separating you.

In-ho’s hand found your jaw, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, and you trembled, but not from fear.

“You should hate me,” he murmured, and for the first time in a long time, there was something vulnerable in his expression. “Tell me you do.”

You didn’t.

And when he kissed you, you let him.

The moment his lips met yours, something inside you snapped. Anger, longing, grief, and something deeper — all of it collided as you reached for him, pulling down onto the bed. His robe slipped from his shoulders, pooling around his waist, exposing more of him to your hungry, desperate hands.

This wasn’t about forgiveness. It wasn’t about fixing what had been broken.

It was about claiming what was left.

And neither of you held back.

His hands roamed around your body as his tongue battled yours, fighting for dominance. His grip was tight, but not enough to hurt you. Though you felt his tongue licking your teeth, earning a moan from you as motioned his body on top of you. He slid your shorts down along with your underwear, pulling away from you to look at the view in front of him as you removed your shirt off, his eyes darkening with lust as he removed your bra.

He spread your legs apart, revealing your wet entrance. He looked into your eyes once more, his eyes asking for consent. You gave him a nod before he pulled himself down, his face down your wetness as he grabbed your legs, putting them over his shoulder, squeezing it. You held your breath and looked up, ready for what was coming next.

His tongue swirled around your clit, much to your pleasure. You couldn’t help but let out a moan, much to his liking as he worked his tongue faster. He entered into you with his tongue, sending more pleasure down your spine, gripping the sheets as you cried. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer against him as his tongue continued, feeling your insides clench.

“In-ho…” You moaned out. “I’m close.”

Just when you were about to, he stopped, earning a whimper from you as he pulled away, looking at you intently as he leaned forward. “I’m not done.”

His lips crashed against yours once again, desperate and hungry, swallowing the soft gasp that escaped you. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, the solid heat of his body pressing into yours. You melted into the kiss, fingers tangling in his damp hair, the scent of clean soap and something distinctly him flooding your senses.

His hands roamed your body like he was relearning every inch of you, like he had spent every second of your absence memorizing what it felt like to hold you. A broken sound escaped your lips as his mouth traced fire down your neck, nipping and soothing, eliciting shivers that curled deep into your stomach. His name slipped past your lips in a breathless plea, and it was all he needed to hear.

In-ho answered with touch, with heat, with devotion. Each movement was reverent, slow yet burning with a passion that threatened to consume you both whole. He slid his bathrobe away, not letting go of you as he bulged his shaft down to your entrance, your wetness making it easy for him to enter. His manhood fit perfectly onto you, his movement careful at first as you adjusted.

His thrusts were slow at first, but you were too impatient. You clung your fingernails to his back, leaning your head forward as you whispered to his ear, “Faster.”

And with that, he thrusted faster. Harder. You felt your breasts jiggle as he noticed, cupping one breast with his hand as he continued to thrust into you and held your waist as if it was a handle. You closed your eyes, feeling the sensation of pleasure around your body only for him to grab your jaw, much to your surprise. “Look at me.”

You didn’t waste time. You open them, locking your eyes with his as you see him look at you with lust all over his face, his breath hitching with low moans. He trusted harder, enough to feel your cervix as he let out a groan, like an animal ready to shed its beast.

“Fuck,” he groaned, continuing his thrust. “You feel so good, baby.” He leaned forward again to kiss you, his tongue battling for dominance as you whimpered through his mouth, much to his pleasure.

He worshipped you, whispered your name like a prayer as if you were something sacred, something he had lost and was afraid to lose again. You felt his grip on your waist tighten, feeling his pulse down much faster this time. You could also feel your insides clench once more as you moaned louder, holding back your climax.

In-ho seemed to sense this as he circled your clit with his finger which made your back arched. “Cum for me.”

The smell of sex and sweat filled the air as you let out a whimper, with In-ho continuing to look at you with lust, biting his lip as you came, but that didn’t stop his thrust into you. Your legs shivered, feeling your insides come with pleasure, the sensitivity of your clit unbearable.

And then, at last, he came into climax, pushing one last thrust onto you enough to reach your cervix, spilling all his cum inside as he let out a moan. His head was motioned upward, closing his eyes as you felt his juices inside you.

You both finally shattered, tangled together beneath the dim light of the room, pleasure washing over you in waves, you realized something else.

No matter how far you ran, how much you tried to fight it — you would always find your way back to him.

Because despite everything, you belonged to him. And he was yours.

——

The room was silent except for the lingering echoes of your shared breaths, the warmth of his body still seeping into yours. In-ho collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, his skin damp with sweat and satisfaction. The space between you felt heavy — not with regret, nor with shame, but with something deeper, something raw and unspoken.

Your fingers ghosted over your stomach as you lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. The heat of his presence was everywhere on your skin, in the sheets, in the very air you breathed. You turned your head to look at him, his profile sharp against the dim lighting of the room. His lips were parted, his expression unreadable as his chest slowly rose and fell.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. But then, the question, the one that had been burning inside you, finally escaped your lips.

“Why did you keep looking for me?”

In-ho didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, his fingers reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was softer than you expected, almost hesitant, as if he feared that you would slip away again if he wasn’t careful.

“Because you were never meant to disappear,” he murmured, his voice deep and quiet. His thumb traced along your jawline, a gesture so tender that it sent a shiver down your spine. “I thought I could move on. That you had made your choice, and I had to respect it. But everywhere I went, I saw you. I felt you. You haunted me, even when I tried to forget you.”

His eyes, dark and full of unspoken emotions, searched yours.

“I thought I had lost you forever,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t accept that. No matter where I looked, I always hoped I would find you waiting for me.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You had spent nights watching him from the shadows, knowing he had been looking for you, feeling that same pull but never daring to step forward. You had chosen exile and revenge. And yet, here you were, right where you had sworn never to return.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, until you finally whispered the question that had been haunting you since that day.

“Then why did you shoot me?”

In-ho’s body tensed beside you. His expression didn’t change, but you could see the way his fingers twitched slightly against the sheets.

“You could have killed me,” you continued, your voice barely above a breath. “You pulled the trigger, In-ho. Why?”

His jaw tightened. He exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering toward the ceiling before he finally turned back to you. “I had to,” he said, his voice controlled but laced with something deeper — regret and pain. “They wanted you dead.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t look away.

“I made a deal,” he continued, his fingers brushing over your wrist, as if grounding himself in your presence. “They saw you as a threat. The only way to prove my loyalty was to eliminate that threat. If I had refused, someone else would have done it. And they wouldn’t have stopped at a single bullet.”

A chill ran down your spine. “So, you—“

“I didn’t kill you,” he said firmly. “I made sure of it. The shot was meant to take you down, nothing more. It was the only way to buy time, to convince them that you were no longer a problem.”

Your fingers curled into the sheets. “And what was I supposed to do? Just lay there and bleed while you carried on with your life?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I was always going to come for you.” His hand slid to your waist, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “They gave me a choice,” he murmured. “Kill you or offer you something more.”

Your heart pounded. “And what was that?”

In-ho exhaled. “A place by my side,” he admitted. “If you had stayed, if you had chosen it… you wouldn’t have had to run.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, though it held no humor. “So, that’s what this was all about,” you muttered. “They wanted me to play their game. And you,” you swallowed, searching his gaze. “You wanted me to accept it.”

In-ho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I wanted you to live,” he corrected. “I still do.”

The weight of his words settled between you, heavy and unshakable. Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then, In-ho sighed and sat up, pulling you with him. “Come,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed. “I want to show you something.”

You hesitated before following, your legs still weak from exhaustion. He led you to a door on the far side of the room, pushing it open. The dim glow of the overhead lights illuminated a walk-in closet, spacious and meticulously organized.

At first, it seemed like nothing out of the ordinary. There were racks of suits in sharp, expensive cuts, neatly pressed dress shirts, an array of polished shoes lining the shelves. Everything was cold and precise, just as you would expect from a man like In-ho.

But then, your eyes drifted to the opposite side of the closet. You let out a small gasp.

It was yours.

Your clothes, perfectly arranged, as if you had never left. Dresses, coats, shoes — all in the styles and colors you used to favor. There were accessories, neatly placed in velvet-lined drawers. Even your perfume, the one scent you had stopped wearing long ago, rested on a mirrored tray as if waiting for you to pick it up again.

You took a shaky step forward, reaching out to touch the fabric of a coat you recognized from years ago. It wasn’t just new clothing, there were things from your past, things you had left behind. Trinkets, personal belongings, reminders of a life you had abandoned.

You turned to In-ho, your hands trembling at your sides. “What… what is this?” You asked.

He stood there, watching you with an expression that was impossible to read. His dark eyes flickered with anticipation. Finally, he spoke. “The organization was impressed,” he said, his voice even and deliberate. “Six months, and no one could find you. Not the recruiters. Not even me.” He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “You made yourself a ghost, slipping through cracks, killing off our men, leaving no trace but whispers in the streets. Do you know how rare that is?”

“They don’t see it as a threat?” You asked cautiously.

“They did,” In-ho admitted, tilting his head slightly. “At first. But then, they saw something else.”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“They saw potential,” he said. “The kind that can’t be trained, can’t be forced. You survived the games. You survived me. And then you disappeared into the world like you were never here.” He let the weight of his words settled before he continued. “So, they decided to make you an offer.”

“What kind of offer?”

In-ho exhaled slowly before stepping forward, closer than before. His hands slipped into his pockets as he studied you, as if gauging your reaction before saying the next words. “They want you to join the upper ranks,” he said. “Not just as another piece in their game, but as one of the overseers.”

Your breath hitched. “The overseers,” you echoed, as if saying the words aloud would make them more real.

“Yes.”

You searched his face for deception, but there was none. Just the cold, hard truth.

“You want me to accept it.”

In-ho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, fingers brushing against yours, a light touch that sent an unexpected shiver through your spine.

“You have nothing left out there,” he murmured. “You’ve been running for six months. And for what?” His thumb ghosted over your wrist, slow and deliberate. “You belong here.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “I belong nowhere,” you muttered.

“Then make this place yours,” he continued smoothly. “Take the power they’re offering you. No more running. No more hiding. No more being hunted.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking into your skin like ink spreading through paper.

For months, you had fought against this, against him, against the very thing he was offering you now. But you had seen the world outside. And all you found there was blood, loneliness, and an endless chase that led nowhere.

This was something else. This was control.

And so, after a long, heavy silence, you lifted your chin and met his gaze. Your lips parted, and the single word that left them sealed your fate. “Fine.”

For the first time in a long time, a ghost of smirk touched In-ho’s lips. “You won’t regret it,” he murmured.

You weren’t so sure about that. But it didn’t matter anymore.

Because once you go in, there’s no turning back.

——

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A/N: The more I write, the more ideas this series gives me. Expect more updates as I have the others drafted already, yay! 😅 Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

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CHAPTER 05 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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----

You sat back on the stairs, catching your breath. The first game shook you so much, you felt your legs weak as you walked back to the dormitory. The room was filled by silence, each player's regret and guilt evident on their faces, traumatized with what happened. You stared into space, contemplating your decisions in joining the games.

The alarm buzzed, the doors opening to reveal the masked guards. This time, they were equipped with guns. On instinct, you hid inside the bed frame, not caring if you felt someone's body at your back. Your eyes fixed on their guns, feeling scared as you trembled a bit. There was no way they could be shooting all of you here.

Instead, the same square-masked guard spoke up. "Congratulations for making it through the first game."

Congratulations? You nearly died in there. Were the lives of people so brittle in this place?

"Here are the results of the first game," the television displayed the remaining number of players, your eyes widened with the results. "Out of 456 players, 91 players have been eliminated."

You gasped, feeling your body drop at the back. But instead of feeling your body to the ground, someone held you enough for you to not fall. You quickly fixed yourself up, facing the man behind you. "Sorry. Didn't mean to."

He only looked at you coldly and gave you a small nod. You turned around to the TV again, seeing the numbers "365" displayed, meaning it was the total remaining players in this place.

"Congratulations again for making it through the first game," the square-masked guard said. But then, some of the players went down to their knees, brushing their hands together as a form of begging, pleading to not kill them, promising to pay their debts.

You almost did so as you tried to move down, only for the man behind you to hold your arm. You looked at him, shooting him a confused look. "Don't," he said, sounding more like a command.

You eyed his number, stating it was "001". You tilted your head at him, confused with the sudden concern. You removed your arm from his grip, noticing that he kept staring at you. Not just to your face, but to your eyes, as if studying them. You looked back at him, trying to examine his features. You tilted your head, trying to remember if you've seen him somewhere. To you, he looked similar to In-ho, but older at this time. Your eyes darted away when the guard start to speak again.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding," the square-masked guard said. "We are not trying to harm you. We are presenting you with an opportunity."

An opportunity at the expense of other players' lives? This was blood money. You didn't have a problem with money anyway, and you certainly wouldn't take something that would be at the expense of someone's life. You remembered a specific clause from the consent form, as you spoke up and moved your way down.

"Clause three of the consent form!" You shouted, earning silence from the crowd. "The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Correct?"

The square-masked guard turn to you. "That is correct."

"Then let us take a vote right now," you heard 456 say, looking at you as he gave you a nod, thanking you in a way for bringing it up.

"Of course," the guard replied. "We respect your right to freedom of choice." You hear the players sigh in relief, only to be interrupted by the guard again. "But first, let me announce the prize amount that's been accumulated." He clicked on the remote and pointed to the piggy bank, seeing stashes of money dropping inside.

You could see the glow of faces from the other players, as if their worries had gone away. You knew this tactic, pulling out for every player to see the prize money to affect their vote. You were a marketing person - you knew how to sway people with your words, given your extensive background in sales. The players were being manipulated, but there was a truth attached to it.

You pieced it together, realizing that the players who were drowned in debts are given a last chance to survive and win the prize. The system only gave them the opportunity to do so, accounting the fact that their lives were nothing but meaningless with their own decisions. This was a test for humanity, its greed, and how humans had the tendency to do anything just to rise to the top, no matter the consequences.

"The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91. Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated," the guard explained. "If you quit the games now, the 365 of you can equally divide the 9.1 billion won and leave with your share."

"How much is that?" Player 100 asked.

"Each person's share would be 24,931,500 won."

"Twenty million?" Player 230 asked in disbelief. "You said 45.6 billion!"

You were taken aback, your thoughts clearly being proven by the players. "Greed," you muttered. You felt a movement beside you, seeing Player 001 looking at you as if listening to what you were going to say. "The fact that they were more concerned with the prize money than the lives of people taken away indicates how humanity is about to reach its doom."

You looked up to 001, waiting for a response. Instead, you saw his eyes light up, as if he was agreeing to what you said. You couldn't help but feel your eyes lingered to him more, his features oddly familiar to you as if you've seen them before already.

"If you wish to continue the games, press the O button. If you wish to end them, press the X button," the guard instructed. You and 001 made your way down the stairs, gathering to the crowd. "The vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers."

Player 456.

It was the man who guided everyone to safety, well not everyone, but most of everyone who survive. You were shot up by the so-called Shaman player, ignoring her remarks as you watched 456 walk towards the buttons.

The red light shone in front, indicating that he has pressed X. You noticed the guard giving him an X patch, placing it to his tracksuit. You say 456 stare at everyone before walking to the X side.

"Once you finish voting, put the patch you are given on the right side of your chest and stand on the side you have chosen," the guard instructed.

Player 454.

Your heart started to beat fast, hoping she would press the X button. You just wanted to leave this place. You didn't work hard all your life just to die playing children's games.

Just as you thought you got what you wanted, a blue light shone on 454's face, indicating that she pressed the O button. You cursed quietly, your thoughts being proven more by 454 about human greed.

At this point, you closed your eyes, not wanting to see the results. You sat down, trying to not tremble but you were shaking heavily. Never did you expect in your life to be terrified of a button clicking, beeping as each result showed in the TV.

You heard 456 shout again, catching everyone's attention. "Wait a minute, everyone! You can't do this. Come to your senses! Don't you see?" He cried out. "These aren't just any games. We will all die if we keep playing! We have to get out of there now. With a majority vote, we can! We must stop here!"

You breathed a sigh of relief, at least there was one person who were able to contradict your thoughts on human greed.

"Who do you think you are? Why do you keep egging people on like that?" Player 100 shouted back, disappointment plastered all over your face. Just as you were trying to get your hope back to humanity, there's always one person who ruins everything. "You scared us by saying they'd shoot us before the game even began!"

"That's right!" Another player exclaimed. "He was going on about how we'd die, and I almost did because I got so nervous!"

You scoffed, not believing whatever you were hearing. Sure, it was stressful during the games, but putting the blame on someone else who was just trying to save everyone was a harsh blow.

The thing is, how did 456 know that the place was going to shoot the players down? Could he be one of them? Was he pretending to be a player? If anything, you were the one pretending to be in debt, as if it was your last chance in this life to join the games.

The banters continued as you start to feel overwhelmed, as if you were about to hyperventilate. You work well under pressure all your life, but we're talking about people's lives being taken from her in just a snap, for simply losing a game. These were the kind of stuff you only watch in movies.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, its thumb touching it in circles as if to comfort. Weirdly enough, you calmed down a bit. You remembered how In-ho would do the same before when your parents used to scold you for going home late, all because you kept on hanging out with the brothers. Or when you would scratch your knee as you ran down the neighborhood, with him holding your shoulders for you to stay still as your eomma aided your wounds.

You looked to your left, seeing 001 who was doing it to you. He only looked to the front, watching the commotion. You studied him more, his jawline clenched enough to form a sharp line. His hair was brushed down, perfectly neat up nearing his eyebrows. If anything, he looked close to In-ho.

Wait, what?

"I played the games here three years ago!" You heard 456 shout, the frustration evident in his face. "And everyone who was with me... died here."

All of them? You asked to yourself. If he played them before, then he was the winner. That makes him win the prize money. If that's the case, then how come he's back here again? Was the 45.6 billion won not enough?

You looked up to 001, seeing as though he was enjoying the commotion. His posture remained calm, his hand still on your shoulder as his thumb continued to rub into yours in circles. You would've swatted his hand away, but there was something in his touch that seemed comforting, and you didn't want to feel yourself tremble once again.

You noticed a guard approaching 456, pointing the end of the gun at him on his back. "Everyone," the square-masked guard's voice echoed through the room. "From here on, we will not tolerate actions that disrupt the voting process." 456 raised both of his hands in surrender, the guard lowering down his gun. "Now, let's resume the vote."

You felt 001's hand away from your shoulder, as he watched intently to the voting process. As the voting progresses, the chants from each other sides echoed through the room, in attempt to influence the players' voting preference.

At last, it was your turn. You looked directly at the buttons, averting your gaze from everyone who seemed to watch your every move as you walked. You looked at the scoreboard, your heart beating fast as you see the current results. An almost tie, X being 181, O being 182.

You looked at the buttons in front of you, each waiting for your decision. If you voted for O, the games will likely continue. You could feel the stares from behind you, crawling to your insides. But then, you've already made up your mind.

You were more than ready to leave this hellhole. Your hands hovered to the X button, pressing it as the red light shone to your face, earning a cheer from the X team. The guard handed you the X patch as you placed yours on your tracksuit, walking over the X team side.

X - 182, O - 182

You see 001 walking towards the buttons as you held your breath, hoping for him to press the X button. Cheers of O and X echoed through the room, and you couldn't help but join the chant. You see 001's eyes fixed on the platform as if he knew what to press already. It was now up to his hands the fate of the players. Only one way in or out.

The silence fell from your team as you see the blue light shine on 001's face, the O team rejoicing.

X - 182, O - 183

001 turned around slowly, looking through the crowd coldly, his eyes almost dark and empty. This time, he looked more than similar to the boy you knew years ago before you parted, seeing his eyes stare at yours.

"No," you shook your head in disbelief, almost hyperventilating. This couldn't be.

In-ho.

This couldn't be In-ho. He would never put himself in a position to do so. He always did the right thing, seeing the goodness in others before himself. He would never be so greedy to win blood money, when he decided to serve and protect the people of Seoul.

Yet his look was more than enough to send shivers down your spine, bringing you back to how he held your shoulders earlier, one that In-ho always did, and only ever did.

----

A/N: I hope you like how I added some of the reader's thoughts. I wanted to bring Sangwoo's personality to the reader, who seemed to analyze their choices first that gives them an advantage throughout this series. ✨ Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged on the next chapter! ✨

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TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s (p.s. if i forgot to tag you, please let me know)

CHAPTER 16 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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WARNING: 18+ content ahead. Read at your own risk.

——

The dress fit like a second skin.

The silky fabric hugged your frame, every seam meticulously designed to highlight the slopes and curves of your body. Black as the midnight sea, the gown shimmered subtly beneath the dim, golden lights, catching on the angles of your hips as you shifted. The slit along your leg teased just enough bare skin to stir something dangerous in the air.

You traced your fingertips along the smooth material, feeling the delicate weight of it drape over you like liquid shadow. It felt expensive and… powerful. Like something meant for a woman who could command an entire room with a single glance.

You swallowed hard. This was not the version of yourself you once knew.

The past and present clashed inside you as you stared at your reflection. This wasn’t the same woman who had stepped into the games, trembling at the unknown. She had died the moment she was betrayed, died at the hands of the very man who had set all of this into motion.

And yet, here you were. In his world again.

The door behind you clicked open. Even without turning around, you could feel the shift in the air — the slow, burning warmth that accompanied his presence, filling every inch of the room like an intoxicating mist. The faint scent of cedarwood and smoke curled around you, familiar and unmistakably his.

In-ho didn’t speak right away. Instead, silence stretched between you that weighed. You could feel his gaze roaming over you, mapping every curve the dress accentuated.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

His voice was lower than usual, rough with something dark and restrained. A slow shiver trickled down your spine. You turned just enough to meet his gaze, and the sight of him sent something sharp and molten through your chest.

His eyes told you everything.

The intensity there made your breath catch — the dark, smoldering, filled with a hunger that had been starved for too long. He looked at you like a man standing on the edge, barely holding himself back from the fall.

“Is it too much?” You asked, feigning innocence.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but there was no amusement in it. Only something ravenous. “Too much?” His voice was a whisper of smoke. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, closing the distance between you inch by inch.

Then, his fingers reached out, knuckles ghosting over the bare skin of your shoulder before tracing down the length of your arm. His touch was featherlight, but it burned, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Then, he tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to look at him fully.

“You look—“ his voice caught for a fraction of a second, the muscles in his jaw tightening as his thumb brushed over your lower lip. His eyes darkened, something flickering beneath them. “Dangerous.”

And then, without another word, he kissed you. It was deep and desperate, like he had been waiting years for this moment, like he was drowning and you were the only thing keeping him afloat.

His hands found your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric as he pulled you against him. Your bodies fit together seamlessly, your curves molding against the hard planes of his form as his lips moved against yours with bruising intensity. His was deep and consuming — each movement demanding and desperate, like he was trying to carve himself into your very soul.

Your fingers found the lapels of his coat, gripping the fabric as his tongue brushed against yours, drawing a quiet moan from your lips. He drank it in, pulling you impossibly closer. Your back hit the cool surface of the vanity as he pressed you against it, his lips never leaving yours, his fingers skimming down your spine.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he deepened it further, his tongue parting your lips, tasting you, drinking in the soft, shuddering sigh that escaped you. His hands slid down your waist, gripping you possessively, as though he feared you would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

The heat of his touch burned through the silk of your dress, his fingers trailing over the fabric before slipping beneath the slit at your thigh, skin meeting skin. Your body reacted instantly, a sharp gasp caught between your lips as his fingertips traced higher, teasing you.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and edged with need. “Bend over for me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine.

You barely had the chance to respond before he pulled away and turned you around, his strength effortless as he bent you over to the closest surface — the sleek marble counter of the vanity. The cool stone bit into the warmth of your arms as he settled between them, his hands roaming, mapping, owning every inch of exposed skin.

He lifted your dress up, only to find that you’ve gone commando. You heard him let out a deep sigh. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

“Then don’t make me wait any longer.”

A dangerous smirk plastered across In-ho’s lips as he unbuckled his belt, hearing his pants come down as he positioned himself to your entrance, already wet. “As you wish.”

He thrusts into you deep, earning a whimper from you. His hands squeezed your butt cheeks, each thrust corresponding with the sound of slaps as he felt you in, much to your pleasure. He gripped on your waist like a handle, lifting his other leg on a chair as he thrusts into you more, your breasts pressing against the surface as you moved.

You aligned yourself to him, giving it back, which earned a groan from him, stopping his thrusts as he let you work on him. You turned your head to him from behind, seeing his head up in the air as his eyes closed, savoring each pleasure as you continued to ride him from behind, biting your lip as you felt his shaft reach your cervix, hitting the right spots.

The heat was unbearable. The feeling of him inside you, the scent, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours — it was dizzying. And in that moment, nothing else existed. No past. No games. Just him and you, too focused on the pleasure building within these walls.

In-ho’s fingers dragged down to your cheeks, his breath hitching as he continued to thrust. His eyes devoured the sight of you, dark and smoldering with hunger as he met yours. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above your shoulder. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, pressing a slow, reverent kiss along the slope of your shoulders. “Every inch of you… mine.”

He bit his lip once more as you moaned, hearing your satisfaction which made him thrust harder. His other moved to your shoulder, hammering you further as he groaned.

“You’re breathtaking,” his voice was filled with awe. “Every inch of you… so beautiful.”

He didn’t stop, much to your liking. You pulled him closer, your hands reaching for his waist taking it as a sign for him to go further. His breaths continued to hitch as he realized what you were doing, earning a moan from him.

“I need you,” he admitted, his voice raw, almost vulnerable. “More than anything. More than I should.”

“Then take me,” you whispered.

And he did.

“Fuck,” he groaned as his thrusts became harder and faster. “I’m cumming.”

“Please,” you whimpered.

He thrusts one last time, his pace stopping as you felt him cum inside you. Your insides felt the warm juices he let out, much as your insides clenched as you reached your climax too. You let out one last moan before he pulled out, feeling your heart pound through your chest.

The warmth of his body still lingered against yours, his breath slow and steady as he lay beside you, one arm lazily draped over your waist, as if afraid if you would slip away the moment he let go.

After a few minutes, he began to move, sliding your dress down and fixing it. You stood up and straightened yourself, turning around and seeing him fix his pants, zipping it up as he buckled his belt once again. When he was done, his fingers traced mindlessly traced patterns along the curve of your hip, his touch featherlight yet possessive. You turned your head to meet his gaze, catching the way his dark eyes softened as he studied you. He looked almost… at peace. A rare sight for a man like him.

He held your hand as he led you out of the closet, stepping out of the bedroom as your eyes widened slightly. The living quarters were nothing like you remembered. The sterile, minimalist design had been completely transformed.

The living room now boasted deep leather furniture, dark marble accents, and walls lined with bookshelves filled with carefully selected literature. The kitchen had been expanded, outfitted with sleek, top-of-the-line appliances, and an elegant dining area stood just beyond it. There was even a glass bar stocked with premium whiskey and aged wines.

Your fingers trailed along the polished black marble countertop, taking in the sheer luxury of it all. This wasn’t just a place to stay — it was a place of power.

“I take it you like it?”

You turned to find In-ho standing behind you, fully dressed in his signature black attire, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“This wasn’t here before,” you said, your voice carrying a note of suspicion.

“That’s because it wasn’t. This is the overseer’s private residence,” his eyes glimmered with warmth. “Our private residence.”

You managed to make a small smile, though you couldn’t deny his words settled over you like a weight. Before you could say anything, In-ho motioned for you to follow him, leading you to the elevator down to the management area.

For hours, In-ho guided you through the intricacies of your new role, showing you each room of the organization. He taught you the protocols, the meticulous rules that governed the games, the chain of command, and the delicate balance of power that had to be maintained.

He walked you through security measures, how to control the masked men, how to issue commands with precision, and how to wield fear without the need to raise your voice. And most importantly, he taught you how to make the hard choices.

“The games are not just about entertainment,” he explained as you stood in front of a large screen displaying various surveillance feeds. “They are about control. Order. Equality. Without structure, the world falls into chaos.”

His voice was calm and methodical, but you could sense the weight behind his words — the years he had spent becoming what he was now. You listened carefully, absorbing everything, but deep down, you wondered if you would ever be able to see it the way he did.

After what felt like an eternity, In-ho finally motioned for you to follow him again. “There’s one last thing I need to show you.”

He led you down a long hallway, stopping in front of a set of heavy double doors. You held on to your mask, feeling the heat behind it. Without a word, he pushed them open, revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond.

At the center stood a tall figure, dressed in a sleek black uniform, a mask covering his face, the one you’ve seen before — the mask of the Frontman. The figure turned slightly at your approach, his stance relaxed yet authoritative. Then, he spoke, his voice carrying an eerie familiarity.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

You stiffened. Something about the way he said it, the tone, the cadence. Your breath hitched as he slowly lifted his hands, pulling the mask away.

And there, standing before you, was someone you never expected to see again.

“Surprised?”

You couldn’t speak as your mind raced, trying to process what you were seeing, but no explanation made sense.

How?

Why?

What the hell happened to him?

You turned to In-ho, searching for answers, but he simply watched you with quiet intensity, as if waiting for your reaction.

“I have to admit,” the frontman murmured, his voice almost taunting. “I never thought I’d see you here.”

“Gi-hun,” you started, stepping forward, but his expression darkened.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he cut in, his tone sharp enough to make you pause. “Not when you’ve made your choice.”

The weight of everything — your past, the games, the choices you had made — came crashing down on you all at once. You had been ready to embrace your new role.

But now? You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

Your fingers twitched slightly at your sides, though whether it was from unease or the remnants of last night’s indulgence, you weren’t sure. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier.

Gi-hun stood before you, no longer the man you once knew. His hair was still the same, yet he had grown slightly, falling messily around his face. The tired desperation you last saw in his eyes had been replaced by something sharper, something calculated.

A man molded by survival. A man who had seen the truth and had chosen to become part of it.

Your throat was dry, but you forced yourself to speak. “How?”

Gi-hun’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but not quite a sneer. “You mean how I became the frontman?” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, as if amused by the irony of it all. “You already know the answer.”

Your gaze flickered to In-ho, who remained quiet, his expression unreadable. Gi-hun followed your glance and chuckled. “Of course, he hasn’t told you everything, has he?”

Gi-hun took another step closer, and this time, there was no mistaking the anger beneath his gaze. “Do you know what I realized after the rebellion?” His voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “That there is no ‘winning’ in the games. Not really.”

You swallowed.

“I tried,” he continued, his jaw tightening. “I tried to fight back, to take them down. But you don’t fight something like this without becoming a part of it. And when I had the choice…” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I took it.” He looked up at you then, truly looked at you, and there was something almost resigned in his gaze. “Just like you did.”

You clenched your fists. “I didn’t—“

“But you did,” he interrupted. “You let him find you. You let him bring you back here.”

Your stomach twisted again, but before you could say anything, In-ho finally spoke. “She didn’t come back to be questioned,” his voice was calm, but there was an undeniable edge to it. “She came back to take her place.”

Gi-hun scoffed. “Her place?” He turned back to you, tilting his head slightly. “So, tell me, is that what this is? Have you decided to become part of the machine too?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Gi-hun stepped even closer, his voice dropping. “Tell me, when they made their offer, did they promise you power? Control? A way to make sure the games run fairly?” His mouth twitched. “Or did he tell you it was the only way to survive?”

You clenched your jaw. “I don’t expect you to understand,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “Not yet.”

Gi-hun exhaled sharply through his nose, his smile humorless. “No,” he murmured. “I suppose I don’t.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with too many unspoken things. Then, just as you thought the conversation was over, Gi-hun leaned in slightly, his next words barely above a whisper.

“When the time comes, and they ask you to prove your loyalty, what will you do?”

A chill ran down your spine. You knew exactly what he was asking.

And you didn’t have an answer.

Not yet.

The silence between you and Gi-hun stretched long enough that the weight of it settled deep in your bones. He was waiting — waiting for an answer you weren’t sure you could give.

You felt In-ho’s presence beside you, steady and unwavering. Yet there was something almost expectant in the way he stood, as if he was waiting to see what you would say,

Your fingers twitched at your sides, realizing that Gi-hun was right. The games had no winners — only survivors. And here you stood, standing in the space between the two men who had survived alongside you — one who had risen to control it, and the other who had surrendered himself to it.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you finally said, your voice even.

Gi-hun let out a soft breath, almost in disbelief. “I suppose you don’t,” his eyes then flickered over to In-ho. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t regret this.”

The threat in his voice was subtle, but it was there. In-ho shifted slightly, just enough of his shoulder to brush against yours — a silent reminder of where you stood. “Are you done?” He asked, his tone calm but firm.

Gi-hun held his gaze for a long moment before exhaling sharply. He stepped back, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the invisible tension. “For now.”

Then, without another word, he turned away, striding toward the door. You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until it closed behind him. The silence left in his wake was thick and suffocating.

You felt In-ho’s gaze on you before you turned to meet it. “You don’t have to let him get inside your head,” he murmured.

You felt a lump in your throat. “He’s not wrong though.”

In-ho’s jaw tightened, but he paused for a while. Instead, he reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours with quiet uncertainty. “You made your choice,” he said. “Now, you see it through.”

You weren’t sure if that was meant to reassure or warn you.

——

The following weeks were grueling yet fulfilling.

In-ho wasted no time in thrusting you into the depths of the organization, stripping away any illusion that this was anything less than a meticulously crafted empire. You learned the structure, the power dynamics, and the unspoken rules that dictated every move behind the curtains. And more than anything, you learned how to become something else entirely.

In-ho didn’t go easy on you. If anything, he was harsher than you expected, demanding precision, discipline, and complete detachment. Yet he was like that during the day, but completely different when the training was over. You understood that he needed to do it.

Still, you played your part well. It became your nature — the way you stood, the way you spoke, the way you carried yourself. The mask you wore became seamless, indistinguishable from the person you once were. This was the life you accepted, the life they had given you. You were at the top — you just had to figure out how long you can survive it.

The new season of the game came by quickly. This time, it had a new set of rules, and new players. The games had changed, and so did the players. This time, it was less cruel, but enough to make a person inside the game to go crazy and desperate. All in the test of human greed and the true unraveling of human nature — just like how you saw it in the past game you were in.

Gi-hun stood before you, his face unreadable, the mask of the Frontman now absent but its presence still lingering in the air between you. He had taken In-ho’s old position, and in a cruel twist of fate, you had taken his place as someone trapped within the very system he had once tried to dismantle.

And then, there was In-ho — calm, composed, the ever-calculating overseer. His expression betrayed nothing, but you knew him well enough to recognize the quiet weight behind his silence.

“You’re late,” In-ho said evenly, stepping forward near In-ho with measured grace. “The new games are already being prepared.”

Gi-hun smirked. “I’m not here for the games.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. Then why was he here?

In-ho watched him carefully. “Then what do you want?”

Gi-hun exhaled slowly, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You know exactly what I want, In-ho.”

He turned his gaze to you and something flickered in his expression. Your grip on your own mask tightened. “You can’t expect me to believe you came all the way back here just to see me.”

Gi-hun’s smirk faltered slightly, but he didn’t deny it. Yet you wondered why was he invested in you, why you were his… target. You were gone for six months — what could you have possibly done? Was it because you chose to hide? Did you ruin the rebellion?

The three of you stood in a delicate balance, a triangle of power where no one truly had the upper hand. Gi-hun had the experience of a player — the raw survival instincts of someone who had clawed his way out of hell and returned stronger. While In-ho had the control, the authority, the understanding of the system. The calculated mind of a man who had long abandoned morality for necessity.

And you? You were the variable. The piece neither of them could fully control that made you the most dangerous of them all.

“Whatever your reason is, Gi-hun,” you said carefully, stepping closer. “It doesn’t change the fact that you put yourself back in their hands. You think they’ll let you walk out of this a second time?”

Gi-hun chuckled, much to your surprise as he shook his head. “You think I care?”

That caught you off guard, knowing he meant it. Gi-hun had nothing to lose and that made him a threat to both you and In-ho. The silence stretched between the three of you, a cold realization settling over the room.

This wasn’t just about the games anymore. This was about control — none of you were willing to give it up.

You and In-ho stood in the control room, overseeing the first round unfold through a wall of monitors. The massive, sterile space was silent, except for the occasional flicker of radio chatter and the quiet hum of the surveillance equipment. Below, the contestants — new players, all wide-eyed and trembling — were led into the first game. The tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate. You watched them shift nervously on their feet, eyes darting around the colossal playground. They didn’t know yet or understand.

Then, the crack of gunfire came. The first round of eliminations. Bodies collapsed like ragdolls, blood soaking into the sand. The screams echoed against the walls of the arena. You remained impassive, even as In-ho glanced at you from behind his mask. This was your first official trial as an Overseer. Would you flinch? Would you hesitate?

But you didn’t. You simply stepped forward, your gaze fixed on the screen. The moment of hesitation in your chest had passed. As the game continued, you excused yourself from the control room. In-ho let you go without a word, his trust in you silent but absolute.

Your heels clicked against the pristine white floors as you made your way down the winding halls of the facility, your long cat flowing behind you. The organization had spared no expense in making sure the island remained impenetrable, a well-oiled machine that would continue to devour the desperate and the damned.

You tried to ignore the slight dizziness that washed over you as you walked, the strange wave of nausea that had crept up on you over the past few days. Brushing it off, you steadied yourself with a hand against the wall, forcing yourself to breathe evenly. It was nothing — just the stress and exhaustion. Nothing more.

Eventually, your path led you to the lower levels — the organ harvesting room.

The air was thick with the stench of chemicals and decay. Metal tables were lined with bodies, each corpse stripped and gutted with surgical precision. The underground trade had continued, a secret that the organization pretended not to notice.

You stepped forward, weaving through the dimly lit space, and then you heard a sound. A wet, grotesque noise. A sickening squelch of movement.

Your stomach turned before your brain even fully processed what you were seeing.

A guard — one of the masked enforcers. He was hunched over a lifeless body, his gloved hands gripping at cold flesh, his breath ragged and frenzied. The corpse beneath him was unmoving, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. The guard didn’t even notice you at first, too lost in whatever twisted pleasure he was indulging in.

You felt the rage, pure seething rage coiled inside you, dark and boiling. The guard barely had time to turn his head before your pistol was drawn, the barrel pressed against the back of his skull. “Disgusting fuck,” you hissed.

He didn’t even have time to beg.

The gunshot rang out, deafening in the enclosed space. His body slumped forward, his own blood staining the lifeless flesh beneath him. You didn’t move for a long moment, your grip tight around the handle of your gun. Your heart was pounding — not out of feat or shock. Just out of unfiltered disgust.

Slowly, you exhaled and stepped back, holstering your weapon. The other guards in the room had frozen, staring at you in stunned silence. None of them dared to move.

“Dispose of this trash,” you ordered coldly, nodding toward the body of the disgraced guard. “And if I catch any of you doing the same…” You let the threat linger, your voice sharp as a blade. “You’ll wish I killed you this easily.”

The guards scrambled to obey, dragging the corpse away with frantic urgency. You lingered for a moment longer, staring down at the mess of bodies, the grotesque remnants of human lives reduced to nothing more than profit.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and left the room, but that nausea returned, a sharp tug in your gut. You barely made it to the nearest empty hallway before doubling over, your breaths shallow.

You swallowed hard. No, it couldn’t be. You refused to entertain the thought, the possibility. Not now. Not here.

But deep down, you already knew. You had felt it lingering in the back of your mind for days. You pressed a hand to your stomach, fingers trembling slightly. You were showing signs — signs you couldn’t ignore forever. But now, you pushed the thought away, straightened yourself, and walked back into the shadows.

——

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A/N: I'm debating on whether I'll end this series for only 20 chapters or extend it for more. 🤔 More ideas come into my mind whenever I finish writing so we'll see how this goes. 👀 Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged in the next chapter! ✨