Lieutenantbatshit - Kept You Waiting, Huh?

hii!! i was wondering if you'd be interested in writing a young inho x reader, something fluffy, maybe like a university!au where the reader and inho are both training for police, and they go from meet ugly to lovers?? nothing too long, just a short little au!!

all up to you if you'd like to pick this up!! love ur current series btw

my kind of distraction (hwang in-ho x reader)

Tags: university!au, inho x reader, enemies to lovers, young in-ho, fluff

Summary: You first meet In-ho at a convenience store, unbeknownst to you that he was also party of the police academy you were training for. On your first day of training, you meet In-ho again and think of him as someone who's arrogant during trainings, as he would criticize you whenever you were partnered with him. Over time, you found yourself looking forward to your trainings together. And when you successfully anticipated his next move, for the first time in a while, he smiled.

A/N: I know I used a Mr. Sunshine GIF for this AU, but it's the perfect scenario of what I pictured in my head. I'm sorry this took awhile as I am still grieving over my father, but here it is! 🫡

----

The fluorescent light cast a stark, sterile glow over neatly stacked shelves, the faint beep of the cashier scanning items, and the quiet hum of refrigerators lined with colorful drinks. As you entered the convenience, the smell of instant noodles, cheap coffee, and something fried from the food warmer near the counter reached your nose.

The ground beneath your feet was steady, yet it felt as if you’re walking on air, one breath away from something bigger than your grasp. You took a big step out of your comfort zone, entering the police academy with no connections - just pure luck. For the past few days, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you made a great choice, that it was enough. Enough to prove the fear doesn’t get to hold you back. That growth isn’t meant to be comfortable. 

You sighed as you grabbed an instant ramen on the shelf, with a soda in a can at hand. You had to eat something, at least. The nervousness in taking it all by yourself, taking control of your life, was starting to get to you. At least, in this way, you felt normal.

You didn’t notice him at first. Not until you round the corner of an aisle, trying to get to the cashier, and see him standing by the refrigerated section.

Tall. Composed. Effortlessly self-assured in a way that feels almost deliberate. 

He doesn’t look around, doesn’t hesitate in his movements. His fingers graze over a row of canned coffee, seeing it labeled as Americano as he plucked one off the shelf with a kind of precision that suggests he does this often. There’s an air of distance about him, something cold and untouchable, like he exists in a space just slightly apart from everyone else. 

Even as another customer brushes past him, murmuring a quiet sorry, he doesn’t acknowledge it, doesn’t shift, doesn’t react. He simply steps back as if it’s expected, as if the world should move around him rather than the other way around. The cool blue light of the fridge highlights the sharp angles of his face. You shook your head, an attempt to shake him away from your thoughts as you noticed yourself staring. He hasn’t noticed you yet. Or maybe he has, and he just doesn’t care. 

And then, as if sensing your stare, he lifts his gaze and meets yours.“You see something you like?” He said, voice low and edged with a quiet arrogance. 

You snapped away from your thoughts immediately as you felt your throat tighten, caught between embarrassment and irritation. 

You open your mouth, ready with a sharp retort, but then he turned away. He walked past you without a glance, the scent of coffee and something clean lingering in the air as he passed. It should be unremarkable, just another fleeting moment in a late-night store. 

But something about him stays with you. You don’t know why yet.

Not yet, anyway.

But one thing’s for sure - that annoyed you more than anything else.

——

The universe had other plans. The kind of plan that didn’t think of you, that didn’t care for your feelings. 

“Hwang In-ho.”

You snapped your head up just in time to see him forward as you stood in formation on your first day of training at the police academy, listening to the instructor call out partner assignments. You nearly feel your stomach drop as you see him, the man you met at the convenience store.

He was composed as ever, his expression still unreadable. 

“And you,” the instructor continues, turning toward you. “You’ll be working with him.”

Your gaze stayed still, trying not to show any emotion from what you felt from your first encounter with Hwang In-ho. You avoided his faze as he walks over to stand beside you; something flickers across his face. A moment of quiet recognition.

His eyes drag over you as if to assess you, tilting his head a bit. Then, he let out a quiet chuckle.

“You again,” he murmured, just low enough that only you can hear. 

You straighten your shoulders, trying not to let his arrogance under your skin. “Guess you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

In-ho smirked, his gaze lingering longer before he looked ahead again, completely at ease. “Try to keep up.”

For the past few months, you trained with In-ho. As much as you wanted to think of him as your equal, you can’t help but feel the rivalry between you two. Beside you, In-ho was already prepared, his stance immaculate, and his confidence radiated like an invisible force. 

The sound of boots scraped against the floor echoed in the small, sparse room. You and In-ho stood in the center. The air was thick with anticipation, and despite the calm exterior, you could feel the adrenaline humming through your veins. Today’s training was all about speed and precision - drawing the weapon fast enough to stop a threat before it had a chance to react.

In-ho had already settled into his stance, the gun at his side, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the space like he could already predict what would happen next. His usual cocky smirk was there, though this time, it had a sharper edge to it.

“You ready to keep up?” In-ho asked, his voice almost mocking.

“Just don’t slow me down,” you replied. You tried to ignore the way his words grated against you. You knew he was trying to test you. Drawing the weapon wasn’t just about speed - it was about control, about making every move count without wasting time. 

In-ho turned his head, his eyes glinting with that same arrogant fire. “You should be thanking me for this. You’ll never get this fast on your own.”

You clenched your jaw but didn’t respond. It wasn’t worth it. You knew what you needed to do.

“Go.”

Your fingers shot to the grip of the gun, a smooth, practiced motion - except it wasn’t quite smooth enough. Your hand fumbled slightly at first, a split-second delay in pulling the gun free, and that split-second was enough for In-ho to draw your gun away.

In-ho lowered his gun with a grin, his voice dripping with that all too familiar smugness. “You might want to work on that. A slow draw will get you killed before you even start.”

You felt the heat of frustration surge in your chest, but you swallowed it down. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, he was right. Yet you didn’t want to lose this time. 

“Let’s do it again,” you said, steadying your breathing.

In-ho gave you a cocky nod, clearly entertained. “Fine. But don’t take too long. I wouldn’t want you to waste all my time.”

You took a step closer, not missing a beat. “Oh, I’m sure you’d love to waste more time on me,” you teased, leaning in just enough for him to notice the playful glint in your eyes. “But I think you’re already getting a little distracted.”

In-ho’s expression faltered for a moment, his usual confidence slipping as he caught the shift on your tone. His eyes lingered on you, just a fraction longer than what was considered normal, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of something else behind his gaze. 

At that moment, you knew you caught him off guard.

In-ho’s expression shifted, his confidence momentarily shaken as he cleared his throat. “You think you can distract me that easily?” A tight chuckle escaped from his lips.

You shrugged with a smirk. “I’m sure you can handle it. But I think you might be a little more… interested in what I can do.”

In-ho’s lips twitched, fighting back a smile. For a second, you could see him caught between his usual arrogance and the curiosity that had crept up into his eyes. He cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said, though there was a slight edge to his voice, something more amused than irritated.

“Ready for round two?” You challenged, giving him a wink, this time with more confidence than before. 

“Go.”

The signal came again, and this time, you were ready. Your hand shot to the holster, faster, smoother, pulling the gun with fluid motion from him. You pointed and aimed at In-ho, sending his arms up in surrender. 

For a moment, the room went still. In-ho was caught off guard, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a flicker of surprise. You couldn’t help but grin, your finger resting lightly on the trigger, though you weren’t about to fire.

“You were saying?” You asked, your voice low and teasing.

In-ho blinked, the smile creeping back onto his face, only this time, it was different. There was something more impressed in it, a quiet acknowledgement of the thought that you just won.

“Guess I underestimated you,” In-ho said, his cockiness returning, though with a slight edge of admiration.

You lowered your gun, placing it on your pockets as you wiped your sweat away with a face towel. “You do that a lot, don’t you?” A soft chuckle escaped from you.

To your surprise, he smiled. “You’re full of surprises.” His voice was almost softer now, a subtle warmth in his words.

You felt your heart skip a beat. There was something about the way he looked at you - something disarmingly genuine in the smile that reached his eyes. As you tried to steady the racing of your heart, you swallowed as you let out a small grin. “You have no idea,” you replied.

In-ho watched you for a moment longer, the smile still playing at the corners of his lips. He seemed to favor the tension between you and him before giving a slight nod. “I think I’m starting to.”

----

>> REQUEST HERE

CHAPTER 17 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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——

You walked with purpose back to the control room, your steps echoing in the sterile hallways. The adrenaline hadn’t left your system yet. The sickening scene still burned in your memory — the way that guard had defiled a corpse, how he didn’t even have the time to beg before you put a bullet through his skull. You dismissed everyone, seeing it was dinner time for the players.

But your mind wasn’t on him anymore. It was on the larger truth — the rot that had festered in this system long before you arrived. 

You returned to the suite where In-ho was already waiting, his mask removed as he sat on the edge of the bed, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked up the moment you walked in, concern flashing his dark eyes.

“What happened?” His voice was quiet but firm.

You hesitated only for a moment before stepping closer. “In the organ harvesting room,” you started, voice level, though the memory of what you saw still made your stomach coil. “One of the guards was defiling a corpse.”

In-ho stiffened, his jaw tightening. “What?”

“I killed him,” you met his gaze without flinching. “I didn’t hesitate.”

His expression darkened, his hand clenching into a fist against his thigh. “The organ trade itself is something I’ve had to tolerate,” he admitted, exhaling sharply through his nose. “It keeps some of the higher-ups pleased, funds the games even further. But this,” his fingers ran through his hair, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him. “This is unacceptable. It’s… disgusting.”

You nodded, stepping closer, placing a hand gently over his clenched fist. He looked at you, his expression softer, but filled with something deeper — an unspoken anger, a silent promise that he would handle it. His free hand reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering against your cheek. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice quiet now, laced with something tender now.

You hesitated. Your body had been feeling different lately — tired, restless, an occasional nausea curling in your stomach. The signs were there, but you weren’t ready to say them out loud. You weren’t ready to confirm what you already feared.

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a small smile.

His eyes lingered on yours, as if he could see past the mask you wore. But then, just as quickly, his thoughts drifted elsewhere. His grip on your hand tightened. “I need to make an example out of them,” he muttered, his mind already turning toward the next steps. “The guards think they can do whatever they want. That ends now.”

You watched him, the way his mind worked, the way he was already planning the next move to keep everything under control. For a moment, you thought about telling him the truth. About the possibility growing inside you, the uncertainty that gnawed at you.

But instead, you just leaned into his touch, letting the warmth of his palm against your cheek ground you in the present. “You’ll handle it,” you murmured.

His gaze flickered to yours, something soft breaking through his usual hard exterior. “Of course,” he whispered, his thumb tracing lightly along your jawline before he pulled you into a slow, lingering kiss — one that tasted of quiet promises and unspoken truths.

——

Sleep came to you in fragments, restless and fleeting. The weight of the day sat heavy in your bones, but exhaustion was no match for the thoughts clawing at the edges of your mind. Somewhere beside you, In-ho’s steady breathing filled the quiet room, his presence a familiar warmth. He slept deeply, unaware of the turmoil unfurling beside you.

Then, a sharp wave of nausea twisted in your stomach, dragging you from the fragile grasp of sleep. Your eyes snapped open. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the moon filtering through the heavy curtains. You swallowed hard, willing the discomfort to pass, but it only worsened. The sickening churn in your gut grew unbearable, forcing you to move. 

Carefully, you peeled back the silk sheets, mindful not to wake In-ho. Every small shift of the mattress felt like a risk, but he didn’t stir. His face was soft in the dim light, his mask stripped away in the safety of sleep. For a fleeting moment, you lingered, watching him who looked so peaceful and unguarded.

Then, another wave of nausea struck, violent and unrelenting. You pushed yourself off the bed, your bare feet barely making a sound against the cool floor as you rushed toward the bathroom. The moment you stepped inside, you slammed the door shut with the softest click possible, locking it before stumbling towards the sink.

The nausea tore through you mercilessly. You barely had time to turn the faucet on, letting the rush of water mask the sound as you collapsed in front of the toilet, retching violently. The bitter taste of bile burned your throat, your entire body shuddering as you gripped the porcelain edges for stability.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to breathe through the dizziness. Your heart was racing, hammering against your ribs like it knew the truth before your mind was ready to accept it. 

This had been happening for days. The fatigue, the strange unease in your stomach, the shifts in your appetite.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your trembling hand, staring blankly at the water swirling down the sink drain. You wanted to deny it, but the thought had already taken root, curling around your mind like a vice. It explained too much.

Your fingers fumbled to turn off the faucet, your breathing unsteady. For a moment, you just stood there, gripping the counter with white-knuckled hands, trying to center yourself. 

Then, you left the bathroom. Your steps were slow and calculated as you pushed open the door and stepped back into the bedroom. In-ho hadn’t moved. He lay still in the moonlight, his dark hair tousled, his chest rising and falling in an even rhythm.

You hesitated, watching him.

You weren’t ready to tell him. Not yet, anyway.

Quietly, you slipped out of the room, the soft hum of the facility filling your ears as you padded through the halls. The guards stationed outside immediately straightened at the sight of you. Their red masks reflected the dim hallway lights, their bodies rigid with attention.

You exhaled, trying to steady yourself. “I need you to do something for me.”

The two guards exchanged a glance before one of them nodded. “Anything, Overseer.”

You swallowed, forcing your voice to remain firm. “Get me a pregnancy test,” you paused for a moment. Then, with a sharp edge to your words, you added, “And do not let In-ho know.”

The guards hesitated for just a second too long, as if processing your request, but they knew better than to question you. “Yes, ma’am.”

You turned on your heel before you could see their reaction, your pulse thrumming violently beneath your skin as you strode back toward the bedroom. Every second felt like an eternity. You climbed back into bed, lying stiffly beside In-ho, your back turned to him as you stared blankly at the darkness.

You barely noticed when the guard returned. A soft knock at your door. A small package slipped into your hands, no words exchanged. Then, you went to the bathroom again. 

You tore open the box with shaky hands, your breath coming in uneven bursts. The instructions blurred before your eyes, your mind already lost in the storm of possibilities. 

Minutes passed.

An eternity.

And then, there it was.

Two lines.

Positive.

Your stomach lurched, but this time, it was nausea. It was fear. 

Your grip tightened around the small plastic test, your knuckles going white. The world felt too small, too suffocating. The air in the bathroom suddenly too thick.

You were pregnant.

With In-ho’s child.

You let out a shaky exhale, staring at the result, unable to look away. For a long time, you stayed there, your reflection in the mirror staring back at you, eyes wide and unblinking. You should feel something — relief, dread, hope, or even terror. But all you felt was the weight of the unknown, pressing down on you like the walls were closing in.

And for the first time in a long while, you had no idea what to do.

The walls of the bathroom felt too tight — the fluorescent light suddenly too harsh against your skin. You grabbed the pregnancy test with an unsteady grip, shoving it into the pocket of your robe before stepping out of the bathroom, heart pounding like a war drum against your ribs.

In-ho was still asleep. His dark hair spilled across the pillow, his breathing deep and undisturbed. The weight of him, the sheer presence of him, made something heavy settle in your chest. Carefully, you slipped past him, reaching for the heavy balcony doors and pushing them open. The cool night air hit you like a wave, crisp and briny from the sea surrounding the island. The sky stretched infinitely above you, speckled with stars that seemed far too serene for the storm raging inside you.

You gripped the balcony railing, your knuckles turning white.

You’re pregnant with In-ho’s child.

A child that would be born into this — this hellish, blood-soaked world.

Your stomach twisted as you stared out at the dark waves beyond the facility, the gentle crash of the tide doing little to soothe the panic bubbling beneath your skin.

Would this child be raised in the shadows of this place? Would they ever see the real world, or would they only know the cold walls of the Overseer’s domain?

Then, there was the other thought — the one that coiled around your chest like a vice.

In-ho lost his wife. He lost his unborn child.

You never asked him about it in detail, never pressed when you saw the way his gaze darkened at the mention of his past. But you knew it haunted him. And now, here you were, carrying his child. The thought alone made your stomach lurch.

Would he be happy? Would he be terrified? Would he see this as a cruel twist of fate, a ghost of his past resurrected in your womb?

Or worse — would this child be doomed from the start?

You exhaled sharply, running a hand down your face, overwhelmed.

“You should be more careful.”

The voice startled you. It was low, calm, and familiar. Your head snapped to the right, eyes locking into the figure standing a few feet away.

Gi-hun leaned against the railing, dressed in his usual black suit, a cup of tea held loosely in his hands. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp eyes were already studying you. You didn’t even notice him there. How long had he been standing in the shadows?

A heavy silence settled between the two of you, the only sound being the distant crash of the waves. You swallowed, trying to mask your unease. “What are you talking about?”

Gi-hun let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Noticed you haven’t been yourself lately.” You froze as his gaze flickered down your stomach. “I’m not the only one who noticed.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your robe, gripping it tightly, as if you could shield yourself from his knowing stare. You wanted to deny it, to brush past the topic, but the look in his eyes told you he wouldn’t buy it. Gi-hun took a slow sip of his tea and then exhaled. “Does In-ho know?”

Your throat went dry. You didn’t answer him, and your silence was enough of an answer for him.

Gi-hun hummed, setting his cup of tea down on the railing, his fingers tapping against the porcelain. His eyes flickered toward the horizon, but you could feel his attention still on you. “You haven’t told him,” he murmured, almost to himself. His tone wasn’t accusatory — just an observation, spoken with quiet certainty. 

“It’s none of your business.”

Gi-hun let out a breathy chuckle. “Maybe not,” he turned slightly, his gaze finding yours again. “But you’re standing here, looking like the weight of the world is crushing you. And I think we both know that it is.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling your chest tighten.

“You’re scared,” you flinched, but his voice remained steady and measured. “Scared of what this means. Scared of what it will do to In-ho. Scared that you’ll lose this child the same way he lost his first one.”

A lump formed in your throat. He wasn’t mocking you nor was he prying. He was just stating the truth that you had been trying to outrun since you first saw the result of the test. 

Gi-hun leaned against the railing, his expression unreadable. “You know, for all the blood on your hands… you still hold onto things that make you human,” his gaze flickered downward, just briefly. “And this? This is the most human thing that could ever happen to you.”

You exhaled shakily, your mind spinning.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” He asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.

The question slammed into you harder than any bullet ever could. You had spent months surviving, fighting, killing — but this? This wasn’t something you could fight your way out of. 

This was life.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “No.”

Gi-hun nodded, as if he expected that answer. He didn’t press. Instead, he straightened himself, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. “You should tell him soon,” he murmured. “Secrets have a way of eating people alive. And something tells me that this isn’t one you can keep forever.”

You watched as he turned, picked up his tea, and walked away, disappearing from the balcony as he went back to his room. The wind blew through your hair, the cold air biting against your skin.

You placed a hand over your stomach, your fingers trembling.

Tell him.

The thought alone made your pulse race. Because once you told him, there would be no going back.

——

The morning sun cast a pale glow through the tinted windows of the conference room, stretching long shadows across the polished table. The air inside was thick with unspoken weight, each of you seated in your designated places. In-ho was at the head of the table with you at his right, while Gi-hun was across from you. The three of you, the orchestrators of the games, gathered for another day of calculated cruelty.

A digital screen hummed to life at the far end of the room, displaying live footage of the contestants inside the dormitory. The uneasy silence stretched as you and In-ho studied the screen, watching the slow build of tension amongst the players. The numbers were dwindling, but something was different this season. There was more desperation and paranoia present.

In-ho tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair, his mask placed beside him. “We need a contingency,” he said. “The moment they turn on each other, we set the special game in motion. A purge, disguised as an opportunity.”

Gi-hun leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at his lips. “Encouraging savagery before they even step onto the field. Smart.” He reached for a tray beside him, grabbing one of the drinks set out for the meeting. But instead of taking a sip, he slid it across the table — right in front of you.

Your brows furrowed as you glanced down at the cup. It was different from the others. A light, warm shade. You could smell the faint scent of ginger and honey.

You blinked.

This wasn’t coffee. It wasn’t alcohol. It wasn’t even tea.

It was a pregnancy-safe herbal drink.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze, meeting Gi-hun’s eyes. The smirk on his face wasn’t cruel, but it held something else. 

In-ho must have noticed your hesitation because his eyes flickered between you and the cup before settling on Gi-hun. His voice was calm, but his words carried sharp edges. “What is this?”

Gi-hun tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Something nutritious. For someone who should be careful with what they drink.:

The room fell silent. Your throat tightened as you felt In-ho’s gaze shift to you. You could feel his heavy and piercing eyes on you. Your fingers curled against your lap, pressing into the fabric of your pants.

In-ho didn’t look away from you. His voice was quieter this time, but no less intense. “Are you?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. For a moment, you thought about lying. You thought about deflecting, about pretending this wasn’t happening.

But there was no running from this. Not anymore.

“Yes.”

Silence.

You could feel Gi-hun watching, his expression unreadable. But your focus was on In-ho.

His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. His fingers twitched against the table, tightening into a fist before relaxing again. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t relieved.

He was stunned.

His breath was slow and controlled. But his eyes held something fragile… and raw.

“Out,” In-ho said, his voice calm but final.

Gi-hun sighed, standing up from his chair with an exaggerated stretch. “Well, I’d say that’s enough emotion for one morning,” he downed the last of his drink, tapping the rim of the cup against the table. “Congratulations, by the way.”

You shot him a glare, but he only smirked. Then, with a final knowing glance at In-ho, he turned and strolled out of the conference room, leaving you both.

The door clicked shut behind him.

In-ho turned to face you further as the look in his eyes silenced you. There was no fury nor accusation. 

Just something fragile.

Something like fear.

——

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I’m aiming to finish this by the next five chapters, After that, I’ll be focusing on doing oneshots and maybe a new series soon. I’m curious about what you guys are expecting at the ending of this series, so please 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! ✨

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69 @plague-cure @theredvelvetbitch @cherryheairt @voxslays @thebluehair23 @coruja12345 @alliyah-ll (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)

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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>> MASTERLIST

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

“The healthy human mind doesn’t wake up in the morning thinking this is its last day on Earth. But I think that’s a luxury, not a curse. To know you’re close to the end is a kind of freedom. Good time to take… inventory. Outgunned. Outnumbered. Out of our minds. On a suicide mission. But the sands and rocks here stained with thousands of years of warfare… they will remember us. For this. Because out of all our vast array of nightmares, this is the one we choose for ourselves. We go forward like a breath exhaled from the Earth. With vigor in our hearts and one goal in sight: We. Will. Kill him”

— Captain Price

CHAPTER 10 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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----

The kiss still lingered on your lips - you could still taste In-ho. Every step back toward the dormitory felt heavy, as if your body was caught in the weight of something you couldn’t quite name. Was it the kiss? Was it the fact that you actually murdered someone? Was it your conscience eating you up?

Your fingers twitched at your sides, remembering the way In-ho’s touch had burned into your skin, the way he had pulled you in like he was afraid to let go. And then, your thoughts drifted as to when you snapped that player’s neck, as if you were an expert on it. You wanted to justify it by stating that he deserved it, remembering his O patch. It was his decision, after all, to stay in the games. In this game, you were bound to kill anyone to win the prize.

Except you weren’t in this place to win the prize. You were just curious. How can your curiosity lead to something darker?

It should’ve been a victory. You survived the game. You made it through. And yet, there was something suffocating about the silence on the way to the dormitory, with In-ho behind you.

The tension from the Mingle game still clung to the air, thick and unshaken by the passing of time. Even as the remaining players shuffled back into the towering dormitory, the echoes of what had happened inside that cold, merciless arena followed you like shadows that refused to be left behind.

In-ho’s presence behind you was silent but palpable. You wanted to stop and look at him, to read the storm behind his eyes, to see if the kiss had shaken him the same way it had shaken you.

But you couldn’t.

Instead, you focused on the rhythmic sound of footsteps, the quiet murmurs of those who had barely escaped death. Gi-hun’s back was in front of you as he made his way down the labyrinth of stairs. He turned his head to you and In-ho slightly as he spoke. “When we get back, let’s count the number of people remaining.”

“Why?” In-ho asked, his eyes focusing on Gi-hun.

“If we count the numbers of Os and Xs, we’ll be able to see who’s likely to win the next vote.”

You softly chuckle, your mind telling you elsewhere to somehow ease the tension. “We’ll have to hope more people from the other side died.”

You could see Gi-hun almost stop to his tracks but continued, though his head turned to you, staring at you confusingly. There was cockiness, almost mocking, in your voice in the way you said it. You averted your gaze from him. There was no way you would admit your faith in humanity has died, even taking someone’s life in this game from your own hands.

You got blood on your hands, and there was no way you would tell that to Gi-hun who wanted to save everyone. 

You felt In-ho’s hand on your shoulder, pressing it lightly with his thumb as if to comfort you, just like he did in the old times. Gi-hun shot you two a look again, much to his confusion. As you remembered, Gi-hun was aware that In-ho’s wife was still alive.

Right. Gi-hun still knew that. But what didn’t make sense to you was why In-ho lied to him. You planned to ask him later as he was already beginning to be warm towards you, or some sort. You had questions from the start, from when you first met him again, and what his role was in these games. Your gut feeling tells you that he’s a part of it, but you couldn’t piece it together yet. 

You focused on the cold of the dormitory seeping into your skin, your heartbeat hadn’t quite settled since the moment you pressed your lips against In-ho. It was immoral to be more worked up on the kiss than taking someone’s life in your own hands, yet you couldn’t figure out whether you were just distracted from that, or you were just becoming a dark, terrible person. 

“Don’t be so sad,” you heard the Shaman woman say as you walk near Hyun-ju’s group. “You will be joining her in the underworld soon.”

You snapped your head up at the Shaman, her eyes circling on Hyun-ju who seemed to be devastated. You barely had a second to process it, seeing Hyun-ju’s face drawn tight, her hands clenched into trembling fists. Her breaths were uneven, sharp, as if she has been trying to keep them steady.

Hyun-ju stared at the Shaman, glaring at her as she flashed her a cocky smile. Your eyes darted over Hyun-ju’s group, seeing Geum-ja, Yong-sik, and Player 246.

Only Young-mi wasn’t there.

It didn’t hit you immediately. You wanted to deny it. Yet their faces were enough of an answer for you to know the truth.

You felt as if you were floating, waiting for your mind to make sense of the fact that Young-mi was gone. But when they did, they landed like a blade to the gut. Your breath caught, and for a second, all you could do was stare at Hyun-ju, then at Geum-ja, then at Yong-sik, then at Player 246, much to your surprise. You hoped that you had somehow gotten it wrong.

“I’ve put a curse on you all,” the Shaman said, her eyes gazing over everyone, including you. “I’ve been praying to the gods of heaven and earth with all my heart to let me see all of you die in this place, one by one.”

“You’ll never get out of here alive,” you said, gritting your teeth as you leaned towards the Shaman. “One more word from you, and you’ll never see another day in this place. You will die a miserable, painful death— enough for you to see whoever God is up there.”

The Shaman was clearly taken aback, seeing her clear her throat as she shot you a look first before walking away. You heard her mumble a curse, but you didn’t care anymore. At this point, with humanity being ripped away from you, you were sure that one wrong move from her will trigger you to knock her off in an instant.

You turned to Hyun-ju, Geum-ja, Yong-sik, and Player 246, who seemed to stare at you in shock. You quickly softened your expression, realizing you were showing this other side of you so plain. Young-mi was supposed to be here with you and the others, yet in this selfish place, she was gone just like that.

“Young-mi is dead,” Hyun-ju’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her eyes darken and sunken with something raw. “She was killed. They found her after the game ended.”

The room suddenly felt too bright, too suffocating. The world around you pressed in, the air thinning as your fingers curled into tight fists at your sides.

You had seen Young-mi last before the game, her usual sharp wit and and biting sarcasm still intact. You heard her voice. You stood alongside her, knowing and believe that you would both walk out of this. And now, she was gone.

Your pulse pounded against your ears, a sickening rhythm that made your knees feel weak. A thousand thoughts crashed into you at once, along with guilt. Was she betrayed? Did she fight back? Was she also killed the same way you killed another player?

But none of them mattered now. All the questions, the possibilities, everything. Because you had been out there, kissing In-ho, holding onto him, getting lost in the game, lost in him — while she was dying.

Your stomach churned violently, feeling dizzy from all that was happening so fast. You wanted to scream. You could hear your inner voices. It was your conscience eating you up.

A hand, warm and firm, brushed against yours, almost like an anchor. It was In-ho’s. You wanted to melt into his touch, to surrender. But this time, you didn’t take it. 

You stepped back, walking towards Gi-hun’s group, seeing them plotting something else. You walked past them and went towards your bed, not minding their stares as they wondered what was wrong. Concern was evident on their faces, but you weren’t in the mood to talk. Not especially with all that happened.

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and forced yourself to breathe as you laid down, but it did nothing to stop the realization curling into your chest like a slow, venomous burn.

The game was still winning, and you were letting it.

“Gi-hun,” you heard Jung-bae call out. “There are fifty-five people who voted in favor of continuing.”

“Are you sure?” Gi-hun asked.

“I counted them twice.”

“What about you?” Dae-ho asked, his fingers pointing at Jung-bae’s patch. “What about you? Did you include yourself?”

Jung-bae looked at his patch, the realization hitting his eyes. “It’s fifty-six.”

You heard Dae-ho sigh. “We have forty-four people on our side, so we’re outnumbered by twelve.”

“Shoot, that means we’re likely to lose again,” Jung-bae whimpered slightly, staring at the players with O patches.

“It may seem like a big difference,” In-ho said as you felt him motioning beside you, but you kept your eyes closed, your arms covering your eyes. “But if six of them change their minds, it’ll be 50/50, all tied. If seven of them change their minds, we could win.”

“But those who pressed X might change their minds too,” Dae-ho replied with worry.

“They probably won’t change their minds easily,” In-ho replied, more of a statement and not a hint of question in his answer.

“Why not?” 

“They wanted to quit even when the prize was smaller. Now, they can leave with even more money. They wouldn’t want to risk their lives playing another game.”

“Impossible,” you spoke up, much to the group’s surprise. “They can still change their minds. The more that they see themselves surviving and the more the prize money goes up, the more the temptation to play more will get to them. It’s the greed talking.”

In-ho stared at you, a quiet recognition flickering in his eyes. You could almost see the twitch in his lips as if to smile. As if you made a very great point. 

 “I’m going to press X this time,” Jung-bae said, a hopeful glint present in his eyes. 

You scoffed. “You should’ve pressed X when you had the chance.”

Jung-bae raised his eyebrow on you, clearly taken aback. Gi-hun and Dae-ho did the same, while Jun-hee was staring at you as if to study you. There was wonder in their eyes, a bit of shock as you spoke. You were being too pragmatic— cocky, even. You were too sure.

Yet Jung-bae only looked away. Somehow, you still had a point. He knew that. If he really wanted to quit, he could’ve voted for X from the very start and not change his decisions right away. Your patience in this game was growing thinner with each second. 

“Why don’t we try to convince them?” Gi-hun asked, his voice hopeful for another acknowledgement from the others, hopeful for an agreement. 

“No, that’s too risky,” In-ho replied. “Most of them will want to continue the games. If we make a move, they won’t just sit back and watch.”

“So you think we should just stand here and pray they change their minds?” Gi-hun asked in disbelief.

You shot up from your bed, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked at Gi-hun. “Don’t try to be the hero, Gi-hun. It’s their choice to be here, to continue the games. It’s what the game is trying to tell us.”

“I’m no hero,” Gi-hun retorted, his voice low, the desperation in his voice evident as he gritted his teeth. “But what if we lose again? We march down, hand in hand, to play another game?”

“I understand how you feel,” In-ho said, his hand motioning at you to not speak. “I also wish I could leave right now. We do. But this is the moment to stay calm.”

“Stay calm?” Gi-hun said in disbelief. “We’ve already taken a vote twice. If we can’t convince them, we’ll have to bring them over to our side by force.”

“If we provoke them now, we may end up in a big fight before we even get to vote,” In-ho replied. “Is that what you want, Gi-hun?”

Gi-hun stayed silent, though his eyes were focused on you and In-ho. He was sensing something between the two of you - the sudden understanding seemed to catch him off guard. As far as he knew, In-ho was still married. To you, he was a widower. That was the truth. But Gi-hun was more disturbed with your sudden shift. The one who held on hope for humanity was gone, and was replaced by this cold, dark person. 

The alarm buzzed, just in time to ease the tension on your group. By the door, the triangle-masked guards gathered as the square-masked guard stepped in, his presence signaling a sense of command. “Congratulations to all of you for making it through the third game. Now, here are the results of the third game.”

The TV displayed a total prize money accumulated to 35.6 billion won, divided by 356 million won for each player. You stepped out and positioned yourself next to In-ho, giving him a pat on his shoulder as your eyes glued to the monitor. 

“With that kind of money, some of them will change their minds,” Jung-bae muttered.

“It’s either the money is enough for them or they’ll want to play another to win more,” you said, your eyes still fixed on the TV.

“The vote will once again be conducted in reverse order of your player numbers,” the square-masked guard said. “Player 456, please cast your vote.” Gi-hun stepped out from the crowd as the guard spoke again. “To ensure fair and democratic voting, we will not tolerate any disruptions from this point onward. Please bear that in mind.”

With no hesitation, Gi-hun pushed the X button, retaining his vote as the X number increased to 1. 

You were almost unattentive to your surroundings, not minding the scoreboard of the X and O votes. Though you couldn’t deny the weight of choices before yours. X or O - a simple vote, but it might as well have been a knife at your throat.

You shouldn’t be hesitating at all. You weren’t like the others. You weren’t drowning in debt, clawing for salvation in a place that offered nothing but destruction. You had entered the game out of curiosity - a whim, reckless craving to see what was happening behind the curtain all because of that recruiter. But now, you stood here, waiting for your player number to be called for you to vote that would define the person you were becoming.

You felt the villain in you creeping beneath your skin with every game. The cold calculation, the growing numbness. The way your hands had moved without hesitation when it came down to survival. And yet, a part of you still wanted to believe that there was something left to salvage. Maybe in the next games, you would see humanity change. Or not at all.

“You look like you’re thinking too much,” In-ho’s voice was low and smooth that melted your thoughts, snapping you back to the present.

You turned to him, meeting his gaze. This time, his eyes were soft as he looked at you, then to your lips, then to your eyes again. His mouth curved into something dangerously close to a smirk as he leaned in, close enough that you could feel his breath ghost over your skin. 

“What does it matter to you?” You asked.

He gave out a slow exhale, barely a sigh. Then, his fingers brushed against yours, deliberate but fleeting. A touch that barely lingered, yet left something behind. “Because you don’t belong here.”

You felt your breath hitched as you held your gaze on him, searching his face for an answer. But he gave you nothing. Just that unreadable and calm one. Too calm. “What?” You asked, your voice quieter this time.

His head tilted slightly, watching you with an unsettling kind of certainty. “You’re not in debt. You lived a good life in America only to come back here in Seoul after your father died. You wanted to play ddakji just for the sake of seeing if you were still good at it. Money was never a problem to you, Y/N,” In-ho stated, as if he had always known the truth. “You didn’t think you walked into this place unnoticed, did you?”

The implication made your stomach turn. 

He knew. He had known from the start.

But why?

Your lips parted, but no words came. And in that silence, he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your temple. “What’s someone like you, who was so full of life, doing in a place like this ready to kill people?” Your pulse pounded against your ribs as he continued. “I was once like you. But in this place, it changes you. The truth will always come get you in the end.”

“The truth?” You managed to ask, though your voice a bit cracking. 

“About me.”

Your stomach twisted. “And what exactly would that be?”

For a moment, he just watched you, searching for something in your eyes. Then, he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “I won.” Your breath caught, but before you could speak, he continued. “And I have a role in all of this now.”

It wasn’t a confession. Not completely. He didn’t say what role nor what it exactly meant. But you weren’t stupid. 

But you should’ve known it from the very start.

The Young-il name was already a give away, as if he was ready. The coincidence of being the Player 001 and being named Young-il didn’t make sense. It was far from being a coincidence. He carried himself too much, the way his words were always a little too measured, a little too careful, as if they were being placed exactly where they needed to be. The name, the persona — it was all a mask. A carefully crafted lie.

“After we vote, I’ll tell you everything.”

You felt your body shot up, the curiosity plastering all over your body. What did he know that you didn’t know from all this? What role could he have in all these? If you know about everything, will it endanger your life even more?

“Who are you?” You stared at him, your throat dry as you felt your heart hammering against your ribs.

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Something familiar. Something painful. He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. His stare fixed on you indicated something darker and deeper. Something that told you — he had been waiting for this. 

“Player 002.”

You snapped away from In-ho, turning your attention to the vote. You walked towards the voting box, the buttons gleaming under the cold, artificial light, its surface smudged from countless trembling fingers before yours. 

O or X.

You could end this. You could walk away. But deep down, you already knew what your fingers were going to do. A sharp beep echoed in the silence as you pressed X, a cheer from the X crowd erupting.

You turned back to In-ho, who was waiting at the end of the crowd as he stared at you intently. His lips barely curved — not a smirk, but something else. Something unreadable.

——

The voting ended with a tie, which meant that the voting will resume again tomorrow. Yet you felt uneasy. Anytime, you knew that the O team would attack anytime soon. Just for the sake of winning the money more and more. 

It was going to be a special game. You tried to piece it together as you progressed through the games. The system was trying to make you kill each other, giving you less and less food as it progressed. Hunger was the main source of greed, it's why humans would do anything just to not starve. The gimbap on your hand and a glass bottle of soda were enough of a hint for you that there was something more happening.

The glass bottle could be your source of weapon in case something goes wrong in this place. You kept your silence as you ate the dry gimbap, its flavors still present but the dryness was scoring your throat in. It felt like you were eating a piece of paper, but to you, it didn’t matter. As long as it fed your stomach well.

“Y/N,” you blinked, snapping away from your thoughts as you heard Gi-hun’s voice. You glanced up and saw his expression was careful, but there was something else beneath it. “You got a minute?”

You nodded, but there was hesitation in you as he sat down beside ypu, resting his forearms on his thighs. 

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at the floor, his fingers fidgeting on the wrapped gimbap as if trying to find the right words. “It’s about Young-il,” he finally said.

Your stomach twisted, though you forced your face to be stern. “What about him?”

Gi-hun exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You two are close, right? Like real close.”

You shrugged, keeping your voice even. “Hmm?”

“Isn’t he married?” Gi-hun’s voice dropped slightly, but still careful. “Maybe you shouldn’t get too attached.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you swallowed, keeping your face unreadable.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Gi-hun—“

“Where do you get the nerve?” He cut in, his voice edged with something sharp, something bitter.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

His jaw tightened. “I’ve seen you. The way you act in the games. The way you don’t even flinch anymore,” his fingers curled into fists. “When did you stop caring? When did you decide it was easier to be a monster?”

The words slammed into you harder than you expected. Your throat tightened as you stared at him. “I’m not a monster.”

“Then why are you here?” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “You’re not even like the rest of us. You said yourself that you weren’t drowning in debt. You weren’t desperate to be here.”

You scoffed. “Oh, and you are?” You spat, leaning in, voice dripping with venom. “You won the games before, right? You have 46.5 billion won sitting in your bank account, and yet you still came back. So tell me, Gi-hun, why the hell are you here?”

Gi-hun’s face twisted. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” You let out a laugh, almost mocking. “You had a choice. You could’ve walked away. You could’ve lived. And yet, here you are, just like the rest of us, pretending you’re better.”

Gi-hun flinched, but his jaw tightened. “At least I know when to stop,” he muttered.

You felt a bitter taste in your mouth as you spoke. “But you’re here pretending to be a hero.”

A thick silence settled between you, feeling the tension on your shoulders. You stared onto space as you felt affected towards his words. You didn’t know whether to take it into consideration or to feel insulted.

Then, a voice cut through the tension.

“That’s enough.”

In-ho stood nearby, his presence commanding, gaze locked onto Gi-hun. There was no warmth in his voice, only quiet authority, the weight of someone who had been watching long enough.

Gi-hun exhaled, standing up. His shoulders slumped slightly, but his eyes never left yours. “Just don’t lose yourself in here,” he said, his voice quieter this time. “This place eats people alive.” He walked away, leaving you there.

You stared at the ground, weighing his words, feeling their weight settle deep in your chest. But when you looked up, your eyes met In-ho’s. You weren’t sure which was heavier — Gi-hun’s warning or the pull of In-ho’s gaze, the silent reminder of everything you were letting yourself become. 

“Hey,” In-ho said, his voice warm enough to make you feel at ease. “You alright?”

You nodded, remembering you still had your one remaining gimbap in your hand. “Yeah. Gi-hun just noticed us becoming too close.”

“Is that a bad thing?” In-ho asked, though his voice was a bit teasing but there was questioning in his voice, as if he was testing you.

“No,” you shrugged. “Let’s just go with the others and see what they’re up to.”

In-ho nodded as he helped you up, holding you as if you were something fragile. Your cheeks flushed a bit but kept your gaze in front, knowing you would melt if you met his gaze. You sat beside Geum-ja, who was grouped now with Player 246, who you now know as Gyeong-seok, then Yong-sik, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Jun-hee, and Gi-hun. As much as possible, you distanced yourself from Gi-hun, still feeling disturbed by your recent conversation with him.

You noticed Yong-sik standing up, facing the players who had O patches on the other side. “Hey!” He called out. “Don’t agonize over your decision while eating this dry gimbap. I just want one of you to come over to our side. If we get out of there tomorrow morning, we could get Korean beef! I’ll tell you what. It’s my treat!”

You shook your head, feeling the secondhand embarrassment. This was a pity attempt to make the O players change their minds. This wouldn’t end well.

“And after that, the noodles are on me!” Geum-ja spoke up. You wanted to stop her, but she was too determined to speak up. Despite the evilness in this place, you can’t deny that there were pure, good-hearted people like her.

Yet to you, evilness always prevailed. Your point was proven when Player 100 spoke from the O crowd.

“Once you all die in the next game, we can all leave with 800 million each!” Player 100 spoke with diction, his words echoing through the silence prevailed over the X crowd. “With 800 million, we could buy a freaking cattle ranch!”

The O players cheered from behind him, their taunting smiles and growls echoing through the room. Dae-ho stood up, taking a step forward as he pointed his fingers at them. “You’ll get 800 million? Who are you kidding? Do you think you’ll still be alive after the next game? If you don’t get out now, you’re all going to die!”

“So let’s play one more game to see who dies,” Player 226 from the O crowd snapped back. “Stop trying to run away like a goddamn coward.

Dae-ho scoffed. “What did you say?” He moved towards the O crowd but still near the X crowd. “Come here, asshole!” Jung-bae followed in attempt to stop Dae-ho from walking towards the O crowd.

“I’ll take you down, chump!”

“Not with civilians,” Jung-bae dragged Dae-ho by the shoulder, only to be snapped away by Dae-ho. He took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeve, revealing his Marines tattoo. 

“I was in the Marines, fucking asshole!”

The O players laughed mockingly. You looked away, feeling your cheeks flush in secondhand embarrassment. You noticed In-ho watching the scene intently, though his stare was cold as if assessing. 

“Oh, yeah? Then I was in the air force, fucker!” Player 226 retorted, earning more laugh from the crowd behind him.

Then, for a split second, the X crowd start to gather in the middle, though they weren’t crossing the line. The division between two crowds was evident as the lines from each O and X were enough for them to not cross. The room was echoing with hatred, evilness, and something vulgar. If you were expecting the guards to step in and bring peace, you were wrong. They stayed still in the corner, their guns in hand watching the scene unfold.

Your eyes turned to the foil on your hand where the gimbap was wrapped. Though as you were about to crumple it, something cold and metallic brushed against your palm. Your breath hitched as you unwrapped the foil, revealing a fork.

Your fingers curled around the handle, heart thudding against your ribs. This wasn’t a mistake. This was deliberate.

You were right. The system wanted you to kill each other.

In-ho’s hand reached out to your fork, covering it. His grip was firm, but his thumb traced the ridge of your knuckles as if there was unspoken reassurance, a warning wrapped in something softer. He leaned in, his breath ghosting near your ear.

“Keep it.”

Your fingers tightened around the utensil, swallowing hard as you glanced up at him. His face gave nothing away, but his eyes held something heavy, as if it was calculated.

“What?” Gi-hun’s voice was low, but the edge was unmistakable. Across from you, he stared down at his own gimbap, his fingers pulling away a fork of his own. His eyes then flickered to yours, then to In-ho, suspicion bleeding into every inch of his face.

Something was coming. The guards never made mistakes. This wasn’t some mere accident.

You exchanged one last glance with In-ho before lowering your head, slipping the fork into your sleeve. Your mind raced as you realized, muttering under your breath as it washed over you. “X versus O…”

“They want us to turn on each other,” In-ho murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. He sensed the growing weight pressed against your chest, he added, “I’ll protect you.”

You flinched. The words were so quiet they barely existed, but they were there. You turned to him, but he was already staring at you.

“There’s going to be a plan,” In-ho continued, his voice smooth but he seemed unaffected. He didn’t need to say whose plan. You both knew Gi-hun wouldn’t sit still. “He’s going to try to rally the X players, maybe propose an alliance before the real bloodshed starts.”

“It won’t work,” you replied, your tone with certainty but the concern was evident on your face. “But you, you already have a plan, don’t you?”

“I have a foresight,” he said simply, though it wasn’t enough for an answer.

“Tell me,” you pressed, leaning towards him.

He held your gaze for a moment too long. Then, his lips twitched. Not into a smirk, not into a smile, but something close to amusement. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Somehow, his words sent a shiver down your spine. That was more terrifying than anything Gi-hun could come up with. With Gi-hun, he wanted to survive. 

But with In-ho, he knew the rules better than anyone.

----

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A/N: I'm so so sorry this took a bit long. I had to move things around in my house as we're moving out from the family home. You know, for a fresh new start. I admit that I'm not doing a bit well lately but writing this chapter still lifted my spirits up somehow. I kinda feared this chapter would be a bit long but turns out it's kind of the same from the other chapters. I'm also excited to write the next chapter and I'll definitely started to work on it immediately. Anyway, 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! ✨

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69 (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)

[ANNOUNCEMENT] once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

hello! so, this isn't a chapter update at all, so sorry to disappoint you guys.

i would like to let you all know who's been reading the "once you go in, there's no turning back" in-ho x reader series will be lacking updates for awhile. my dad has been rushed to the hospital because of stroke and is in critical condition since monday. at this point, his body is relying on life support and my family and i have been deciding whether to put an end or not.

i'm giving at least 2 weeks or so for me to release the new update. i have it ready actually and i have the outline of all the next chapters to come. it's just that, i don't trust my current mental state and be satisfied with the chapters i've drafted.

again, i'm so sorry for not being able to update lately. i know i said in the previous author's note that i'll be updating fast but with this sudden news and preparation for our next steps in our family, it's taken a toll on me lately.

rest assured that once i feel fine and feel like writing again, i would give you guys an update immediately on the next chapters. :>

with love,

sig aka lieutenantbatshit :>

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover@1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69

02 - a piece of me | just another player. (hwang in-ho x reader)

|| masterlist ||

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——

The room was cold. Not from temperature, but from design — sterile and steel-lined, walls pressed tight in perfect symmetry, not a single window to the world outside. You sat among dozens of other guards, each clad in the identical matte uniform, each face hidden behind a black visor with a single geometric shape. You were in a sea of circles - a hierarchy forged not in character, but in obedience.

You felt your breath fog slightly beneath the mask. Even now, after years of wearing it, there were moments it felt like a muzzle.

Then, the door at the far end hissed open, revealing the creator, host, and God of this hell.

Oh Il-nam.

His hair was thinner now, his skin clung tighter to the ridges of his skull, but his eyes — sharp, glinting like polished glass — scanned the room with that same quiet cruelty you remembered from the archives. He walked with a slight limp, supported by a black cane, his mask tucked beneath his arm like a crown he didn’t need to wear to remind you who he was. He was dressed in deep crimson — formal, commanding, and flawless. The color of blood dried into velvet.

He stood before the room of guards and overseers, calm and calculating, as if he were welcoming guests to a dinner party rather than orchestrating death. He spoke softly, but the room bent toward his words like blades of grass in the wind.

“Welcome to the 33rd Season of the Games,”  Il-nam began, his voice low and controlled. “Do you know what that number means?”

Silence answered him.

“It means that the world hasn’t changed. The hunger still lives. That desperation is still the most powerful currency.”

He paced slowly before the first row, hearing his cane tap against the ground with every step.

“The rules remain the same. The games — Red Light, Green Light. Dalgona. Lights Out,” he paused at that, smiling faintly. “Yes, it’s officially part of the cycle now. Chaos has structure. Isn’t that beautiful?”

You remained still, but your stomach twisted. You remembered the screaming, the way the night didn’t hide the dying. You remembered the man bleeding out on the floor, who now sat behind black glass in a tower above, a Front Man forged from your mistake.

“Tug of War. Marbles. And most importantly, the Squid Game,” Il-nam continued. “You will uphold the structure. You will maintain the illusion of order. But most of all—“ he stopped now, facing the crowd directly— “you will not disobey.”

Murmurs didn’t follow — they weren’t allowed. But the tension thickened. Lights Out was once an unofficial chaos was now part of the rulebook. You felt it all rushing back, blood pooling across tiles, and a hand reaching up in the dark. His voice was breathless, shaking, whispering the words, “Why…?”

“Any form of aid to players, any deviation from assigned protocol, any mask that dares to feel… will be punished.”

You flinched, barely, but you knew the sting was meant for you.

“Some of you have already failed us before,” he said, eyes grazing across the room, almost like he could see behind the masks. “You’re here again because we believe in second chances… not forgiveness.”

The word struck like a lash. You didn’t move, but inside, the fire of the truth burned anew. 

The punishment wasn’t execution, at least, not for you. It was service, a reassignment, and a demotion. A demotion that dragged you into night shifts, into silent bedrooms and glided masks, into the leering eyes of VIPs where no screams escaped and no names were spoken. And every morning, you returned to pink.

“Uniforms and role assignments are waiting in Hall B. You will report immediately. Any delay is noted.”

The square guards began barking orders immediately. Role assignments, room numbers, escort teams, firearm calibration checks — all familiar routines returned like a tidal wave. The masked figures rose, each moving with choreographed efficiency toward their fate. 

Season 33 had begun, and you would do anything just to survive.

——

The metal platform groaned beneath your boots as you stood at the edge of the training hall, rows of pink-masked recruits stiffening under your gaze. 

A row of red carpet unfurled like a fresh wound down the center of the pristine room — the designated “escort path.” Gold-painted chairs lined the simulated VIP lounge behind you, perfectly arranged for the demonstration. Surveillance cameras blinked red in the corners. Nothing here was ever unobserved.

“Position one,” you called sharply.

The recruits moved. The pink guard stepped forward to act as the "escort" was young, shorter than the rest, their voice still trembling. Their grip fumbled over the faux decanter meant to mimic luxury service.

They bowed to the mock VIP actor like a civilian would — too deeply, too slowly. You inhaled sharply through your mask. They tried again, offering a drink with both hands, their gloves shaking slightly.

“Wrong,” you snapped, voice cutting clean through the stale air.

The recruit flinched as you strode forward, the click of your boots like gunshots in the quiet room. In one swift motion, you snatched the decanter from their hands and slammed it down on the tray beside the lounge chair.

“You are not a servant,” you said coldly. “You are a symbol. A presence. A product of obedience, not emotion. The moment you show uncertainty, they will know. And they will take advantage.”

Your words hung heavy in the space between you and the trembling recruit. The rest of the class stood rigid, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.

“Again,” you barked. “With your spine straight. Offer the drink like a machine, not a child.”

The recruit obeyed. This time, it was slower and more deliberate. You stood behind them, adjusting the tilt of their chin with the sharp edge of your gloved hand. Their mask tilted toward yours, questioning and fearful.

They reminded you of someone, more of yourself. When you were promoted to square, clean and hopeful, your eyes too bright beneath the black. Before your rank was stripped and your identity erased in silence, not because of failure, but because of mercy.

“Acceptable,” you said finally, though your voice was devoid of warmth.

Training resumed in silence. Hours blurred past drills — posture, presentation, calculated silence. The elite escort role required perfection. Anything less was an insult to the illusion these monsters paid to see.

Eventually, the session ended.

One by one, the pink guards filed out. The doors hissed open, and the cold concrete swallowed them. But one lingered. A square guard, standing by the door with his arms folded, watching you with quiet interest behind the black mask that once mirrored your own.

“They say you were once a square,” he said casually, his voice low and edged with something darker. “What did you do?”

You didn’t answer. He stepped closer. The distance between you was all surveillance and silence.

“Rumors say you saved someone. That you disobeyed for a dying player,” he added. “But they never say why you’re still alive.”

You turned your head, slow and measured. “I follow orders,” you replied flatly. “That’s all that matters.”

“Funny,” he said. “You train them like you’re trying to make them forget what it’s like to be human.” 

You stared at him. “Because being human in here,” you said, “is the fastest way to die.”

You walked away, back into the corridors of steel and smoke, where ghosts wore masks and punishment was survival’s reward. The dim corridor buzzed faintly, the sound of fluorescent lights above flickering like a dying breath. You made your way down the path lined with identical metal doors, the living quarters for the pink guards.

Yours was the last door in the row. Room 427. You keyed in the code. The lock hissed open. Inside was stillness with barren walls, a single bed with starched sheets, and a metal table bolted to the floor. There was no mirror and belongings. Just silence, always silence.

You sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off your gloves like a second skin. Your pink suit was unzipped just enough to breathe. The metal walls echoed with distant footsteps, squares barking orders at newly recruited guards, the crackle of radios, the buzz of the elevator ferrying supplies to the upper floors. But here in your unit’s quarters, it was still.

There was no escort duty tonight. For once, your number wasn’t on the list. That relief was almost as painful as the duties themselves. You stared at your gloves on the bedside table, fingers curled stiff from wear. Blood had once soaked through them. Screams once filled your ears. But now? You were used to it.

That was the point, wasn’t it?

Before the games, you had a name. A life outside the games. You used to dance in the rain.

You lived in colors, not red, black and pink, but golden light from streetlamps, the warm blue of your favorite café, the soft lavender of your tiny rented apartment. You weren’t rich, but you were free. A literature student by day, part-time waitress by night. You wanted to write stories one day. Novels. Maybe even poetry. You dreamed of publishing your own book someday.

Your laughter used to come easily. Your smile wasn’t a mask. You believed in people. Yet in the end, you were the one who stayed.

In a neighborhood where everyone else was desperate to leave, you stayed behind. You watched your friends grow distant and your family grow smaller. It was only one funeral, then came another. Then another. Until the only voices left were the ones in your head.

You weren’t running from anything — there was just nowhere left to go. No final fight nor betrayal. Just… time, taking people from you, one by one. You stopped talking out loud because there was no one to hear you anyway.

So when the pink envelope arrived that was sealed tight, marked only by shapes, it felt like an accident. A glitch in the mail. A strange dream.

But you opened it.

And that’s how it started.

You didn’t become a player. You didn’t owe anything. But you were noticed — someone they could use. Someone who would not be missed. At first, you thought you’d break. But there was no one left to worry about you. No one left to remind you who you were.

Now, you rarely think about your name. It doesn’t come easily anymore.

And maybe that was the point.

——

The order comes like a slap to your already numb consciousness. A square guard, his uniform sharp and flawless, strides over to you in the dark hallway. His voice is cool, matter-of-fact, as if he’s never had to question a thing in his life.

"Fix the Front Man's quarters. Make sure every detail is perfect," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You simply nod, the sound of the mask moving as you lower your head in silent acknowledgment. You’ve been in this position long enough to know how things go. The Front Man’s quarters, as cold and sterile as everything else in the compound, require absolute precision. The slightest mistake, the smallest imperfection, could result in more than just a reprimand. You’ve seen what happens when others fail in front of the Front Man. There’s nothing kind or forgiving about his gaze.

The square guard watches you for a moment longer, as if ensuring you’ll comply, before turning away, leaving you to your task.

You stood in front of the door, taking in the quiet, lifeless hallway. Everything is perfectly still. No noise. No interruptions. The only sound you hear is the distant hum of ventilation systems and the pulse of your own heartbeat beneath the thick mask. You inhale deeply and push the door open.

Inside, the quarters were as pristine as always. It was cold, empty, and unyielding - not a single trace of humanity remains. The room was meticulously organized, the bed made to military standards, the furnishings aligned with an unnatural symmetry, a single chair in the corner, its back to the wall. Every surface gleams, as if the place is nothing but a shell, waiting for its occupant to step inside.

You walk in slowly, your eyes scanning over every inch, every corner. Your mind runs through the mental checklist: lighting, temperature, scent. Every detail is scrutinized until you’re certain it meets the Front Man’s standards. Your gloved hands trace over the desk, wiping away the faintest trace of dust. It’s almost too perfect. There’s nothing left to fix. The space is an extension of the man who occupies it — cold, flawless, untouchable.

You began to adjust the small things. The alignment of books on a shelf, the angle of the chair, the slight shift in the position of a painting on the wall. Every adjustment feels like an offering. Your body is numb to the motion, your mind detached and mechanical.

A sudden movement at the door catches your attention, and you freeze.

A shadow. A figure standing in the doorway, silent and imposing. You don’t need to look up to know it’s the square guard again. His eyes are cold, but there’s something else, a faint smile at the edge of his lips as he watches you.

“Is everything in order?” he asks, his voice like a dull blade scraping against metal.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Your eyes remain downcast, focusing on the smallest of details. The least of your concerns is his gaze, but you feel the weight of it pressing down on you nonetheless.

The square guard takes a step forward, glancing around the room. His eyes land on the smallest imperfection, a slight smudge on the glass of a picture frame. Without a word, he reaches out, wiping it away with a swipe of his gloved hand. His movements are sharp, deliberate.

“You’ve done well,” he says, his voice softening ever so slightly. But you know better. He’s not complimenting you. He’s simply acknowledging your obedience. The look in his eyes doesn’t change — still cold, still distant.

“Finish up,” he commands. “And make sure the Front Man doesn’t find anything out of place.”

The square guard leaves, his footsteps echoing down the hallway, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. As you turn to leave, your fingers brush against the edge of the desk, and something about the cold metal reminds you of the past. Of who you used to be. Of the girl who had dreams and laughter in her heart.

You barely register the sounds of the Front Man’s approaching footsteps — but you know they're coming. You can feel him before you see him, a presence that lingers in the room even as the door creaks open. 

The Front Man walks inside with his usual poise, the cold mask covering his face, unreadable. His eyes scan the room like a predator sizing up its prey, each movement deliberate, precise, as if assessing not just the space but the person who prepared it. His footsteps echo softly against the polished floors, louder than they have any right to be.

You stand at attention in the corner, still and quiet, as he takes his time walking around the room. You don’t dare speak unless he orders you to.

His gaze flickers to the desk first. He takes a long pause, inspecting the alignment of the books, the sheen on the surface. His fingers brush lightly over the chair, just enough to feel the exact temperature of the room, the subtle pressure of the cushion. He moves with the kind of deliberate grace that you’ve come to associate with someone who knows their power, their dominance, their control over every detail.

For a split second, you hold your breath, wondering what he’s looking for. Is there something amiss? A trace of imperfection you might have missed in your hasty preparation?

But then his gaze shifts to the picture frame. It’s the smallest detail, the most trivial of things. His eyes narrow, his fingers tracing the edge of the frame with unsettling precision. There is a slight tremor in his hand. Just a hint. But it’s enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

He simply looks at the picture frame for a few more seconds, as if contemplating something too deep to put into words. His gaze flickers toward the small smudge you couldn’t catch, and for the briefest of moments, you think he might actually speak. But no. His gaze sharpens, and he pulls his hand away.

Finally, he stands still. For a moment, you wonder if the air between you is thick with his thoughts, heavy and pressing. But then, he slowly exhales, a sound barely noticeable beneath the mask. He turns toward you, and the intensity of his gaze makes your chest tighten, your breath stuttering.

"Good job," he said, his tone as cold as ever. "Everything is in order."

Your heart clenched at the lack of emotion in his words. It was a compliment, but it didn’t feel like one. There was no warmth in his praise, no sign that he saw you as anything more than another tool—an instrument to be used and discarded when no longer needed.

"Thank you," you murmured, even though the words felt hollow on your tongue.

He turned his head slightly, his masked face remaining unreadable. "You may leave now."

With a stiff bow, you turned to leave, your footsteps echoing in the silence of the room. As you stepped out into the cold, sterile halls of the compound, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being forgotten.

You were nothing to him, and perhaps that was exactly what you deserved. After all, you weren’t a guard anymore, not truly. You were just a nameless face in the sea of masked figures, condemned to serve in the shadows for the rest of your days.

And yet, despite the cold dismissal, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder: would he ever look at you again? Would he ever realize that you were the one who had saved him when he had bled out during the chaos of lights out?

But the more you thought about it, the more you realized it didn’t matter. He was the Front Man. You were just a guard—nothing more. The distance between you was as vast as the abyss, and no amount of longing would ever change that.

——

A/N: HAS ANYONE WATCHED THE SQUID GAME TEASER? They just dropped the teaser for Season 3! I am SEATED (and also possibly traumatized) 😳 I think I'm going to be insufferable until June 27 because imagine the teaser making us feel like THAT, then what about the trailer 😨 What are your theories for the next season? I would love to hear about them!

Don't forget to leave a comment in this chapter to be tagged on to the next chapter. :)

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taglist: @roachco-k @goingmerry69

*pained expression intensifies*

‘Even if I have to sacrifice everything’.