I didn’t sleep.
I couldn’t.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashing lights. Spinning tops. Jagged paper tiles. Screaming faces that weren’t there anymore.
Somehow, the silence after a game felt louder than the gunshots.
People moved differently now. They watched more. Whispered behind cupped hands. Food was traded like gold.
But one person didn’t whisper. He didn’t trade. He didn’t even sleep.
Jaemin Cho.
I spotted him alone, sitting on the edge of his bunk with his head down, elbows resting on his knees. His number—218—was stitched across his chest like it weighed more than the uniform itself.
He hadn’t spoken to anyone since the game. Not even me.
Not since he pulled me out of the red light.
“You looked like someone who didn’t want to die yet.”
His voice still rang in my ears.
So why was he avoiding me now?
A Conversation... Almost
I slid off my bed. Quiet. Careful.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcLph1jfPBt
Each step toward him felt heavier than the last.
He didn’t look up when I stopped in front of him.
“Hey,” I said.
Still nothing.
I crouched slightly, tried to meet his eyes.
“Why did you help me?”
Finally—finally—he looked up.
And god, his eyes were something else.
Not cruel. Not warm.
Just… broken.
“Don’t read into it,” he muttered.
“That’s not an answer.”
He stood up suddenly. Taller than I expected. “You’re not the only one who doesn’t want to die,” he said softly. Then, with a final glance, he turned and walked off—back into the shadowed side of the room, vanishing behind the bunks.
The Pregnant Girl & the Mocking Giant
On the other side of the room, Jun-hee sat quietly with her hands on her swollen belly. She was sweating, whispering something to her child under her breath.
Thanos strolled by like he was patrolling his kingdom.
“Well, well, player 222. That belly of yours better be bulletproof,” he snorted.
Jun-hee said nothing.
“You know, if the kid pops out during the game, maybe we can use it for extra lives?” he added, grinning.
I jumped from my seat. “Shut up.”
Thanos turned with a mocking bow. “Oooh, little miss 456 speaks again. What's wrong? Jealous I’m giving her attention?”
“Try giving her respect,” I snapped.
Thanos grinned wider. “Fine. I’ll respect you instead.”18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8bUbNWmjGt
And just like that, he started rapping. Loud, off-beat, ridiculous.
“Yo, Sae-ra, queen of the room,18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSNBYZP3LS7
Gonna steal hearts and lead us to doom—18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTWHYxp2ZQb
I’m high as the moon but not gonna die,18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoZrtm4ASYg
With Nam-gyu and Mini, we’ll touch the sky!”
Nam-gyu clapped like a little kid. “Encore!”
Min-su, in the corner, actually chuckled. “...He's not even rhyming.”
“Exactly!” Thanos beamed. “It’s art.”
Red’s Second Visit
That night, another note.
Slipped into my folded shirt while I was in the bathroom.
This one said:
“Tomorrow: Mingle Game. Pick wisely. Some are poison. Some are prey.”
I stared at the words, heart thudding.
What the hell did that mean?
Alliances? Betrayals? Partners?
I looked around the room.
Everyone seemed like a friend until they had to choose between survival and morality.
Even the quiet ones.
Especially the quiet ones.
The Mingle Game: Round One
The next morning, the guards herded us out of the bunk room, the heavy thud of their boots echoing in the sterile hall. We shuffled onto a large, circular platform with a cold metal floor that hummed faintly beneath our feet.
“This is the Mingle Game,” a guard announced, voice crackling through the speakers.
The platform began to rotate slowly, the edges blurring as we spun in unison, the dizzying movement making my stomach flip.
“Listen carefully,” the guard continued. “When the platform stops, you must quickly form groups of the specified number called out. Only those who assemble correctly and reach the designated room survive to the next round.”
A harsh buzz sounded. The platform jerked to a halt.
“Form groups of six! Go!”
Players scattered, eyes darting around, searching for allies, friends, or even enemies. I hesitated.
Suddenly, a familiar voice from behind me: “Six, huh?”
I turned to see Jaemin, that blank, unreadable face masking something I wanted to understand.
“Looks like we’re in this together,” he said quietly.
Before I could answer, Than—Thanos—lumbered past, cracking his knuckles with a wild grin, dragging Nam-gyu and Min-su like they were his own ragtag crew.
“Come on, Saera!” Than called out, eyes glinting with a manic energy. “Team High might be the wildest yet!”
I shook my head. “Not this time.”
Jaemin’s gaze caught mine again. “Stick with me,” he said.
I wanted to ask why, but there was no time.
Tensions Rise
Groups formed like splintering cracks across ice. Some huddled in frantic whispers. Others shoved their way through with force.
Jung-bae appeared beside Gi-hun, his expression grim but resolute. Gi-hun caught my eye for a moment, a silent question in his stare: Why is Jung-bae here? What is he thinking?
Jun-hee struggled along with a few others, her breath heavy, her hands protective over her belly.
Thanos kept taunting her from a distance, his rapping replaced by cruel laughter. But I noticed Nam-gyu standing quietly beside her, a silent guard, while Min-su tried to stay invisible in the corner, trembling but determined.
The Race to Survival
A bell rang. Groups of six dashed through corridors, scrambling for the designated room.
I ran beside Jaemin, hearts pounding in sync.
“We have to move fast,” he said, eyes scanning.
When we reached the room, the door slammed shut behind us, leaving pounding breaths and muffled shouts outside.
Four rounds to survive. Four rounds to live.
The game had only just begun.
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