In other words, baby, kiss me

■▲⬤

𝕋ℍ𝔼 voting began once more.
One by one, players were called forward, their footsteps echoing in the silent, suffocating room. Each press of a button was followed by the hollow beep that echoed like a heartbeat. The monitor numbers flickered — O, X, O, X — rising and falling in perfect uncertainty.

Many of the players held their breaths. Others whispered prayers, trembling hands clutched together. Hana stood near the white line, her gaze fixed on the glowing scoreboard, her heart thundering beneath her chest. The numbers were neck and neck — no one could tell which way the tide would turn.

As the next player's vote registered, the screen lit up: O: 100 | X: 100.

A stunned silence swept across the room.

"It seems we're down to the last vote," the masked man announced, his voice calm and distorted through the speaker.

All eyes turned toward the final player — the old man, Player 001. His slow, careful steps echoed louder than any of the others as he approached the voting table.

Hana's stomach tightened. She remembered his quiet smile, the way he had mentioned his brain tumour. A fragile man caught in the middle of a nightmare. Her hands curled into fists as he stood before the two buttons — one promising freedom, the other, death disguised as chance.

The masked man's voice broke the silence.
"If you wish to continue playing, press O. However, if you wish to stop playing, then press X."

The old man inhaled deeply, his trembling fingers hovering between the buttons. For a long moment, the world seemed to stop — no one dared to move or breathe.

He looked up at the scoreboard, his eyes reflecting the flickering numbers, before lowering his gaze back to the table. His hand steadied, and then—

Beep.

The screen changed.
O: 100 | X: 101

For a heartbeat, there was only silence. Then, a wave of cheers and gasps erupted from the crowd. Some players collapsed with relief; others sobbed or laughed hysterically. Hana exhaled, a flood of relief washing over her trembling frame.

"The majority of the players have voted to terminate the game," the masked man declared. "Therefore, this game is now terminated."

A man ran forward, shouting in desperation, "Hey! Okay, anybody who wants, they can go! But let the ones who want to stay till the end! Half of us died already — we can't just stop here!"

Player 212 joined in, her voice sharp with defiance. "He's right! Please, let us stay! We'll keep playing the game!"

Then another voice — Player 322 — rose above the noise, "Yes! Let us continue!"

The masked man stood still for a moment before replying evenly, "It truly is a pity that we must say goodbye to you like this. However, we will not completely seal the door of opportunity for all of you."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.

"If the majority of you wish to participate again, then we will resume the game. So... goodbye for now."

The lights dimmed, the tension dissolved into hollow murmurs, and Hana felt her knees weaken — a fleeting relief before the dread of what might come next began to settle deep inside her chest.

ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━

The van door slid open with a harsh clank, and Hana was shoved out onto the cold asphalt. Her wrists and ankles were bound, her eyes covered by a thin black blindfold. The icy night air bit against her skin, making her gasp as it brushed over her near-bare form.

Something heavy hit the ground beside her — the sound of clothes, a small thud of personal items — and then the van door slammed shut. Tires screeched. The rumble of the engine faded into the distance, leaving behind only silence and the wind.

For a moment, Hana lay still, her breath shaky and uneven. Then, forcing herself to move, she twisted her wrists, testing the knots. They weren't tight — as if someone didn't want them too tight. Panic fuelled her strength as she managed to slip free, rubbing her raw wrists before tearing the blindfold off.

The dim, grey light of dawn met her eyes. She blinked rapidly, vision adjusting, and then froze. Her breath hitched — she was standing on an empty stretch of road, wearing nothing but her underwear. Her pulse quickened, and she scrambled toward the pile of clothes scattered near her feet.

Her hands trembled as she dressed quickly, glancing around after every sound. The world around her was eerily still — no buildings in sight, just an endless stretch of road and faint outlines of trees in the distance. The air smelled faintly of salt and wet earth.

Hana hugged her arms close for warmth and steadied her breathing. Her bare feet pressed against the rough tar as she took a cautious step forward. Then another.

With no clue where she was — or who might still be watching — she began to walk.

Hana walked along the dimly lit street, her steps slow, unsteady. The world around her carried on as if nothing had happened — people strolled past in quiet conversations, couples shared coffee through takeout cups, and the neon signs above flickered against the night air.

But her mind wasn't there. Her thoughts drifted — flashes of the games, the screams, the cold feel of the mask staring her down. And then, like a spark catching in dry air, her mother's face came to mind. Pale. Smiling weakly from the hospital bed.

Her heart stuttered.

Before she even realized it, Hana's feet began to move — a quick step, then faster, until she was running. Running down the street, her breath hitching, tears stinging her eyes as her surroundings blurred into streaks of light and sound. Her lungs burned, but she didn't stop. The hospital came into view, glowing faintly against the night sky.

She pushed through the glass doors, panting hard, the air thick with antiseptic and fluorescent hums. Her voice came out cracked, raw.
"My mother... Kang. How is she?"

The nurse at the front desk looked up — at first startled, then her expression shifted. The warmth drained from her face, replaced by something soft and heavy. Hana's chest constricted instantly.

"No... no..." she whispered, already backing away as her heart pounded so loud it drowned out the world.

She bolted past the counter, ignoring the nurse's calls. "Wait! Miss, you can't—!"

Two orderlies grabbed her by the arms as she tried to push through the corridor doors. "Ma'am, please! You need to calm down!"

"Let me go! Let me go!" Hana screamed, thrashing, her hair falling into her face, the edges of her vision tunnelling. Everything was shaking — her hands, her breathing, her thoughts.

Then a familiar voice cut through the chaos — the doctor who had treated her mother. He approached quickly, his eyes full of regret.
"Kang Hana..." he said softly. "I'm so sorry. Your mother — the sickness... it got worse. We tried to reach you."

The words hit like a physical blow.

Her knees buckled, the strength leaving her body all at once. The world spun and blurred. The cold linoleum pressed against her legs as she fell, clutching at her chest as if to stop the crushing ache.

Her breathing came in ragged gasps — too shallow, too fast. The air wouldn't go in. The doctor knelt beside her, calling her name, but his voice sounded far away, distorted.

Hana's vision swam. Her fingers trembled violently. Her throat burned as she tried to scream, but only broken sobs escaped — raw, uneven sounds that tore through the quiet hallway.

"Mom..." she gasped, over and over, the word dissolving into tears. "Mom, please... please..."

Her hands clawed at the floor, nails scraping the tile as her body curled in on itself. Her heart was racing out of control, every breath feeling like it might be her last.

Someone gently pressed a hand to her shoulder, another voice — calm, patient — urging her to breathe, but Hana couldn't. The grief had swallowed her whole.

And in that sterile, too-bright hallway, with the smell of disinfectant and loss heavy in the air, Hana's world fell completely apart.

Hana sat motionless on the cold plastic chair, her head bowed low. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, painting her skin in a sterile, unforgiving white. Her mind was blank — yet beneath the stillness, a storm was raging. Grief, disbelief, guilt, rage — all of it tangled together, crashing and breaking inside her chest until she could no longer tell one from the other.

Her fingers twitched on her knees, trembling. For a long time, she didn't move, didn't breathe. The world felt far away, muffled by the ringing in her ears and the weight in her chest that refused to lift.

Then, without a word, Hana slowly pushed herself up. The legs of the chair screeched softly against the floor — the only sound in the quiet hallway.

No one stopped her. The nurses and doctors glanced up but didn't say a thing. Maybe they understood. Maybe they'd seen this kind of heartbreak too many times before.

She walked out of the hospital like a ghost, her feet dragging against the tile, each step heavier than the last. When she reached the doors, the cool night air hit her skin, but she barely felt it. Her body moved on its own, aimless, following the path she'd taken a thousand times before.

The city lights blurred through the curtain of her hair as she kept her gaze fixed on the pavement. Her breath was shallow, her shoulders slumped as if the grief itself weighed her down. Cars passed, voices murmured, life went on — but Hana walked through it all like she no longer belonged to that world.

By the time she reached her apartment building, her body ached, her mind hollow. She stopped for a moment outside the entrance, staring up at the cracked windows and flickering hallway light. A place that once held small comforts — her mother's laughter, the smell of soup simmering on the stove — now waited for her as something darker.

A terrible silence.
A terrible place to return to.

And still, she walked in.

■▲⬤

By: SilverMist707

Thank you all for waiting and being there for me. I love you all and I would give you a hug if I could. Next chapters will come tomorrow. <3