The gentle sound of trumpet, accompanied by a soft ensemble of strings, woke Jimin up. He blinks, sitting up, confused. The last thing he remembers before waking up here was getting into a van...a masked man...gas...

That's it.

He looks down, lifting his arms one by one. He's wearing a sea green track suit; a jacket and pants. On his left breast is a number; 136.

Slowly Jimin climbed out of his bunk, situated in the middle of what seems to be the back wall. Others are doing the same, as confused as he is, wearing exactly what he is.

They each have a number, displayed as three digits. The number is shown once on the left side of the jacket, like Jimin had already discovered, and one on the back. The number again is shown on their shirts.

He walks down the black steps, to the floor in the middle. There are large metal doors on one wall, situated on a platform, and two small doors on each side of that same wall, though they were closed. There were no windows in this room, but the lights overhead made the entire room bright.

Above the platform where the large doors are, is a screen, with pixelated numbers and letters. In Korean, it states, "창가인윈." In English, it says, "NUMBER OF PLAYERS." Jimin can't speak English, but he assumes it's a translation. Taking up the most space, was yet another three-digit number; 523.

523 people in this odd room, stacked to the ceiling with bunk beds. This was unlike anything the boy had ever seen.

They congregate to the empty space in the middle of the room, save for a few staying in their bunks, surveying everything. Jimin is wary of all these people, they're his competitors after all. 522 people standing in the way of him getting his money.

"136..." Jimin hears behind him.

"What?" He turns around. There, is a man with long, dark, honestly slightly fluffy hair. The number on his jacket was 097.

"Nothing, I'm just very aware of that number," He was taller than Jimin, with deep, piercing eyes. He spoke a bit softly, and, while Jimin still very much refused to trust anyone, in these games or otherwise...he seemed like one of the less intimidating people here, despite his appearance. If anything, he seemed easy to beat. "June 13th. It's just a day that holds a lot of meaning for me."

"Okay," Jimin looks down, weirded out by his strong eye-contact. "Good for you."

"I'll be watching you 136," His gaze is kind. That's even weirder to Jimin. He...he looks so tough, but he's being too nice to him to mean anything good. He eyes the tattoos poking out from under his sleeve.

This guy seems like trouble.

"Sounds about right," Back into his eyes, his stare is barely short of a glare. "I'll be ahead of you in the competition, so the only thing you'll be seeing is my ass."

"We'll see about that," He smirks, before walking away. Fucking confident people.

The large metal doors suddenly slide open, and once again Jimin's brain short-circuits, so confused. Nine masked men in hot pink uniforms appeared from behind. One, in the center, wore a black mask with a white square on it. On each side of him, are men in masks quite similar, except with circles, standing two by two. Every inch of skin was covered...they almost seemed unhuman.

The man in the square mask walks up to the front, the other eight following a pace behind. And, when what Jimin can only describe as the lead stops, the rest of them stop too. They fan out into a line, completely symmetrical.

Square steps one more step forward. "I'd like to give a warm welcome to all of you." His voice is altered, deepened. "All of you will be participants of six games over the span of six days. Those of you who win all six games, will get a handsome cash reward."

That peaked Jimin's interest.

"Please don't be alarmed by the method in which we brought you here," He continued. "We uphold the highest measures of security and privacy at this establishment. And we will continue to uphold those standards. To maintain complete equality, our staff's identities will be hidden for the duration of your stay."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, the tone overall neutral. Jimin was still wary. There was something...off about this all, besides the obvious sedation and everything. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

Besides, he's been in worse situations. He could survive six little games.

"To solidify the deal, and wave any other concern you might have, we have a contract for you to sign," He speaks.

"What a minute," A voice calls from out of the crowd. "You really expect us to believe all that? After subduing us and taking all our stuff!?"

"I can see why you might have doubts Lee Jonghyuk," The face of the man who spoke appeared on the screen above, getting slapped, just like Jimin had. The lights dimmed as the video played. "Because of course, it's hard to trust people after being scammed into poverty by your financial manager. You're 70,000,000 won in debt now."

The man looked stunned.

"Each and every one of you is in a deep pit of debt you can't climb out of," The masked man explains. The screen splits to two people being slapped, then four, it only continued multiplying. In all, 56 people were displayed at one time. "When we first went to you, you didn't trust us either. However, we played a game, and once you won, we gave you money as promised. We intend to do the same here."

That seemed to calm the crowd. Even Jimin felt his nerves easing a little bit.

"This is your last chance to decide. Do you wish to stay?" Though they can't see his eyes, Jimin can tell he turns his head to survey the crowd. "Or do you wish to leave?"

No one says a word. It seems they had all made their decision.

And so the lights flash back on suddenly, and Jimin squints, his eyes adjusting. The masked men bring out multiple stands, with piles of contracts stacked on top. The players are instructed to get into one of the lines.

As Jimin stands in line, he feels a pair of eyes on him. He looks over, and there's 097 again. They make eye-contact for a second, before Jimin looks away. 097 was weird.

Soon enough it was Jimin's turn. The paper was extremely simple, unlike any contract he's ever seen before. There were three rules;

1) A player is not allowed to voluntarily quite the games.

2) A player who refuses to play will be eliminated.

3) The games may be terminated upon a majority vote

"That's it?" Jimin looks up, giving a look to the man.

The pink worker is silent.

"Fucking weird," He murmurs. Nonetheless, he signs the consent form.

He walked to the back of the room, like he was supposed to. Once everyone had signed a consent form, they got in a line. There was no order, not number order or anything like that, they just morphed into a line the best they could. Said line goes row by row through the room, moving like water. Jimin trudges along, doing as told.

Classical music was played in the background, from the same muted speaker as before. It made the atmosphere...eerily peaceful.

As Jimin walked through the small side door on the left, the music continued. They walked out into yet another confusing room. It was mainly light pink and yellow, with slightly sharper turquoises and oranges as accents. It looked like that famous painting Jimin didn't know the name of, with stairs, and windows, and doors, facing in all directions.

People were already climbing up the stairs when Jimin made it in. There were four stations where they had to get their pictures taken. Jimin stood in front of the camera, waiting for instructions.

"Please look into the camera," The machine instructed. "Smile."

Jimin tried to look intimidating. He hoped he did. Last time Jimin made that face, the guy it was directed at said it only made him wanna fuck him.

Jimin knocked a tooth out that day.

He followed the rest of the players up the stairs, following mindlessly in the line of identical tracksuits.

Finally they made it to the end. They all gathered up together in a stretched out clump, in front of three green doors, just slightly off from the color of their jackets. It was slightly darker, but matched their track suits all the same.

"136," He hears, and turns his head. Once again it's 097.

"Why the fuck do you keep seeking me out?" Jimin sighed. He didn't get this man.

"I told you, June 13th is a day that means a great deal to me," He tells him. "Since you have that number, I feel connected to you. I can't explain it, I just...need to have my eye on you. I know it's weird, but my brain won't let me have it any other way."

Jimin still didn't trust him. "Your brain is fucking weird."

"Yeah, well try living with it," He bites back softly.

The door opens, and all the players walk through. On the other side, was a large space, with sand on the ground. On the four walls, murals were painted that made it look like land stretched on for miles. The room had no ceiling, Jimin could see clouds moving overhead. The doors they came out of looked like they belonged to three small buildings on this side, houses.

Far on the other side, was a large, human-like thing, facing the players. It resembled a little girl, its hands at its sides. The two staff members on either side, men that looked around average height, barely went up to those hands. That's how large she was.

"Welcome to the first game," A female voice, one Jimin heard before when stating the first game was about to begin, was back on speaker. "All players, please wait a moment on the field."

She repeats herself once, and then it's quiet. The only sound is the scuffling of shoes against the dirt ground, and a few quiet murmurs of talkative players.

The doors close behind the players with a clank. Jimin looks behind him. There was no other way out. He was locked into this game now.

"The first game is Red Light, Green Light," The woman on the speaker comes back. As she speaks, the giant girl figure turns around on a rotating platform, putting her left hand up to her metal face.

"Red Light, Green Light?" Jimin furrows his eyebrows, talking to himself. "The kid's game?"

"You can move forward when the tagger starts speaking," She goes on. "But once she stops, you must freeze. Any player with movement detected afterwards, will be eliminated. Those who cross the line at the end of the field before five minutes are up, will move onto the next round."

Seems simple enough. If that was all Jimin had to do to win a bit of money, it was beyond easy. He smirked softly.

"We will now begin," The voice comes on one last time.

'무궁화 궃이 피었습니다.' This time, the voice of a little girl plays from the robot. Before Jimin can even move, someone sprints past him, bumping into his arm.

"Hey you fucker-"

Bang.

Jimin's eyes widen. He had no idea what that was. He looks in front of him. Past a couple people in front of Jimin, the man who had sprinted was on the ground.

'Weird...' Jimin thought. What was going on?

The voice starts again, '무궁화 궃이 피었습니다.'

They all move again, only a few people running this time. Two more bangs. Two more people on the ground. Every standing player looks at them, silent.

One of them coughs up blood.

Someone screams, then they get shot too. A widespread panic breaks out, as people start running to the doors behind them.

No, this couldn't be happening. For years now, Jimin hadn't cared whether he lived or died. His life was shitty, and it wouldn't be getting any better. Death didn't sound too bad, nothing mattered anyways.

But right now, his entire mindset shifted. He didn't want to die, not like this! He was too young, this was too unexpected! He had to live, he had to survive.

He had to run.

"Don't move 136," He hears from behind him before he even had a chance to unfreeze. It was as if 097 had read his mind, had known his intention. Shot after shot after shot fired, and Jimin was growing increasingly panicked. And yet, damn, 097 was still focused on him. Jimin would be annoyed if he wasn't so scared out of his mind. "I think the robot has motion censors. Stand still. Or you will die."

"O-okay," His voice is shaky. "I-I won't move."

The gunshots persisted, as Jimin's joints tense up even more, completely freezing. His joints begin to hurt, some in awkward positions. Slowly...the shots die down. He knows there are people dead all around him. Someone's lifeless fingers were bushing up against his ankle...but he couldn't even look down to see, couldn't even move his foot to get away.

After the last shot is fired, it's silent for but a moment. Then, that woman from before comes on speaker.

"Let me repeat," He hears. "You can move forward when the tagger starts speaking. But once she stops, you must freeze. Any player with movement detected afterwards will be eliminated."

Eliminated.

The word rested heavily in Jimin's mind. He didn't realize how bone-chilling the word could be when put contextually. They're not getting eliminated like players in a game show. They're getting eliminated like they're targets for hit men.

Jimin's eyes fixed onto the robot as she turned her head back around. Again, completely ominous now, came;

'무궁화 궃이 피었습니다.'

Jimin started and stopped quickly. The clock was ticking, and it was such a long stretch in such a short time. How could he ever run that far?

'무궁화 궃이 피었습니다.'

She went again. Two gunshots went off this time. He flinched at each one.

'무궁화 궃이 피었습니다.'

The robot was getting slightly faster, so Jimin had to stop even sooner. A singer tear rolled down his face, the first tear in as long as he could remember.

'무궁화 궃이 피었습니다.'

He's about halfway through now. His muscles are starting to ache slightly as they stay tensed. Jimin can't remember how many shots he heard this time. Maybe four?

'무궁화 궃이 피었습니다.'

'무궁화 궃이 피었습니다.'

'무궁화 궃이 피었습니다.'

Her voice is like a parasite in his head. He can almost feel it gnawing at his brain, painful. He was told once that the brain feels no pain...right now he felt that was utter bullshit.

'무궁화 궃이 피었습니다.'

He's close now. The line is so close. A couple people have already made it over, panting on the ground. One man was vomiting.

'무궁화 궃이 피었습니다.'

This was it. One more sprint, and this would all be over. He would survive. All he had to do was follow the rules.

'무궁화 궃이 피었습니다.'

Jimin runs as fast as he can, getting over the thick white line. He trips, skidding to the floor just as the little girl's voice goes silent. His elbow stings, probably scraped. But he barely feels it.

He sits up just as people start to freeze again. He watches two women drop to the floor, one shot in the chest, the other in the in the back of the head.

Now that he was safe, he could finally look at the scene around him. Bodies were piled up at those three teal doors, even more on the ground close by. Jimin shuttered once again, staring in horror. So many dead people.

And to think, Jimin was about to be one of them. If not for 097, that is.

As if he could read minds, the voice of that very man came from behind him. "You survived. I'm glad. Once I finished I kept my promise, you know. My eyes stayed on you."

"Really?" He said, disbelief laced in the word subtly. His voice was hoarse, barely able to get the words out.

"Yeah...I had to focus on something, or else I would've stared at everything in the back..." He shrugs, though his shoulders seem heavy. "I focused on you. I was rooting for you 136."

The situation must have made Jimin go crazy...because he actually felt a bit grateful for that.

"Well..." Jimin didn't even have a response. "Well."

He turned around until his eyes met with 097's, who then said, "Let's...let's look at each other. Until this is over. I know I'll look if I don't have something, and I really don't want to look. Please...well, just help me out please.

"Yeah," Jimin nodded quickly. "Help me too. I can't...I just can't look."

097 sat down so they were facing one another. "I...I don't want it to sound like I'm favoring you over others, I just want to say I'm happy that number 136 survived."

"How...how the fuck can you even talk so casually?" Jimin's voice is breathy, shaky. Another shot is fired and he jumps. The robot keeps speaking, and people keep coming. Only about 25 seconds are left.

"I'm trying to convince myself this isn't real," He admits. "I'm terrified. But I'm pretending I'm not here. Besides...I'm probably more used to death than anyone here."

Jimin looks up at the clock. 10 seconds left. "Oh," Is all he can manage to say. He isn't even able to bring up the number of people he's watched die too...his entire vocabulary has been placed with mind-numbing fear.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1

Jimin can't help himself, he looks over. There's about 20 people still standing before the line. One player is practically on it. But he, as well as everyone else who didn't finish the run, got shot to death, their blood splattering everywhere as their faces were left to forever show looks of terror.

"Congratulations on beating the first game," The woman's voice comes back. "Please remain where you are until further instructions."

The three teal doors looked like the only way to get out of this space. That is, unless any one of them could sprout wings and fly out of this prison.

If only.

The teal metal doors opened, and the piles of bodies split as they slide the corpses to each side. Jimin swears he can hear the cracking of bones as the doors run over some people's hands.

Forklifts carrying boxes come one by one. The boxes were black, with pink bows on top. Each deceased player was placed into one of these boxes, as if getting wrapped up like some sick gift. Jimin wanted to look away so bad, he truly did...

But he couldn't.

His mind short-circuited, he can't think straight. He can still barely registers what just happened. Merely minutes ago, these people were all alive!

And yet, now faceless pink employees were carelessly putting their bodies into boxes with a thunk.

It took way too long, for them to take them all away. The living players were silent, except for a few crying softly. There had to have been hundreds of bodies, probably over half of the players in the first place.

Slowly, the masked men came forward, picking up the scattered bodies across the space, until they were right next to the living players. The last body was picked up, the lid put on the box. Then it was loaded on the forklift, and driven away.

Once the last forklift disappeared behind the doors, even more of the masked men come towards them. "All remaining players, please return to the dorm. The guards will escort you."

Following the woman's instructions, Jimin stands up on shaky legs. He stares at the ground as they walk, his entire body feeling weighed down by rocks. There are blood stains on the ground, seeping into the dirt.

Back to that colorful, complex room they went, down the stairs, following one after the other. He can't even feel the urge to look at the confusing room again. His curiosity, what little of sense of wonder he was holding onto, was all gone.

The room was dark when they came back, matching the mood of the players. Even the tough, intimidating people's jaws were trembling. The men in pink left them there, alone. Unable to do anything except sit, and think about what the fuck just happened.

Except for a few stray players, all of them were huddled together, about a foot and a half away from one another at the most. Jimin doesn't like people, Jimin doesn't trust people...

But this sea of green tracksuits he finds himself in is more comforting than being alone.

He hears a couple whispers throughout the room, but of course, barely anyone was talking. What was there to say? 'Oh, hey haha, that was pretty crazy out there, watching all those people die around us! Isn't it so funny that one wrong move, and we would've been on the floor next to them?'!?

Yeah that would go over great.

His back rested against one of the beams supporting the beds as he sits. All he wanted to do was curl his knees into his chest and hide his face, as if it would make all the bad in the world go away. And yet...he still doesn't want to seem weak in front of these people.

They all went through the exact same thing, they were all nothing short of traumatized. Jimin can't bring him to judge any of the people crying, any of the people's weaknesses in any way. However, he couldn't find himself able to do the same. Not if there was even one person who would think less of him if he looked weak.

Time inched on, moving slower than favorable. And yet, after probably ten minutes, if Jimin were to guess, here comes the men in pink again, the lights flipping on as they walk in. Every one of the players turn their heads to see them. A couple of them gasped, Jimin sped to his feet.

They came in the same formation as last time, except...well, the circle masks were replaced with triangles. And the triangles had guns. Jimin's heart dropped to his stomach. This wasn't just a group of staff members, this was like the games' own military.

These were pink soldiers.

"Congratulations for making it through the first game," The man with the square mask's voice cuts through the silence. "Here are the results of the first game."

Above them, the numbers shifted. It almost felt like a gameshow, when players win money. The sound it made as the numbers went down was the exact same noise as when the dollar value climbed.

Except, it wasn't money that was climbing this time.

The number stopped at 221, drastically less than the original 523. Jimin felt sick to his stomach.

"Out of the 523 players, 302 have been eliminated," Square announces. "221 players have completed the first game."

It wasn't silent for even a second before a shout ran through the crowd. "Let us go, please!" A woman rushed forward, on her knees. If it weren't for this situation, Jimin would've thought she looked pathetic. "I don't want to die! I'll pay off my debts, I promise!"

"Me too!" A man kneeled as well. "Spare me!"

One after the other gets down, their hands together as they plead. Jimin feels his lip curl up, as a natural response. He doesn't want to judge these people for what they're doing. In fact, it's a much more natural response to the situation than how Jimin feels. And yet, despite everything he just went through...he still feels himself cringe, bubbling up from below all the shock, and grief, and immense fear.

And suddenly he feels even worse.

Jimin isn't used to feeling strong emotions like this. Nor is he used to being around these emotions. He thought he was immune, his heart and soul scarred to the point they're not even recognizable anymore. But today...well today knocked a screw lose.

From his chest to his abdomen, he felt a dark pit of emotion, eating himself alive from the inside out. Though it was all over, though people were no longer dying...the feelings were only getting worse. What the fuck!?

He was so close to panicking.

He sniffed, tears in his eyes once again. He hated crying, he hasn't cried since he was probably fourteen years old. And so he willed the tears away. There were a lot of things he couldn't control now, but he would control his tears.

His eyes were dry by the time the head guard spoke up again, silencing their pleas. "There seems to be a misunderstanding. We are not here to harm you, nor are we here to collect your debts. On the contrary, we're here to provide an opportunity for you. To earn money, so you can achieve financial freedom from those holding you in chains."

"Well how are we supposed to believe you!?" An older woman snides. "You bring us here to fuck knows where, then kill half of us without showing us a penny! Are we some sick joke to you!?"

"Y-yeah!" A kid that looks even younger than Jimin agrees. "Do you get off on this stuff!? You made us play a children's game, is this some gross fetish of sorts!?"

"We're people, not objects!" Another screams. "You can't use us like this!"

"I will repeat, this is an opportunity for you," Square's tone of voice doesn't change a bit. Just like the man who gave him the business card, Jimin realizes. "This is not for us, it's for you. This is simply just a game, nothing more."

"A game where you kill people! That's not a simple game!"

"They broke the rules of the game, so they were eliminated," He explained. "They did so after signing a consent form."

"We don't consent to you killing us!"

"You signed a form consenting to being eliminated if you broke the rules," He was emotionless. "All you have to do, is follow the rules. Then, we will let you leave with the prize money safely."

"Show us the prize money then," A familiar voice popped up. Jimin turned his head. 097 was standing on the steps from across the room, his hands in his pockets. He looked fearless, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tattoos on display. His voice didn't shake in the slightest. If it weren't for his confession to Jimin earlier...well, Jimin would truly think he was immune to all this pain. "If you're really serious, show us the prize money like you promised you would."

"Yeah, do it or, or we'll kill you all!" A man with a scraggly mustache and a face tattoo bellows. Slowly, everyone starts agreeing. Jimin just sits there, silent. He wasn't really in the mood to kill anyone right now.

The square-masked man stops the yelling with a pistol pulled from his holster. He shot it once into the air, and their confidence shattered like glass. As the triangle soldiers point their rifles to the crowd, everyone, including Jimin, duck down. Jimin covers his head for a second, eyes squeezed shut.

But no other shots came, so he slowly stood up again, feeling as helpless as he did in the first game. He had absolutely no power here. The real world was shitty, but at least he had a small taste of freedom. Here he had nothing.

"There's no need to riot," He still acts as if he wasn't just threatened, his voice monotone as usual. He pulls out a remote. "Here is the money as promised."

As he pressed the remote raised up to the ceiling, the lights dim once again. Above them, a large, clear piggie bank lowers enough for them all to see it in the light, as yet another game show-esque sound plays. A large tube is connected to the pig from the top, clear as well. It's yet another childish, psychotic element about this place.

From the tube comes stacks of money, one after the other. Jimin's eyes slowly widen, and soon he's staring in uncontrollable awe at the falling bills. He's only human, after all. A human very in need of that money.

The cash stopped, in a pile within the pig. It filled the plastic container about halfway when it was through. Even though the pig wasn't filled up, it was still amazing. Jimin had never seen this much money in the flesh. He never dreamed he ever would.

The feelings of grief, terror, and now wonder, clashed in his belly. All this money...he could win it. He could live a life of luxury, without a single worry ever again.

"As you know, the number of players eliminated is 302," Square's posture was near perfect. "Therefore, the accumulated prize money so far totals at 30.2 billion won."

A few people audibly gasp, and Jimin's heartrate speeds up at the news.

"That's-that's!-"

"100 million won per player," Square completes. "If you quit the games now, 30.2 billion won will be sent to the families of the eliminated players, 100 million per family. However, you will return to your former lives with nothing. If you play all six games, you'll earn a total of 52.3 billion won, no strings attached."

52.3 billion won...that was an unimaginable amount of money. Now...well fuck! Jimin didn't know what to think!

"Wait, wait!" A man yells. "I-I still don't want your money, I don't want to die! I have a wife and kids! My life isn't worth that!"

One man snickers. "Oh? You think your life is worth more than billions? Please, who do you think you are?"

"W-well, I know I'm not worth that much, but I still don't deserve to die!" A woman argues. "Let me go, I promise I'll be quiet about all of this!"

About ten other people joined in, begging. Jimin again was quiet. Maybe...maybe this wasn't so bad. He was younger, more fit, and probably smarter than the overwhelming majority of these people. Overall...the odds were in his favor.

But did he really want to watch more people die? Did he really want to risk his own life? How much was the money truly worth, for even the trauma the first game caused alone?

The square soldier silenced them again. "I will remind you, if the majority of the players want to stop, the games will be terminated. Is there anyone who would like to vote to terminate?"

The dozen or so from before begin to plead again, and a few more raise their hands...but there really are only a few people. So, the majority of them were simple-minded and greedy, or perhaps hopeless and desperate. Jimin wasn't excluding himself from this. He was very selfish. He knew that.

But, in the end, it was better here. In the outside world, he had no hope. He was constantly running, aimless, no change for him in sight. Here...there was a chance, there was hope. He really didn't want to watch people die, maybe that proved he had a heart after all, (which made things even worse). But if he had to for billions of won in exchange...well, he may as well try.

And if he fails? Well then good riddance. He wasn't afraid of death, only dying. The dying part wouldn't take that long anyways. Just a few moments of pain, that's all. At least he wouldn't have to wait for death to slowly claim him, always lurking from around the corner.

Right now, he looked death straight in the eye. The realization made Jimin feel powerful in a way. It may not be likely, winning against death, his cold breath against Jimin's face, so close he can smell it. But he could pull through, could was the key word. And that was enough for him.

It was a win-win situation. His death may mark the end of him pathetically, in a stupid children's game. But it was no better than ending up dead in a random alleyway.

Confidence built up in him, coursing through his veins, squashing the butterflies floating in his stomach. He had made his decision. This would be enough for him.

"It seems we don't have a high enough demand for a vote," Square declares after a minute. "Therefore, the next game will start tomorrow. Participation is mandatory."

With that, the pink soldiers get into formation, leaving the room, the players left to be among themselves once again.

"I can't believe you bastards!" One of the women begging for freedom spits. "You're gonna let us all die!? Over some money!?"

"Some money?" A scraggly man who looks like he's gotten into way too many fights for Jimin's liking approaches her. "That's billions of won up there. You would be insane to give up that opportunity."

"But I don't want to die!"

"Then fucking survive!"

"You asshole-"

The room echos with the loud sound of skin meeting skin. The woman's hand met the back of the man's, which is what makes the sound. After blocking the slap, he punches her right in the cheekbone. The contact makes a soft, pathetic sound, before the woman falls to the ground, stunned into silence.

"You see this!?" The man bares his teeth. They're extremely stained, probably from cigarettes. "Does anyone else wanna go home!?"

Silence.

"Wow, he thinks he's cool," The voice behind Jimin causes him to jump. "Best to stay away from him."

Jimin turns around. He has no idea when this man had the time to get across the room. "I...yeah."

"So," 097 stares at him. "We're staying. And you didn't plead to leave even before the money was released."

"W-well," Jimin's words seem to have died with the 302 players in the first game. He sits down. "Wait, you were watching me? Even still?"

"Yeah," 097 shrugs, sitting with him. "I wish I could help it, but it's a compulsion of sorts. I don't know why."

"It's fucking weird," Jimin's voice is breathy, forcing the words out. It was as if...that was his go-to response. But...but did that mean he actually meant it? Or, was he just tongue tied? He really had no way of knowing. He hated how this game was making him think!

"I know," 097 looks down. "But your number is important to me."

"You've said," Jimin narrows his eyes, he can't help it. "Are you sure it's my number? If I were an old saggy man with seven teeth missing would you feel the same?"

"Well, maybe I connected over the fact we're the same age," He admits. "But it doesn't change the fact that June 13th is probably one of if not the most important day for me."

Despite his semi-intimidating appearance, his voice is soft. Jimin doesn't like how calming it makes him feel. He feels like he'll have to try extra hard to keep his guard up around this guy. His muscles tense the second he feels them relax. He won't react positively to this man.

"What do you want from me?" He whispers, tired of everything. "I'm not in the mood to be harassed."

"Let's team up," The taller proposes.

"What?" He furrows his eyebrows. "No."

"Come on, think about it," 097's voice is still quiet, and calm, but not pink soldier calm. Jimin can still sense he feels a lot of the same emotions he is right now. He's actually...kind of grateful for this interaction. He's not happy, and he doesn't like this man, but it's how he feels nonetheless. "We're probably some of the youngest people here, people will underestimate us for it. But we survived, and we did it well, and...come on, you have to admit, we kind of just...click. We'd be perfect partners."

Jimin hadn't felt this way about someone in a long time; grateful, albeit a bit comforted by that stupid honey voice. 097 was looking out for him, which was kinda nice. He never really feels positive feelings about anyone these days, and yet he feels okay around him. Maybe...Jimin thought, maybe they do click. "We don't click."

"Well, I beg to differ, but I'm too tired to get into an argument right now."

"So you'll leave me alone?" He muttered.

"No, I'll remind you I saved your life."

"W-what?" Jimin looks at him as if he's crazy. To be fair though, he very well could be. "No you didn't."

"Oh but I did," He raised an eyebrow.

"What the hell way do you think you saved me?" Jimin spits. He didn't even know if he wasn't to be mean to this man, he couldn't figure things out. But this? This annoyed him.

"I told you not to run in the game, didn't I?" He tips his head to the side. "You were going to run, but the second I spoke you stopped moving."

"I-I wasn't gonna run," Jimin lies, suddenly embarrassed that someone so easily found a weakness he thought no one could see. "You didn't help me at all."

"I watched your muscles flex," 097 argued. "I watched your heel move off the ground. Your survival instincts failed you, mine are the reason you survived."

A frown rested on Jimin's face, once again powerless. "Fine. You may have helped me. That doesn't mean shit."

097 smirks softly, Jimin hates it. "Oh but it does. I can help you more. We can help each other. You owe me one, don't you think?"

"What if you didn't help me?" He continued to be stubborn. He didn't even know what 097...wasn't that bad. He just wasn't. This could be the first okay thing going for him in a while. "What if I wanted to die?"

"Then you would've moved," Shit 097 was intuitive. Or...maybe Jimin was simply a terrible liar. "If you wanted to die you would've disregarded what I said and moved anyways. Come on 136, I'm smarter than that."

He'd been backed into a corner. And so he stays silent.

"I see," Jungkook looks at him silently. "You know I'm right."

Jimin sighs, tired, defeated. After a second, he puts out his hand, meeting the taller's eyes. "Fine. Since you helped me out, I owe you one."

097 shook his hand with a small smile. "We'll make good partners 136."

"I'd like to hope so," Jimin's voice is so quiet it begins to strain. "Because if I die because of you..." He doesn't know how to end that sentence.

"I'll keep you alive 136," He promises. "You better keep me alive too."

Jimin knows he hears sincerity in his voice. He almost wants to trust it. "I'll try."

Almost.