After the third game, the remaining players were exhausted. It had been a very bad experience in which they had to fight to not give in to the pressure. Between so many turns it was decided whether you chose those closest to you, did it out of favoritism or a killer aspect was born that forced you to leave behind others with whom you could have shared good chemistry. Or at least half of them, those who wanted to leave this hell of figures with sharp corners.

Several numbers retired to a corner, sitting their behinds on steps that looked like carved stones for the poor. Souls in pain, crestfallen and with sadder looks than when they see bad news on television. There is no room for regrets or words of consolation. The lives taken a long time ago have been faces that will soon be forgotten, some right now already travel fleetingly through the minds with gunshot wounds. Who they were or what their names were, are unnecessarily heavy questions. Seong Gi-hun has a bloody storm splashing into his eyes, unable to hear or feel the presences of his warmest companions now. There is a too calm look that observes him between the tremors of his breaths, both could cause a landslide, but not today, too soon to give his location to the outside.

001 kept his distance, not too far away to be able to move according to the intentions of the man who was teaching him a new perspective on humanity. On the other hand, not everything was so bad.

Player 120 was leaning against one of the beds. The game had exhausted her in many ways. This wasn't so different from pushing the limits and ending up cleaning everything up with a few shots. Many had just tested the proximity of a battle front, filling themselves with dirt up to the inside of their clothes. Now all they wanted was to be able to create smoke with it so they could say that it had all been a bad dream. Nearby, two participants were still consoling themselves for the separation that occurred due to the desperation of two other undesirables who managed to grab one of them, more precisely Yong-sik. It could be said that the bad trick has served as a lesson to mother and son. An indecisive step after step approaches, with an equally restless hand rubbing the corner of his pants. He hits his nerves, spreading his legs a little further to try to finish the endless walk to the destination he has set for himself. This man identified with the number 246 was still racking his brains thinking about how he should speak to that tall, burly figure that crossed his gaze every now and then. He knows that he had previously had the joy of saving two women, although the decisions that taste good to you are later pursued by others with the most disastrous flavor.

—apons... —120 was murmuring, focused on her thoughts, forced to shake off the sadness of losing a friend, a person who was finally accepting her true essence. Young-mi has left too quickly. She can still hear that timid voice ringing in his ears. In fact, she seems to be talking to her right now, but the tone is rather calm. This is the man who had confidently taken his life to save him. She slides her head down to look at him, there being a clear difference in height due to the stairs—. Are you okay?

246 had too many questions, too many to say, but it all choked in his tight throat. He accumulates saliva, twisting his Adam's apple, which becomes more pronounced at the moment of swallowing all the nerves that he had been sweating in the fabric of the poor pants that are not to blame for not being very useful. He barely opens his mouth, but he makes his intention to speak clear. 120 continued to show concern until now, hoping to be able to hear something that is intangible and that is not a reason to alarm him, although they do not have even a minimum of space since both an ajumeoni and her inexperienced son were making a nuisance of themselves, placing their curious noses where there was nothing for them. Someone has to wake up, so hands with black nails approach with the same intention of salvation, holding the arm of the man who needed a better space to release his tongue. 

He watches her from behind, slightly unsettled by the grip around his bicep. He can feel the strength of a man, yet what his eyes see is clearly a woman. No one pays them any attention. There's a heavy atmosphere in the vast space now shared by the ninety-five remaining players. The ones hurting the most are Team X, their wounds evident in weak, ragged breaths, leaving them with no interest in anyone else's movements. On the other hand, Team O is fairly relaxed, not yet filling their chests with the air of victory. They are already plotting their malicious yet compelling plan—to strike the opposing side at night, once the lights go out. Anyone would say it's obvious. They know they'll succeed as soon as they begin, so there's no rush to flaunt their advantage just yet.

—... —he tries to speak, to give some kind of direction, even. He had thought it would be nice to go somewhere as comfortable as his bed, but he didn't expect her to have the same idea.Upon reaching the right corner, he starts climbing the steps without being told, simply following the feet of the person ahead of him. He's about to stumble, but she turns around, letting her fingers slide along the arm he unconsciously still wanted to hold. She's making sure she doesn't go too fast herself, plus they've already arrived.

There is a pause between them, thinking about the continuation of what they are going through together. He wonders several times if he should take some kind of initiative while she is plagued by worries, some that she wants to get rid of by cleaning her shoulders like when you blow to get rid of dust. For now, he prefers to cough and stay surrounded by dirt, prefers to wait for the man to dispel a few dusty specks at his own pace. It is sudden when he stops looking in other directions, making a gesture with his arms and hands to invite her to sit down. They will take one more look before moving towards the mattress. 120 decides to invade the right side, leaving 246 to have the rest. They remain silent again, but she does not stay still, she is careful not to steal his space, she prefers to leave enough for both of them to be comfortable.

A breath escapes from parted lips— Why do you know so much about weapons? —the question is said in a deep voice, maintaining that serenity so typical of him.

His eyes twitch for a split second. She doesn't know how he knows that, she didn't seem to be being so obvious before. He has doubts about whether he has been looking too long at the masked men and the weapons they carry in their hands. It's like he paid attention every game. However, the reality is different. The man had previously managed to read her lips, he wasn't very sure but now that he sees such a clear reaction, he knows that he has learned information that can help him talk to her, although it is not the most appropriate topic. The corners of those feminine eyes soften and crinkle a little when she smiles, looking like she's about to say something good.

—I was a sergeant in the Special Forces. —she receives a grimace in response from the opposite mouth, not in a bad way. Even to that is added a slow little dance that the man's head does up and down. He's a little surprised.

. . .

It's almost time for the lights to go out. 120 and 246 are still sitting on the same bed. At the last announcement from the public address system, they had been looking at each other, quickly returning to their entertaining chat that brought them together for the longest time. Now that there were only disturbing seconds left to be in complete darkness, they accelerated their voices, as if after the change they were forbidden to speak. Like when you send the children to sleep and they don't pay attention to you no matter how many times you tell them. They are children and they want to continue talking because they are not going to sleep.

—Are you sleepy? —that comforting voice relieves the tension of the silence. The lights went out moments ago and although it was difficult, he decided to speak in whispers to make it more exciting and private. A smile appears on the woman, who agrees to stay a little longer. With that he offers his immense —I would like—, because he wants to take advantage of the time while the dream still shows no signs of life. That relieved him, because he didn't want to be alone. He knows he is surrounded by people, but the vast majority are strangers with whom he will never speak or look in the face. He doesn't even know if they will get out of this place alive. The man's daughter soon appears to sweeten his lips with longing. So much time separated from the children was crushing his heart. He needs money to save the only family he has.

The woman next to him looks at him without missing a flash of emotion on her face, whether it was joy or sadness, she respected the information she was receiving at this very moment. She doesn't have words of the same weight to respond to him, but he knows that there is nothing as valuable as the love he has for that little girl. Little by little, between response and response, a peace appeared that made them both settle into bed while they continued talking. And in the end, Park Gyeong-seok falls defeated by the comfort that this approach had given him, being the first to sleep, not caring about the cold that occupies the place since no sunlight enters twenty-four hours a day.

──────────────── FINAL NOTE

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