C H A M P I O N     O F     D E A T H

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BEING TAKEN AWAY FROM THE GAMES MID WAY THROUGH ONE WASN'T ON HER WORRIES AT ALL. SHE DIDN'T EVEN THINK THAT WOULD HAPPEN CONSIDERING THEY WERE ALL ABOUT 'FAIRNESS'. Sae-bom had no other choice but to get dragged away into another part of the building, one where she probably wouldn't even know. She was scared, but tried not to show it, she couldn't afford weakness right now.

Sae-bom's shoes scraped across the smooth, painted floor as the guards marched her forward—one at each side, their gloved hands wrapped tightly around her arms, firm enough to make escape impossible.

The fluorescent lights above flickered cold and artificial, casting long shadows that twitched with each step. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a warning bell, and she tried not to let the panic climb higher in her throat.

She wasn't sure how long it had been since the fourth game. Minutes? Hours? Time felt broken in this place. Ever since they had called out her name and pulled her away from Soo-min—her only comfort in this nightmare—Sae-bom had been on edge.

That moment haunted her. Soo-min's fingers slipping from hers, the confusion in her eyes, the guards saying nothing, just motioning for Sae-bom to come. The separation felt too abrupt to be routine.

Now, they led her backward through the massive complex—past empty game rooms that still reeked of sweat, paint, and blood. Past the staircase maze she was starting to memorize, the winding, Escher-like trap of color and illusion. Her eyes darted around, taking in any detail she could. But nothing told her why she was being taken.

The only places that felt familiar were the dormitory room with its suffocating walls of bunk beds, and the long candy-colored stairs that always led to something worse. Her breath came fast, sharp, but she swallowed it down.

"Where are you taking me?" She found her voice to ask, trying to make her tone steady, and her necklace felt heavy all of a sudden around her neck. That being the only thing now to keep her grounded.

Silence.

The guards didn't flinch. They never did.

But then—just as her hope for any kind of response faded—the one on her left turned his head slightly, barely enough to be called a glance. A glimpse of eyes behind the mask. That was it. Then he faced forward again, indifferent, unreadable.

A nervous gulp slid down her throat. Her stomach churned. This is a trap, a small voice whispered in her head, They're separating you for a reason.

Sae-bom had always been the one to protect her little sister, even before this nightmare began. She hadn't fought through all of this, hadn't played the games, hadn't watched people die in front of her—for nothing. She clenched her fists slightly despite the grip on her arms, letting herself believe she could still fight if she had to.

They turned a sharp corner.

The hallway changed, narrower now, more sinister. Gone were the bright childish colors of the staircases or the clinical white of the previous corridors. Instead, this one was drenched in a strange, almost sickly yellow glow.

The light bulbs above buzzed faintly as if they were on the edge of burning out. Everything felt warmer here, but not in a comforting way—it was claustrophobic, too quiet.

At the end of the hall stood an elevator. Plain metal doors with a single panel beside it.

They stood in silence until it opened with a dull ding, the sound far too cheerful for the situation. Sae-bom resisted the instinct to step back, but the guards pushed her gently forward. Inside, the space was small, mirrored, with that same inescapable yellow light overhead. The doors closed with a hiss.

Music began to play through a hidden speaker—bubbly, classical music. The same song they used to announce each new game.

Sae-bom's face twisted in distaste. Her shoulders tensed. She couldn't stand that tune anymore. Of course it's the same, she thought to herself with an eye roll, typical of them.

In an attempt to push away the silence, or maybe to pretend she wasn't scared—she whistled along, off-key and soft. The guards didn't respond. They never did.

The elevator moved up. And up. And up.

The longer it went, the more her stomach turned. She wasn't going to a game. This wasn't like before. They were taking her somewhere else. Somewhere she hasn't been before, where she might not be able to escape if she needed to or even find her way back to the others.

Then—another ding.

The doors slid open.

And Sae-bom's breath caught in her throat.

The room beyond looked like a suite from another world. Smooth, dark floors. Warm lighting that glowed golden instead of blinding. A sleek black couch sat at the center of the room facing a massive screen—switched off. Beside it was a small table.

On it sat two glass cups and a bottle of alcohol, half empty. The amber liquid caught the light and shimmered faintly. She blinked. Something about it made her heart stumble.

The furniture was too clean. The air smelled faintly of something expensive and floral. The walls were decorated with odd patterns, almost modern, like a hotel or... someone's private quarters.

The guards guided her forward again, then stopped abruptly once she reached the center of the room. One of them gestured wordlessly to the couch.

"Wait here," He ordered briefly, voice muffled from the mask covering his face. It was the first thing either of them had spoken since they grabbed her.

She turned toward him, about to ask why, about to demand something—anything—but they were already walking away, heading back into the elevator. The doors slid shut behind them with the same clinical ding.

And then it was silent again.

Sae-bom stood there, frozen, unsure whether to sit, to pace, or to run. She glanced at the two cups again. Whoever this place belonged to... they'd been expecting company. Or already had it.

Her eyes shifted to the door on the far side of the room. Closed.

Maybe someone was watching her. Maybe the camera mounted high in the corner—subtle, but visible—was tracking her every move.

She sat down slowly on the couch, keeping her hands in her lap, knuckles scrunched up, her posture tense. Her eyes flicked toward the screen, half expecting it to come to life and show her something horrifying. Or someone she loved.

Please be okay, Sae-byeok. Soo-min. Please still be alive.

She felt the weight of the silence press against her chest. It was unbearable.

For now, all she could do was wait. But Sae-bom wasn't the same woman who stepped into this nightmare days ago. The outside world made sure of that. She had lost too much, seen too much, endured too much.

And if this was a trap? Then they picked the wrong person to underestimate.

Time went by, but the silence in the room had thickened like fog. Nothing was being done, and she was stuck in the room without any answer or idea as to why she was taken there.

Sae-bom paced slowly in front of the couch, her arms still tight against her chest, every muscle coiled and ready. The tension clawed at her skin like static, buzzing just beneath the surface.

     The more she waited, the more convinced she became that this was a test—or a trap. That someone was watching her from behind that screen, waiting to see what she'd do.

Then she heard it.

A hiss from the far door, sounding like it was opening. Soft footsteps followed next straight away.

She froze.

A shadow cut across the wall, slow, purposeful. Whoever it was didn't try to hide their presence. No announcement. No warning. Just the steady, deliberate sound of dress shoes against the polished floor.

    Sae-bom's breath caught in her throat. She pivoted, silently slipping toward the wall near the corridor entrance, her back pressed against it as she peered around the corner.

Her eyes widened.

A figure, tall and cloaked in black, stepped into the room. He was dressed similarly to the guards—crisp, tailored suit, but this one was different. His mask was full black, sleek and textured, and shaped in such a way that even though it bore no expression, it radiated power. Authority. Control.

Sae-bom's heart stuttered violently in her chest.

It's him. The one in charge. She'd seen this room before. Only once. Crawling through the vents, terrified and curious, catching a glimpse of it from above—this was where that man had stood, silent and watching as people died for sport.

Now he was here. And she was alone with him. Shit.

She backed away instinctively, chest rising and falling fast, eyes darting around for anything—anything—to protect herself. Her gaze landed on a small vase on the nearby table. Without hesitation, she lunged for it and gripped it in both trembling hands.

The figure's footsteps were growing louder.

Sae-bom didn't wait for him to reach her. With a desperate cry, she swung the vase with all her strength, aiming to strike.

But he was faster.

In one smooth motion, he stepped into the arc of her swing, catching both her wrists in his gloved hands before the blow could land. His grip was ironclad, and the impact of being stopped mid-motion jolted through her arms.

"Yah—!" She gasped, just as he shoved her back into the wall behind her with his own body, but was careful not to hurt her as he did so.

The thud rattled her bones. Her back slammed hard, and a pained "oof" slipped from her mouth as her lungs emptied in a rush. The vase clattered to the couch beside them, harmless now.

She coughed, trying to pull air back into her lungs, blinking up at the black mask so close to her face. Her wrists were still pinned above her head, trapped between the cool wall and the warmth of his gloved fingers. Her feet shifted uselessly beneath her.

"Let me go," She choked out, struggling against his grip that didn't get tighter nor softer, but it wasn't threatening either, like he was just.... holding her.

But he didn't budge. The pressure he held her with was steady, inescapable—but not painful. His head tilted slightly, as if inspecting her. She couldn't see his eyes behind the mask, but she felt his stare. It was sharp. Penetrating. Curious.

Then, finally, a voice. Distorted. Filtered through some kind of device that was inside his mask, "Are you finished?"

It wasn't a threat. It was almost... amused.

Sae-bom exhaled hard through her nose, blowing a stray piece of hair from her face, her chest still heaving. She didn't know what he found amusing, considering he was the one basically holding her hostage against the wall with his chest pressed against hers.

"Yeah," She muttered, bitterness in her voice, "Guess I am."

He didn't move right away. But after a pause, she felt a shift in the grip on her wrists. Softer. A slight squeeze, not painful. Then his gaze—if she could call it that—lowered to her knuckles.

She flinched, instinctively curling her fingers, but he didn't react aggressively. Just observed. She felt the heat of his attention. Her face burned slightly, and her mind cursed her for even thinking—Does he have pretty eyes? A good face?

Get it together, Sae-bom. She snapped out of the thought when his gloved thumb brushed gently over her bruised, raw knuckles back and forth.

Her breath hitched, eyes going wider if possible as his touch seemed to linger longer then needed. What the hell was this?

He finally let go. Her arms dropped limply to her sides, muscles sore from the tension. She didn't have time to move before he tilted his head toward the chair near the desk, "Sit," He rumbled, deep and distorted from the mask, "I'll clean those wounds."

She blinked rapidly like she didn't understand what he meant, "What?" She asked, completely thrown. She slowly made her way to the chair, still watching him warily, "You can't take someone out of the game just to clean their hands," She added with skepticism thick in her tone.

With his back to her now, he opened drawers in the desk, rifling through them with calm precision, "You didn't want to play that round anymore," He replied simply, like it explained everything. Like it was obvious.

She stared, dumbfounded. He retrieved a small towel, a bottle of antiseptic cream, and bent down in front of her. The fabric of his tailored suit creaked as he did. It was surreal—this man who clearly held authority over life and death here, now knelt in front of her like this.

Sae-bom swallowed hard. A lump formed in her throat, and her voice was rough as she spoke, "Why... why are you helping me? Why bring me here?"

He didn't respond at first. Instead, he removed his gloves—slowly, methodically.

Her stomach turned at the sight of his bare hands. Calloused, veined, sun-kissed like someone who worked with his hands often. They were... real. Human. And for some reason, that made her heart pound even louder in her ears. She didn't know if it was fear, or something else she didn't want to name.

He placed the gloves on the armrest of the couch beside her, then held out his hand, palm open, silently asking for hers. Her eyes darted from his mask to his hand. For a moment, she hesitated.

And then—trusting her gut, or maybe just accepting she had no other choice—she slipped her smaller hand into his.

His fingers closed around hers with a quiet restraint, like he was holding himself back for some reason. A reason she probably would never find out, nor who was currently in front of her. She felt the warmth immediately. Not threatening. Just... there.

With the other hand, he gently began cleaning her bruised skin, wiping it with the damp cloth, then drying the blood that had crusted along her knuckles. The cold towel stung at first, but it felt good.

The silence grew heavy again.

Then, his voice, low and muffled, "You don't have to trust me. Or understand. But I'm going to help you, just like how I am now."

Sae-bom's brows furrowed. Her eyes searched his mask, her heart picking up, "What about the others?" She whispered in a thick voice, dearly hoping the answer she got "Player 67? Player 50?"

A beat.

"They're mostly alright."

Mostly. Her stomach twisted. But she nodded, trying not to let her mind spiral. She had to believe Sae-byeok and her other friends were okay. She had to.

The masked man uncapped the cream, pressing his thumb into it before spreading a thin layer across her skin, his bare skin meeting hers. The cooling sensation was a relief against the sting. She winced but didn't pull away.

She was watching him more closely now. Every movement. Every pause. There was something deeper in this. Something strange and unreadable.

The only sound in the room was the gentle smearing of the cream. And in that strange, tense quiet... she let him help her.

The quiet that settled between them was almost reverent.

Sae-bom watched him closely, every movement of his hands, the soft careful pressure of his thumb as he spread the cream over her bruised knuckles. She couldn't tear her eyes away, even if she wanted to. There was something in the way he touched her—gentle, like he was afraid of hurting her, or maybe afraid she would disappear if he held too tightly.

It felt familiar. Too familiar.

She felt her throat tighten with something she didn't have a name for. She pulled her gaze away, staring down at his hands instead. The way his fingers curved protectively around hers. The shape of his nails. The roughness of his skin. All of it stirred something deep in her chest. Something she had buried a long time ago.

    Memories.

Laughter under rain-soaked rooftops. Whispered promises in candlelit corners. A hand slipping into hers on late-night walks through the village streets, just the two of them. Him. In-ho.

No. She shoved the thought away. He was gone.

He had been missing for years, vanished without a trace. She had joined the games hoping to find him—to dig into the belly of whatever hell had swallowed her sister and her childhood best friend whole.

     She had already found Sae-byeok, thank God, but In-ho... he'd stayed lost. Nothing. No answers. Only silence from him and now Jun-ho who was somewhere in the building looking.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked again suddenly, her voice breaking the silence like a blade. She looked up at him again, eyes sharp with emotion, "Why would someone like you help someone like me? Isn't that against your 'all players are equal' saying?"

He didn't flinch, didn't even pause, just continued tending to her hands with that same maddening gentleness.

"You remind me of someone," The voice behind the mask said, low and distorted.

That made her still. She leaned back slightly, studying him, "Who?"

He hesitated. For the first time since he entered the room, there was a pause in his movements. His hands hovered over hers, uncertain. Then slowly, he straightened up and looked at her.

"I knew someone like you," He murmured, his distorted voice rumbling quieter, "A long time ago. She had this fire... this stubbornness. She was loud when she was scared. Always had something to prove. Always fought, even when she was shaking."

Sae-bom's mouth parted, her breath catching in her throat. She had no idea why they were even having this conversation, but she wouldn't bother questioning, not while she was stuck inside the games, "I..." Her voice trembled, "What happened to her?"

"She disappeared from my life," He replied quietly, his mask pointed down to her hands curled around his in between their bodies, "Because I was too much of a coward to stay."

There it was again. That tug in her chest. The unraveling of the tightly wound thread of grief she'd carried in silence for years. She stared at the mask like it might dissolve if she stared hard enough.

"What was her name?" She asked, the words shaking. It seemed like maybe they had more in common then they thought. But still, she couldn't forget he was one of the reasons their were games in the first place.

He didn't answer. Instead, he lifted one of her hands again, fingers ghosting over her wrist like he was feeling her pulse. Or remembering it--

"In-ho," She whispered suddenly, her voice cracking.

The man stiffened, figure going tense. Just slightly, but she saw it.

Her heart thudded, "I came here to find him," She said, more to herself than to him. Her voice wavered, barely holding together, "I thought maybe if I joined, I could find out what happened. I knew it was insane. I knew I'd probably die in here. But I had to know. I had to."

He still said nothing, only grazing his fingers along her knuckles and back down to her wrists. She didn't know why she hadn't moved yet, but something kept her locked in place.

She looked down at him with glassy eyes, blinking back tears that burned at the edges of her vision, "I don't know why I'm telling you this. Maybe because I've gone crazy in here. Maybe because I don't know who else I can tell. But I came here hoping he might be one of the players. That maybe he was just lost too. That I'd find him, that we'd escape together. But he's not there. He's gone."

Her voice rose, her frustration breaking through the dam, "He was my best friend. My everything. We grew up together. He—he was the only person who made me feel like I wasn't alone when my actual parents died. He used to wait for me after work just so I didn't have to walk home in the dark. We used to talk about leaving and running away to Jeju Island. He—"

He slowly leaned back on his heels, the black mask tilting toward her face. His hands, now free, rested on his thighs, fingers curling subtly into his pants. But he said nothing. He couldn't say anything, because if he did, she would be in danger too.

Her voice broke the more she talked. It felt good to get it off her chest. She looked away, swallowing the sob that clawed up her throat. Her shoulders trembled, "He wouldn't have just left. Not like that. He would've said goodbye. He wouldn't have done that to me."

Still, silence.

Until he suddenly stood up all sharply, towering over her, as his hold on her dropped also. He didn't move toward her, didn't reach out—but his presence, silent and unmoving, pulled at her like a tide she couldn't resist.

Sae-bom looked like a wounded animal glancing up at him, her eyes still filled with tears as she blinked them away, and fiddled with the necklace hidden under her shirt, "I don't expect you to answer, I mean," She laughed dryly, and stood up also, head titled down, "you don't even know me. But yet, I feel like I should thank you for helping me."

The masked man remained still, but his jaw visibly tensed beneath the mask. His hands at his sides were clenched now, so tight that his knuckles turned pale. He had to physically hold himself back from touching her, from reaching out to grab her. He couldn't. He wouldn't bring her into the mess he was already stuck in, even though she was practically involved now.

To distract himself from doing anything irrational, he reached past her figure, causing her breath to hitch greatly as he picked up his gloves and slipped them back on, all while keeping his eyes behind the mask focused on her face. This way, it signaled to break any contact between them.

"You don't need to," His voice was back to the normal distorted one, sounding more blunt then it did before which made her stomach twist at how fast he switched up, "I simply helped you because I know you have a better chance then most players. I have high hopes for you, Kang Sae-bom."

Whatever she was feeling for the male in front suddenly snapped hearing what he said. Her face scrunched up, and she gritted her teeth, "So I'm just another player to you then? A player to throw around like some animal you watch for entertainment?" She spat out, marching forward but stopped just before she reached him, "I doubt that because why would you ask your guards to bring me here then? Huh?!"

His head turned slightly, now acting like the Frontman instead of someone who seemed so human, "There's nothing more to be done here. The guards will come fetch you and you will be sent back to the other players." He spoke, eyes landing on the phone that seemed to be placed differently, "Think nothing more then this as a thank you for joining. And that 'equal player' rule doesn't apply to you. Never to you."

Her eyebrows raised in confusion, stomach twisting nervously not understanding what he meant. She now regretted telling him so much as to why she was in the games, but... maybe he wouldn't use it against her. From what he told her it seemed like he was going through something similar to her. She could only hope it wouldn't come back to hurt her in the end.

Before she could even open her mouth to question the masked male anymore, a sharp, mechanical knock echoed against the door of the room. Three short raps, and the door creaked open a second later.

Two guards stepped inside—faceless in their pink suits and pink masks, just like all the others who had haunted her since the moment she arrived in this nightmare. Their presence was clinical, cold, and immediate. Sae-bom pulled away from standing close to the one in charge automatically, wiping her face with the back of her hand, heart thudding so hard it hurt.

The moment—the fragile, painfully human moment between them—shattered like glass dropped from a rooftop.

"Sir," One of the guards said, bowing his head, "The fourth game has concluded. The players have been returned to the dormitory."

Sae-bom's breath caught in her throat. The game... it's over. Sae-byeok. Soo-min. The others.

She turned sharply to the Frontman, her panic rising, clouding everything else that had just happened between them, "I need to see them," She stated quickly, stepping back from him now, urgency coating every word, "I need to know they are all okay—if my friends made it. You said most of them were alright, but I need to see—I need to know for sure." Her voice cracked with desperation.

He didn't move for a moment. His hands still hovered beside him clenched, like he hadn't yet registered she was no longer right beside him, in his grasps. When his eyes finally met hers, she couldn't see, but they were unreadable—tormented, restrained.

Then something shifted in her. Like reality slammed into her chest, kicking the wind out of her again. The man running the games, this was him. The man with blood on his hands. The one who showed her kindness when he didn't even have to.

She took another step back, suddenly unsure of where she stood or what had just passed between them. The warmth from earlier, the softness of his touch, the longing tone in his voice... it was all still there—but it was colliding violently with the fact that she was standing alone in the same room as one of the architects of this horror.

What had she been doing?

Her hands clenched at her sides, her knuckles aching from where the cream hadn't fully soothed the bruises, "I can't stay here," She whispered, "I need to see her. I need to see them now."

The Frontman looked over at the guards and gave a small nod, "Escort her to the dormitory," He ordered, his voice cool and composed again behind the mask, "Make sure she gets there without incident."

"Yes, sir."

Sae-bom stared at him one more time—long enough to wonder who existed behind that mask, and why he choose her out of all the players to show kindness. Her throat tightened again, but she forced herself to swallow it down. She couldn't fall apart. Not now.

She turned without another word, not trusting herself to look back. The guards flanked her again, just like before, and led her out of the room. But this time, everything felt different. Heavier.

The sound of her footsteps echoed down the hallway, and she realized she was trembling again—but it wasn't from fear. Not this time. It was from the ache of knowing. Knowing that somehow she got on the good side of the game maker, and that thought alone sent her into a spiral.

As she walked, she could still feel the intense stare from the Frontman on her back, even with his black mask blocking them from each other, she could still feel his piercing cold gaze.

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❪ ✏️ ❫ 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳𝚂 : 4620
─►☆ AUTHOR'S NOTE :
RAAA SURPISEEEE this entire chap is dedicated to sae-bom and her not knowing the love of her life is right in front of her, the very reason why she is crying and ranting to someone who she doesn't even know but actually does but doesn't know yet LMFAOA 😭

yes yes next chap will get back into the actual eps but i just wanted this chap to be about them and showing in-ho how much he's made sae-bom suffer, so bad that she's ranting to a stranger oml (not really but yk) 🙏🏻

i could of made him more touchy with her but i fear that would make it obvious and i don't want her finding out (at least not yet) who the frontman is. plus hes a stranger to her rn so. and yeah i know she can tell by the look of his bare hands its probably him but for the fake of this fic.... lets play dumb now guys

anywaysss you all know the drill, vote,
comment, ect mwah <33