The corridors in this place are like a maze. Every room seems to have at least two ways in or out, making it easy for Seo-hyun's to easily blend in with the other players. It doesn't take her long to navigate to the women's bathroom. After splashing cold water on her face and giving herself a moment to adjust to the reality of her situation, Seo-hyun exits, readying herself for the task. She merges back into the main area, her eyes scanning the sea of unfamiliar faces as she searches for an empty bed.

Her gaze briefly locks on Player 456, but she keeps walking, unsure of what to make of him. The Front Man had filled her in—456, a previous winner, entered the games again with the sole purpose of stopping them. A little pathetic, easily suspicious, and somehow, still a problem to keep an eye on. Seo-hyun knows she'll have to cross paths with him eventually if everything unfolds as planned, but there's no urgency to make contact now, especially not before the Front Man does.

She shifts her focus, her eyes drifting toward the Front Man. Perched on a top bunk on the opposite side of the room from 456, his posture is relaxed, but his eyes are anything but. He's staring intently at 456, though thankfully, 456 is too engrossed in a conversation with Player 390 to notice. For now, though, she moves quietly toward a low bunk in same side as him—just close enough to keep an eye on him without raising suspicion.

The moment she sits down, the doors slam open. A wave of fear ripples through the room, and players instinctively cower. Seo-hyun glances at the guards, then quickly mirrors the others, shifting back on her bed to appear smaller and further away.

"Congratulations for making it through the first game." the manager announces, his voice calm and indifferent. He gestures to the screen above them, where the number of players ticks down from 456 to 365. "Here are the results of the first game. Congratulations again for making it through the first game."

"Sir! Please, don't kill us!" a woman's voice breaks through the tension. Seo-hyun turns her head just enough to see an older woman dragging a younger man to stand with her in front of the guards. She collapses to her knees, sobbing. "Please don't kill us. I beg you! As for my son's debt, I will do whatever it takes to pay you back! Please forgive us!" She yanks the young man down beside her, forcing him into a bow, "Don't just stand there. Beg for his forgiveness."

Seo-hyun narrows her eyes at the spectacle, trying to make sense of it. Do they think the manager is here to collect debts? Do they think every player owes him personally? She presses a hand over her face, biting back a laugh as her lips threaten to curl upward. Amusement isn't exactly the right reaction to have here—not when everyone else is trembling.

More players drop to the floor, pleading. It's like a domino effect of desperation, and Seo-hyun finds herself in unfamiliar territory. Does she drop to the floor too? She doesn't really want to. The manager rushes to explain that they're not trying to hurt the players but to present them with an opportunity. 

"As stated in Clause Three," Player 456's voice cuts through the commotion, commanding the room's attention. The crying players fall silent as he steps forward. "If the majority of players agree to stop playing, the games will be terminated. Isn't that correct?"

Seo-hyun leans forward slightly on her bunk, arching a brow. What's his angle? Does he really think he can stop the games permanently? That they won't just restart next year, and the year after that?

"That is correct," the manager responds, his tone even.

"Then we'll do that. We'll put it to a vote," 456 declares, his confidence rippling through the room.

"If that's what you'd like," the manager replies with a nod. "During these games, we will always respect your right to freedom of choice."

Relieved gasps break through the room, and Seo-hyun is forced to gasp as well when she feels someone stare at the side of her face. She covers her mouth with her hand, swiping away her hair from her eyes with the other. She uses the momentarily cover of her face with her hand to glance sideways. It's Player 120. Alright, she'll be much more careful from now on.

"But before we vote," the manager continues, his voice steadying the room, "we will reveal how much prize money has accumulated after the first game."

With a press of his remote, the lights dim. A golden piggybank descends from the ceiling, glittering under the spotlight as money starts to fill it.

It's loud and shiny, shimmering with a brilliance that captures every eye in the room. Seo-hyun blinks, momentarily stunned. As a triangle guard, she'd never seen this part before. Her station was always elsewhere—either in game rooms or in back rooms, but never here when the money was displayed.

For once, her gasp isn't feigned, and neither is the astonishment settling in her chest.

"A total of 91 players were eliminated during the first game. Therefore, 9.1 billion won has accumulated so far. If you decide to stop playing and quit the games now, the remaining 365 players will split the 9.1 billion among themselves. Meaning you each leave with an equal share."

"Okay, how much per share?" an older man demands, his tone impatient as he stares at the manager.

"Each player would receive 24,931,500 won," the manager replies calmly.

"That's it? That's all we get for almost dying?" a woman sitting on the bunk next to Seo-hyun exclaims, rubbing her forehead. Complaints ripple through the room, voices rising in frustration. "That's nothing!"

Seo-hyun glances up at Player 001, seated on a higher bed a few feet away. Catching his eye, she raises a brow and tilts her head toward a group of disgruntled players on the other side of the room. They were brought here with no real expectations of how much money they would get, and they aren't grateful for surviving and gaining almost 25 million won? 001's lips twitch into a small smile. He nods slightly, acknowledging the absurdity of their reactions.

"Twenty mil?" a man scoffs, his purple hair standing out sharply among the others. Seo-hyun's gaze shifts to the number on his chest—Player 230. Her frown deepens. She remembers him. During the first game, he had shoved several players without hesitation, his face alight with a disturbing grin as the ones he sacrificed were gunned down. "What happened to 45 billion?" he demands, his voice dripping with frustration.

"As per the rules of the games," the manager begins, his voice calm and measured, "100 million won is added to the piggy bank for each player eliminated. If you decide to play the next game, and more players are eliminated, then the total prize money will increase again accordingly."

The room grows tense as the weight of his words sinks in. Some players glance at each other, while others stare at the piggy bank overhead, greed flickering in their eyes. Seo-hyun, however, stifles a yawn. All these questions bore her, as they are ones she already knows the answer to. She leans back on the bunk, wishing they'd just get to voting so she can get some sleep.

"So," Player 100—the older man from before—suddenly shouts, his voice breaking through the murmurs, "Say we make it to the end of all this. How much do we get then?"

"As previously mentioned, the total amount of prize money for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won. That 45.6 billion will be divided amongst the players who make it though all six games without getting eliminated."

The room erupts into murmurs, a mix of excitement and unease rippling through the players. Some exchange eager glances, while others shift nervously, avoiding eye contact. Seo-hyun sighs, her head resting on her arms as she leans against the edge of her bunk.

"I mean, how can they guarantee we'll get the money?" a woman whispers from a bunk behind Seo-hyun's, her voice tinged with skepticism.

Seo-hyun's gaze drifts to the piggy bank hanging above, the glint of the accumulated prize money catching her eye. Her lips twist in a faint smirk. These people were worried about guarantees when they'd signed away their lives? It was almost laughable.

"So we'll still be able to call for a vote if we make it all the way through the next game too?" someone else chimes in from the middle of the room, fueling the already tense atmosphere.

"As outlined in the consent form, once each of the games had concluded, you may call for a vote. If the majority agrees, you may take the accumulated prize money and leave." The manager explains, silencing the players. "With that, the voting may now begin."

Two Triangle Guards wheel a table into the center of the room, its metallic surface gleaming under the dimmed lights. On the table  sit two large buttons, each distinctly marked: a red 'X' on the left and a blue 'O' on the right.

Without warning, the floor lights up beneath the players. To the left, the ground shines in vibrant red, the glowing outline of a giant 'X' stretching across that side of the room. To the right, an equally massive 'O' shines in cool blue, its hue washing over the players standing closest to it.

"If you wish to continue playing, press the blue button with the 'O'. If you wish to stop playing, press the red button with the 'X'. You will vote in order of player number, from highest to lowest," the manager announces, his voice echoing across the room.

By now, everyone is on the ground, crowding together—even Seo-hyun, who would've preferred to stay on her bunk. She leans casually against one of the bed poles of the the chunk of beds in the back of the room, arms folded as she surveys the scene. Her dark eyes follow the movements of the others, sharp and calculating.

When Player 456's number is called, the players instinctively part like the Red Sea, creating a path for him to walk to the buttons. Seo-hyun straightens slightly, her head tilting in mild curiosity. All eyes are on him as he walks, the tension in the room thick enough to suffocate.

Seo-hyun studies his posture, searching for any flicker of emotion. Her fingers drum lightly against the metal pole, her own thoughts swirling. Whatever he chooses, it'll set the tone for everyone else.

Player 456 doesn't hesitate. His palm slams down on the red 'X', the sound of the beep that follows echoes through the silent room. He takes the red patch handed to him by one of the Triangle guards and attaches it to the right side of his chest. With a stoic expression, he moves to stand atop the glowing red symbol on the floor.

The line moves steadily, players making their decisions one by one. Some stomp their buttons with certainty, others falter, their hands shaking before making a choice.

When Seo-hyun's number is called, she straightens from her perch against the bed pole and shoulders her way through the crowd toward the buttons. She pauses, her hand hovering over them. To be honest, she has no idea what's expected of her. Her orders have been vague at best: protect the Front Man. But what does that mean here? What side should she choose? What side would the Front Man choose?

Frustration bubbles within her, but she uses it, letting her indecision become noticeable. Slowly, she moves her palm over each button, drawing out the suspense. Finally, Seo-hyun gently lowers her hand onto the blue 'O' button.

She accepts the blue patch from the guard with a small, composed smile, attaching it to her chest before walking to the glowing blue side of the room. Her steps are measured, calm, though her mind is still racing.

As she takes her place, her eyes scan the faces around her. She doesn't know if she's made the right choice, but one thing is clear—there's not much she can do about it now but embrace it.

The line continues to move, one player after another stepping up to cast their vote. The tension in the room is thick, with the floor flashing blue and red in turns as players make their choices. Player 230 just pressed on the 'X', but before Player 299 can step forward and vote, Player 456's voice cuts through the air.

"Wait a minute!" Player 456 shouts, his voice cutting through the tense silence. The players near him flinch in surprise as he pushes his way to the center of the room, planting himself where everyone can see him. His eyes burn with desperation and determination as he steps closer to those who have yet to cast their vote. "Don't do this to yourself. Just think for a second," he urges, his voice rising. "Can't you see what's going on? These aren't regular games we're playing. If we don't stop this, they'll kill us all! Just focus on getting out of this place. And to do that, we need to win the vote, and we can stop this here and now."

A ripple of murmurs spreads through the room, but it's cut short by Player 100 stepping forward, his face twisted in anger. "And who do you think you are?" he yells, pointing a finger at 456. "Why are you trying to egg people on? What are you getting at? The game has just started, and you scared us by shouting about getting shot!"

Seo-hyun narrows her eyes as she watches the exchange. "He was trying to warn us about the game." she mutters under her breath, her tone edged with frustration. She may be opposed to 456 in every way, but she can agree with him on his motives at least.

"Exactly," Player 333 agrees quietly from beside her, his gaze locked on the confrontation. His lips curl into a frown as he gestures toward Player 100. "That man's ridiculous."

"By the way, how did you know they were gonna shoot at us?" another man steps forward, his voice sharp and accusatory as he jabs a finger toward 456. "You work for these guys?"

Seo-hyun presses her lips together, willing the chaos to settle so they can continue the vote without this spiraling into unnecessary fights.

"You're a plant put here to try and trick us!" Player 100 snaps, his voice rising. His eyes dart to the guards as he gestures wildly. "They hired you to come and confuse us all! Who is this man?" he shouts at them, taking a step closer.  "You're the ones who put him here to manipulate us!"

Seo-hyun clenches her jaw, annoyance flickering across her face. Great thinking, too bad it's directed at the wrong player.

"He's nuts," Player 333 mutters under his breath, leaning closer to her. "His head's full of conspiracy theories."

Seo-hyun huffs softly, pretending to entertain the idea. "Right? Why would they plant a player inside the games?" She shrugs, her voice tinged with feigned confusion. "And who'd actually sign up for these death games willingly, knowing what they are?"

Though, if she's honest, she kind of did.

Finally, Player 390 steps forward, placing himself between 456 and the growing hostility. "He tried to save us," he says firmly, echoing the same sentiment Seo-hyun had shared with Player 333 earlier.  A ripple of agreement spreads through the room as a few more players chime in, including Player 149, the older woman who had earlier pleaded desperately on the floor with her son. 

"They're just trying to scare us!" someone yells from the side pushing for the games to continue.

"We should stop while we still can!" counters another voice.

Seo-hyun finds herself swept up in the uproar, raising her voice along with the others shouting to keep the games going. Adrenaline hums through her veins as she screams, feeding into the frenzy with her cries. Suddenly, a voice cuts through the clamor, sharp and desperate.

"I have played these games before!" Player 456 screams, his voice cracking from the effort. "I have done this before! I knew about the first game because I had played it before! I played the games here three years ago! And everyone who was with me...Died here!"

"You think he's telling the truth?" Player 333 murmurs, leaning close enough so she can hear him over all the yelling going on. Seo-hyun tilts her head slightly toward him, catching the tension in his voice. "Maybe he's crazy like Player 100."

Seo-hyun shifts her attention back to Player 456 as he answers more questions from the crowd. None of it is new information to her, nothing that sparks her interest. And so, she decides to focus back on the man beside her.

"I don't think he has a reason to lie," she replies, her tone measured and steady. Her gaze lingers on Player 333 for a moment before she offers a small, reassuring smile, an attempt to cut through the tension both around them and within him. "Can I ask for your name?"

The man blinks, caught slightly off guard. "It's Lee Myung-gi," he answers after a pause, inclining his head politely.

"Nice to meet you, Myung-gi. I'm Kim Seo-hyun," she introduces herself, her smile widening just a fraction.

Myung-gi nods, the apprehension in his eyes softening slightly. "Nice to meet you too, Seo-hyun."

As the room buzzes faintly with murmurs, she looks at the guards, pretending not to notice the way Myung-gi's gaze lingers on her. It's fine, a little admiration never hurt anyone.

Finally—because how long can the voting really be stalled?—a Triangle guard steps forward, pressing the muzzle of a gun firmly against Player 456's back. The room goes dead silent, the subtle click of the weapon making it clear that the interruptions will no longer be tolerated.

On the guard's way back to the table, something catches Seo-hyun's attention. His steps falter—not much, just enough to make her notice—and his head shifts slightly in her direction.

Seo-hyun tilts her head, her curiosity piqued. The mask obscures his face, leaving her with no way of knowing if he's truly looking at her or at someone else. Still, the moment lingers longer than she expects, making her chest tighten with unease. She had tried to blend in as much as possible, so what reason that guard has to potentially look at her?

The numbers wind down, and Seo-hyun alternates between cheering or booing for each player's decision, depending on their choice. Her enthusiasm feels like a way to pass the time, but her heart races as the score tightens.

When Player 001's number is called, the tension in the room spikes. The vote is tied at 182 to 182, and everyone knows his choice will decide the outcome.

Seo-hyun clasps her hands together and presses them under her chin, her eyes glued to him. She assumes he'll vote blue like her, but maybe he's playing the bigger picture. Maybe he wants to end the games only to bring 456 for another game to torment him more?

The other players shout the symbol they want him to pick, hands fly up, mimicking the shapes of the symbols on the buttons—circles and crosses scattered like signals in a sea of confusion.

Unlike the others, she doesn't shout or gesture. Instead, her nails dig into her palm as she waits and she keeps her gaze locked on Player 001. He makes his way to the table, silence fills the room, and then...

He presses the blue button.

This ep was really dialogue heavy in my opinion so I tried not to make this chapter super boring and give Seo-hyun's thoughts (and complains) since Seo-hyun barely speaks here. (she'll speak more, but she just got to the games and is a lil overwhelmed and lost tbf) 

She's honestly so done with the voting even before it began, which is SO real of her.