It was only seconds, yet it felt like an eternity before the timer beeped. Hyunrin shot to the door once she heard the click. In-Ho was forced to let her go, watching her search for Jun-Hee.
     The air is thick with tension, heavy with the scent of blood and fear. The third game has come to an end, but not for Hyunrin. Not until she finds Jun-Hee. All around her, people are scattered — stunned, grieving, shaken. Her eyes scan the hall like a lifeline, searching between bodies, praying—
"Unnie."
Her heart stills. Hyunrin turns, breath catching. Jun-Hee stands near the back wall, her arms crossed tightly over herself, her face pale, her lip split. But she's upright. Breathing. Alive.
"Jun-Hee—" The name barely escapes Hyunrin's throat before she closes the distance, grabbing her into a fierce embrace. Jun-Hee clutches back, hard, her body trembling.
"I thought..." Her voice is small. "I thought I lost you."
"I wanted to go back for you," Hyunrin whispers into her hair. "If only he'd let me go ."
"Young-Il?"
Hyunrin pulls back slightly, guilt flashing across her face. "He pulled me in, not leaving me a choice." Jun-Hee studies her for a moment — and something flickers in her gaze. Not anger. Not even hurt. Just... knowing.
"I see the way he looks at you," she says quietly. "The way he looks at you when you think he is not watching. The same goes for you."
Hyunrin searches for words to explain, yet those words never came. "I saw how fast he reached for you when they called two. This is no ordinary person to you nor you to him." She swallows, contemplating whether to tell Jun-Hee the truth.
     "He is no ordinary man to me," Hyunrin confirms. Her hands stay on her shoulders, her eyes gazing and her heart racing. "Do you remember what I told you about my pregnancy?"
     Jun-Hee remembers the conversation on her bed, eating the bento box. A small nod informs that she does remember. It was about how Hyunrin had to give birth alone because her husband disappeared.
...
...
Her husband disappeared.
Could it be?

"Is he your?" Jun-Hee does not dare to finish her question as while watching a painful glance in Hyunrin's eyes. "He is my husband," she quietly confirms.
     Jun-Hee glances over her shoulder, her eyes searching until she sees him standing. His eyes are fixed on them as if he is aware of their conversation. She shifts her gaze back to Hyunrin.
"You don't seem happy to see him," she whispers. Hyunrin doesn't answer right away. Her eyes drop to the floor between them, as if the words are buried somewhere beneath her feet. When she speaks, it's low. Tired.
"He left for money," she says. "Money because of an expensive operation I had to go under. He was desperate, saying he'd be away for a short time." Jun-Hee stays quiet, watching her carefully. Hyunrin's lips tighten. "But he never returned to me." Her voice cracks as she chuckles.
A breath catches in her throat — the kind that's been trapped there for two years. Her voice wavers, but she doesn't stop. "No calls. No letters. No body. Just... gone. And I waited. I waited with a baby in my arms wondering if I should hate him or mourn him."
Jun-Hee's brows draw together, heart sinking. "You thought he was dead?"
"I had to think that," Hyunrin snaps, the hurt rising in her chest. "Because if he wasn't, if he chose to stay away — then what does that make me? What does that make our son?" The rawness lingers between them, until Jun-Hee finally whispers, "And now he's here."
Hyunrin nods once. A short, almost broken motion. "Now he's here. Watching me like nothing's happened, like we haven't lost years. And I don't know if I want to run to him or scream."
Jun-Hee hesitates before glancing over her shoulder once again. Young-Il stands rooted in his place, his eyes fixed on Hyunrin with something unreadable.
"Again, I see the way he looks at you," she murmurs. "Earlier, when we stood in line. During the mingle game. Even now. It's like—like he's afraid he'll lose you again."
Hyunrin's breath stutters. Jun-Hee meets her eyes again. "That's not the look of a man who doesn't care. It's the look of someone in love. And scared to death of it."
Hyunrin doesn't know what to say to that. Her heart slams against her ribs, and suddenly all those long-buried emotions swell at once — love, betrayal, grief, and something too fragile to name.

"Does he know about the child?" Jun-Hee asks gently.
"No," Hyunrin whispers. "Not yet. It'll be only fair if he knew though."
     Jun-Hee softens. "Then what are you going to do?" Hyunrin swallows. Her hands are clenched now, fingers digging into her palms. "I don't know. I don't know what to feel, let alone what to do."
     A beat of silence.
     Jun-Hee reaches out and gently touches her arm. "Whatever it is... just promise me it won't be alone." Hyunrin finally lifts her gaze. The tension in her face falters, and something softer breaks through the surface. Something tired. Something real.
     "I promise," she says. But her voice trembles. They sit together for a while, side by side on the edge of a bunk, shoulders brushing. No more words, just the weight of everything unspoken — and everything still to come.
     And just beyond them, in the shadows, In-Ho does not move — but his jaw clenches, and his eyes never leave her.

Later that day in the dormitories, the men are returning from the bathrooms. One thing would be right to mention is that they are covered in blood.
"Listen, Team O!" Nam-gyu yells. "When we were in the bathroom, those fucking X bastards tried to kill all of us! They killed some of us, including my friend."
"Bullshit. You're the ones who started it," player 047 shouts. "They threatened one of the people
on our side! They attacked us to win the second vote!"
"That's right!" The players get into a quarrel until one asks which side lost more people. They start counting until a voice rings over the stereo.

"Lights out in 20 minutes. All players, please prepare for bedtime."
     "Those bastards are acting suspicious. It looks like they're up to something," Jung-Bae scoffs. "Whatever those idiots do, once we win the vote tomorrow, it'll all be over."
     "You think we'll be okay? They say things were really crazy in the bathroom earlier," Dae-Ho questions nervously.
     "Once the lights go out, people on the other side will attack us," Gi-Hun explains.
     "Really?" Hyunrin questions. "Are they that eager to win a vote and increase the prize?" No one seems to answer, answering her question. "So what do we do?"
     Whispers sweep through the bunk hall like wildfire — some claim they've seen guards watching, others say the opposing team is planning another strike. Everyone knows it: when the lights go out, it will be war.

Hyunrin sits against the wall, her knees drawn to her chest, eyes alert but heavy with exhaustion. Jun-Hee is curled up close by, her presence a fragile anchor in the gathering storm.
     Gi-hun's voice cuts through the rising tension, low and calm but firm. "We don't wait to be slaughtered." He gathers a handful of players he trusts — Jung-bae, Hyunrin, Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, and In-Ho, whose silence makes some nervous, but whose reflexes have proven sharper than most. Hyunrin doesn't know whether to feel safer or more afraid of his involvement.
     Gi-hun lays out the plan: when the lights drop and chaos erupts, they won't fight — not immediately. They'll lie still, motionless, let the panic swallow the room. And when the guards come storming in to restore order, that's when they'll strike. Fast. Quiet. Lethal.
     Hyun-ju, a former soldier, reviews the steps — how to move, how to grab a weapon, how to keep breathing like you're dead while listening to others lose their lives around you.
     Hyunrin's skin crawls with the weight of it. The risk. The gamble. But what choice do they have?
     "Be safe, unnie," Jun-Hee mutters, tugging at Hyunrin's sleeve. Hyunrin sends a reassuring glance. "I promise." A promise she wishes to keep.

When the lights snap off, screams follow like a second heartbeat. Bodies collide. Metal clashes. Somewhere, someone begs for mercy. Hyunrin lies frozen, heart jackhammering in her chest as boots thunder across the concrete.
     A guard trips — Jung-bae moves first. One blade, one breath, one muffled thud. The others follow. In less than a minute, two guards are stripped of their masks, MP5s now in the group's hands. Hyun-ju takes point, teaching the others how to load and aim without hesitation.

In the shadows, In-Ho moves with chilling precision. He doesn't ask. He doesn't flinch. And when he hands a weapon to Hyunrin, their fingers brush. Just enough for her to feel the war inside him — the restraint, the fury, and something else... something protective.
     Her breath catches. In that moment, she remembers the way he held her close nights ago, the way his arms had caved around her like a man who'd finally allowed himself to feel.
     He gives her the briefest look. One only she can read.
     Then he turns away and says flatly, "Let's end this." And for the first time, she doesn't know whether he means the game... or the distance between them.

The hallway reeks of metal, sweat, and smoke. Gi-hun leads the group with quiet urgency, his stolen rifle tucked tight against his chest. A captured guard walks just ahead of him, hands zip-tied, bruised and trembling. "You said the control room is west wing, third level?" Gi-hun growls.
     The guard nods quickly. "Y-Yes. But it's locked. You'll need a clearance key—one of the lieutenants."
     "We'll worry about that later," Hyun-ju mutters, eyes sharp, sweeping every corridor they pass. She moves like a predator — calculated, unshaken.
     In-ho walks near the back, Hyunrin beside him. Her grip on the pistol is tight, knuckles pale, but her steps are steady. She doesn't speak, but every so often, she glances sideways — checking the distance between herself and In-ho. He doesn't look at her, but his presence stays close, too close to feel accidental.
     Jung-bae and Dae-ho cover the flanks, sweeping doors, watching ceilings and vents. Their breath fogs faintly in the cold industrial air.
     "We're close," the guard whispers as they reach a tight stairwell. "Down there. End of the hall. You'll see the steel doors."
     Gi-hun signals to slow down. The group tightens formation, stepping one by one into the narrow space—
     Then it happens.

A sharp whistle — and suddenly the air explodes.
     "AMBUSH!" Hyun-ju shouts. From both ends of the corridor, masked guards rush in, floodlights blinding, rifles raised. Bullets rip through the walls as chaos erupts.
     Hyunrin ducks instinctively as In-Ho pulls her down behind a metal crate. "Stay low!" he snaps, firing a burst toward the nearest guard. His voice cuts through the noise, calm but fierce.
     Gi-hun and Dae-ho return fire, taking cover near a stack of supply barrels. Jung-bae drops to one knee, aiming sharp and clean — one guard drops, then another. The captured guard tries to run, but Hyun-ju's bullet finds his leg before he can scream. "Traitor," she spits, dragging him back with one hand while still firing with the other.

The hallway is smoke and thunder. Sparks dance from ricocheting bullets. Hyunrin's hands tremble, but she lifts her gun anyway — aiming, breathing, shooting.
     A guard charges close. She freezes.
     But In-Ho is faster. He lunges, tackling the man before he reaches her. His knife flashes. One grunt — then silence.
     Hyunrin stares at the bloodied floor, chest heaving.
     "We keep moving!" Gi-hun yells. "They're trying to block us in!"
     "We're outgunned," Hyun-ju growls. "But not outmatched." Dae-ho tosses smoke grenades forward. "Now!"
     They press forward through the fog, gunfire echoing in their ears. Every hallway is a battlefield, every second another chance to fall — but they keep going.

The control room is close. And none of them plan to die before reaching it.
     The team regroups in the wake of the ambush, breathless and bruised. The corridor is slick with blood and smoke, the lights flickering overhead.
     Gi-hun presses his hand to a wound on his arm, barely glancing at it. "We need to move. We're sitting ducks here."
     "We split," Hyun-ju suggests. "Two teams. Double our chances of finding the control room before they reinforce."
     Gi-hun nods. "I'll go with Hyunrin and Jung-bae. We'll take the west corridor. In-ho, you lead the others and sweep the lower deck. If you find anything, use channel 7 on the walkie-talkie."
     In-ho gives a small nod. "Understood."
     Hyunrin hesitates, eyes darting to him. "Are you sure—?"
     "I'll be fine," he says, and for a moment, something flickers between them. But it's brief. He's already turning away, leading Dae-ho and Hyun-ju into the dark.
     She watches him until he disappears.

Meanwhile, on the lower level, In-ho's group slows their pace. Hyun-ju kneels, checking a dead guard for extra rounds.
     "I'll get more ammo," she says. "Dae-ho, with me."
     In-Ho nods without a word. As soon as they're out of earshot, he moves.
     Quick. Clean. Cold.
     He crouches behind cover, breath steady but heart pounding beneath the surface. Fingers wrap tightly around the walkie-talkie, and he presses the button.
"The lower levels are overrun, Gi-Hun. We're compromised."

Hyunrin moves cautiously with Gi-hun's team, shadows slipping between crumbled walls and flickering lights as chaos ripples through the compound. Someone near her stoops, picking up a discarded walkie-talkie from a fallen guard. The crackling static hums to life, and urgent voices spill out — shouting, orders, the mounting panic of those still loyal to the game's enforcers.
Suddenly, a voice cuts through the noise. It's calm, commanding — and then Hyunrin freezes. The voice is unmistakable.
     In-ho.
     Her breath catches, but Gi-hun brushes it off, murmuring, "Just one of their own. Probably a guard." She forces herself not to react, but her heart pounds too loudly to ignore.
"No, this is him," she tells.
"The lower levels are overrun, Gi-Hun. We're compromised." Before the words could settle in, the sound of a gun fires through the walkietalkie. Silence follows, stretching unbearably.
Hyunrin's blood drains from her face.
No. No, no, no.
That couldn't be him. But the certainty in her chest tightens like a fist. Gi-Hun bows his head, realising he lost Young-Il in the fight.
"We must continue," he pressures, steadying his weapon before walking on. Without a word, she slips the walkie-talkie into her pocket, clutching it like a lifeline. She doesn't share the news — not yet. It's her secret, her tether to him.

Gi-hun's team finds the control room. But before they can enter, the lights flicker out. A voice crackles through the speakers. Cold. Familiar.
"You made it this far," it says.
Gi-hun raises his rifle. "Who the hell—?" The door to the control room bursts open. The Front Man steps through, flanked by guards.
Hyunrin's heart stops. She knows that presence. That stance. That voice, oddly familiar.
"No..." she whispers.
"Open fire!" Gi-hun yells, yet before he could fire several guards surround them.
     "Drop your weapons and get down on your knees," the Front Man demands. Hyunrin lays down her weapon before getting down on her knees.
     In-Ho watches the tears roll down her face. It pains him to see her like this, knowing she had to endure losing him twice. The look in her eyes is mixed between fury and grief. She doesn't see him as her husband. No, she sees him as the person who killed her husband.
     "Played 456," the Front Man breathes. "Did you have fun playing the hero?"
     Gi-Hun lifts his chin, breathing heavily. If looks could kill, the Front Man would be laying dead on the floor.
     "Look closely at the consequences of your little hero game," he continues, raising a gun at Jung-Bae. Hyunrin's eyes widen at the sight.
     "Gi-Hun," Jung-Bae whispers. Gi-Hun looks his friend in the eyes when the gun goes off. Gi-Hun flinches at the blood and watches the life drain from his eyes. Jung-Bae's body falls to the floor as a scream ripples from Hyunrin's throat.
     "No!" Gi-Hun wails. "Jung-Bae!"
     "Player 390, eliminated."
     "Return these two to the others," the Front Man demands before turning away. The guards force Gi-Hun and Hyunrin to their feet before walking them to their dorms.

Jun-Hee is the first one to spot her, heart pounding as she rushes forward. "Hyunrin!" Her voice cracks with relief and disbelief.
Hyunrin turns slowly, a faint, haunted smile touching her lips. But Jun-Hee notices—there's something off. The light in her eyes is dimmer, shadows lingering where there used to be warmth.
Jun-Hee reaches out, searching Hyunrin's face. "I'm so glad you're alive. We thought—" Her words catch, the unspoken fear hanging between them. Junhee's eyes search Hyunrin's face, searching for answers. "What happened to Young-il? I haven't seen him—"
Hyunrin's breath catches. She looks away, voice heavy with grief. "He didn't make it, Jun-Hee. He... died during the chaos. Trying to protect us."
Junhee's shoulders slump as the weight sinks in. "He was brave." Hyunrin nods slowly, tears threatening to fall. "More than anyone deserves. Losing him... it broke something inside me all over again."
Junhee reaches out, squeezing Hyunrin's hand. "We'll get through this. Together."

Later, when night blankets the camp and everyone else sleeps, Hyunrin slips away. She curls up in a dark corner, heart hammering, the walkie-talkie cold in her hand. She presses the button, voice breaking but barely above a whisper.
     "You're not gone. I know you're not gone."
     Static hisses in reply, long and empty. Doubt gnaws at her, but then — a voice, faint and crackling through the silence.
     "My moon and stars."

ᵀᴿᵞᴵᴺᴳ 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚞𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
anyone ready for a kiss next chapter??