Ji Ah had not slept, the very idea of it eluded her.

She had seen neither the Frontman nor Jun Ho since their clandestine encounter. The Frontman's absence was a double-edged sword; while his physical presence had always been intimidating, his sudden disappearance left a void filled with uncertainty.

It felt odd in a way, having become used to his presence over the last few days. The air seemed to thicken whenever he was near, her senses attuned to his every movement, every breath. Ji Ah shook away those thoughts, knowing that path only lead to destruction.

As she prepared herself for the day ahead, she felt that feeling again, that ominous cloud lingering over her, telling her that something was going to go very wrong.

Making her way to her small wardrobe, preparing again to do battle against which part of her body she was willing to sacrifice, Ji Ah had no choice but to now accept the most revealing dresses as that was left.

With little choice left, Ji Ah selected a dress without looking, resigned to her fate.

The dress was an exquisite trap. Black, sleek, and unyielding, it clung to her body like a second skin, leaving little room for modesty or movement. The fabric shimmered faintly under the dim light, the sheen catching every curve and exaggerating it. The neckline plunged daringly, drawing the eye to the hollow between her collarbones before trailing lower, where the material gathered at a small gold clasp just above her navel.

The skirt was no reprieve; it hugged her hips so tightly it felt like she had been sewn into it, the hem ending just above her knees and slashing into a high slit that revealed far more leg than she would ever willingly show. The dress was designed to command attention, to flaunt confidence, but as Ji Ah turned to the mirror, she felt none of those things.

Not wanting to stare at her reflection any longer Ji Ah, set about getting ready hair first, pulling it into a simple high ponytail. Makeup next, black mascara lengthening her lashes, red lipstick adding an air of danger she had not sensed before. Her cheeks already flushed, needed no powder, hidden behind the mask that she pulled tight against her head.

Ready at last she gave her reflection one last look, not quite recognising the person staring back.

A knock broke her reverie, jolting her back to the present, as a voice called through the door.

"Number 13, it's time to go to work" was all that was said as her door was unlocked.

Taking a deep breath Ji Ah headed toward the door, feeling that something was definitely going to go wrong today.

————————————-

The VIP's were extravagant as ever, dressed only in their bathrobes and gold masks. They lounged in their own private chairs, heads pressed against the bosoms of painted women.

Ji Ah tried to not look repulsed as she took in the sight. But then like a magnet her eyes were pulled toward the edge of the room. Toward him.

Stood at a podium, hands fiddling with controls, solely focused on his task. The Frontman, dark and enigmatic as ever.

Ji Ah took the opportunity to study him, he seemed off. His movements too stiff, handling the controls with too much force, his head downcast not scanning the room as he normally did. He looked annoyed, Ji Ah summarised, but about what?

Following the rest of the servers, she headed into the little hidden corridor at the side of the room where all the refreshments were kept. Grabbing a tray off the shelf, she headed to get her glasses.

Robotically following her routine, she was surprised when she was surprised when she was suddenly pulled into the walk in freezer, a hand coming over her mouth to silence any noise.

She struggled, trying to wiggle her way out her attackers grasp, her panicked eyes making her way to his face.

Jun Ho. He stood there in front of her hands out in a calming motion, like he was trying not to spook a horse.

She breathed her heart still pounding, torn between wanting to punch him and hug him at the same time. Her eyes glanced over him, taking in his clean lines of the black waiters suit.

"Where -" she stopped herself mid sentence her eyes dropping to the unconscious nearly naked man tied up the corner "oh that's where" she added.

It didn't matter though, they were together again, they were going to get out of this hell hole.

"What's the plan?" Ji Ah asked, every confidence in her partner.

"Evidence" he said showing his phone he had slipped up his sleeve, its screen set to record. "And then we leave. There is an escape hatch in the frontman's quarters, down to the sea" he said firmly, hands coming to rest on rest in her shoulders.

Evidence. Escape. Freedom.

It is all Ji Ah had hoped for this last few days. But one thought gnawed at her.

"What about the players?" She asked her eyes hopeful her partner had a plan for them also.

Jun Ho's face became grim "I can't help them, not if we want to leave this place alive"

Ji Ah's heart sank.

"But Ji Ah" he started, hands coming to gasp her cheeks, gently pulling her head up to meet his eye "with this evidence, we can shut down this place for good, make sure these people are punished for what they did. So no one is there victim again"

Victims. That is what the players where to her, now they where her sacrifice. She is not sure she would ever be able to scrub that stain from her soul.

"Okay" she whispered, not convinced by her own words "what do you need me to do?"

"Distract them" was Jun Ho simply ordered

She nodded looking at her friend in the eye, but all she could see is the image of Gi Hun's smiling face burned in her memory.

————————————

Ji Ah tried to breathe as she took her position at the side of the room, chilled whisky glasses balanced on her tray.

Distract them, she thought, she could do that. Her mind more confident and than she felt.

No one even seemed to notice she was gone for as long as she was, the VIP's talking among themselves about which's player had the best odds.

She watched as Jun Ho made his way around the room, his face now hidden behind a back mask with curved edges. Every fibre of her being praying that the Frontman does not look too closely at his employees. Well other than her for some reason.

Speaking of the dark masked man he had still not looked up from the controls, tension still set in his limbs.

Something was definitely wrong, Ji Ah could feel it. He normally made a point to look at her, to let her know she was in his grasp. But now, she may as well have been a ghost. Ji Ah was unsure whether to be comforted by this.

"God dammit, just tell us about the next name" blurted out the Texan, his ire directed toward the frontman "how long are you going to sting us along" he hollered, making sure he was heard.

The Frontman's quietly sighed, as annoyed by the whole affair. Ji Ah watched with interest, she had never seen him express his emotions so outwardly, it almost made him human.

"Very well" he replied, resignation mixed with annoyance in his tone "allow me introduce the next game" his hand reaching out to the left, unveiling what appeared to be a model glass bridge.

"What's that thing" a VIP questioned sitting forward in interest, the rest them following.

"The glass bridge you see in front of you gentleman, was designed from the game stepping stones" the Frontman informed, pointing to the model "each step is made of two types of glass. The tempered glass will hold the weight of two people, the normal glass will hold none." He moved closer placing a chess pieces on the glass. "The players will go an order and make a choice, choose wisely and they will advance to the next glass. However choose poorly......" he demonstrated knocking the piece off, plummeting to the depths below. The happy sounds of the VIPs filling the room.

Ji Ah's watched on in revulsion, 'so much for fair' she thought bitterly.

"I almost feel bad for the sorry bastard who goes first" the Texan laughed, throwing his head back.

Ji Ah's and Jun Ho's eyes locked from across the room, both reflecting their disgust and utter resignation. Jun Ho carefully tilting his wrist, his camera capturing the room.

Ji Ah lost in the actions of her colleague, had almost forgotten the frontman was even there, his voice cutting across the room. "Gentleman, choosing is about to begin" the screen coming to life behind him.

He stepped away from the podium, heading right toward Ji Ah.

The sudden movement caught Ji Ah off guard. Her breath hitched in her throat as she saw the Frontman approach. The air between them, thick and oppressive, felt charged—every step he took sent a shiver down her spine, pulling her attention completely to him, her mind flitting back to their moment in his quarters.

For a moment, the room faded away. She wasn't surrounded by the VIPs or the sounds of their laughter, the noise of the game beginning, or even the Jun Ho in the corner. It was just her and him.

His tall, imposing figure loomed in front of her, his dark mask a constant reminder of the distance between them, even as he came closer. Ji Ah's heartbeat drummed in her ears, and her fingers tightened around the tray, though it was no longer a matter of keeping control. Her breath came a little faster as his presence engulfed her.

"Number 13," his voice was low, his words soft yet carrying an undeniable weight. It was a command, an acknowledgment, but there was something else buried beneath it—something just for her.

Ji Ah's throat went dry. She felt the weight of his eye, hidden behind the mask, bore into her, gaze dragging over her form. His is hand reached out slowly, almost absentmindedly, brushing against the her skin as took the glass closet to her. The touch was brief, but it ignited something deep inside her—something she fought to ignore.

She was leaving, she was going to be free. She reminded herself.

Her mind raced, trying to maintain composure. She knew the stakes, the mission, everything depended on her staying focused. But the more he stood there, the harder it became to breathe normally.

His gaze never left her, his fingers brushed over the rim of the glass hand, swirling the liquid inside.

The space between them felt like it was closing in, the tension thick and heavy. Ji Ah couldn't look away from him, even as she knew she should. Her thoughts were a whirlwind, and every instinct told her to step back, to regain control, but her body betrayed her, remaining rooted in place.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, the moment passed. The Frontman straightened, his gaze lingering on her one last time, before he turned and walked back toward the podium, his presence leaving a lingering warmth in the air.

Ji Ah's chest rose and fell as she exhaled a shaky breath. Her heart was still racing, but she knew she couldn't let this affect her. She wouldn't. Not now. Jun Ho needed her.

"You fuckward! Piece of shit!" The Texans voice reverberated around the room, breaking out of her ravine. He eyes snapping back to the screen showing player 096 take the 1st place bib from Gi Hun. A part of her feeling relief at that, even it if was wrong.

The Texan continued his tirade much to the amusement of the other VIP's

"Now the game will begin" spoke the Frontman, voice cutting through the noise of the room as he pressed a button, unveiling the real scale glass bridge.

Ji Ah's heart sank seeing this, thoughts intruding into her mind 'could she really do this? Could she really leave them?'

She watched unable to take her eyes away, watching as scared players were ushered onto the platform, focusing on Gi Hun's fluffy hair at the back.

"Scumbag" growled the Texan, watching player 069 go first. "Hey you" he called making Ji Ah's eyes snap up - as did Frontman's.

"Come sit next to me" he called his gaze on Jun Ho, patting the space next to him.

Ji Ah could only watch as Jun Ho made his way reluctantly over, facing the same fate she had to the handsy Texan.

Turning her head back the bridge, she caught the frontman's looking at her again. Posture rigid, giving away no thoughts behind his hard cold exterior.

Needing to focus, she lifted her eyes back to the bridge, watching as player 096 plummeted.

"Well that's it's for 96" a VIP taunted.

Ji Ah felt sick, as she watched the next player step up, unable to take her eyes away.

It felt like hours, watching player after player plummet to their deaths. Looking at the timer, she was reminded that Gi Hun has yet to take his move.

She watched with bated breath when movement caught the corner of her eye. She watched as the Texan lead Jun Ho out of the room, boasting that he was 'going for a different kind of fun'

Ji Ah's stomach dropped, this was it.

She agreed to give Jun Ho a 3 minute head start, she looked at the timer over the bridge, counting down.

A distraction, she needed a distraction in order to leave the room.

The game was keeping the VIPs entertained, maybe she could just slip out? No that was stupid, considering the one person who barely lets her leave his sight. Her gaze flicking to man in question, as he scanned the room, stopping at her for just a moment.

She could faint? No, she already did that and the bastard carried her out personally.

She needed to be sent away.

Watching the clock tick down she was left with one option, which was either stupid or brilliant.

Ji Ah's heart raced as she carefully balanced the tray, filled with whiskey's, moving towards the VIPs, under the pre-tense of refreshing their drinks.

The room felt suddenly stifling, the weight of each gaze pressing down on her. Like they knew what she was planning.

The drink on her tray shimmered in the dim light. It was now or never. She shifted her weight, pretending to catch her heel slick floor below. Time seemed to slow as she staggered, the tray tilting dangerously in her hands. The glass of drinks tipped over the edge, spilling in slow motion.

The cold liquid splashed violently across her chest, the droplets scattering across her exposed skin, soaking into the low-cut fabric.

The heat from her flushed cheeks only intensified as the drink clung to her skin, the sensation of the cold liquid dripping down her chest setting her pulse into a frantic beat. She froze for a split second, eyes wide in shock, acutely aware of how the room had fallen into a stunned silence. It had worked?

The VIPs, caught off guard by the accident, stared. Some gasped, others snickered, and a few leaned forward, their eyes greedily tracing the trail of liquid that clung to her skin. But it wasn't their reactions that made Ji Ah's breath catch—it was the sharp, calculating gaze of the Frontman.

He stood frozen, his gloved hands tight on the podium. Though his mask hid his expression, she knew he was watching her, every inch of her exposed skin under his scrutiny. The weight of his gaze was almost unbearable, heavy with something she couldn't quite name.

A rush of heat rose through her body—not from the humiliation, but from the intensity of his focus.

The air between them thickened, a tension that sent a shiver down Ji Ah's spine. As his gaze lingered for what felt like an eternity.

Ji Ah's heart raced, but she didn't dare break the silence. She stood frozen in place, holding the tray with trembling hands, trying to steady herself. She was painfully aware of the droplets of liquid sliding down her chest, clinging to the curve breast. The room felt even hotter now, the oppressive atmosphere closing in.

The Frontman finally moved, his gaze still fixed on her, his voice cold and controlled with a hint of something she could not name.

"Number 13," he said, the weight of his tone commanding the room "Clean yourself up."

He nodded toward the door, his hand sweeping to indicate her exit. It was almost dismissive in the way he allowed her to leave, but the undertone was clear—he was giving her permission to retreat. There was no question in his voice, no hesitation.

Ji Ah could only nod, her throat dry as she forced herself to move. She kept her eyes trained on the door like it was going to disappear at any moment. This was it, her way out.

Ignoring the lingering gazes of the others, but she couldn't escape the sharp, weighted stare of the Frontman. His presence followed her even as she turned away, his eyes a silent command that held her in place even as her legs carried her out of the room.

With every step, the tension in her chest tightened. She needed to leave, to get away. And as much as the distraction had worked, as much as she was now excused to change, her mind raced with the knowledge that the clock was ticking. She had to be fast. She had to get out.

But for just a moment, as she turned the corner, she couldn't shake the feeling that the Frontman was watching her every move