The work was done for the day, each circle guard lined up outside her room. Ji Ah did a quick scan of the corridor and saw several blank masks staring back at her, but she couldn't discern which one was Jun Ho.

An announcement rang over the speakers in an unnervingly cartoonish voice, insisting that the guards could now enter their quarters. Ji Ah sighed in relief as her door clicked open. Once inside, she swiftly removed her mask and hood, the oppressive weight of them finally lifted. Her breath quickened, adrenaline from the day washing over her in waves.

Crossing to the sink, she splashed cool water on her face, the sensation grounding her. She lingered there, the freshness calming her heated skin. When she glanced at the mirror, her own reflection startled her. For a brief, disorienting moment, she expected to see another masked face staring back.

She supposed that's what this place did—erase identities. Circles, triangles, squares, numbers. Even she was now just Number 13. But her thoughts kept drifting back to the one who was different: the Captain. His commanding presence, the precision in his speech, and the austere luxury of his quarters set him apart. Was he the mastermind, or was someone else pulling his strings?

Ji Ah sat on the bed, moving the tray of bread and milk she had been left. Examining her sparse quarters. A small washbasin and toilet occupied one wall, alongside a steel bin tucked beneath the sink. Four hooks on the wall provided the only storage for her uniform.

Pulling back the blanket, she found a pair of grey sleep pants and a matching top. The minimalism of it all felt stifling, but she welcomed the comfort. Stripping off her pink jumpsuit, Ji Ah stood in her underwear, suddenly aware of a glaring problem. No spare undergarments. Her choices were grim: go without or wash her only set. Mortified, she opted for the latter.

Filling the sink with hot, soapy water, she removed her plain black bra and underwear, their delicate lace trim a rare vestige of normalcy. After setting them aside, she used the opportunity to wash herself as best she could. The hand towel provided was rough but serviceable. Clean and in the soft pyjamas, she felt a small measure of comfort.

Draining the sink, Ji Ah refilled it to wash her underwear, the simple task soothing her frayed nerves. As she scrubbed, her mind catalogued the day's events. Roughly 180 players remained, a significant drop from the initial count in Gi Hun's report. The guards were varied in stature and rank, their roles a puzzle she was still piecing together. And then there was the Captain—the one who unnerved and confused her the most.

Her temples throbbed as new questions multiplied. She needed a plan. She needed Jun Ho.

—————————————

"It is time to wake up and go to work," blared the cartoonish voice from the speakers, jolting Ji Ah from sleep.

Groaning, she rubbed her eyes, the weight of her reality settling in, part of her hoped this had all been a terrible dream. Stretching, she laid there a moment listening to the muffled sounds of guards preparing for the day. Swinging her legs over the bed, she forced herself to her feet.

She dressed quickly, relieved to find her underwear dry. Pulling on her pink jumpsuit and securing her mask, she became faceless again. She deliberately avoided the mirror, not wanting to confront the stranger she was becoming.

The door buzzed, unlocking with a metallic click. She stepped out, falling into line with the others. Her heart skipped when she spotted 029—Jun Ho—looking directly at her. A subtle foot wiggle was all she dared as a greeting. Her chest tightened with relief when he mirrored the gesture.

But the relief was fleeting. Her group was assigned to the kitchen again, while his was led in the opposite direction.

"It's okay," she whispered to herself. At least she knew he was alive and nearby.

———————-

In the kitchen, Ji Ah was tasked with glassware, counting and sorting the soda bottles for the players. 187 remained. The weight of the number gnawed at her, each bottle a life.

A square-faced guard approached her. "Number 13, take the silverware to the Captain's quarters." Her stomach dropped. Again?

She approached the bench to collect the tray, casting her eyes over it, there seemed to be a wide variety of silverware in a great amount, almost like they were planning to host several people.

Carrying the heavy tray, she navigated the maze of pastel hallways. The guard at the stairs barely glanced at her this time, letting her pass without incident. One small victory she supposed.

As she ascended, she noticed doors branching off the platforms. Were they guard quarters? Command rooms? She caught a glimpse of monitors in one—a surveillance hub. Every move was being watched, but for what purpose?

Reaching the imposing black door, she hesitated. Before she could knock, it swung open. But instead of the intimidating Captain, she was met with a striking woman in a black mask shaped like a leaf.

Ji Ah froze, momentarily disoriented. The woman's crimson-painted lips and flowing blonde hair contrasted starkly with the utilitarian setting. Her short black cocktail dress and shiny black heels screamed opulence, who was she, Ji Ah wondered.

The woman waved her in without a word. Ji Ah placed the tray on a small table, observing the woman as she loaded glasses onto it. The precarious arrangement made Ji Ah uneasy, but the woman seemed unconcerned. The woman looked up again seemingly forgetting Ji Ah was even there and dismissed her with an imperious wave.

Ji Ah turned to leave but was stopped at the sound of shattering glass. Spinning on her heel, her hand instinctively brushed her concealed revolver.

The woman stood frozen, her face pale, trembling. Ji Ah took a step forward to offer help, when a familiar voice sliced through the air.

"What happened here?" The Captain's mechanical voice sent a shiver down Ji Ah's spine. He stepped into the room, his imposing figure commanding every ounce of attention.

Ji Ah' pulse quickened as she looked at the woman who was practically cowering in fear at this point, swallowing the lump in her throat "It was my fault, Captain. I knocked the tray."

His gaze shifted between Ji Ah and the woman, silent and assessing. Finally, he spoke "You are dismissed."

The women bolted as fast could, not daring to glance back, leaving Ji Ah alone with him.

The room suddenly felt smaller, darker, making Ji Ah's breath hitch. The broken glass crunched under his feet as he approached, like a tiger approaching its prey.

Ji Ah stood straight, her hands clasped behind her back in an attempt to appear calm.

He stopped in front of her and continued to stare, his masked face tilted slightly as if assessing her every move.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and unnerving, the sound of her own breathing seeming too loud in her ears.

Finally, his voice broke the tension, "You've been here less than a day, and already you've drawn attention." He said, his voice laced with quiet menace.

Ji Ah stiffened, she tried to keep her voice steady, despite the panic crawling in her chest "I don't know what you mean, sir."

The Frontman leaned in, closer than before "Don't insult my intelligence. So tell me..." he let the words hang in the air, a blade suspended over her. "Why are you really here?"

Ji Ah swallowed hard, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with the mask. Her mind raced for an answer, but the weight of his presence pressed down on her, making it difficult to think.

"I was following orders," she said, her voice firmer this time. "I was asked to bring the items, the tray falling it was an accident, a mistake. It wont happen again."

He moved closer, until he was just inches away. Ji Ah resisted the urge to step back, though her pulse was thundering in her ears."You're different from the others," he said, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. "More observant. More... deliberate." His head tilted, and she could swear he was studying her every feature, even with the masks obscuring their faces.

"I don't know what you mean," she replied evenly, though her throat felt dry.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and unsettling. "Of course you don't." He reached out, his gloved hand gently tugging on a piece of hair that had fallen loose from her hood in her haste this morning. The gesture was light, almost intimate, yet charged with unspoken power.

Ji Ah tensed, her breath catching as his fingers lingered for a moment before withdrawing.

"A word of advice," he said, his tone sharp once more. "secrets..." He leaned in just slightly, the smooth, black surface of his mask mere inches from hers "Secrets are a luxury you cannot afford. Don't lie to me again"

Ji Ah forced herself to meet his gaze—or where she thought his eyes might be—her jaw tightening. "Understood, sir."

He straightened, his presence as commanding as ever. "Good. You're dismissed." As she turned to leave, her heart pounding, his voice stopped her.

"Number 13." She froze, glancing back over her shoulder. "Next time, I expect an answer."

Ji Ah nodded stiffly, quickly exiting the room. The moment the door closed behind her, she exhaled shakily, her pulse racing. Even as she walked away, she couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on her, the lingering weight of his touch, his words echoing in her mind: a threat, or perhaps a promise.