The lounge lights dimmed once more, and the chatter of the VIPs quieted as the Frontman’s voice echoed through the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began with cold precision, “the first game will commence shortly. You are free to observe or return to your accommodations. All necessary updates will be provided in real time.”

Excitement rippled through the room, though some guests murmured about returning to their luxurious chambers. Gi-hun, however, didn’t wait for further instruction. Without so much as a glance at the others, he left

The hallway leading to his room was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. The lavish door to his suite swung open, revealing a space that mirrored the VIPs’ opulence-plush carpets, gilded furniture, and a sprawling bed draped in silk sheets. But to Gi-hun, it felt like a gilded cage.

He collapsed onto the bed, his body heavy with exhaustion and his mind racing. The profiles of the five players he had chosen haunted him. Their faces, their stories-they were more than numbers, and now they were in the line of fire.

“Damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “What have I done?”

The silence was short-lived. The door creaked open, and Gi-hun’s head shot up. Standing there was In-ho, his presence as imposing as ever.

“What do you want?” Gi-hun snapped, sitting up on the bed. “Don’t you have other VIPs to torment? They seem to enjoy this sick game as much as you do, so you’re all a perfect match.”

In-ho stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He didn’t react to Gi-hun’s bitterness, instead moving closer with measured steps.

“You misunderstand them, as you misunderstand yourself,” In-ho said, his voice calm yet cutting. “Everyone here-even you-seeks some form of thrill, some escape. Fear, anger, despair… they all feed into it. The VIPs know it, even if they won’t admit it. And you? You’re no different.”

Gi-hun scoffed, his fists clenching at his sides. “You think I’m like them? I’m nothing like them! I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?” In-ho interrupted, his tone sharp. “Didn’t choose to be here? Didn’t choose to gamble by playing with other players who were playing for fortune? Causing the death of people? Face it, Gi-hun: you’re part of this now. Just like everyone else.”

The words hit like a blow, and Gi-hun fell silent. He wanted to argue, to lash out, but In-ho’s cold logic left him reeling.

“I hate this,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho’s posture softened, just slightly. “Of course you do. But you still came back. You could’ve turned away, lived your life, pretended none of this existed. But you didn’t.”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened. “And you think that makes me one of them? That I enjoy this?”

“No,” In-ho said simply. “but it makes you complicit. Just like me.”

The Frontman’s words stung, but before Gi-hun could respond, In-ho did something unexpected. He sat on the edge of the bed, his movements deliberate but unthreatening. Gi-hun instinctively shifted away, drawing his arms close to his chest as he eyed Frontman warily.

“What are you doing?” Gi-hun asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

In-ho tilted his head slightly, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone. “Relax, Gi-hun. I’m not here to hurt you. If I were, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

Gi-hun didn’t relax, his gaze narrowing. “Then why are you here?”

In-ho leaned back slightly, a sly smile audible in his voice. “Because you intrigue me. You’ve always intrigued me.”

Gi-hun stiffened, his discomfort growing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

In-ho chuckled softly, the sound unnervingly casual. “It means you’re different. Most people who end up here-players, staff, VIPs-they follow the script. They do what’s expected of them. But you… you’re unpredictable. It’s fascinating.”

Gi-hun stared at him, equal parts angered and unsettled. “You think this is some kind of game? That I’m just another piece on your board?”

“Aren’t we all?” In-ho said.

The room fell silent, tension hanging thick in the air. In-ho’s words were maddeningly cryptic, yet they carried a weight that was impossible to ignore.

“Get out,” Gi-hun said finally, his voice low but firm.

But In-ho didn’t move. Instead, he leaned back on the bed, propping himself up with one arm, his posture casual yet unyielding.

“You’re quick to push people away,” In-ho said, his voice soft but laced with challenge. “But deep down, you hate being alone, don’t you?”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened. “What are you trying to prove?”

In-ho tilted his head, studying him. “Nothing. Just… wondering what it’ll take for you to stop running.”

Gi-hun felt the weight of those words, their meaning lingering uncomfortably in the charged silence between them.

☆☆☆☆☆

I'm sorry for asking for this, but if you like my fanfic, I would be very grateful for your follow (because I feel a bit stupid with one 😭)