Gi-hun stumbled back into his room, his legs weak and unsteady from the adrenaline and pain. He could feel the blood still trickling from his hand, but for now, it was drowned out by the frantic pounding of his heart. He collapsed onto the bed, the soft surface doing little to ease the weight pressing down on him. The room felt suffocating, as if the walls were closing in with every breath he took.

Gi-hun allowed himself a moment of stillness. His thoughts were scattered, swirling around in a chaotic mess. How could everything feel so wrong, yet still so real? His mind replayed the strange encounter with Frontman, the man who controlled this twisted world from behind the scenes-who had just saved his life, but why again? And the small device, still clutched in his bloodied hand. What was its purpose?

As he sat there, lost in his thoughts, the door opened without warning. In-ho stepped in, his presence filling the room like an ominous shadow. Gi-hun’s pulse spiked again, his mind racing. He hadn’t expected to see him so soon, especially not after everything that had happened.

In-ho closed the door behind him and walked toward the bed. Gi-hun’s eyes flicked to the man’s face, trying to gauge his intentions. But In-ho’s expression was unreadable, just as it always had been.

“You're not going to ask anything??” In-ho asked with a dry chuckle, his voice cold. He didn’t wait for a response. “It’s fine. You’ll talk when you’re ready.”

Gi-hun still hadn’t moved, his gaze fixed on the device in his hand. He could feel its cold weight pressing against his skin, reminding him of its mysterious purpose. He clenched his fist around it, not wanting to think about it any longer, but unable to stop himself.

“You’ve been through a lot,” In-ho continued, his voice softening slightly, though it didn’t sound really sympathetic. "You’re probably wondering what this is."

Gi-hun lifted his eyes, meeting In-ho’s gaze. He wanted to ask, but the words caught in his throat. What was this thing? Why had Frontman given it to him?

In-ho seemed to read his thoughts. “It’s a microchip,” he said simply. “You’ve had one before.”

Gi-hun’s mind spun. A microchip?

In-ho, sensing his confusion, continued, “I should have reimplanted it when we were… together. But I forgot. It slipped my mind once we finished up in bed.” He smirked. “But don’t worry. I put it in your suit pocket before just in case. I figured you’d try to tear it out if you felt it in your body, and I don’t have a hospital nearby.”

Gi-hun tried to process the words, but they didn’t make sense. What is he talking about? His mind was reeling.

In-ho’s expression darkened slightly, and he seemed to sense Gi-hun’s confusion. “Listen, we need to take care of your hand. I’ve got some supplies, but it’s nothing fancy.” He moved to the corner of the room, rummaging through a bag for a moment before pulling out a small first aid kit.

Gi-hun winced as In-ho returned to his side, kneeling next to him. “This is the best I can do,” In-ho muttered, unrolling the bandage. “I’ve got one person here who’s supposed to be in charge of health and safety. He’s supposed to look after the VIPs and me, but honestly? He’s useless.” He paused, his fingers lightly brushing over the wound on Gi-hun’s hand. “And tonight, he’s of no use at all. The fewer people who know about you, the better.”

Gi-hun's breath caught in his chest. What did he mean? Fewer people who knew about him? Was there something more to this game, more to his survival here, than he had originally realized?

In-ho applied the bandage carefully, his fingers surprisingly gentle despite the coldness of his words. “I’m trying to keep things quiet,” he continued, his voice low, almost confidential. “If anyone finds out you’re still alive, if they find out I’ve been helping you… it’ll create problems. Big problems.”

Gi-hun’s pulse quickened as the pieces of the puzzle started to fit together. What was In-ho really saying?

"Why are you doing this?" Gi-hun asked, his voice hoarse and uncertain. "Why help me? Why did you let me know about this chip?"

In-ho didn't answer right away, his eyes narrowing as if weighing the right words. Finally, he sighed, his fingers finishing the bandage. "Because right now, you’re useful. You seem different than everyone else as I said before..., actually, you like asking this question, don't you?" In-ho joked.

He glanced at In-ho, his eyes searching for something, anything that might offer an answer. But In-ho’s face remained unreadable, He wondered what he was so useful for...

"Get some rest," In-ho said, standing up. "You’ll need it."

With that, he turned and walked toward the door, leaving Gi-hun alone in the silence of the room. The pain in his hand was a constant reminder of what was at stake.The fingers of his unaffected hand brushed the small device, feeling the cold metal

Gi-hun could feel he was still a player.