The warehouse was eerily quiet, save for the occasional cough or shuffle from the remaining players. The horrors of the last game had left a profound mark on all of them, and their numbers had dwindled further.

From the 456, only 32 players remained. Each survivor carried the weight of their choices, their losses, and the knowledge that every step forward brought them closer to either unimaginable riches or a brutal death.

The loudspeaker crackled to life, and the chilling voice of the guard echoed through the cavernous room.

“Congratulations on surviving the 4th game. As per tradition, you will now have the opportunity to vote whether to continue or end the games. Make your decision wisely.”

The announcement sent ripples of unease through the group. Many cast wary glances at each other, while others stared blankly at the floor, lost in their own thoughts.

☆☆☆☆☆

The Vote

The voting device-a large panel with two buttons, one for "yes" and one for "no"-was wheeled into the room by masked guards. The players shuffled forward in single file, their expressions a mix of fear, defiance, and grim determination.

Gi-hun stood near the back of the line, watching as each player made their choice. His mind wandered as the votes continued.

☆☆☆☆☆

Gi-hun’s Growing Doubts

Hwang In-ho. Player 001.

The man who had seemed so frail during the games. Gi-hun could still see his kind smile, his trembling hands, his whispered assurances during their alliance in the earlier rounds.

But now, he knew the truth. That man wasn’t just another player. He was the Front Man.

“How is that even possible?” Gi-hun muttered under his breath.

He had tried to rationalize it—perhaps In-ho had been coerced, or perhaps it had all been a performance from the beginning. But no matter how he turned it over in his mind, the betrayal cut deep.

“Was it all a lie?” Gi-hun thought bitterly. “Every laugh, every moment of camaraderie?”

The thought was like a cold hand gripping his spine.

☆☆☆☆☆

The Results

Gi-hun was jolted from his thoughts as the last player stepped forward to vote. The masked guards wheeled the panel to the center of the room, and the large screen above them lit up, displaying the results.

The room collectively held its breath.

The numbers slowly ticked upward, showing the tally for each option.

O-17

X- 15

A collective gasp filled the room. The decision to continue had been made, but only by the slimmest of margins-two votes.

The guard voice returned, calm and unfeeling.

“The majority has spoken. The games will continue. Prepare yourselves for the next round.”

The players reactions were mixed. Some slumped in defeat, resigned to their fate. Others exchanged grim nods, steeling themselves for what lay ahead. A few even looked relieved, their greed outweighing their fear.

Gi-hun stared at the screen, his mind racing.

☆☆☆☆☆

As the guards turn off the lights and the players went to their beds, Gi-hun couldn’t sleep. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of the Front Man standing on the elevated platform. His imposing figure was shrouded in shadows, but his presence was undeniable.

For a brief moment, their eyes met. Gi-hun’s heart pounded as he tried to decipher the emotion behind the mask. Was it indifference? Contempt? Or something more complicated?

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened.

“You were one of us once,” he thought. “Why did you wanted to manipulate us so bad?”

The memory of In-ho’s words from their confrontation lingered in his mind:

“This isn’t just a game. It’s a system. And a system either destroys you or absorbs you.....”