Gi-hun rubbed his temples, frustration boiling over. “What does he want from me?” Gi-hun muttered to himself, his voice echoing in the empty room.

The hours dragged on until, at last, the door opened. Two guards entered without a word, gesturing for him to follow. He clenched his fists but complied, knowing resistance would only make things worse. They led him back to the same observation room where the Front Man waited, seated behind the sleek desk, his mask back in place.

“Sit,” In-ho ordered, his voice cold and authoritative.

Gi-hun reluctantly obeyed, his glare fixed on the man before him. “No more games. Tell me what you’re planning,” he demanded.

In-ho leaned forward, his hands clasped. “Very well. It’s time you understood your role here.”

“My role?” Gi-hun’s voice dripped with disbelief. “I’m a prisoner, nothing more.”

“You misunderstand. You’ve been chosen for something far greater than mere survival.” In-ho said.

He stood and gestured for Gi-hun to follow. The guards flanked them as they walked through a series of winding corridors. Finally, they reached a staircase that spiraled upward.

“Where are we going?” Gi-hun asked warily.

“To the VIP lounge,” In-ho replied. His tone was almost casual, but his words carried a weight that made Gi-hun’s stomach churn.

“The VIPs,” In-ho continued, “are not merely spectators. They’re the winners of past games, people who’ve climbed out of the same pit you once found yourself in. They’ve earned their wealth and power through blood and cunning, and now they indulge in the spoils of their victories.”

Gi-hun stopped in his tracks, the truth crashing down on him. “You mean… they were players? Like me?”

In-ho turned to face him, his tone sharp. “Exactly. They played, they won, and now they thrive in a world that rewards their ruthlessness.”

Gi-hun’s breath quickened, panic bubbling in his chest. “This… this is insane. They’re monsters.”

He tried to pull away, but In-ho’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist with iron strength. “You’re still here, Gi-hun,” In-ho said coldly. “You have no power, no control. Don’t forget that.”

Gi-hun froze, his defiance faltering under the weight of In-ho’s words. After a long pause, In-ho released his grip but leaned closer, his voice low and cutting. “When you chose to return to the game, I could have denied you. I could have killed you, like so many others. But I didn’t. Do you know why?”

Gi-hun didn’t respond, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Honor,” In-ho continued. “You were the last winner, and from the moment you claimed that title, you became one of them. A VIP. But unlike the others, you chose to fight the system instead of enjoying its benefits. That intrigued me. And while your efforts were admirable, they were doomed to fail. This world isn’t built for people like you.”

They stopped in front of a set of gilded doors. In-ho gestured to a nearby table where a black suit and a delicate golden mask shaped like a deer awaited.

“Change,” In-ho commanded.

Gi-hun hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “You want me to dress like them? Pretend I’m one of them?”

“You are one of them,” In-ho said simply. “Whether you like it or not. Now put it on.”

Reluctantly, Gi-hun donned the suit, the fine fabric feeling like a betrayal against his own principles. He picked up the deer mask, its intricate design almost mocking him, and placed it over his face.

In-ho’s voice was calm but firm. “The deer suits you. It’s a symbol of grace and perseverance, it is also my favorite animal . Fitting, don’t you think?”

Gi-hun didn’t reply, his silence heavy with resentment.

When he was ready, In-ho pushed open the gilded doors, revealing an opulent lounge. The room was filled with people in tailored suits and golden animal masks, their laughter and conversation filling the air. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables laden with exotic delicacies and champagne.

Gi-hun’s stomach turned at the sight. These were the same people who had once fought for their lives in the games, now reveling in their twisted version of paradise.

In-ho gestured toward the room. “Relax. Or at least try to fit in. You might learn something.”

Before Gi-hun could respond, In-ho disappeared into the crowd, leaving him alone.

Gi-hun’s gaze darted around the room, his discomfort growing with every passing moment. He found an empty chair and sank into it, trying to steady his breathing. The other VIPs barely acknowledged him, their attention focused on their indulgences.

As he sat there, Gi-hun’s mind raced. These were the people who had perpetuated the horrors of the games, who had turned human suffering into entertainment. And now, he was one of them.

But no matter how deeply he despised this place, one thought lingered in his mind: If I’m here, I can destroy it from the inside.

For now, he waited, his resolve hardening with every sip of champagne and every hollow laugh that echoed around him.