By the time we reached the main hall, the others were already sitting down, eating. I thought we were right behind them—had we really taken that long to walk back? I followed closely behind In-ho as we got in line to get our food. He was walking better than before—not stumbling at all—but I wanted to be close just in case something happened. I'm sure he didn't mind my company, either.

In-ho didn't say a word to me the whole walk. Honestly, I wasn't too keen to break the silence, either. How were we supposed to act after that moment in the bathroom? It's not like I could pretend it never happened. The air between us was still thick with a lingering awkwardness. Neither of us could deny what we had wanted just minutes ago. And now that we both knew that the other wanted it, it was uncomfortable—to say the least.

The murmur of countless conversations fills my ears, almost distracting my wandering thoughts. Almost .

I tried to stop thinking about it, but I just couldn't. How he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered, how his gaze lingered on my lips and my jaw, how his eyes darkened revealing undeniable hunger—God, I could still feel it. A shiver pulsed through me and I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

The more I thought about it, the more it confused me. If he wanted to kiss me as much as I wanted to kiss him, why didn't he? Was he just waiting for me to fall victim to his game and embarrass myself? I could envision him sitting there, pulling the strings, controlling me like a puppet master.

Though, as terrified as I was to fall into his trap, I couldn't help but feel drawn to him. I couldn't deny how much I wanted him. How much my body craved to be near him.

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair in frustration. Maybe that was it, maybe he just wanted to toy with me. Make me realize that I had fallen for him and leave me aching, wanting more. Was that his whole goal—to mess with me?

The thought made my pulse race. If that was what he wanted, he had already won. He succeeded in making me want him, and he knew it.

He had me hooked like a fish, caught with no choice but to be reeled in.

Finally, we reached the front of the line. Since In-ho could only use one arm, I helped him carry his food. He took his kimbap roll, but I grabbed his cola and my own food, securing it in the crook of my arm.

As we walked across the room, I glanced over to him. His right arm was pressed against his body, like he was holding it there to prevent himself from moving it. I couldn't help but wonder—did it still hurt that bad, or was he playing into the act?

"How does it feel?" I asked, my voice was almost inaudible, drowned out by the other conversations in the room.

He took a moment before responding, "It feels better."

I nodded, watching him carefully as we reached the group. His face was unreadable, but his shoulders were rigid and his arm was held so steadily, I doubted his words.

"You don't have to lie." I stopped walking and turned towards him, "You're not weak for getting hurt. You know that, right?"

In-ho stopped and pivoted on his heels, facing me. Our gaze met, and I couldn't help but notice how tired he looked. His eye bags were the most prominent feature on his face, far surpassing his dark brown eyes which normally stood out. He was pale despite looking much better than earlier. His complexion made him look eerie, almost like a skeleton. If I didn't know him, I honestly would have been scared by the way he was staring at me.

It was obvious he was in pain.

My voice softened to a whisper, "These people don't know." I hoped he would get the underlying meaning of my words. These players don't know that he is the front man, they don't know that he usually hides his emotions. Here, he could be in pain and that would be normal. That would be expected .

Based on the quick glint that sparkled in his eye, he understood perfectly.

He leaned in close to me, close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin. His lips parted as if to speak, but for a moment, no words came out. He just stared at me, trying to decide what to say. His gaze flickered between my eyes, down towards his arm, and back up to my eyes again.

Finally, he spoke. It came out as barely a whisper, "It doesn't matter."

He turned and continued walking towards the group, leaving me standing there, gawking. What did he mean it doesn't matter ?

For one, we had to keep up our aliases. I knew that. In-ho knew that. Hell, every guard in this whole place knew to maintain their anonymity and fairness of the game. If In-ho acted like nothing was wrong and refused to talk to me, surely that would be suspicious to the players? And with the targets on our back from earlier, we had to do everything we could to avoid skepticism.

Also, did he really believe that his feelings didn't matter? If he was in pain I wouldn't expect him to hide it. I wouldn't want him to. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The thought of him suffering alone and having to pretend that everything was alright unsettled me more than I thought it would. Did he really think that no one cared if he was hurting? Is that what being the front man does to you, completely devoid you of everything except self preservation?

I swallowed, hard. How long had he thought that no one cared about him? How long had he been forcing himself to endure everything alone? No wonder he was so reserved. Having to carry all those emotions alone all these years surely took a toll on him. The idea made my chest ache. Knowing that he had to suffer, alone, with the death of his wife and unborn child, surviving the game, becoming the front man, and god knows what else made me feel something I couldn't quite name.

I slowly started walking again, following behind him at a distance. His words repeated in my mind. It doesn't matter.

I clenched my jaw as I walked as the words echoed in my head like a vice. It does matter. He matters. Why doesn't he understand that?

He slowed his pace as he reached the steps. I trailed just a few paces behind him, calling out to him as he stepped onto the first step.

"Young-il." My voice was steady despite the tornado of thoughts in my head. I made a conscious effort to say Young-il , I could not afford to have any more slip ups.

He stopped in his tracks and stood there, staring straight ahead like his body was frozen in place, almost as if he was questioning whether I had said anything at all. And then, slowly, he turned. Not all the way, but just enough so that I could see his face. His expression was as usual— unreadable.

A thought popped into my head, so fleeting I didn't have time to dwell on it: would I ever be able to understand him? The thought left as soon as it arrived.

With long strides and steady steps, I reached In-ho. His unwavering eyes never left mine as I approached him. He stood there as still as a statue, save for his rising and falling chest and shoulders. But the moment I reached him, he quickly turned and started his ascension up the steps. Though, before he could go too far, I reached out and grabbed his left arm—his good arm.

His steps faltered and for a second I thought he would just rip his arm out of my grasp. But I held steady, forcing him to turn and face me. His eyes met mine for just a moment, but I saw a brief flicker of annoyance in them before they were cast down to the floor. He winced—was my grip really that strong or was he just dreading what I was about to say?

I leaned in close to him, my breath barely a whisper. His body tensed at the sudden closeness, but he didn't pull away.

"It does matter."

He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding eye contact with me, though the subtle intake of air told me that he heard me. Neither of us moved, the tension between us was thick with everything unsaid. I waited for him to say something, anything . What was he thinking behind those dark eyes of his? He stayed silent, jaw clenched and body unmoving.

And then, he finally spoke. His voice was quiet, but sharp and clipped around the edges, like he was forcing himself to speak.

"You think this matters? That I matter?"

He leaned in closer to me, leaving just inches between us. His presence swarmed me, taking over my thoughts. I swallowed, my fingers loosening around his arm as the space between us disappeared. His gaze burned into mine, dark and charged with something unfamiliar.

"Yes." My eyes met his, searching for whatever emotion he was feeling—anger, guilt, denial? Perhaps it was an unhealthy mix of all three brewing inside of him like a disastrous concoction, ready to spew.

He whispered so softly that even from my close proximity I had to focus on each syllable. His breath tickled the soft skin near my ear.

"Caring about this is a mistake." He scoffed, "It will be over in a few days."

His words felt like a punch in the gut, sharp and cutting, but I refused to let them push me away. I had enough of his deflection. So, instead, I stepped forward, closing the space between us. I knew I should have backed off, but who was he to treat me like a toy, playing with my feelings and tossing me aside when he had enough?

Did he think this was just a fleeting moment, something that would be over within the week? Could he just walk away and pretend this never happened?

Because I didn't believe he could. The way his body tensed when I was near him and the hunger in his eyes earlier was undeniable. He obviously wanted this, so why was he pushing me away?

I lifted my chin, meeting his stare with a newfound confidence, "Say you don't care." My voice was steady despite the thoughts raging inside me, "Tell me it doesn't matter to you."

He parted his lips as if intending to speak, but nothing came out. For a moment, I physically felt my heart drop to the floor. I thought he was going to admit that this meant nothing to him. That I meant nothing.

But the words never came.

Instead, he just stood there with his gaze fixed on mine, breaths shallow and rapid, like he was physically restraining himself from doing something he would regret. I saw his hand tense around his food and heard him swallow, and still: no words. Not even a whisper.

I stepped just a bit closer, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "That's what I thought."

His breath hitched ever so slightly and it was like I could see his carefully placed mask of denial cracking and splintering before my eyes. I felt his body tense, but before his mask completely shattered, he turned away, ripping his arm out of my loose grasp.

"Let's go." He muttered, and started walking up the steps.

I exhaled sharply, urging my body to follow him before he got too far ahead. My legs burned more with each step I climbed, and finally, I caught up to In-ho just as we were about to reach where the others were sitting. But, I still trailed a bit behind him. I didn't want to irritate him even further—especially not now where the others could overhear us.

We walked across to where they were lounging, eating the food. Gi-hun and Jung-bae were sitting on one bed and Dae-ho and 222 were on the other bed, facing each other. As we approached, they all scooted over to make room for us. In-ho decided to sit on Gi-huns bed, and I took a seat next to 222. Me and In-ho were sitting across from each other.

The second we sat down I felt them tense. The strain between them and us was almost palpable. My mind immediately replayed the moment they were all undoubtedly remembering— when In-ho "admitted" that we fucked in the bathroom each night.

I swallowed hard at the memory. I shot a glare at In-ho, but he was unwrapping his food, either oblivious or completely unbothered by the tension within the group.

Thankfully, Jung-bae broke the uncomfortable silence. "How is your arm, Young-il?"

It was like a light switch was flipped— that's the only way to describe how drastic In-hos mood shifted: from dark to light. He went from being completely closed off and deflective to friendly and charismatic just like that. I did have to commend his acting skills, though he confused me to no end.

"It's much better now thanks to Min-ji," He flashed a smile at the group, avoiding me entirely. "Who knew she was such a nurse?"

Jung-bae laughed, "Yeah, look at that bandage! It looks like it was professionally done!."

In-ho held out his arm and the otters inspected it, complimenting how well done it was. Honestly, I wasn't expecting the praise at all. I had just quickly wrapped it with the fabric of my jacket, nothing fancy. Though I supposed to a group of boys, it looked elaborate.

I shrugged, playing it off. "It's really nothing, I had to make do with what I had."

Dae-ho piped in, "Well, it looks better than anything I could've done!" He gave me a thumbs up from his spot on the other side of player 222, "It's good to have you on our team!"

I couldn't help the smile that spread on my face, "It's good to have you guys too, I'm glad we all survived. After each round I was so scared I wouldn't be able to find you guys."

Jung-bae said in between bites of food, "Yeah! Me and Gi-hun looked for you guys after every round, right?"

Gi-hun nodded his head beside him, but didnt say anything, seemingly enamored by his food.

"Us too! My neck was starting to cramp from how much I was looking around." Dae-ho laughed and player 222 joined in, her soft chuckle instantly brightened the room.

Then, the thought struck me like a lightning bolt: I still had no idea what her name was!

"Player 222," I blurted out, unable to stop myself. She turned and looked at me with her wide doe eyes. "I'm sorry for asking," I continued, feeling a bit awkward, "but I still have no idea what your name is."

"Oh! Im Jun-hee, Kim Jun-hee. Sorry for not telling you earlier." She bowed her head in respect.

"No, it's fine! Sorry for not asking earlier." I returned her bow, "Im Min-ji, Lee Min-ji."

Then, like a chain reaction, the others reintroduced themselves to the woman, adding on what their name means if they knew it. She listened carefully, nodding her head after everyone spoke.

As the conversation continued around me, I felt my stomach clench and twist, and knew that soon it would be begging for food. Without hesitation, I decided to unwrap my food which I soon discovered was kimbap. As I peeled the wrapper back, I uncovered a shining, silver fork. It stood out like a diamond in the rough, just waiting to be discovered.

I couldn't stop the question that escaped my lips, "Why is there a fork...?"

Everyone turned to look at me. Then, their gazes shifted down, landing on the forks resting on their laps. Forks that were given to everyone—but were clearly unnecessary for eating kimbap.

Suddenly, it clicked—the special game would be tonight, just as Gi-hun had predicted.

Gi-hun met my gaze and it was clear from the look in his eyes that he had the same realization. He stared at me for just a moment, his expression hardening as the weight of the situation settled between us.

Without saying a word, he slowly nodded and looked away from me. His gaze dropped to the fork in his trembling hand.

"Tonight..." He started off, his voice barely a whisper, "We need to be ready."