I took one step away from In-ho, and then another. It was like my body needed to stay near him, drawn to him like an addiction.

Perhaps I was.

The tension in the small hallway had almost completely dissipated. In-ho stood there, gaze pointed down towards his hands as if he couldn't move. He had turned, back pressing against the wall, supporting his weight.

I picked up my gun and slung it on my shoulder before crossing the small hallway and grabbing In-hos gun. As I looked back at him, I saw something I had never seen before—In-ho looked conflicted. His face remained blank, yet beneath the surface, something surged. It was as if a battle raged beneath his skin, features shifting with each second. His eyebrows furrowed but then they quickly softened. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding against each other, but then —just as quickly— he swallowed and let out a soft sigh.

I handed him his gun and he took it, grasping onto it with his left arm—his uninjured one. He was a fool to think I hadn't noticed his pain. I saw the way he flinched when grabbed my arm and how he faltered while handing the full magazine to Gi-hun.

He couldn't hide the tormented longing in his eyes when he looked at me. It was as if he was fighting against morality and desire, caught in between the trenches, scared to come any further.

He still hadn't met my gaze.

He perched his gun on his left arm and shoulder and slowly followed behind me as I started walking. Honestly, I didn't know what was going to happen. I wanted Gi-hun to win and end the game, but how—logically—could that happen? There were countless guards in this place who would shoot him before In-ho was able to stop them. His plan had a slim chance of working, and yet, I couldn't help but support him. After all, anything was better than staying here.

Now I knew how it felt for the players. Now I understood how horribly sick and twisted these games were. Blame it on consent and desperation, but nothing could undermine how utterly inhumane it was. No matter how many times In-ho tried to justify it, the truth was nauseating.

We walked in silence through the twisting dark purple hallway. The tension between us slipped into something comfortable; I simply had nothing to say, and I suppose In-ho was still dissecting my words. I didn't glance back at In-ho, but I heard his soft footsteps trailing behind me.

I could only hope he was seeing my perspective, questioning the morality of the game. I had a feeling that he felt the same way, but he just pushed it down deep inside of him, unwilling to admit the truth. I've noticed that's what he always did: pushed his feelings aside and pretended he never felt anything. I didn't blame him though, years of working in this place—especially as the front man—would mentally scar anyone.

We turned the last corner and the sound of gunshots returned. With each bullet that was fired, the sound ricocheted in the small hallway, pounding in my ears.

I looked forward down the hallway and caught sight of the guards that were hidden behind crevices in the wall, waiting for orders to engage further.

This part of the building was built specifically for this purpose. The steps were at a sharp angle, concealing the guards that were hidden. Even if you laid on the floor and looked up, you wouldn't be able to see more than a few steps ahead. Gi-hun wouldn't be able to see us until he reached the top of the steps, nor would we be able to see him.

It was poorly designed in that sense—neither side had a clear line of sight. Only the guards on the few steps near Gi-hun would be able to shoot at him. But who was I to question the layout of this place?

Guards lined the crevices leading down towards the bottom of the steps. They were silently waiting, their pink jumpsuits stood out against the purple wall like fresh blood on clean, white snow. The sight sent a shiver down my spine.

The sheer number of guards was overwhelming. I felt my heart drop. Gi-hun didn't stand a chance against all of these guards. It's a miracle that he hasn't been killed yet. It was only a matter of time before a bullet went straight through his heart. Or— more likely— his head, as that is where the guards were trained to shoot. A headshot was more clean. More efficient. More deadly.

My grip tightened around my gun as my hands started to tremble. If Gi-hun didn't win, what would happen to me? What would happen to the rest of the players? Gi-hun and the other people in the rebellion would surely die, and I suppose the other players would go back to playing the game.

But me? In-ho's presence behind me suddenly felt suffocating. What would he do with someone who directly went against their boss, threatening to take down the very thing he stood for? Maybe he would kill me himself, that would at least be quick and painless. Maybe he would send me into next year's game and let me die a 'natural' death. Or, maybe, he would make me keep working for him, force me to betray my morals and continue supporting this twisted game.

I couldn't decide what fate was worse.

I swallowed, trying to push the thought away.

More gunshots echoed throughout the room. Gi-hun was running out of time. I had to act. Now.

I glanced at the guards once again. I knew what I had to do. The first step in the plan was to get to the control room. What would happen after—I could only guess. But we needed to get there.

Which meant I had to shoot.

My stomach churned and I swallowed again.

Could I really do it? Could I shoot a few of my own just so that I could have a chance at freedom?

And an even greater question nagged at me—how could I do it? I could probably only shoot two or three guards before they all turned and shot me dead. My position as their superior would mean nothing if they shot and killed me before they even had a chance to see who it was.

I held my gun with a firm grip, trying to ignore the way they shook. The weight of it felt even heavier now, as if burdened by the pressure of my decision.

I wanted to help Gi-hun, even if that meant my own death.

I raised my gun, letting the cold metal dig into my shoulder and arm. I hardly registered the pain.

In-ho shifted behind me. His gaze burned holes in the back of my head, as if he was waiting to see what I was going to do.

Gunshots cracked in the narrow hallway, the echoes rattling in my skull. Each one was a stark reminder of the choice I was about to make.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself. I placed one hand on the trigger and the other one rested on the barrel.

My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out the noise of the hallway. My fingers curled around the cool gun, steady, just as I had been trained. The weight of the moment pressed down on me. If I fired, this would be who I was now—I would have gone against In-ho and the game with no hope of his forgiveness.

I needed to do this. I took a deep breath, hoping to ease my frayed nerves.

My finger tightened on the trigger, breath held, ready to take the shot.

And then, just as I was about to fire, In-ho took one step forward. One, single step. It was deliberate and precise, and yet, it was just enough to have me hesitating.

He stopped for a moment, as if contemplating his decision, but then took a few steps towards me. The sound of his steady footsteps echoed clearly in my head, drowning out the sound of the gunshots.

I stood there with my gun raised and yet, I faltered. My pulse rushed in my ears. Was it because of In-ho, or was it because of something deeper?

In-ho came to a stop beside me, his presence unnervingly calm in contrast to my racing heart. He kept his gaze focused forward on the guards that were facing Gi-hun and Jung-bae, not even sparing me a second glance. Then, with deliberate cautiousness, he lifted his right hand and placed it over mine, where it rested on the barrel of the gun. His fingers brushed against mine, his large hand completely overtaking my own. His hand felt firm, yet unsure. There was a silent hesitation in his touch that had me stalling.

I didn't miss the way his breath hitched.

He carefully pressed down, silently urging me to lower the gun.

Instinct told me to trust him. Logic told me to question him. But before I could decide, my body moved on its own—I lowered the gun.

Once the gun was pointed towards the floor, In-ho kept walking, each step made my chest tighten. With each step he took, he got closer to the guards silently waiting. My heart skipped a beat— surely he wasn't about to walk straight into the crossfire? A part of me wanted to shout at him to stop, but the more logical part of me wanted to trust him and wait to see what he was going to do.

He reached the closest guard, silently gesturing for their radio. They handed it over without an ounce of hesitation and In-ho grabbed it. He turned back towards me, but did not walk back. Instead, he cowered in on himself, holding his other hand up to the radio to soften his voice, "Hold."

That one word was barely audible over the sound of the gunshots, but it reached my ears and echoed through my head like a mantra. He handed the radio back, the guard tucking it away as if it had always been there.

My breath caught in my throat. Did the front man just tell his guards to stop firing?

I looked up at him, but his expression remained emotionless, though I could see a slight flicker in his eyes. Was he just enjoying watching this, or did he really want the plan to succeed? His calmness about this whole situation was unsettling. It was like he knew he had control of the whole situation. And, knowing him, he did. He was just waiting for the right moment to finish Gi-hun off.

The gunshots stopped. Not abruptly—some seemed to hesitate, questioning the order that had just pierced their ears. But within seconds an eerie silence settled throughout the room.

All the guards lowered their guns, escaping through the hidden doors just like they had practiced.

The hallway was now deathly silent. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't tormented with the sound of gunshots. My erratic heartbeat was the only thing I could hear, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming realization that maybe—just, maybe— we had a chance of ending the game for good.

All I had to do was get In-ho completely on board. Which wasn't impossible, just... slightly challenging. I had no idea what he was even thinking.

The silence was almost suffocating. In-ho stood there, seemingly unaffected by the unbearable tension that lingered in the air. For a second, I wondered what his plan was. Did he want Gi-hun to find the control room? Would he have a firing squad waiting, gunning us down the second we turned the corner?

My hands shook again. The anxiety of not knowing my fate was unbearable.

I took a few steps forward, standing reaching In-ho within a few strides. He stood there, gaze fixed on nothing important, just waiting. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. His hands were wrapped around his own gun, holding onto it as if it was nothing more than a mere clutch.

I leaned in towards him, my voice dropping to a whisper, "You know I'm right, In-ho."

The words slipped out of my mouth before I even had a chance to think, a direct echo of what he had said to me mere minutes ago. I hoped that he would catch the underlying meaning, that I was right about him wanting to end the game.

He had told the guards to stop, that alone was enough proof that he—at least—was second guessing himself.

I saw a slight twitch of his jaw and knew that he heard me, but he said nothing. He didn't even spare a glance in my direction.

Fuck. Was he mad at me? Was he deliberately ignoring me? My heart sank with the thought, though, I knew he couldn't avoid me forever. Once Gi-hun and the others caught up, he would be forced to speak to me.

I watched him carefully. If he felt my gaze burning holes in his head, he didn't show it. His fingers absentmindedly rubbed a part of his gun, seemingly lost in thought. The silence between us stretched, and without the occasional gunshot, it was uncomfortable—to say the least.

I couldn't stand it any longer.

I brushed past him and started walking down the steps. I needed to find the others. I needed to know they were okay.

Each step I took echoed throughout the hallway, pounding in my ears. My steady and controlled steps contrasted with the precarious emotions swirling inside of me.

I focused on the rhythmic sounds of my steps, using them as an anchor, something to ground me amidst my raging storm of thoughts.

And then, another set of footsteps followed mine, creating an irregular tapping. Despite the irritating break in my rhythm, I couldn't help but smile.

In-ho was following me.

I didn't look back. I didn't need to—his presence was undeniable. Each step he took was deliberate, calculated, and much louder than mine. Though, I could sense a bit of hesitation, as if he was questioning if he really wanted to do this.

But before I could fully understand the significance of this moment, more footsteps joined ours, creating a chorus of patters.

"Min-ji? Young-il?" I heard a voice call out, unmistakably Jung-bae's.

"Jung-bae?" I questioned, and within a few more steps they finally came into view.

My reaction was visceral. Relief flooded my senses like a tidal wave, crashing into me and overtaking my thoughts. My body moved before my mind could process it, and when I came to, I was hugging Jung-bae, our guns pressed between our bodies. A cruel reminder of our different circumstances.

"I'm so happy you guys made it!"

I'm not sure what came over me. It was more than relief, it was something more—hope? Tears burned behind my eyes, and I turned my head, blinking them away.

Jung-bae let out a chuckle, releasing his grip from me. "Yeah, we barely did! If you guys didn't bring us the ammo when you did, we would have been goners for sure!"

I turned towards Gi-hun and gave him a hug, our guns collided in the middle of us. He wrapped his arms around me, his warmth seeping into my skin. I held on a moment longer than I meant to, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

I glanced towards In-ho once I pulled away. There was a smile plastered on his face, but I couldn't help but notice the way his jaw ticked or the slight spark of irritation that shone in his eyes when he glanced at Gi-huns' proximity to me.

I stepped back, the weight of his stare was almost suffocating.

I listened as In-ho exchanged relieved pleasantries with the others, his mood doing a complete 180 from moments ago. It was almost like whiplash, how quickly he could shift between personas.

Soon enough, the conversation turned towards the obvious.

"Why do you think the guards stopped? Could it be a trap?" Gi-hun asked, apprehension was clear in his voice.

"I don't know," In-ho started. His words were clear and steady, leaving no room for argument. "We should take advantage of this opportunity." In-ho gestured with his arms, emphasizing his point. "Who cares why they stopped, we need to keep pushing forward."

Even if he was just saying that for Gi-hun to fall into whatever trap he's placed, I couldn't help but agree. It was clear that we needed to keep moving. If we stayed here we were as good as dead.

I nodded, and Jung-bae followed my lead. Gi-hun turned his gaze towards the floor, as if contemplating what to do. His eyebrows furrowed, and I watched as he went thought about all the options. There wasn't really any question about it—either we stayed here and were killed or kept moving and died trying.

Slowly, Gi-hun nodded, clenching his jaw and setting his face. Determination was etched into his expression, clear by the way his lips pressed into a thin line and the slight sparkle of hope in his eyes.

And then, footsteps echoed throughout the room. I looked down— our feet were planted. None of us were moving.

My heart sank. Did In-ho already order the guards to kill us? Were they marching down the hallway right now, guns cocked, ready to shoot?

But before I could do anything, a voice cut through my thoughts. "Gi-hun!"

Dae-ho came sprinting up the steps, barreling into us with such force it almost knocked the wind out of me. He pulled all four of us into a group hug, our bodies and guns pressed together awkwardly, though I couldn't help the smile that spread on my face. It was a relief knowing that he was alive.

We broke away from the hug after a few seconds, quickly turning to see who the other survivors were.

My jaw dropped. There was only one other person. Player 120.

My gun sagged in my grasp, the weight of it suddenly too heavy to carry. A heavy ache settled in my chest, and the tears that threatened to spill earlier from happiness burned for a completely different reason.

120 noticed our stares. "The guards were... relentless." She cleared her throat, trying to stifle the slight quiver in her voice.

A tense silence settled over us, thick and suffocating. My throat tightened as I scanned the space behind 120—empty.

They were gone.

Jung-bae let out a sharp sigh, running his fingers through his hair. "Damn it." His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"We should have stuck together, they should have came with us." Gi-hun clenched his jaw, fingers tense at his sides.

In-ho— the absolute saving grace he was—switched to his Young-il persona and stepped in. "There was nothing you could have done. They gave their lives for us." He swallowed, his gaze steady, peering at Gi-hun. "Gave their lives for us to end the game."

His words sliced into me like a freshly sharpened knife. He said it so effortlessly, as if he truly believed them. But did he? Was he just leading us into a trap?

The others slowly nodded, believing his words just as I had. Their grief-stricken faces slowly morphed into something resembling determination.

I spoke next, my voice was steady yet timid. "We have to make sure their deaths weren't for nothing."

My fingers clenched the gun in my hands, the cold metal a reminder of what was to come.

"Let's keep moving then!" Dae-ho announced, slinging his gun over his shoulder and pushing past the group. The others reluctantly followed him. Everyone seemed to appreciate that the journey seemed a bit less daunting with someone else leading.

Dae-ho sped ahead, his feet moving quickly and loudly, echoing in the small hallway. One by one we followed after him, our footsteps overlapping, merging into a single rhythm. My heart pounded in my chest, creating a dissonance of beats— an uneven tempo of fear, anticipation, and hope.

The air was heavy with unspoken thoughts. No one spoke. There was no need to. We all knew that this rebellion was futile, and yet, we couldn't help the spark of determination that flickered in our chests.

Each step carried us further. Further into the unknown. We didn't know what waited for us beyond this corridor—would it be more gunshots, more guards, death?

But there was one thing I knew for certain.

I wanted to win.

And nobody was going to stop me, not even the front man.