I turned around and was met with In-ho's dark eyes staring directly at me. There was something unreadable in his gaze—something that made me stop in my tracks. It wasn't pure anger like I had thought. It had something else in it, something I couldn't quite place.

He tossed the blanket to the side and stood up, stretching with a quiet sigh. I did the same, cracking my neck before standing up and following him out of the room. I trailed behind him, sulking like a lost dog. If anyone was watching, the tension between us would have been obvious.

The guard opened the door instantly as he saw us approaching. Maybe they could feel In-ho's unreadable mood, too.

The walk up to his room was silent, save for our footsteps and shallow breaths. I couldn't talk—I didn't know what to say. I was completely and utterly speechless. Should I try to explain myself and apologize, or should I just wait and see what he is going to say? It was a gamble, one that the odds weren't looking good for.

I couldn't tell what In-ho was thinking, each step he took was full of confidence and assurance. Yet, his sporadic breathing and clenched fists told a different story. Was he silently fuming beneath his carefully placed mask of indifference or did he forgive me and blame my outburst on the game?

With each step up the colorful stairs the pit of dread grew in my stomach. By the time we finally reached his room, the anxiety was almost unbearable. He opened the door and stepped inside without even a glance in my direction.

I stood at the doorway for just a moment. I wanted nothing more than to run away and hide from my inevitable fate, but I had no choice but to face it. So, I stood—frozen in place—trying to delay it. I looked back at the guard. Whoever it was seemed to be silently reassuring me through their mask. They gave me a quick nod and walked back towards the steps.

I knew I had to go in, I had to go now, so why wasnt my body moving? It was as if my limbs had turned to stone and grew a mind of their own. My mind screamed at them to move but they didn't listen, instead stayed stubbornly planted where I stood. It was only a matter of time before—

"Y/N."

His words sent an electrifying chill through me that seemed to spark my limbs back into my control. As if in a haze, I walked over towards the couch and hesitantly sat down, too scared to look anywhere but the dim screen in front of me.

I brought my knees up to my chest and hugged them tightly, as if by making myself smaller I would somehow be able to disappear. My fingers dug into my jumpsuit which was tainted by blood and dirt, but I couldn't care less how the blood snuck under my fingernails and the dirt made my hands itch. The only thing I could think about was In-ho. What was he thinking? What was he going to do to me? And why, despite all of this, did my heart lurch when he met my gaze?

I felt the couch shift as he reached towards his side table, grabbed a cup, and held it out to me. With a shaking hand, I grabbed it from him and took a sip of water. It burned my dry throat as it went down, but I was never so thankful for it. It was a more than welcome distraction from my spiraling thoughts.

I put the cup down on the side table with a sharp clank and positioned my hand back on my knees —well, tried too— In-ho grabbed it before I could.

He took my right hand in his and held it out, almost as if he was inspecting it. He wouldn't find much, just a trembling, dirty, blood-stained hand.

He rubbed his thumb across my palm and I couldn't deny the shiver that ran through me. I tried to pull my hand back, but he wouldn't let it out of his grasp.

"You're shaking, what are you so nervous about?" He said it so calmly, so eloquently—maybe I was overreacting?

I couldn't even lie, I knew he would see right through me so I decided to say the truth. "You."

His hand tightened a bit around mine as I said that. For a moment, he didn't say anything. The silence stretched between us, growing more awkward and dreadful by the second. I could feel his grip on my hand tighten as he thought about his next words.

His voice came out cold and dark, yet there was a hint of thoughtfulness in it.

"...Why?"

Oh, he couldn't be serious! Why wouldn't I be scared of him? Why wouldn't I be scared of the man who seemed to kill anyone without feeling a twinge of remorse? Why wouldn't I be scared, sitting here alone with a man who kills hundreds of people a year for fun?

Now, it was my turn to think. How could I respond truthfully without angering him? Did he know how scary he was? There is no way he could be oblivious to the sheer aura that surrounds him whenever he walks into a room. No matter where, everyone turns their heads when he enters, but out of fear or mere curiosity, I don't know.

His hand loosened on mine, and he went back to rubbing my palm. I swallowed, trying to both collect my thoughts and stop my face from flushing. I tried to find the right words, but they seemed trapped in my throat. If he could kill that man in mingle and have absolutely no regret, what's stopping him from killing me? His power was scary . I parted my lips to respond, but his voice was heard before mine even had a chance to escape.

"Do you think so little of me that I would hurt you?"

I sat there, completely frozen. I was expecting him to say practically anything—everything but that. What was I supposed to respond with? Yes, he was someone who could hurt me, but would he?

"I... don't know. From what I've seen over the years you are unpredictable."

He let out something of a mix between a scoff and a laugh. "Unpredictable, yes, but not about who I kill. I only kill those who give me a reason to."

I looked at him, trying to understand what he meant. What about the man in mingle, what about the hundreds of people who died every year? Did he not kill those men impulsively?

Confusion must have been visible because he continued, "For example, a few years ago when that doctor was given information about the next game in payment for his services organ harvesting. I had to kill him because he was breaking the one rule of the game: fairness. I also had to kill the guards involved to prove a point to both the players and the guards."

In a twisted way, I suppose that made sense. I always knew that his philosophy was equality and fairness, so if I looked at it from his perspective, I was able to understand it a bit better. But that still didn't explain—well— anything other than that one incident.

"What about the man you killed during mingle? Or the hundreds of people killed here every year?" I truly wasn't trying to question or challenge him, I was simply curious. He seemed to understand this as he answered without giving any attitude.

"During mingle, if the man hadn't died, we wouldn't have been able to get out of there without raising suspicion. The players would know that we were plants and it would no doubt cause an uproar. So, in a sense, I was saving lives by killing him."

I nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. I knew he had explained this several times before, but now, looking at it through his perspective, it made much more sense. Logically, it was the only option, I knew that. Yet, the way he killed him and had no regret made my stomach churn.

"What about all the players who die? You are responsible for their deaths whether you want to admit it or not." My voice came out a bit rash, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

He finally released my hand from his grasp and went to take a sip of his water. I used this opportunity to wrap my hands around my knees, providing me with a sense of security.

He ran a hand through his hair once he put his cup down. This topic clearly made him hesitate. I wanted to reassure him, to tell him he didn't have to answer, but I knew I would never be satisfied if he didn't respond. He seemed to know this too, that he owed me an explanation.

His voice came out quiet and less confident than before. "Blame me all you want, but it was their decision to come here. All I did was send the recruiter to invite them to join, the rest was all up to them. It was their decision to call the number on the back of the card, come here, and decide to sign the consent form."

He was right, after all, as much as I didn't want to believe it. Though, there was one key detail he was missing.

"But they didn't know the consequences of the game. They all thought they would just be playing children's games, they didn't know the result of losing would be death."

He was quick to respond. "Yes, but they are now given the choice to leave after every game."

"Well, what if the players chose to continue and those who want to leave cant?"

"That's the nature of the game—everyone can't always get what they want. Though, most people will choose to have a chance of something better, even without knowing the cost." His voice came out emotionless and grim, like he was arguing about horse betting rather than human lives.

Well—I suppose I couldn't argue with him about that. He did have much more experience than me. After playing the game himself and becoming the frontman, I could only imagine the horrors he saw. In my short time playing the game, I saw firsthand how desperation and greed could change people. Even if they didn't want to stay initially, most people would want to after seeing the money.

What scared me the most wasnt all the people dying nor the lack of humanity in this place, it was how In-ho seemed to be completely emotionless, void of anything but his calculating stare. The players weren't people for him to mourn, but rather pawns in this twisted game. In-ho should have empathy for these people—any normal person would— but he just didn't . But, as much as I didn't want to admit, it intrigued me just as much as it scared me. I wanted to know how he became like this. I wanted to be able to understand him.

I reached over and took another sip of my water but the cool liquid did nothing to ease the tension in my stomach. My gaze lingered back towards him. He sat there, almost emotionless and empty, except for his hands which were picking at his nails.

So it seems he felt more than nothing at all, at least he was able to feel anxious. And I could tell he was angry before; did he only feel negative emotions? Or did he only feel extreme emotions, ones that he couldn't hide behind a mask?

The silence in the room stretched on what seemed like forever. Neither me nor In-ho knew what to say. What could we say? The weight of unspoken words pressed down heavily in the room, the pressure to respond grew with every moment.

I hesitated, knowing I was going to say something risky. If I was ever going to ask him anything, now would be the time. He would either completely shut me down or hesitantly answer, but I hoped he would indulge me.

"Is what you said true?"

"Is what true?"

He turned his head slightly and looked at me. His eyes—usually cold and calculating— shone with a quiet intrigue. It made me a tad nervous knowing that he was so interested in what I had to say. It made me even more anxious knowing that the words about to leave my lips were such a sensitive topic.

I had been curious about his late wife ever since he mentioned her during the first day of the game. Was she actually real or was she made up to make his backstory more believable? Was it true that she died, or was she still alive somewhere? If she was alive, did he have a wife and a kid at home? I had so many questions even after knowing him all these years.

Well, it seemed that he wasn't too keen on killing me, so I decided to say it quickly, almost like ripping off a bandaid.

"About your wife."

That made him pause, turning his gaze towards the screen in front of us. His finger twitched ever so slightly, enough to convey his hesitation. His jaw tightened and I watched the subtle movement of his throat as he swallowed. For a moment, I thought he was just about to ignore me entirely, but instead, he let out a heavy sigh and started talking.

"Yes." He looked down towards his hands as he continued. "She was sick while she was pregnant, and I was recently fired from my job as a police officer. We were desperate for money for her treatments, and that's when I met the recruiter and joined the game. I thought she would be fine while I was gone, it would only be for a few days, after all."

He let out a shaky breath and I wasn't sure if he was going to continue. But before I could say anything, he started again.

"I played the game and won, but by the time I got back she had already passed, and the baby went with her."

My stomach twisted, full of unease and something I couldn't quite place. Grief for a life I hadn't known, guilt for making him relive it—and perhaps some empathy?

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, I was at a complete loss of words. I couldn't even begin to understand what he went through. Losing your wife and unborn baby after fighting for your own life for them? That was something I couldn't imagine.

I let out a weak, "I'm sorry." I knew I should have said something else, something to reassure him, but I was at a loss. What could I say— that I understood what he was going through? We both know that would've been a lie.

His eyes remained fixed on his hands in his lap as he said something that startled me, "Don't be. It was a while ago." His voice sounded hard and almost trapped, as if he was hiding his real emotions under the cover of nonchalance.

A heavy silence stretched between us, neither of us daring to break it. With nothing else to do but think, I let my thoughts wander.

If he was so distraught about the death of his wife and child, why would he think that a fake marriage would be a good idea? Surely it wasnt good for him to pretend to have another wife while mourning the loss of the one he truly loved?

I thought about it for a few moments, my mind swirling with possible answers. I could have just asked him, but I feared his response. Finally, my stomach twisted into knots when I came to a conclusion: I was just a replacement for him. Somewhere to direct his emotions, a way to fill the emptiness in his life.

In a distorted way, it made me feel special. He chose me to direct his attention to, albeit fake. But knowing that I would never be anything more than a replacement stung more than I cared to admit.

In-hos seemed oblivious of my thoughts, his mellow voice filled the room, "What did you want to ask me about?"

Eyebrows furrowed, I looked at him. Surely he didn't want to answer any more questions today? What did I want to ask him, anyways?

"...During mingle you asked me to remind you of something."

Oh, right. The memory of being in that tight space with In-ho flashed in my mind and made my cheeks flush. I turned my head, but not before I saw a slight blush on In-ho's face. The sight made my heart skip a beat, I had never seen him blush in all of the years I had known him. He always seemed so cool and collected, but now? This was something new, and it made me feel a sense of warmth I couldn't quite explain.

It was as if the walls he had built around himself for protection crumbled—however slightly— and I was able to see the real him. I glanced at him again but his walls were back up. He was waiting for an answer.

"Why do you think it was okay for us to go in that room? It goes against everything you believe, about the games being fair and all."

"Well, we are not really playing the game, not for money anyway. We are just... monitoring the game, not playing it."

Again, when looking at it from his unusual perspective, I guess it made sense. To him, we were watching the game, just from a closer perspective.

"So, what was the point of you joining the game? You could just watch it from up here."

"At first I wanted to watch Gi-hun and see what his motives were. I needed to understand why he had come back to the game. But now, I want to observe him and see what he does, if he decides to launch a rebellion. The easiest way to understand him is to talk to him, which I couldn't do if I was up here."

I nodded, understanding his words. But still, that didn't explain why he had made me play with him. I had been no help to him what-so-ever. If anything, I've only gotten in his way. The only reason I could fathom is that he wanted a sure backstory and alias, but he could have done that alone. Or maybe it was his own enjoyment—maybe he enjoyed making me uncomfortable? But then again, why me?

In the end, I decided that he had been questioned enough for one night and dropped it, though the question remained in the front of my mind, begging to be answered.

The guard knocked on the door, a sharp reminder that we had to get back to the main hall. We both knew that we had to get back—but why did neither of us move?

I wanted nothing more than to stay right here for the rest of the night. To stay right in this moment with In-ho. No masks, no mysteries, no games. Just us.

But reality was knocking, quite literally, and we had to answer.

In-ho got up first with a heavy sigh. He walked to the door and I followed, though this time he held it open for me and shut it behind us. The change in our moods was undeniable—what had once felt tense and dark upon entering now felt something completely different.

I was relieved that he didn't decide to kill me and had no plans to. I was able to stop my hands from shaking and that pit of dread in my stomach was all but gone. But one thought lingered in my mind. I was merely a replacement, In-ho had no real emotions or feelings towards me. No matter how much I willed it into existence, it would never happen.

This was partly my fault. I should have never started looking at my boss in that way. Yet, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness knowing that I never stood a chance.

But then again, he never directly said that I was a replacement. I had come up with that on my own—maybe that's not what he was trying to imply by telling me about his late wife? Maybe he did actually care about me? I couldn't help the small smile that spread across my face at the thought, however unlikely.

I pushed the thought away. It was better to think that I never stood a chance with him than giving myself false hope. If he ever confirmed that I was indeed just a replacement, I would never recover.

The guard led us down the steps and I followed closely behind, trying to ignore In-ho's looming presence behind me.

The silence between us wasn't uncomfortable, but I didn't want to stop talking to him just yet. This side of— unguarded and comfortable—him was addicting.

"You know, we're going to get caught if we keep doing this."

"Keep doing what?"

"Keep sneaking off in the middle of the night, people might think it's suspicious."

He said nothing, only hummed in agreement.

"But let me guess, you already have a plan for that, don't you?"

"Maybe I do." He said with a quiet hum and said nothing else, leaving me in suspense.

I decided to leave the conversation at that, he had already been questioned relentlessly tonight. Only God knew what kind of plan he had come up with this time. A small smile spread on my face—leave it to the front man to have a plan for everything.

We reached the door and it slid open with a quiet thud. I entered first and In-ho followed right behind me, making our way back towards our beds side by side. All the tension from earlier seemed to have disappeared as we slipped into our beds and bid each other good night.

And a good night it was—I passed out once my head hit my pillow.