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You would be correct in your assumption that Gi-hun Seong of Ssangmun-dong was not an avid listener of classical music. In fact, he would struggle to give you the tune- let alone the name, to a single piece of classical music; he never payed attention to it. He couldn’t tell you what radio his local convenient store played when he made his daily trip to purchase the cheapest alcohol or cigarettes, to focused on seeing if there was a price dip on any brands to notice the song.
However, he could have sworn they played the local radio, as songs always would randomly lodge themselves into his head after leaving the store, seemingly with no rhyme or reason. Truthfully, before the Squid Games he’d never actually properly listened to any classical music, until he was abruptly woken by it or heard it play as he considered if today would the day his luck finally ran out, the day he died.
That’s why he was currently gripping onto his shopping basket like a lifeline while stood frozen in the pasta isle of his local convenient store.
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After everything that had happened to him, you might expect the sight of a hot pink jumpsuit or a steak knife or, hell, even honeycomb would set him off, but no. Gi-Hun had to have a public break down because of “The Blue Danube” composed by some old dead guy.
It felt like fate just wanted to fuck with him at this point, in the first game, Sang-woo had saved him by telling him to hide behind another player, and honestly? Gi-Hun would probably have died without that advice. But he couldn’t save Sang-Woo. Couldn’t stop him from plunging a steak knife into his own throat. And now, as he stood in a almost empty store, it felt as though the music was mocking him. Laughing at the fact they were all dead, yet here he was, still alive. It played after he’d returned, after he and everyone else had condemned themselves to the games. And it played now, as he, the only survivor, was trying to decide what he was going to have for dinner.
It felt fitting, almost. That he’d been willing to return and risk his life then for money, for a better life, and here he was. Over a year debt free and still no better off.
He felt ill. Like when he and Sang-woo ate too much Dalgona candy as kids then ran around playing games without a care in the world. Games that would later end over 400 lives.
He stood there for what felt like hours, but likely was less then a few minutes, quietly trying to get his breathing under control and his grip on the basket to loosen to a less painful amount. He thanked whatever God had kept him alive this long that no one else was in the store with him. No one but pasta and rice boxes to judge him for shaking over something silly.
And oh was he shaking, almost as much as he was when he spotted the timer had two minutes left and he still has so much honeycomb to remove from the shape and leave with his life. The basket seemed to let out a quiet rattle and his hands shook, despite his breathing calming down they wouldn’t stop shaking-
“Sir? Are you alright?”
Gi-Hun all but jumped out of his skin, scaring the poor women stood behind him.
“Y-yeah I’m fine, don’t worry about me” he managed to get out with the least amount of confidence he’d felt in a while.
She looked like the women who died in the glass stepping stones game, he noted as he placed his empty basket out and left the store. Kind eyes, and a grey hair pulled into a ponytail.
He never learnt her name, nor her number, but he idly remembered it was somewhere near his. Was she the first who voted to stay? Or was that someone else? The faces all began to blur together over the year. One time he couldn’t recall Ali’s face and didn’t leave the house for almost a week.
Dinner could wait, he didn’t feel hungry anymore anyway.