Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Life doesn't discriminate

Between the Sinners and the Saints

It takes and it takes and it takes

A glass of whisky on his table. The giant screen was on, monitoring what was happening in the dorms, after the rebellion his guards had now tamed and extinguished once and for all.

Yet In-ho couldn’t concentrate on anything happening on his screen. His mask in his hand, he kept staring at the chunky, heavy piece of plastic with agony of the mind.

He had been merely four days away from this room, yet it had felt like months. Back into his golden walls, his little sanctuary away from the world, where he could expiate his sin by sitting in a cage of make-beliefs and lies he told himself.

He had shot Jung-bae. His hand had trembled, ever so slightly, but he was doing the correct thing. The right step to take. Gi-hun had wanted to play the hero, so be it. In-ho had to make that idealistic fool understand that life wasn’t a hero’s journey. That not everyone deserves to be saved. There is no gratification, no compensation for good deeds.

The man had brought him on himself. He had deserved it. There was no question about that in In-ho’s mind.

Then why did Gi-hun’s horrified screams and wails keep echoing in his mind?

*

Seong Gi-hun felt like his soul was floating out of his own body.

He was aware of the pain throughout all his body. He was aware of the pain in his arm where the bullet had grazed him and finally, he was aware of the strong grip the guards had on both his arms, as they dragged him along with them through an infinite sequence of corridors.

Why hadn’t the frontman shot him right there and then? He understood why he killed Jung-bae first. There was no doubt in Gi-hun’s mind; the Frontman wanted to hurt him, to make him suffer before putting an end to him. He was sure he would have made his guards shoot him too, after forcing him to see his best friend die before his eyes.

But all they did was hoist him up and force him to walk, to who knew where. Was killing him when he was on his knees not enough? Did the VIPs want some sort of special spectacle? Perhaps torture, before the inevitable murder?

Gi-hun didn’t care anymore. He had failed. His friends had lost their lives because he had dragged them with him against that impossible foe. Whatever torture was in store for him now, the man was sure nothing could hurt him more than knowing that.

The staircases seemed to never end. Then an elevator which coating was vastly different from anything else he had seen in that building so far. It brought them to one final corridor, more luxurious and fine than any other floor. Was that the VIPs floor? Were they already seated, waiting for the show of his execution?

One of the guards opened one of the many doors, where they shoved him into. His hands were already tied, handcuffed behind his back, and once he fell on the floor, they tied his feet as well.

The room wasn’t particularly big, but not small either. The complete lack of furniture made it seem bigger, though. The walls of the were covered in a black geometrical pattern. The floor was also black, and a chandelier covered the room in an unnatural, golden glow.

Once the guards had left and slammed the door behind them, Gi-hun was left alone with his thoughts. His guilt, his regrets. How could things have gone so wrong? They were doing so well. If only they hadn’t run out of ammo. Dae-ho… what happened to him? Had he been killed on the way back? Gi-hun couldn’t think of that. He couldn’t endure to the weight of another life on his conscience.

Not after Jung-bae.

Not after Sang-woo.

Not after Sae-byoek.

The cold from the floor seeped deep into his bones. Exhaustion was overcoming him.But he couldn’t sleep. Not yet. He was waiting, waiting for the man who had ruined his life. If he wanted to kill the Frontman to stop the games before, now it was personal. He was going to make him suffer every possible pain for killing his best friend. Even if it was the last thing he did in his life.

After a while, two circle guards opened the door, bringing something in. It was his bed, from the dormitory. What did that mean? What would he need the bed for? To sleep comfortably one last time before dying? How gracious of them.

“Don’t try anything funny.” Another guard, a triangle one, pointed his rifle at him while the circle guards freed his feet and one of his hands, securing the other shackle to the bedframe.

Once again, the guards left and he was alone.

His wound hurt. And it was probably going to get infected if left untreated, but did that matter? After all the people he had failed, after all the bloodshed, what did his small wound matter? And after all, he wasn’t going to stay alive much longer.

The door opened once more. Gi-hun could tell even without looking that it wasn’t a guard. It was too slow, almost unsure. Could it be one of the VIPs? Perhaps, they had gotten tired of just watching. Perhaps, they wanted to feel the thrill of killing someone with their own hands. He wondered how much they paid for that.

“Has your spark finally left you?”

That voice. That altered, inhuman voice.

As anger flew in his veins once again, Gi-hun’s tiredness washed away as he lounged forward, forgetting he had been handcuffed to the bedframe. When his attack was stopped by the constraints, he used the only weapon he had left; his voice.

He screamed and screamed, like a wild, wounded animal.

“Never mind then,” the Frontman said. It was hard to tell, with how the voice was distorted, but he sounded almost amused.

“You bastard! I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you? You’re in no position to make threats.”

Logically, Gi-hun knew that. But he wasn’t the type to sit around and do nothing. Not when he had so much rage inside his body that needed to be let out.

“You killed my best friend!” Gi-hun yelled, his voice broken.

The frontman had a pink briefcase with a white cross on it. He let it fall on the bed at the end of the bed, far from Gi-hun’s reach, then opened it.

“At least show me your face! Let me see your face, coward!”

Ignoring the other man’s thrashing and yelling, the Frontman opened the briefcase that was nothing more than a fancy first aid kit. He picked up a syringe, filled it with a clear liquid, then gave it a light smack with his finger to ensure any air bubble would come to the surface. Before Gi-hun could react to that, the man had already sank the needle in his shoulder. The man screamed, not because it hurt, but because it was his only weapon. As the Frontman pulled away, he reached for the black mask, aiming to remove it but only grazing it with his fingertips.

Gi-hun groaned in frustration.

“That should make you stay put for a while.”

“What… what the heck did you inject me with?”

“Just a muscle relaxer. So you won’t try anything funny as I patch you up.”

Gi-hun looked up at him, muted anger and unadulterated hatred in his eyes.

“Fuck you.”

Once he was sure the drug was taking effect and the man wasn’t going to make any abrupt movement again, the Frontman knelt next to Gi-hun. He rolled up his sleeve up to his shoulder, and the man hissed in pain. The cut was deeper than it looked, you could almost see the bone. Carefully, he cleaned the wound thoroughly before stitching it. Luckily, the drug had not only served to calm Gi-hun down, it had also numbed the pain.

The masked man could feel Gi-hun’s knifelike eyes on him as he was dressing the wound.

“You don’t have minions to do this job?”

“I’m kind of short-staffed after that stunt you and your friends pulled.”

He would have laughed at his own joke, but that was Young-il’s thing, not the Front Man’s.

But Gi-hun did laugh. For once, he laughed at his pitiful jokes. Whether it was from the intoxication of the drug, or because the nervousness accumulated, In-ho couldn’t tell.

Gi-hun’s eyes shifted, from the black mask to his hands that were wrapping the gauze around his wound.

The frontman appeared to be left-handed. It was such a small thing, but for some reason, it sent a chill down Gi-hun’s spine.

To distract himself from that thought, his eyes went back to his mask.

“It must be hard to do that with that mask. Can you even see? You should remove it,” he said, almost tauntingly.

“I can see just fine.”

“Remove it. Coward. Let me see your face.” Gi-hun was ever defiant, even if he had to struggle against the drug in his system to get the words out.

“You don’t want to see it.”

“I do. I fucking do.”

Gi-hun’s eyes were struggling to stay open. The masked man was starting to wonder if he had given him too high a dose, he was supposed to calm him, not put him to sleep. He needed him awake a little longer, that night.

There were some recordings he had carefully chosen for him, that he needed to show him.

“Look at you. You could have lived happily. Seen your daughter. Built a better life, a life hundreds of people can only dream of. Yet here you are, bloodied, beaten, and restrained, and for what?”

“For saving those people you consider trash.”

The way Gi-hun stressed the word you, as if to say that was just what In-ho thought, but it didn’t correspond to the truth.

Gi-hun was wrong, and In-ho was going to demonstrate it. He was going to bring him to his knees, to break him just like he had been broken before. Maybe then, and only then he would finally understand.

“These people you so desperately want to save, are you sure they deserve to be saved?”

“Yes. They all do.”

The Frontman took out something from his pocket, that looked like a usb key,

“Let me show you something.”

Gi-hun hadn’t noticed the screen in the room, he only did when the Frontman turned it on.

“Since your friend destroyed all the cameras, I had to rely on the ones from the guards. But the footage is good enough anyway.”

The screen showed what was clearly the dorm, recording from the point of view of a guard, who had the camera more or less at the same height of his sternum.

Gi-hun sighed in relief when he saw Jun-hee, Yong-sik, Geum-ja, and Hyun-ju completely unarmed. They were gathered around a coffin, and his heart sank. Who could that be? Someone who died from the light-out massacre? He scanned through the crowd in the distance, and although the clarity wasn’t the best, he was able to clearly spot Dae-ho.

Then Jun-hee screamed.

It was a short, high-pitched scream, and she covered her mouth with her hand soon after, her eyes filling with tears.

“Mr. Jung-bae?!”

Gi-hun’s eyes darkened. He slowly turned his head to look at the Frontman, eyes full of questions and hate. Jung-bae didn’t die in the dormitory. Why were they showing his body to the others?

“Players, what you witness before you is what remains of those who broke the rules,” a guard started talking.

Of course.

It was the same nonsense Gi-hun had already heard three years ago. All that talk about fairness, about equality. But he could see what this spectacle truly was: a warning. Make an example out of Jung-bae’s body, so the players would think twice before starting another rebellion.

Then the guards started taking all the bodies away, including Jung-bae’s. It was only then, that the piggy bank was seen again, and more dirty, soulless money began being poured in it.

The voice on the speaker announced the deaths of the people who had died during the night’s massacre, then moved on to the rebels who had perished during the rebellion.

The following players were eliminated: player 072, player 206, player 047, player 015, player 324, player 145, player 246, player 390, player 001.

Geum-ja was crying silently while hugging and comforting a tearful Jun-hee.

“Wait, what about Gi-hun?” Hyun-ju asked. When the guard didn’t give a single sign of acknowledgement, she realized they didn’t know, and most of all didn’t care, about their given names.

“Player 456,” she corrected herself, “was he eliminated?”

“The eliminated players are the following. 072, 206, 047, 015, 324, 145, 246, 390, 001.”

“So where is 456?”

“We cannot answer this question.”

Gi-hun stared at the Frontman quizzically. What did that mean? Why couldn’t they tell he had been captured? Surely, letting the players know he was being kept prisoner, and lately probably tortured, would have been a great deterrent if anyone ever thought of starting another uprising. So, why the mystery?

Looking at the Frontman for answers was useless. That black mask was like a wall of stone. Hiding his heart and soul, if he even had any.

“What does that mean? Where is Mr. Gi-hun?” Jun-hee asked, her voice small, as she held a hand on her stomach.

“Ha! I knew that nutjob was a plant!” Said player number 100. “He was working for these guys all along!”

“Hey! Careful what you say!” Dae-ho, who had been silent in the background the entire time, came out from where he was hiding. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks still wet from tears and blood.

“Why should I? It was clear from the start! You guys were just too stupid to see it!” Player 100 reiterated.

“He’s right!” Player number 226 jumped on his feet, to back up his ally. “Past winner my ass! He knew about the first game because he works here! How else could he have gotten that far?”

“You piece of shit!” Dae-ho cried, “When Byeong-su wanted to shoot you all he put himself in front of the fucking rifle to protect you! Even now you’re doubting his good intentions?!”

“Tell us then, why else wasn’t he killed among the others who joined his suicidal mission?! Asshole’s probably putting on his pink suit as we speak!”

The ex-marine was about to attack the man when he was stopped by Hyun-ju.

“Dae-ho, stop trying to argue with these people,” Hyun-ju said, putting her hands on his shoulders and dragging him back to the X side. “They’ll never listen.”

“Try to deny it all you want, but you’ve been played! Don’t you see he only helped during the first game to earn your trust?” Player 226 continued. “And when he did, he brought you all to the slaughter!”

“And what would the point of that be, huh!?” Myung-gi tried to argue. “For what!? For getting us all killed later? More players dying only benefits you O bastards, not the game makers!”

Even the Os had to admit Myung-gi had made a solid argument, one not even they could debate.

“Man, you shut them up, that’s incredible…” Another X told him as they all retreated to their respective sides.

But it was clear something was broken. It was clear doubt had been planted in their minds.

The frame changed, and this time the shot seemed to be recorded from a fixed camera above the beds, one Hyun-ju hadn’t shot. So there were other cameras, aside from the more visible ones? Cameras so small, they couldn’t even notice them? It sent a chill down Gi-hun’s spine. The angle showed Gi-hun’s friends, all gathered around, sitting together, unable to sleep.

“Yong-sik, are you alright?” His mother asked him.

“Maybe… maybe number 100 had a point…” He began but was back-slapped on the shoulder by Geum-ja.

“Don’t you dare! I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you if it wasn’t for Mr. Gi-hun!”

“But… you have to admit it’s weird he was the only one who wasn’t killed…! And the rebellion was his idea!”

“What do you mean the only one who wasn’t killed? Do Hyun-ju and Dae-ho here seem dead to you?!”

“But they came back before the guards arrived, that’s why they were spared. Everyone else out there was killed.”

Geum-ja was about to retort, when another X player spoke. “He’s right. It is weird.” There wasn’t rage or malice in his words, but almost a tired defeat.

“I think so too. He was the leader of the rebellion, they would have wanted his head first. The fact he wasn’t eliminated is weird.” A woman with the X said.

Geum-ja and the others looked to tired to retort. The old woman just limited herself to giving the others dirty looks while Hyun-ju comforted Jun-hee, who was sniffling and rubbing her eyes.

In-ho turned the screen off, and the air was tense. Gi-hun didn’t speak. Just looked up at him with an expression In-ho found hard to read. He was almost itching to take off his mask, just so he could see better.

“See? You’ve done nothing but help these ungrateful bastards. Yet it took so little, for them to start doubting you.”

Gi-hun couldn’t deny he felt hurt. He had expected something like that from the Os, especially from player 100, that man never liked him. But he had never expected it from Yong-sik, nor had he ever expected so many of the Xs to agree.

“I don’t blame them. ”

His answer peeved him. He was never under the impression Gi-hun’s spirit would be easy to break. On the contrary, for a man to come back to a place like that, meant having incredible mental strength. But for him not to be shaken, not even a little bit, by what he had just heard? It bothered In-ho greatly. However, he had other cards up his sleeve he could play.

“Who I blame is you and your mind games.”

In-ho had hoped Gi-hun would elaborate a little more on that, but the man was breathing heavily, battling to stay awake. Beads of sweat started forming behind his mask; had he fucked up with the tranquilizer? Gi-hun didn’t look good. Luckily, they had a doctor on the island, he’d make sure to send him to check on the man as soon as he could.

“Maybe you should sleep on it,” he said, trying not to let his anger transpire from his voice, as he turned his back and left.

“Wait…!”

In-ho stopped just as he was about to shut the door behind him.

“There is a pregnant girl in your game,” Gi-hun said, heaving through his lungs. “Did you know that? You wouldn’t stop the games even for her?”

In-ho’s jaws clenched.

“In this game, everyone is equal. Jun-hee is a player like everybody else.”

The frontman slammed the door, a little harder than he had initially intended to. The thud made Gi-hun jump, then he was left alone with the realization of what the Frontman had just said.

“Jun-hee…?”

Chapter Text

The sun was shining through the leaves, giving Gi-hun a feeling of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time. Just strolling in the park. Just existing, basking in the sun, was a feeling he had forgotten. Some people would say that little things like this are what we stay alive for.

Sang-woo lit Gi-hun's cigarette before he did his own.

“Gi-hun, have you ever listened to anything I told ever you?”

He was used to his childhood best friend scolding him. But this time it seemed more serious than usual.

“You’re too trusting. You care too much. You seriously couldn’t see that Young-il was shady?”

“He’s not.” The words left Gi-hun’s lips almost on instinct, but he couldn’t deny that Sang-woo’s suspicions made him feel weird. Images of Young-il playing spinning top flashed in his mind. He failed over and over while using his right hand. But when he switched to his left, he succeeded on his first try.

Young-il had always used his left hand, now that he thought about it. To eat, to pat someone’s back, to press the button to vote.

“He knew your name.”

“He heard it from Jung-bae.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

They walked to a fountain, where two girls were chatting and chuckling.

“Gi-hun?”

“Sae-Byoek!” Gi-hun said with a wide smile. He had never seen Sae-byoek being so carefree, looking and acting her age for once. The girl next to her was the girl she had bonded with in the games, the one with the blonde highlights. Gi-hun had never learned her name, which was one of the things that still haunted him from the games.

“Hey, haven’t you noticed?” The girl with the highlight said, addressing to Gi-hun. “They don’t know our names. We’re nothing but horses to them, with a number on our back. But the Frontman called that girl Jun-hee, didn’t he?”

“Weird, if you ask me,” Sae-byoek added.

“Sang-woo!” Ali was waving his hand in the distance, trying to get the group’s attention. “It’s time to go!”

Gi-hun waved back at him, but his call didn’t seem to be including him.

“Thank you for everything you did for Cheol,” Sae-byoek told him with a smile, as she and her friend went to join Ali.

“I thank you too, for helping my mother.” Sang-woo put a hand on his shoulder, before he walked past him.

“And Gi-hun? Don’t let that masked man walk over you,” Sae-byoek told him.

Rejoining Ali, the two girls and Sang-woo walked off. Gi-hun wanted to follow them, but they seemed to get further away with every little step he took.

*

In-ho was swirling his glass of whisky, watching what used to be cubes of ice now almost dissolved. The doctor came out of the room where Gi-hun was being kept, his job seemingly done.

In-ho had never been fond of the idea of his guards harvesting organs, he just let it happen as long as they weren’t interfering with the game. But for the first time in his game master career, he was glad about those fuckers and their little ring. Having a doctor on the island had been a great asset, and he might’ve come in handy in the future, too, if something was to happen to Jun-hee.

“You were lucky I was here,” the doctor said. “That dose could’ve killed him. He was already hallucinating when I came here, muttering names and other nonsense.”

He knew he should've let one of the circle guards treat Gi-hun's injuries. They were the ones who were knowledgeable about knocking the players unconscious. It was also likely that if he had let a guard do the job, they wouldn't have needed to sedate Gi-hun in the first place. It was In-ho's blood the man was out for.

And yet, letting someone else do it didn't even cross his mind.

“How is he doing now?”

“He’s gonna be knocked out until tomorrow, late morning at the very least.”

“Your job is done for now.”

As the doctor was gone, In-ho tapped on his walkie-talkie to give his next order to his second-in-command.

“Postpone the next game to tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, sir.”

The VIPs probably weren’t going to be too happy about it. But he needed Gi-hun to witness. He turned on his screen, which showed what the players were doing in the dorms. The quality wasn’t the best, but it was something.

Now that the guards had taken away all the rifles the players stole and the forks that had been purposefully given to them, there was no risk of another insurrection or massacre. Everyone was just tired and wanted to sleep.

Jun-hee was still crying, her head on Hyun-ju’s shoulder. Geum-ja was nestled in her son’s arms. Myung-gi was standing next to Jun-hee, her hand in both of his.

Dae-ho stood a little far from the group, curled up and rocking himself back and forth.

“It’s my fault…! They’re all dead because of me…! Jung-bae, and Gyeong-seok, and everyone else…!”

“Dae-ho, it wasn’t your fault. Please, stop…” Hyun-ju told him, tiredness in her voice. Geum-ja walked over to the young man, putting a hand on his shoulder, startling him at first.

“You should get some rest. Please, come and sleep with the rest of us.”

It took a lot of convincing, but in the end, Dae-ho walked over to the others, falling asleep next to Jun-hee, whose tears had exhausted her to sleep.

If the recruiter hadn’t died, In-ho might’ve killed him himself. Just more slowly, more painfully. What the fuck was he thinking when he recruited a pregnant woman? He needed to instruct his next recruiters more carefully.

Because no matter what he had told Gi-hun before, Jun-hee wasn’t just another player to him.

In-ho quaffed his whisky in one gulp, putting down the glass on the table loudly. It was his third glass of whisky that evening, but it didn’t help much with his overdriven nervous system. There was nothing that could put his mind at ease that night. It wasn’t the first time he had spoiled his hands with blood. Jung-bae’s should have been just one more. Then why did he feel like he had done something irredeemable? Like he had reached the point of no return?

It was ridiculous. Jung-bae wasn’t his friend. Neither was Gi-hun.

Then why were his eyes burning with unshed tears?

The door to Gi-hun’s room was slightly open. The doctor must have left it like that when he left. In-ho advanced slowly, drying one tear that had inexplicably fallen from his eye. He opened the door, and saw that Gi-hun was slumped against the bedframe, his wrist hanging from the handcuff. He looked like a marionette who’s strings had all been cut except for one. Gi-hun could have easily gotten on the bed, the handcuffs gave him enough freedom of movement to do just that. But the effects of the drugs must have kicked in before he could.

In-ho collected the man’s unmoving form from the floor, laying his tired body on the thin mattress.

Gi-hun looked the most peaceful he had in perhaps years. In-ho could not believe how soft his features were, now that he didn’t have to sleep with one eye open. Now that nightmares weren't plaguing his slumber.

Taking his gloves off, he ran his fingers through the man’s hair. It traveled down his face and caressed his cheek, brushing his thumb against his lip.

“Why couldn’t you listen to me and get on that plane? You could have gotten away from all of this, unlike me. This life path you’ve chosen will never let you escape, never. Believe me, I know.”

His hand traveled from the man’s face to his neck and then lower, rubbing soothing circles on his wide chest. His hand stopped where his heart was, but his heartbeat was too feeble for him to feel it under his palm. In-ho laid his head on his chest, his ear right above his heart.

Now he could hear it. Every beat. Every single one. And it helped even out his own breathing.

“You’ve chosen this, Gi-hun. Now you’re stuck here just as I am. Here with me. Forever.”

Tears fell silently from In-ho’s brown eyes, soaking Gi-hun’s blood-stained shirt.

Chapter Text

Jun-hee woke up, feeling the salt of her dried tears on her face. Washing her face would feel nice, but there was another, more pressing matter. She needed to go to the bathroom. Urgently.

Dae-ho and Hyun-ju were at each of her sides, both fast asleep. She didn’t want to wake them, they needed all the rest they could get. Had Mr. Gi-hun been there, he wouldn’t have let her go to the bathroom alone, but the Os looked fast asleep, too. She was sure no one would bother her. Even for those evil people, all the earlier bloodshed must have been enough.
As quietly as possible, she got up and walked to the door. She didn’t need to tap on the glass, since it had been broken during the rebellion.

“Mr. Triangle? I need to use the bathroom.”

Jun-hee was already mentally prepared to plead and beg until they accepted her request, but to her surprise, the guard opened the door almost immediately. As he escorted her to the bathroom, he got a little closer than she was comfortable with. She suddenly regretted not asking anyone to accompany her until the guard spoke.

“If you get eliminated in the next game, play dead.”

Wide-eyed, she looked back at the expressionless black mask.

“What…?”

“We were instructed to fire blanks at you if you get eliminated. But you have to make your part and play dead.”

“But… why?”

“We don’t question orders, we just follow them. But if you tell anyone what I’ve told you, we’ll have to fire real bullets. Understood?”

“Understood.”

After she had done her business, Jun-hee went to wash her hands and face. She stared at her reflection, her reddened eyes still ridden with confusion. Who gave them that order? And why? She hated thinking it, but what if the Os had been right? What if Seong Gi-hun was truly working for the games, yet he decided to spare her for some reason? Perhaps, he had come to the games with other plans in mind, but then had grown fond of her. Or he might have simply felt pity because of her state.
Jun-hee shook her head. Gi-hun was a good-hearted man. He had saved them during the first game, he had always tried to help, even when the Os kept antagonizing him. But it was the only logical explanation she could come up with, given the little information she had. She walked back to the dorm with a heavy heart.
But when she walked back to her bed, nothing that worried her seemed to matter anymore. Jun-hee looked at her sleeping companions and came to a terrific realization.

She could save someone.

She could sacrifice herself, being eliminated in someone else’s place, without being killed. It was something powerful, an ace up her sleeve nobody knew about. She fell asleep, with her heart somehow lighter.
 
*
 
On the island, in In-ho’s secret world, there was no day and night. No window, no natural light. Just the unnatural glow of the golden chandeliers, the bright, simple colors of the players’ floors... So when he woke up, still lying on Gi-hun’s chest, he had no idea how much time had passed. All he knew was that the sleeping man was stirring, and that he didn't have his mask on.
Panicked, In-ho’s eyes widened, but he was careful not to make any sudden movement. He raised himself to a sitting position, his face facing the opposite direction of Gi-hun. Then he quickly pulled his hood up.
Gi-hun’s vision was blurred, but he could see the Frontman’s nape before he pulled up his hood. The back of his head looked familiar.
In-ho got up from the bed, his back to the man, walking towards the door. Gi-hun, now fully awake, bolted to a sitting position, frightened by the realization the Frontman had been sitting so close to him.

“Wait!” He cried before the man could walk out. “Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

In-ho opened his mouth to reply, only to remember he didn’t have his mask, thus no voice alterer. He closed the door behind him as Gi-hun kept screaming.

“HEY! ANSWER ME!”

 
*

 
“The VIPs have arrived,” his second-in-command informed him, through the walkie-talkie. Usually, the VIPs wouldn’t come before the second-to-last game, but this year, they had been particularly enthusiastic about the games and had anticipated their arrival.
Gi-hun had been right when he said they would have had more fun with his return. The poor bastard hadn’t even realized what he had done. He gave the VIPs a show they hadn’t even dreamed of. He had played himself right into the hands of those people he so detested.

And they were never going to let him go now.

 
*

 
“FRONTMAN! Come back here…! You coward! You murderous coward!” Gi-hun was screaming until his throat dried. But it didn’t matter how much he called, the Frontman didn’t come back to his room.
After a little time had passed, only two circular guards and a triangle guard arrived. All the triangle did was stand on the doorsill, his rifle pointed at him, as the two circles entered the room, one leaving a tray of food on his bed, and another a black box with a pink bow.
The last thing the circle did was uncuff his hand.

“You’re free to move inside this room. But don’t try anything cute, there will be a guard outside at all times. Eat, shower, and change. You have a private bathroom right there.”
With everything being black, Gi-hun hadn’t even noticed the door next to the bed.
 
Once left alone, Gi-hun sat on the bed, observing his food. He was in no mood to eat, but he needed his strength if he was to face the Frontman. He forced himself to eat, fighting against the urge to vomit. After eating, he opened the black box. It was a suit. It all felt too familiar, and he was suddenly brought back to three years ago, when he, Sae-byeok, and Sang-woo were given suits for being the three finalists.
But this time, there was no number on his suit. It was all white, with a pitch-black button-up shirt. The shoes appeared to be made of black leather but were all covered in tiny, small rhinestones of dark red. So was the blazer. Completely white, but with spots of dark red covered in rhinestones of the same color. The cuff of the sleeves was also covered in red, strings of rhinestones dangling from it, with one bigger tear-shaped stone at the end.
Was that supposed to look like blood? Dripping blood? Whose sick mind had designed this suit?
As much as his player tracksuit was soaked in real blood, sweat, and tears, he preferred wearing that rather than the clothes the Frontman wanted him to wear, for whatever sick reason.

“You’re not ready yet? Hurry up. Shower and change.”

The triangle guard’s voice scared Gi-hun out of his skin. He hadn’t even realized he had entered. He complied to the orders, since he wasn’t too fond of the idea of getting turned into a colander.
Usually, a hot shower would be relaxing for anyone. But not for Gi-hun. He watched as the water washed away the dried blood on his skin. His own, but also the blood of his friends.

The blood of Jung-bae.

Realizing it was the last thing he had left of his best friend, Gi-hun watched the bloody water dissolve and cried, the salt of his tears mixing with the iron of the blood.
 

Chapter Text

Putting on that suit made him sick. It was perfectly tailored to his measurements, exactly like the suit from years ago. It looked expensive, especially the red crystal beads. He still couldn’t believe how much they looked like blood stains, glistening in the light. He guessed that was what their blood meant to the VIPs. Bling. Show lights. Fun.

He was going to show them fun, alright. But he couldn't do it alone.

Hurry the fuck up, Jun-ho, he thought. He needed to have faith in his team, he needed to have faith that they would have found the island, even without the tracker. He just hoped with all his might it would be sooner rather than later.

Once he was ready, the guards entered the room again. They put a shackle on his foot, chained to a heavy ball made of lead. The perfect fit for a prisoner. He could still move, but his freedom was limited, and most of all, his speed. He couldn’t run, but perhaps, if he got close enough to the Frontman without raising suspicions, he could still fight.

It was only then, when he was changed and rendered harmless, that the Frontman walked back into his room. With his mask on this time.

Gi-hun gestured to his suit, “What the fuck is this supposed to be?” he demanded to know, his voice full of spite.

“A gift from the VIPs.”

“A gift? You mean a joke! This must be a fucking joke. Do they think this is funny?”

“Follow me. I have something to show you.”

Gi-hun gritted his teeth. He wished he could have smashed something in his face and broken that damn mask. But with so many triangle guards around, he had no choice but to follow him. The Frontman’s pace was slow, to match his own that was slowed down by the lead ball.

How gracious of you, he thought.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” He asked as he was walking behind the man. It was only one of the many questions he wanted to pose him.

The Frontman hesitated, then looked over his shoulder. “It’s more interesting this way.”

Gi-hun raised one eyebrow. “For the VIPs or you?”

“The two things aren’t exclusionary.”

He followed the Frontman through a corridor that led them to a larger room. There was a leather couch and a leather armchair positioned in an L shape, or they would have been, if the armchair wasn't so far away from the couch, which was in front of a screen far larger than any other Gi-hun had ever seen. Far larger than anyone would ever need. But of course, the Frontman would want to watch his own games on that thing.

Sick bastard.

“Sit down. I’ll show you something, then we'll talk,” he said, sitting on the armchair. 

“Are you fucking mental? You expect me to just sit down, watch whatever you want me to watch, and stay put? After you’ve killed my best friend?”

“I know you’d rather rip my throat out right now, but you don’t have much choice, do you? Sit down.”

Gi-hun’s blood was boiling. He could barely contain himself from shaking with rage. He only sat down because of the triangle guards pointing their rifles at him. A few moments of heavy silence passed before the Frontman gave his lapdogs his last order.

“You can leave us alone now.”

The guards obeyed. Gi-hun's hands fell on the couch, the material feeling foreign under his palms.

“Is this real leather? What, was it made with the flesh of murdered players? I guess the VIPs would be into that.”

“It’s deerskin,” the Frontman replied coldly, not provoked at all by his words.

“Of course it is. Deers, horses, humans, they’re all the same to you, aren’t they?”

“If you’re done being catty, shall we start watching?”

Maybe Gi-hun was imagining it, but he sounded the slightest bit annoyed. Perhaps he was getting under his skin after all. 

“Watching what? More footage of my friends, exhausted physically and mentally? What do you think that will achieve?”

“Just be silent and watch."

It was more footage from the games. Not surprising, until Gi-hun recognized his longer haired self on the screen. 

Those were his games.

His first games.

That artificial sunset, the streets… This was the marble game. The game where Il-nam let him win. He remembered crying so much that day, only to find out those tears had been wasted on a man who didn’t deserve any.

“I suppose your beloved friend Sang-woo never told you how he passed this game.”

Gi-hun scowled at the man. Where was he trying to get at? He had always supposed Sang-woo won the marble game fair and square. He was smart, so a strategy game must have been easy for someone like him. Whatever the case, he supposed he was about to find out.

When the Frontman pressed a button on his remote, the camera changed to a shot of Sang-woo and Ali. Gi-hun’s heart made a somersault in his chest. It was the first time in years that he saw their faces, and he wasn't seeing them in his dreams or nightmares. His eyes filled up with tears.

“You’re crying already?”

It sounded like a taunt, but the Frontman was just genuinely surprised. Gi-hun gave him a dirty look again, but he knew what was coming. Whatever he wanted to show him, it was going to hurt him, just like the video he showed him the night before.

In-ho observed Gi-hun’s face closely, concentrating on every single micro-movement on his face. His face was stoic at first as he watched the game between his old childhood friend and the friend he had made in the game.

But as the game progressed, his eyes grew wider, his jaw clenched, a wide variety of emotions passed on his face.

As Sang-woo’s cunning plot to cheat Ali out of his marbles was revealed, In-ho couldn’t refrain a satisfied smile when he saw the utter devastation spreading across the other man’s face. And why should he have refrained his smirk? It’s not like Gi-hun could see him under his mask.

Ali’s last moments were terrible. Almost impossible to watch for Gi-hun. His voice, so full of trust and hope as he called Sang-woo. His tears, as he realized he had been betrayed.

Gi-hun had to squeeze his eyes shut when he heard the gunshot.

“Your late lamented childhood friend, your vaunted SNU graduate- he was nothing but a ruthless piece of trash. Do you understand now? This is exactly the kind of trash that ends up in a place like this. Nobody in this world is worth saving.”

“Sang-woo was a good person. The only reason he did that? It's because he didn’t have a choice!”

“A genuinely good person wouldn’t have done that. Not even if put in that position.”

“He shouldn’t have been put in that position in the first place! You fill your mouth with talk about fairness, but that is NOT fair! Nothing about your disgusting game is fair!”

“Calm down and sit.”

“NO!”

The Frontman’s calmness made Gi-hun lose his own even more. He stood there, legs crossed, arms resting comfortably on the chair, as he showed him how one of his friends had died in the game like it was a goddamn reality show.

He hated that man. He hated, hated, hated, oh how he hated that man.

“I’m not your lap dog. I won’t sit when you tell me to,” He spat.

The Frontman got up calmly. He walked closer to Gi-hun, who was looking down at his feet, his fists clenched, mumbling unintelligible words.

“ ...me see…oo u...”

Had he lost his mind? Intrigued, In-ho stepped even closer.

“What the hell are you mumbling about?”

“Let me see… WHO YOU AAAAAREE!”

Gi-hun acted so fast that In-ho was unable to respond in time. He launched his whole weight at him, making him land on his back, the back of his head hitting the floor. Gi-hun sat on his stomach, one hand wrapped around his throat while the other ripped his mask off, throwing it far away. He had his first in the air, ready to strike, when his face was struck with horror.

Mouth agape. Eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Betrayal painted all over his face. Oh, how In-ho was loving that sight. How he loved savouring every single detail on his bewildered face. A wide smile spread on his face before he could stop himself.

“Young-il!?”

“Hi, Gi-hun.”

Taking advantage of his state, In-ho pushed him with all his mind, inverting their position. Now Gi-hun was the one on the floor, being straddled by In-ho, both his wrists pinned to the floor by the Frontman.

“Why, aren’t you happy to see your dear friend Young-il? Aren’t you happy to see I’m alive?”

In-ho was aware he must’ve looked like a lunatic, but he couldn’t stop smiling.

“What the fuck! What kind of person are you!?”

Gi-hun tried to free himself, but the man was stronger. He couldn’t use his legs, and he didn’t have enough upper body strength to push the man back. All he could do was scream, as the man he once knew as Young-il stared down at him with that creepy smile. This bastard must have been satisfied by how well he had played his role, by how well he had manipulated him, played him like a little puppet, with strings attached to his fingers. Gi-hun was destroyed. Devastated and disappointed, but deep inside himself, he was not surprised. Young-il was too good to be true. For the first time in years, he thought he had finally found someone who understood him. Someone who he had so easily connected with, like it didn’t happen in years. And he had needed someone like that so bad... that he had ignored all the warning signs. All the things that didn’t add up.

Because he had been so desperate, so starved for human connection, he had wanted to believe Young-il. He wanted, needed to believe he was going to walk out of that place with a new friend. But now he had lost two.

“What are you…?! What ARE YOU!?”

“I am you. I am what this game turns you into.”

“You are sick! YOU'RE FUCKING SICK! YOU KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!”

“YOU THINK I HAD FUN DOING THAT!? YOU THINK I WANTED TO KILL HIM?!”

“Then why!? WHY!?”

The man’s screams turned into choked sobs. In-ho felt Gi-hun’s willpower slowly leaving, as he stopped writhing beneath him. As if hope itself was leaving him. It was exactly what In-ho had wanted, but he wasn’t feeling good about it. On the contrary. All that rush of adrenaline from the revelation of his identity had left him, leaving space for something he couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t regret, it wasn’t sadness. It was heavier. Sordid.

“I’m sorry, Gi-hun, but you brought this upon yourself. I needed to teach you a lesson.”

“And what kind of fucking lesson is that, huh!?”

The man’s tears daunted him. And since he wasn’t struggling against him anymore, In-ho thought it wouldn’t hurt to release the grip on his wrists.

“You should never have come back here. You should have gotten on that plane, but no. You wanted to play hero so badly. Now live with the consequences.”

Gi-hun raised his head just enough to be able to look up at him with a canine stare, tears still overflowing from his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that now.”

“And how am I supposed to look at you, Young-il? If that’s even your real name?”

In-ho pressed his lips in a hard line. There was no reason to hide his real name anymore. Still, for some reason, he hesitated, looking away, just for a moment.

This was all Gi-hun needed to counterattack.

With all his upper body strength, he pushed forward and headbutted him. As In-ho stumbled back, he used his free leg to kick him in the stomach, getting him off of him. In-ho grunted in pain, giving Gi-hun enough time to get back on his feet. He ran for the elevator, even if his movements were greatly hindered.

In-ho, holding his now bloody nose, looked at him limping away with all the calmness in the world. Gi-hun had a weight attached to his foot, he was never going to get far. On top of that, the building was surrounded by armed soldiers. It was pitiful, but also amusing to In-ho. Gi-hun was so stubbornly persevering, so much so that it was almost endearing.

Gi-hun made it to the elevator, touching everything on the surface in search of a button, but there didn't appear to be any.

Of course. Facial recognition- that's what it took for it to work. Fear started gripping him slowly, his mind scanning for any other escape option but not finding any, as the Frontman's steps grew closer.

In-ho had walked up to the man with quiet composure. A small, loop-sided smile crept up on his face.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He said once he was behind him.

Gi-hun’s shoulders shook. More than anything, it was the Frontman’s calmness that freaked him out. He knew how to deal with an armed pink soldier, but how to deal with a foe with no visible weapon? Gi-hun wasn't scared of death, and his foe didn't want to kill him. So what did he want with him? It was the unknown, more than anything, that terrified him.

“You’re not leaving.”

It didn’t sound like a threat. Nor as a warning. He said it like it was a matter of fact. A cold, harsh truth that Gi-hun was just now starting to realize.

Chapter Text

I'm just a man

who's trying to go home

even after all the years

away from what I've known

Gi-hun was sitting at the feet of the sofa, cross-legged. His hands in his lap, his shoulders slouched in frustration. Defeat weighted on his shoulders, keeping him anchored to the floor more than the ball chain ever could. His head was low, some silent tear escaping his eyes here and there, sniffling softly, but enough to be heard.

In-ho placed a black tissue box in front of him before taking a few steps backwards. Gi-hun looked up at him, almost offended by that gesture. In-ho could have sat in his armchair. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the floor, just like Gi-hun, only a few meters away. He couldn’t sit too close and risk angering the man again.

He didn’t want to fight, he just wanted to talk.

“If you’ve calmed down, we could talk. We’ve got plenty of time,” before the next game, he wanted to add, but Gi-hun was already looking at him with canine, red-rimmed eyes, and he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

Gi-hun’s rage was still all there. Contained, controlled, but very much still there.

“You can ask me anything you want,” In-ho prompted him since he wasn’t uttering a word. “I promise I’ll answer truthfully.”

The other man exhaled slowly from his nose, as if he was trying to calm himself, thinking of the questions he wanted to pose.

“Did you have fun? Pretending to be my friend?”

In-ho wanted to tell him many things. He wished to tell him that he wasn’t pretending, that the time he had spent with him, with Jung-bae and the others, had been precious. That the feelings he had felt with them were genuine. Even if he hated to admit it to himself. And what could he say now? That he wished things were different? That they could have been friends for real? He didn’t believe in what-ifs. Things were what they were, and they couldn’t be changed. He had stopped believing in fairytales long ago, long before he first joined the games. So what else could he say?

“I’m sorry.”

Gi-hun laughed. It was a bitter, mirthless laugh. Then his jaw clenched, as he started at the man with the corner of his eyes.

“For what, exactly, are you sorry? For hosting these death games? For lying to us all? Or for killing Jung-bae in front of me just to make me suffer?”

“I didn’t-”

“FOR WHAT, YOUNG-IL?!” He raised his voice for the first time since they had sat down. The silence that followed after weighted like a stone on their shoulders. Gi-hun scoffed, then turned his angry eyes away from him. “Or… whatever the fuck you’re called, anyway.”

Gi-hun clicked his tongue.

“Tch. Oh Young-il. How could I not see that? You really had fun with that one, didn’t you?”

In-ho couldn’t lie and say he wasn't smiling to himself like an idiot when he came up with his fake name. Jun-ho always used to tell him his sense of humour sucked. Maybe his little brother was right after all.

“How many lies have you told? What about your wife and child? Was that a lie, too?”

In-ho’s eyes saddened.

“No… that wasn’t a lie. It was only a half-truth,” he said, his head hung low. He spied Gi-hun with the corner of his eye, and for once, the man wasn’t giving him dirty looks. No, there was genuine curiosity in those eyes, like he was waiting to hear his story.

Because for the first time, Gi-hun felt his enemy was another human, just like him.

For three long years, the Frontman had seemed this nonhuman, far-away enemy he could never reach. But here they were now, both on the floor, both on the same level. Both clad in suits that showed the role fate had appointed them, the Frontman and the vengeful hero, yet neither seemed to be playing their respective roles now.

They were just two men. Crushed by the weight of the past, crushed by losses and a present they could no longer stand.

“I had a wife, and she was pregnant. That part is true.”

Now he wondered which parts were the lie. Gi-hun listened closely for the rest of the story.

“I was just like you, Gi-hun. I won the games in 2015, but when I came back home… my love, my Yu-jin was already gone… and I couldn’t even be by her side as she passed away.”

Gi-hun was at a loss for what to say. No one could empathize with that better than him, he had been through the same pain with his mother. Having the money for her treatment was the one comfort he had when he came back from the games, only to find her cold body on the floor when he returned home.

He was sorry for In-ho, he truly was... But he couldn’t physically bring himself to say it to this man. As much as he empathized with him, as much as he understood his pain, this was still the man who had shot his best friend in cold blood, not even a day ago.

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry. I’m not trying to gain your sympathy.”

“Not anymore, right? There’s no need now.”

They were finally playing with all their cards on the table. And In-ho had to admit, it felt liberating.

In-ho knew he deserved a lot more than the man’s cattiness. What he had done was unforgivable. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if Gi-hun could have forgiven him, one day. They were bonded by destiny after all, their lives were forever intertwined. And Gi-hun had forgiven his childhood friend for killing that girl in cold blood. Because that was just who he was. Was it far-fetched to think he could have forgiven him too, one day?

“You might as well tell me your name, Frontman.”

“Hwang In-ho. My real name is Hwang In-ho.”

"Hwang In-ho..." Gi-hun repeated the name, muttering to himself. Hwang In-ho. He had heard that name before, he was sure he had. He just couldn't recall where. It was like a part of his brain was blocked, and he couldn't access that memory.

Gi-hun would later come to realize that his mind reacted that way in that moment, in order to shield himself from further heartbreak.

In-ho took his revolver out of his pocket. He put it on the floor and made it glide in Gi-hun’s direction. The man flinched at first, when the gun landed near his leg, then looked at the Frontman quizzically.

“This is what you came here to do, right? Killing me.”

Gihun checked the cylinder; there were real bullets there, not blanks. His frown softened, his features slowly widening in surprise, his eyes darting to the man sitting across him.

This man was serious. Gi-hun could have killed him at that very moment, if he wanted to.

“What the hell is this supposed to mean?”

“You can kill me if you want. But just so you know, my death won’t stop the games. I can get replaced as fast as the blink of an eye. Your choice.”

Gi-hun’s eyes fell on the gun. Stopping the games couldn’t be as easy as killing just one person. Obviously he knew that. But he had hoped that at the very least, killing the Frontman could have bought them time, for the police to find this place, make everything come to light and dismantle the damn system once and for all.

But could the Frontman really be replaced like that? So easily, so quickly?

“If killing you won’t stop the games, then what will?”

“I’ve already told you in the limo, didn’t I? If society doesn’t change, the game won’t stop.”

“Maybe what needs to change is the way you see the world.”

“In whatever way I see it, it doesn’t change the fact this world is full of trash.”

“But weren’t you trash just like the rest of us once?”

“Yes. Yes, I was.”

“You still are. For your information.”

In-ho gave him a brief, canine look, but then quickly looked away. Deep down, he knew he couldn’t really argue with that.

“You were a winner. How did you end up working for them? How can you not hate them?”

“I think… I think you and I are the same after all. You couldn’t go back to function in the world outside once you came out of here, could you? I couldn’t either. So I came back, because I had nowhere else to go.”

It was the first time in years In-ho allowed himself to be vulnerable. In the past, the only people he allowed himself to be vulnerable with where his wife and his little brother. The man his front of him was his enemy, someone who wanted to stop him and question everything he had always believed in. And yet, he was the only person left who could understand him.

“I used to work in law enforcement. It’s the same thing here; all I’m doing is enforce the laws of this place. There’s no difference between what’s in here and what’s out there, in the outside world. But here, I have the control. Here, at least, I can make sure the games are fair.”

Gi-hun scoffed.

“Do you really believe that? That your games are fair?”

“You can watch for yourself,” he said, showing him a fancy-looking remote. “All you need is this remote. You can change the camera angle, the game being played, and even the year. It’s pretty intuitive how it works.”

As In-ho got up from the floor, Gi-hun was looking up at him with one eyebrow raised and a bewildered expression. The man picked up his mask from the floor, hiding his face once more. And Gi-hun felt that with his face, it was also his humanity that he was hiding again.

“I have to go take care of my guests now. But you should keep watching. I think it will be very educational for you.”

Gi-hun clicked his tongue. Then his eyes fell on the gun that was still in his hands. Why was he leaving it with him? Acting on instinct, Gi-hun pointed the gun at the man’s back. And why shouldn’t he pull the trigger? Why shouldn’t he pierce a bullet through his heart like he had done with Jung-bae? 

Revenge was but a temporary relief. No, he needed to think better of the consequences. If In-ho had left him the gun, he must have had a reason. One that became clear to Gi-hun in the blink of an eye.

It was all a test.

To see if he was cowardly enough to shoot a man in the back. On god, In-ho was going to use his dying breath to tell him he was right, that Gi-hun was trash like the rest of them. That humans were vindictive and selfish at the core. He sure as hell wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. Gi-hun stuffed the gun in the inside pocket of his jacket. If the need arose, he could still use it in self-defense.

Chapter Text

In-ho would have rather taken his eyes out with a rusty fork. But welcoming the VIPs was part of his job, now that Il-nam had died.

The number of VIPs had increased since last time. Instead of seven, there were ten people, nine men and one woman. Three more headaches for In-ho. He never liked dealing with those people. Like most disgustingly rich people, they were insufferable and difficult to deal with. Hard to please, like one of them had admitted years ago.

“Can we know why the fourth game is taking so goddamn long?” The VIP with the deer mask complained, before In-ho was even finished welcoming them.

“As you know, there were a few cameras we had to repair. Once we’ve finished, the games will resume.”

“You should have been more discreet with the cameras,” A man with a snake mask complained. “We wouldn’t have this problem by now, you might want to take notes for next year. I’m sure we pay you more than enough for that, don’t we?”

“Of course.” Asshole.

“And where is our special guest?” The woman, wearing a peacock mask, asked.

“He’s resting. But he will join us later this evening to watch the game.”

“Good! Good…” She said, a pleased smile on her face.

“I have to admit, I wasn’t a fan of that stunt he pulled…” Snake mask remarked.

“Whaaat? But it it was the most exciting part of the games so far!” Deer mask said. “If only they had more cameras functioning…”

They kept commenting the game as the Frontman accompanied them in the room where they would watch next game.

*

Gi-hun stared at the remote in front of him. There was no way. No way he could watch the games like he was a VIP, one of those filthy rich scumbags who enjoyed watching people die. Was that what the Frontman – what In-ho – wanted? To turn him into one of them?

Slowly, he got back on his feet. He doubted he could find an exit, but taking a look around couldn’t hurt. There was a small table with an old-style phone in one corner of the room. Gi-hun wondered if he could use it to call, but it looked too good to be true. Still, he tried to do the police number.

The phone didn’t work. Of course.

On the other corner, there was a small table with a scenery. It looked like one of those vintage clocks, with little puppets that danced to the music. It was lying on top of a cabinet with two doors. Gi-hun opened it, his eyes widening.

There was a ladder. A tunnel long at least 20 meters, but that would no doubt lead to freedom. Too bad that climbing down with a ball chain attached to his foot would equal suicide. After all, In-ho wouldn't have left him alone if there was a way for him to escape.

Gi-hun checked all the rooms. There wasn’t much in particular, most of them were empty. Except for one, which had a bed and a desk with a computer. He supposed that was In-ho’s bedroom. He tried to use the computer, but it was protected by a password.

He wandered aimlessly through the room until he found himself sitting in front of the screen again. He wasn’t so bored that he would resort to watching the games. But maybe he could check on how the others were doing.

In-ho was right, it didn’t take long to understand how the remote worked. There were like a million buttons though, one for each camera, and it took him a while to find the one for the dorms.

They all seemed to be doing okay, as much as they could be given the situation. Gi-hun made a headcount; it seemed there hadn’t been any more casualties after the rebellion. His friends were still alive, which gave him some relief.

He was about to turn it off when an idea struck him.

Maybe.

Maybe, if he watched the previous games, he could find something in there to change In-ho’s mind about how he viewed the world.

He went back to his edition of the games. He went back to the people he knew. He went back to Ali and Sang-woo, to the night they kept watch in case another fight started. Before his betrayal, Sang-woo seemed to care a lot for Ali. He looked after his well-being, and he asked him about his family. They always got along so well. Until the game forced Sang-woo into desperate actions. Gi-hun was sure Ali and Sang-woo would have been great friends. If only both of them could have left that place alive.

Gi-hun’s conviction was absolute, but he knew it wasn’t enough to battle with In-ho’s bleak view of humanity. He needed something stronger against him, something that couldn't be misinterpreted. Something more tangible.

Gi-hun went back to the marble game, watching each player’s game one by one.

Most of the people, just like him, had chosen a partner they were close with. Someone must have sacrificed themselves for the other, right? But for the first few pairs he watched, it wasn’t the case. Friends turned into foes so fast in a place like that.

He was almost starting to lose hope. It was atrocious and painful to watch, but he kept going. He couldn’t let In-ho win this.

Then it was time to watch the game of Sae-byoek and that other girl she had bonded with. They hadn’t known each other for long, but Gi-hun had noticed they had clicked right away, probably because they were around the same age.

After watching their marble game, he finally learned the girl’s name was Ji-yeong, and her story brought him to tears. Gi-hun knew he was never the best of fathers, but he was still a girl’s dad. And as such, he couldn’t even conceive the thought that there were fathers like Ji-yeong’s out there.

He was full-on sobbing when the girl got shot. He had to use the tissue box In-ho had left him. Which was ironic, considering he was the reason all of that happened.

But one thing comforted him.

Ji-yeong had let Sae-byoek win. She had sacrificed her life so that the other girl could live. She had done something so selfless, so pure. That was exactly the story he needed to make In-ho see not everyone in the world was selfish, that there were selfless people out there too.

*

“So? Did you find enlightenment, our unsung hero?”

Gi-hun ignored the taunt.

“You were right. These videos were very educational. There is something I want to show you too.”

In-ho took off his mask, pouring some whisky in two separate glasses.

“Let’s have a drink first. I need something strong after dealing with the guests. Hyun-ju shooting the cameras caused me a huge headache,” he said, as he held out the glass to him.

Gi-hun glared at him with contempt.

“What? You don’t want it? I thought we were gonna have a drink after our little rebellion. Maybe you preferred soju?”

“Okay, now I know for sure that you’re mental.”

“Very well. I assumed you might want to enjoy the little things at least, since you’re stuck here with me anyways. If you want to stay bitter, be my guest.”

"I wouldn't be able to enjoy anything since I'm stuck here with you."

"Too bad."

Gi-hun needed to stay clear-headed. He couldn't afford to get drunk, as much as he wanted to drink his feelings away. He would once he got out of there, if he ever got out. And the first drink he got, he sure as hell wasn't going to share it with In-ho.

“So, what did you watch that was so enlightening?” He said while he sat on his armchair with his drink in hand.

“My teammates… The people who played with me. Sang-woo, Ali, Sae-byoek and Ji-yeong.”

“Isn’t it time you finally forget about them?”

“Why? Because they’re trash?”

In-ho’s silence was enough as an answer. Gi-hun tried to hold back his sneer.

“You call these people trash. But you know nothing about any of them. Maybe you’re right about me, but what did Sae-byoek ever do? A girl who just wanted to escape a dictatorship with her family. Or Ji-yeong? A girl who just wanted to get away from her abuser. Or Ali? A man who just wanted a better future for his family. What did they do to deserve being called trash?”

“They didn’t follow the rules. In the real world, people who don’t follow the rules are trash. So are the people who don’t follow the rules of the games.”

“Don’t you have even a little bit of empathy? Of humanity?”

“Survival of the fittest. That’s the rule that reigns in this world. I thought you’d have learned that by now.”

Gi-hun let out an exasperated sigh, slapping his hands on his knees. “God, it’s fucking impossible to reason with you. You’re like a goddamn robot.”

In-ho smirked, letting out a soft chuckle. Gi-hun raised one eyebrow.

“What’s so funny?”

“My wife used to say the same thing when we first met…” He said, a nostalgic smile appearing on his face.

The shared memory made Gi-hun’s face soften. He reminded him of Young-il. When he talked about his wife, you could see it in his eyes that he truly loved her, that her death had ripped a part of his soul away. Could it be it was the part of his soul that believed in humanity? And if that was the case, could Gi-hun ever really bring it back? All he knew is that he had to try.

“I think it’s time for you to watch this,” he said, pressing a button on the remote. The screen lit up with the image of Sae-byoek sitting on a staircase, Ji-yeong sitting with her.

“Is that your little friend? Number 067?”

“Kang Sae-byoek. Her name was Kang Sae-byeok.”

“Y’know I always wanted to ask you, did you get attached to her so quickly because she reminded you of your daughter?”

Gi-hun was taken completely aback by that question. He had never really thought about it. Sae-byoek and Ga-yeong weren’t similar in any way, but maybe his father instincts did kick in when he met Sae-byoek. He didn’t know. Not that it mattered.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“I was just wondering... if you miss your daughter so much, why didn’t you just get on that plane?”

“I will get to my daughter. Once I put an end to these games once and for all. Now watch closely.”

They watched the game in silence. Gi-hun studied In-ho’s face closely, paying attention to every detail. In-ho expression remained unreadable throughout most of the game, but when Ji-yeong purposefully let her marble drop, Gi-hun knew he saw the slightest change on his face, as much as he tried to remain stoic. He could see his lips part slightly before he pressed them in a hard line again. He could clench his jaw and not move a muscle, but he couldn’t control the look in his eyes. And those eyes told Gi-hun he got him.

As the game ended and Gi-hun turned off the screen, In-ho exhaled slowly from his nose, eyes darting left and right.

“What exactly did you want to prove with this?”

“That humans are not as selfish as you believe they are. That we are capable of self-sacrifice. And that can happen even in a hopeless place like this.”

“That girl… she’s a rare case,” he said, looking down at his glass.

“And how did a rare case end up in your game, then? Have you ever observed your players one by one? You didn’t know about Ji-yeong, so you can’t know how many like her have lost their lives here.”

In-ho’s jaw clenched, as he looked everywhere but at Gi-hun. The latter got up on his feet, walking up in front of In-ho.

“You don’t know what to say, do you? What about your wife, what would she say if she could see you now? Do you think she’d approve of what you’re doing?”

In-ho’s jaw dropped, as he looked up at Gi-hun with horror. It was just a split second, then the man recomposed himself, getting up from his armchair to look at Gi-hun on the same eye level. His jaw tight, his eyes glaring at him.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled. But a wide grin appeared on Gi-hun’s face.

“Ooh, struck a nerve there, didn’t I?"

His laugh was abruptly cut off when In-ho grabbed him by his neck. Gi-hun grabbed his arm with both his hands, to try and free himself from his clutch, but In-ho’s fingers only dug deeper into his skin. He wasn’t crushing down on his windpipe, but on the sides of his neck. This meant Gi-hun could breathe just fine, yet the look in In-ho’s eyes was enough to make him forget how to breathe.

“Do not push your luck, hero,” he growled. His eyes were the ones of a lioness whose cubs had just been touched. Yet there was also something else, hidden deep inside. Something Gi-hun couldn’t quite place.

In-ho walked forward, forcing Gi-hun to step back until the back of his legs hit the couch, almost tripping on the chain attached to his foot in the process. The unmasked Frontman pushed him down, holding him in place. His fingers on his neck were cutting the blood flow to his brain, and Gi-hun was starting to feel lightheaded.

His ajar eyes were staring him down, almost as if the man wanted to eat him alive, swallow him whole. Gi-hun could feel his warm breath on his face, smelling like alcohol.

If Gi-hun had any doubt before, he was sure now that In-ho was out for his blood. Yet he had made one fatal mistake.

In-ho felt something cold against his sternum. He didn't need to look down to know it was the barrel of the gun he had left in Gi-hun's hands. The man beneath him was glaring at him with eyes that carried a warning.

In-ho couldn't help but laugh, as he released his grasp on the man. As In-ho recomposed himself, Gi-hun rolled off the couch, massaging the sore skin on his neck. He was completely appalled; what the heck had just happened?

He looked back at In-ho, who had put his mask back on and was tapping into his walkie-talkie. "Get in here. Finish the preparation for our special guest."

“Is that… is that always how you react when you’re losing an argument?! Hey!”

Gi-hun only got silence as an answer.

Chapter Text

Gi-hun wondered what was going on outside. If Jun-hee and the others were doing alright, if another fight had broken out among the Xs and Os. He wondered if Jun-ho and the others were close to the island, or if they were completely lost in the big wide sea. Finding this place without the tracker would have been like finding a needle in a goddamn haystack, but Gi-hun prayed the goddess of fortune would smile upon him one last time. He never believed in gods, but there was nothing else he could do.

After In-ho had left again, two circle guards had arrived, escorting him to a room he had never been to before. He had thought the Frontman’s lair was luxurious, but this room was on the next level. Expensive velvets upholstered the sofas and covered the walls, marbles covered the floor. Gold framed the paintings and the mirrors, in front of which they had him seated. On the vanity in front of him, there was a mask in the shape of what looked like an owl, covered in precious, glimmering gemstones.

It looked tacky and kinda scary. In-ho couldn’t have possibly wanted him to wear that, could he?

The circle guards finally freed him from his restraints. After all, Gi-hun knew there was no point in fighting, at this point.

The guards then steamed his clothes that had gotten wrinkled in the previous fight, sewed back the rhinestones that had fallen off, brushed his hair, and sprayed perfume on him.

All that luxury was making him feel sick.

What was all of that for? It was clear to him now that the Frontman wasn’t going to kill him, but why have him all dressed up? To play in the next game, like when he had to fight against Sang-woo?

A terrible thought crept up in his mind. He had no idea how much time had passed since the last game, what if they were already at the last game? What if only one player had remained, and In-ho wanted him to play against them? Just to twist the knife. If that was the case, there was no doubt in Gi-hun’s mind, that he was going to do the very same thing Sang-woo did. Whoever his opponent might have been.

The two circles left as the Frontman appeared at the door. Gi-hun didn’t turn around, but stared intensely at his reflection in the mirror. The Frontman did the same, as he approached him and stopped right behind him.

He removed his mask, putting it next to the owl mask on the vanity, Gi-hun’s eyes following earnestly and never leaving him.

In-ho put both of his hands on Gi-hun’s shoulders. He didn’t clench or squeeze, but something was domineering in that gesture. It was like this Gi-hun, this man he was seeing staring back at him in the mirror, was a creature of his own creation.

“What’s the meaning of all of this?” He asked. There was urgency and anger in his voice, but In-ho was sure he detected a tinge of fear in there as well.

“It’s about time that one thing becomes clear to you. This is a train that once you get on, you can hardly ever get off. You had your chance, and you squandered it.”

When he closed his eyes, Gi-hun was brought back to that day, at the airport. To that flight he never took. In a moment, the life he could have had flashed before his eyes. Had he boarded that plane, he wouldn’t have been a stranger in Ga-yeong’s life. He wouldn’t have cut contact with his friend, he could have paid off Jung-bae’s debts, and neither of them would have ended up in this place. He wouldn’t have had to see another friend die.

But deep in the dark of the night, when the souls of those who had died came back to remind him, would he still be able to sleep? Would he still be able to be happy, knowing more people were going to die in that hell he barely escaped?

“My second in command, me, the broker between us and the VIPs… how do you think they got here? They were all previous winners,” In-ho told him. It made Gi-hun curious for the stories that cursed island held, but there was no time for that.

“You make it sound like it’s a curse. You all came back by your choice.”

“So did you.”

“To end the games, not to keep it going!”

“It makes no difference. The truth is, you came back here because you had nowhere else to go. Just like the rest of us. And now, you won’t be able to escape.”

Gi-hun stared at him in the mirror, with a lopsided grin plastered on his face. “Wanna bet?”

“You’re too overconfident for being a rat in a cage.”

“And you’re too proud for being one of their dogs.”

In-ho exhaled sharply, smiling to himself. Gi-hun’s eyes remained severe, staring at him without even blinking. His jaw clenched, letting out a slow exhale from his nose.

“The next game is starting soon. The VIPs have requested you join them to watch it.”

Gi-hun let out an offended scoff.

“Do you really expect me to stay put and watch the games with those monsters?”

“You don’t have much choice. You can stay here if you want, or come and see if your friends will make it out this next round as well.”

There wasn’t taunt, or malice in those words. Just a dead resignation. It was like In-ho hoped they would make it out too, but there was nothing he could do to change it. Which was, if you asked Gi-hun’s opinion, bullshit.

“Or do you wanna go back in the games so you can make sure they survive? Good luck explaining your expensive suit while they wear their dirty, sweat and blood-ridden tracksuits.”

Gi-hun would have much preferred doing that, In-ho knew it damn well. But that wasn’t an option anymore, given the doubt he had managed to sown in everyone now. The Os didn’t trust him before, The bigger game he was playing with In-ho, with the Frontman, like a game of mental chess, was becoming harder and harder.

He took a deep breath, then his eyes fell on the gemstone covered mask.

“What the hell is that?”

“This used to be Oh Il-Nam’s mask.”

“You don’t want me to put that shit on, do you?”

“You have to. For the VIPs.”

“What’s the point of the mask if they know my face anyway…”

“It’s just for show. They need to believe you’re with them.”

“Why would I want them to believe I’m one of them? I’d rather carve my eyes out with a spoon.”

In-ho sighed slowly, his grip on Gi-hun’s shoulder getting almost imperceptibly tighter.

“They think it was all a bluff, you know. You coming back to the games. Just a ploy to make things more interesting. If they believed you actually wanted to stop the games, they would have had you killed right away in the first game. So for now, you’ll have to play the part, or they’ll kill you.”

Gi-hun let out a bitter laugh.

“Am I supposed to believe you care about what happens to me, now?”

“You can believe what you want. Just put the mask on and let’s go.”

Gi-hun reluctantly reached for the mask, hesitating as if it was made of scorching ember instead of stones. He stared at it, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he started tasting blood. It felt heavy in his hands, and it was probably uncomfortable to wear too. Damn those rich people, what was the point of something like that, anyway? Why did the rich always feel the need to flaunt their wealth with things that were not only useless, but frankly also quite ugly?

“I don’t like the VIPs either, you know?” In-ho confessed.

Gi-hun stared at him with the eyes of a deer in headlights.

“Then why do you work for them?!”

“Did you like the people you worked for? No. But we all need a place in the world. This is mine.”

“No this is bullshit!” Gi-hun bolted to his feet, then slowly turned around, looking directly into his eyes instead of their reflection in the mirror. “You hate them like I do. Why don’t you help me then?”

The question came out so smoothly, so naturally from Gi-hun’s mouth, that In-ho could do nothing but stare at him wide-eyed. “Help me, In-ho,” He reiterated. “Help me bring them down! Let’s put an end to these games once and for all.

In-ho stared at him in awe. This man was dead serious. Had he underestimated his resolve?

“You want to stop the games so bad… that even after everything I’ve done, you’d still be willing to work with me? Just to put an end to them?”

Gi-hun’s lips pressed in a hard line, and in a moment his eyes hardened, much to In-ho’s dismay.

“I will never forgive you.”

His words fell like a boulder on In-ho’s stomach. He should have known that, it was as given as the fact that the sun rises in the east. Yet for some reason, it still hurt.

“But I can put my personal feelings aside, if it means you’ll work with me. I’ll clock you once this is all over.”

In-ho stared at him, opening his mouth to speak. For a moment, for a split moment, the idea of working together didn’t seem so bad. He could have let his brother find the island, he could have met his brother again, and explained why he had left him and their mother without a word. And Gi-hun… maybe Gi-hun could have learned to forgive him.

But then the look in the taller man’s eyes brought him back to reality. In-ho squeezed his eyes shut, as if to shut down the picture-perfect mental image he had just conjured up in his mind. He wouldn’t see his brother and mother again, he couldn’t.

And Gi-hun was never going to forgive him. The man said it himself.

“And what would your plan be, huh? Do you think you can convince them with a good talk, Gi-hun? These aren’t normal people. They’re people who are completely disconnected from reality.”

“Then we’ll force them to stop!”

“How? Do you wanna kill them?”

“I have a team outside, who’s currently trying to track this island down. I had a tracker, as I’m sure you know, but your minions removed it. If they find the island, then all of this will be over. You can lead them here, I know you can.”

One call. All he needed was one call to the Captain and Jun-ho would have arrived at the island.

“I know this means you’ll get in trouble too, but if you collaborate with justice, you might get a lighter sentence.”

In-ho looked away, unable to keep eye contanct anymore. Was he ready to meet his brother again? He had ghosted his family for so long, and even if he kept telling himself the reason was to protect them, deep down he knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Deep down, he knew the real reason he was afraid of meeting his brother again, was that Jun-ho had turned out better than him. They were both policemen, both devoted to their sense of justice, but In-ho’s had corrupted over time. Jun-ho’s remained pure.

And In-ho knew, that in the moment he would meet his brother again, all his belief system, all the lies he had kept telling himself over the years would crumble.

“Do it for your wife.”

Those words made In-ho’s eyes snap back in Gi-hun’s direction.

“You know that if she was here right now, she would agree with me. You know she would.”

Mystified and dewy eyes stared intently into Gi-hun’s resolute ones. His lips slightly parted, In-ho wanted to speak, but the words he truly wanted to say didn’t leave his mouth.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t try to stop them, if I could? This world isn’t fair, Gi-hun. This world isn’t an epic tale where the hero wins. This is real life, and maybe the system isn’t always fair, but it’s what it is, and the only thing we can do is adapt to it. We can’t change it. We just have to play our parts.”

Gi-hun clicked his tongue.

“Like puppets?”

“Yes. Like puppets.”

Some were puppets in this world, and others were puppeteers. In-ho was a puppeteer in his games, and even if that gave him some sort of power, he knew there was an even bigger puppeteer pulling his strings.

But Gi-hun had cut his own.

He hadn’t played his game. Some strings remained, but he was fighting tooth and nail to cut them.

Could In-ho ever hope to do the same?

Chapter Text

The room where the VIPs watched the games was… eccentric, to say the least. Gi-hun felt like he had been thrown into a piece of surrealist art mixed with maximalism.

It sure felt surreal when a group of ten people, all hiding behind animal masks, walked towards him, all wearing smiles and clapping their hands.

“Here he is, our guest star!”

“What a show! What a show!”

Some of them patted him on the shoulders, and on the back, everyone tried to touch him somehow, like they wanted to make sure he was real. Gi-hun looked like a disoriented child, looking in the crowd for a familiar face. He found In-ho’s, back in his Frontman mask. That wall of black offered no answer, nor comfort.

“I swear that rebellion was more exciting than the actual games!”

“You need to come back next year too! Maybe with this year’s winner!”

“Yeah, that’s a fantastic idea!”

They all spoke English, and except for a few words he could pick here and there, he couldn’t understand a single word of what they were saying.

“Do you like the suit? I had Robert Wun himself design it!” One woman in a peacock mask said, in almost perfect Korean. Her accent sounded French, but Gi-hun couldn’t be sure. “Obviously, I couldn’t tell him what it was for, but he still managed to capture the essence of a victor of these games!”

Gi-hun was confused; was this woman expecting him to thank her for that atrocious, tasteless suit? She was talking about it like it was some art piece, when it was nothing but inappropriate.

“Does this man not speak? Frontman, did our winner actually die and you replaced him with someone?” One man in a hawk mask said.

“He doesn’t speak English,” the Frontman said, in perfect English. That was one sentence Gi-hun could understand.

“Aw, shit. Can you ask him to remove the mask?”

“You can remove the mask now, Gi-hun.”

Gi-hun didn’t know if he wanted to do it, now. He hated the mask, hated wearing the symbol of everything Oh Il-nam represented, but at the very least, it could hide his face. It could hide the absolute contempt and deep-seated hatred he had for those people. If the VIPs were unhappy with him, would they have them killed? Or have his friends die in the game in ways that were more fun for them?

When he removed the owl mask, he tried to maintain the most neutral expression he could muster.

“So it is him! You must feel pretty indestructible now, don’t you? Weren’t you afraid to die in that rebellion? I know you were faking it, but the guns were real!”

“The risk is what made it all more exciting, am I right?”

The woman in the peacock mask, who was now to his side and attached to him like a clamp, translated the other VIPs' questions.

Gi-hun’s head was reeling. Were they truly expecting him to answer those ridiculous questions? He looked at In-ho for help, trying to hide how disgusted and confused he felt.

“Gentlemen, I think the time for questions can wait," the Frontman said, "Why don’t you all take your seats and enjoy the next game?”

Those men didn’t let him repeat it twice.

“Come watch the game with me,” the woman said, hugging Gi-hun's arm, “After all, I’m the only one fluent in Korean. It’s going to be a bore if you can’t talk to anyone, isn't it?

As she dragged him away to one of the sofas, Gi-hun followed In-ho with his eyes. He couldn’t stop staring. Had the man said that to help him, or was he just following up with his schedule?

A chill ran down Gi-hun’s spine. He might have been saved from an uncomfortable situation, but what was about to come next was a lot worse.

The Frontman began to explain the game to the guests, who were raptured by the new set. There were two dolls, one was the same doll as red light green light. The other was of a boy, and they had their hands joined to form a bridge.

Gi-hun paled. Dongdaemun was a game based solely on luck. It was like the glass bridge back in his games, when he survived purely because the Goddess of luck had decided to smile upon him that day, for who knew what reason. Even if he had been there with them, he couldn't have helped anyone.

His stomach clenches as several what-ifs if started playing in his head. 

What if he had been more careful with the tracker.

What if he had never started the rebellion, and won the vote.

What if he hadn't run out of ammos.

What if.

They all started swirling in his head, making him nauseous. His heart fell deeper in his stomach when the players began to enter the room. Gi-hun tried to spot the faces of his friends among the players, but from that distance, their facial features were almost undistinguishable. All he could see was the number. From this point of view, the players really did look like horses. It made him want to vomit. Those people knew nothing about the players; not their names, not their stories. They probably didn’t even notice Jun-hee was pregnant.

To the VIPs, they were just cattle.

Gi-hun felt like a ticking bomb, ready to explode any minute now. And he didn’t know how long he could endure, before it was finally set off.

“I’ve been a big fan of you since the dalgona game.” The woman’s voice was a bothersome screech in his ear. Gi-hun was so tense, he couldn’t even bring himself to give her a smile of acknowledgement. The best he could do was press his lips in a hard line.

“I bet a million euros on you! Everyone called me crazy, but look who won.”

“Is money that important to you?” Gi-hun didn’t know why he asked. The question just came out naturally.

“Of course not, I could easily make another million. It was being right that counted.”

He wanted to roll his eyes. Then one hand slipped under his blazer, right over his chest, scaring him out of his contempt, to leave space for something he could not name. Shock? Fear? All he knew was that it was extremely unpleasant. He would have screamed at the woman to remove her hand, if he hadn’t been frozen in shock.

“It would have been such a waste if you had died… such a fine man…” Her hand tried unbuttoning his shirt, but he promptly grabbed her wrist.

“Please stop touching me,” He said, a trembling in his voice that surprised himself. He urgently looked around to see if anyone saw that. Some other VIPs did, but they didn’t seem to care. The woman retracted her hand, but her face got a lot closer to his ear.

“You’re right, it’s too crowded here…” She said in a sultry voice that sent a chill down his spine. “Maybe, you and I should get somewhere more… private… so maybe you can show me what else that tongue can do.”

A sudden urge to vomit overcame him, every muscle in his body tensing up. Was he supposed to play along? Was he supposed to please the VIPs, whatever they may ask of him? That woman disgusted him. Not only as a person, he didn’t feel attraction to the likes of her at all. She was the last person he wanted to be touched by. Even In-ho’s touch was more welcome than hers.

Gi-hun never thought he'd use it in a situation like this, but he still had the gun. He was hesitating whether he should use it or not, but when the woman slithered her hand on his inner thigh, his hand instinctively reached for the gun inside his pocket.

“Ma’am.”

That altered, robotic voice could only belong to one person there. Gi-hun raised his eyes to see the Frontman himself standing in front of them, suddenly turned into his savior. In-ho had feared something like that might have happened. It was for this eventuality that he had left Gi-hun with the gun. He never thought he'd be stupid enough to take it out when the other guests were present, though.

“I kindly ask that you stop making the other guest uncomfortable.”

The woman looked pissed, but she did as he said and distanced herself from Gi-hun, leaning back on the sofa and staring at the Frontman with annoyance, but didn’t protest. She looked like a kid whose parents took away her favorite toy for misbehaving.

Gi-hun could sigh in relief, but he wasn’t about to feel grateful toward In-ho. After all, he was the one who had put him in that situation in the first place.

*

Jun-hee felt weird. She had felt so hopeful the night before, but as the speaker explained the rules of the game, she was suddenly overwhelmed by fear. Struck by the realization that she would have to go through all of it once again. The anxiety, the fear of the unknown, the smell of blood, the loss of people… she couldn’t handle all of that again. She couldn’t.

Fear was gripping every part of her body, clutching her in a painful hold.

“Jun-hee!”

Myung-gi was soon by her side, followed by Geum-ja.

“Jun-hee, are you alright?”

The girl was clutching her stomach, without even realizing it. She tried pulling herself up, but standing straight was something she inexplicably found herself unable to do.

*

The peacock mask woman seemed to be arguing with the Frontman in English, but Gi-hun was distracted by a loud cackle.

“Oh my god, did that girl just pee herself?”

“So many players pissing their pants this year!”

The two old men were busting their guts laughing, as if someone peeing themselves out of fear was something laughable.

Gi-hun’s whole body froze.

The girl they were talking about was Jun-hee.

“A doctor! We need a doctor!” Player 333, Gi-hun believed his name was Myung-gi, called desperately. But his desperation only prompted more laughter from the VIPs.

There it was. The spark that set the whole prairie on fire.

Gi-hun took the owl mask, which had been laid on one of the tables, and threw it as far away as he could with all the force he had in his body.

“THE GAMES NEED TO STOP, NOW!” He screamed at the top of his lungs, positioning himself at the center of the screen.

The VIPs had little to no reaction. They just stared at him like he was some kind of freakshow, slightly amused and almost expectant.

“What’s he on about this time?”

“No clue.”

“Let’s see what he’s got.”

“In-ho! In-ho, just do something! Don’t you care about Jun-hee at all!?” Even under the black mask, Gi-hun could sense the man’s panic. It seemed as though he wanted to act, but something was holding him back. He was running out of options, and out of time. If appealing to the last shred of In-ho’s humanity didn’t work, could it work with the VIPs? He didn’t have much faith in that, but he had to try everything.

“You need to stop this madness! Is there really not an ounce of humanity left in any of you!? Her water just fucking broke! She’s about to give birth!”

The woman in the peacock mask bolted on her feet. “Wait, that girl is pregnant?!” 

“What! Really?!”

Gi-hun had no clue what she said, but he knew it got the reaction he had expected from the VIPs.

“How could you allow a pregnant woman to participate?!”

“The games need to stop, now!”

All the VIPs had gotten up from where they were sitting, raising their fists in the air.

“STOP THE GAMES! STOP THE GAMES! STOP THE GAMES!”

They all began chanting.

Gi-hun’s head was reeling. It had worked; he couldn’t believe it had actually worked. Relief washed over him, making him feel faint, but he couldn’t pass out, not yet. He couldn’t rest until he saw Jun-hee and the others safe and sound.

He stared at In-ho intensely, knowing the man behind the mask was doing the same. The man only looked away when he grabbed his walkie-talkie to give his managers the order.

“Stop the games.”

As the VIPs erupted into loud cheers, Gi-hun smiled as he stared at In-ho, triumphant and defiant.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

He was supposed to sneak Jun-hee out of the game discreetly, without making noise. He would have gotten her to a nice, private clinic where she and the baby would have been given the best care.

And yet here he was, stuck with a labouring Jun-hee in the middle of the games, and having to deal with a plethora of loud, annoying VIPs.

And then Gi-hun.

Gi-hun who thought he had won. Gi-hun who heard In-ho pronounce the words neither of them ever thought he would speak. Stop the games. Oh, how he must have been dying to gloat. But while the VIPs ate and drank and talked among each other, all the old victor did was staying on the side by himself, observing on the giant screen how the guards were escorting the players away from the room designated for the game. A game that would never be played.

His relief was great. But so was a kind of childish satisfaction.

Gi-hun could have that shit-eating grin all he wanted, but he was still as clueless as he ever was. He still held onto that naive belief all people could be good, deep down. Even the VIPs, as In-ho was sure he was seeing now with his rose colored lenses. But he never had to deal with them before. He didn’t know them like In-ho did. He had no idea how being so drunk on power and money could fundamentally change a person, revealing humanity’s true colors. These people were way too far gone.

But he was about to find out.

“You haven’t won, you know,” he told him, “You think you were able to appeal to these people’s humanity? They’re just going for a different kind of show.”

Gi-hun’s smile dimmed a little as he turned to him.

“What do you mean?”

In-ho wished Gi-hun could understand English. If he did, he would have known what the VIPs had requested after stopping the game. Yet at the same time, he was glad he didn’t, because he wished he could unhear the disgusting things they were saying.

“They want to watch.”

“Watch what?”

“The childbirth.”

Gi-hun looked puzzled.

“They want to assist? I don’t think they’re qualified for that.”

In-ho wanted to smack his palm agaist his own forehead, and then smack the man next to him too. Gi-hun was too good-hearted, too naive, ever after everything he had gone through. It frustrated him to no end. And yet, he envied him with a burning intensity.

In-ho wondered if it wasn’t to late to accept Gi-hun’s offer and work together to kill them all. After all, locking them all in that room and shooting every last one dead wasn’t going to be that hard. It was the consequences of it, that were going to be hard to deal with.

But the satisfaction of seeing their blood spill would have sufficed to make up for it…

He was distracted from his bloodthirsty daydreams by the woman with the peacock mask who, a glass of wine in her hand, walked toward the two while slightly swaying her hips.

“Hey Frontman,” the woman said, “What’s gonna happen to the prize money now?”

“Since the game stopped, it’s going to be divided among the remaining players, as it was promised to them.”

“Mmh, but that doesn’t seem right, does it? That girl had to go through the games while pregnant. Very, very pregnant and now she’s giving birth. She was at a great disadvantage, wasn’t she? I say you give the entire prize to her.”

The Frontman and the winner exchanged a glance, both flabbergasted at the proposal, for different reasons. The other players were not going to be happy about it, no.

Gi-hun thought it was unfair, but at the very least, he knew that if there was someone who deserved the whole prize, that was Jun-hee. She was a sweet and clever girl, she was surely going to share her prize with the others.

In-ho could feel a headache coming. He was supposed to let more than seventy players, frustrated and angry, out there in the world with knowledge of this place and vindictive feelings.

It wasn’t going to be easy to keep them all under control once they were out there.

“I’ve talked to the others and they agree. If she delivers a healthy baby, she should have the full prize.”

The clause gave Gi-hun uneasy feelings, souring all the feelings of relief and joy he had had until that point. If she delivered a healthy baby? What did they think Jun-hee was, a broodmare to be rewarded if she gave birth to a healthy foal? Was that why they wanted to watch her give birth?

“I’m sorry, but I can’t comply to that request. In this game, all players are equal. So the prize will be equally divided among the remaining players.”

The woman laughed.

“Uh, that wasn’t a request, Mr. Frontman. We have the last word, here. We can make this whole system crumble with a snap of our fingers. If she delivers the baby, she’s getting the prize money.”

Gi-hun could just picture In-ho’s face behind the mask.

It was surreal, seeing the Frontman like that. In the three long years he had chased him down, he had always imagined the man as a willing servant to the elite. Never had he ever thought his disgust for them could be this strong, maybe as strong as to rival even his own.

“Anyway, I’m not gonna stay for the delivery. I had no fun during mine, much less I’ll have fun watching someone else’s.”

A chill run down Gi-hun’s spine. That monster had children? This woman, who watched people get killed while sipping champagne, was a mother. He couldn’t wrap his head around that. Did she ever stop to think that every person who lost their lives in the game had once been someone’s baby?

“Do you wanna come with me, handsome?” She asked, cuddling up to the previous winner again, much to the latter’s distaste.

If In-ho could have struck her dead with one look, he would have. Could that woman not get the clue that Gi-hun didn’t like her? It didn’t take a body language expert to know he didn’t appreciate her attention and remarks.

He wasn’t even supposed to care, anyway. Gi-hun could take care of himself. Yet seeing her cuddle up to him made him clench his jaw so hard that his teeth scraped together.

“We’ll go somewhere fun. What do you say?”

“No, thank you. I want to stay and make sure Jun-hee will be alright.”

Finally, the woman stopped invading his personal space.

“That’s a bummer. Well, I’ll see you soon,” she said, winking before turning on her back. As she walked away, she swayed her hips in a way that was a lot more obvious than before.

“Never again, hopefully,” Gi-hun muttered to himself when the woman was far enough. If he had to see her again, may it be behind prison bars. Or in the realm of the dead.

“You’re not gonna stay for the delivery. You’re going back home with all the others now,” In-ho informed him.

“Cut the crap, In-ho! I’m not leaving until I’m sure Jun-hee and the baby are alright.”

“Stubborn as always.” In-ho could understand his feelings well, but he couldn’t let him stay during childbirth. Between taking care of Jun-hee and trying to keep the VIPs under control, he couldn’t deal with Gi-hun as well. He was a loose cannon, especially now that he had a gun.

Who’s gonna deliver Jun-hee’s baby, anyway? Do you have a doctor here?”

“Yes, don’t worry about it.”

To know there was a doctor on the island brought him relief, and yet, a small part of him was angered. He couldn’t help thinking about Sae-byoek, of how she could have been saved. If only he had noticed her wound sooner. Then they could have voted and gone home. He and Sang-woo were going to be screwed, but Sae-byoek was smart, she could have found the money to get her mother out of north korea in some other way. She was so young, she deserved to be able to start over again.

“Don’t torture yourself. You couldn’t have saved Sae-byoek.”

Gi-hun was almost scared of how easily he could read his thoughts. Was his soul really that transparent, or were the two of them truly as similar as In-ho said they were?

“Sae-byoek! Oh, so you’re using her name now.”

Behind that mask, In-ho’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Save that for another time.” In-ho took Gi-hun by his arm, his grip firm but gentle. That was Gi-hun’s cue to follow him. Once they were back in his quarters, he let go.

“In-ho, please let me stay during the delivery. Jun-hee will be scared if she sees the VIPs. She needs to see a familiar face!”

“I’ll be the familiar face she needs.”

“Are you kidding…? She knows you as Young-il, and she thinks you’re dead!”

“She’s seen scarier things in this place.”

“That’s just gonna bring more stress onto her! That’s the last thing she needs right now.”

He was right. But all In-ho could do now was damage control.

“Gi-hun, I need you to trust me just this once. You know I care about Jun-hee as much as you do.”

“Trust you? You expect me to trust you?!”

“I was already planning to sneak her out of the game when she-”

“BULLSHIT!”

Gi-hun reached for the gun in his pocket, pointing it to In-ho’s forehead. This was exactly why he couldn’t have Gi-hun around; he was too emotional. He had all the right to be, but he couldn’t afford it right now. The situation was hard to manage as it was.

In-ho didn’t raise his hands in the air, didn’t reach for his own gun either. He stepped forward, locking eyes with Gi-hun’s red rimmed ones, until his forehead touched the muzzle. He wasn’t going to shoot. In-ho knew he wasn’t.

“I don’t trust you with Jun-hee’s fate. I don’t trust you with the fate of the others either.”

“I know. I’m the last person worthy of your trust. But you don’t trust people because they’re worth it, you trust them because you have no choice.”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened. It was the same thing he had said to Sae-byoek, the night before the massacre. Logically, he knew it was just another mental trick on In-ho’s part, but he wondered if this was what it felt like to be in Sae-byoek’s shoes. To be scared and hopeless, and to have no choice but to trust someone he wouldn’t have trusted in other circumstances. Sae-byoek took that risk, that leap of faith, but was he ready to do the same?

His grip on the gun loosened, ever so slightly, just enough for In-ho to counterattack.

The air was knocked out of Gi-hun’s lungs when In-ho landed his punch, the gun fell to the ground with a violent thud. In-ho kicked it away, just as Gi-hun fell on his knees, grabbing In-ho’s coat for support.

“I’m sorry. I’ll take care of Jun-hee. Now it’s time you go to sleep.”

Before Gi-hun could even think of something to reply, he felt a sharp sting in his neck. Someone had stabbed him from behind with a needle. He clutched his neck where he was stung, while his vision blurred.

“Wait, no…! In-ho, wait…!”

The drug was working quickly. Soon he lost control of his body, and once his vision failed him, he could feel the guards lifting his limp body. But his mind kept replaying the images he saw before his vision went dark: a black mask staring down at him, betraying not a single emotion.

There was no Young-il, no In-ho either.

There was only the Frontman.

Chapter Text

The circle guards that had escorted Jun-hee out of the game room had offered her a wheelchair, but she had refused it. Her contractions had become regular, painful, but not enough to impede her from walking.

Her joy was overshadowing her pain.

She thought she could save one life, but her baby was saving so many more. She still couldn’t believe the games had stopped because she went into labour. It made her wish it had happened sooner, but going down that rabbit hole was worthless.

Did this have anything to do with Seong Gi-hun? Was he pulling some strings behind the scenes?

She hoped she would find him once the elevator doors opened, but all she found was a room covered in a golden light, and a man dressed in black in the middle of it.

“Jun-hee, are you alright? Didn’t my workers give you a wheelchair?” He said, giving the two circle guards what Jun-hee imagined must have been the nastiest of looks, behind that black mask.

“I’m fine enough to walk…” She said in a small voice, her contractions becoming more painful all of a sudden.

“You two, out. I’ll take care of her, now.”

The two guards followed his orders, and Jun-hee didn’t know if she felt relieved or more scared, now that she was alone with the masked man. Gi-hun had painted him as a bad guy, he told them he was the one in charge of this hellish place, and thus was the one responsible for everything they had endured. Yet the man standing in front of her didn’t seem evil. He looked like a cartoon villain, but something about him made her feel she could trust him- that he wasn't going to hurt her. Still, Jun-hee understood that it didn't necessarily make a good guy. After all, even a cartoon villain wouldn't hurt a pregnant woman, especially one in labor.

“Jun-hee, I’ll show you my face now, but don’t be afraid.”

A million different scenarios popped into Jun-hee’s head in those few seconds before he removed the mask.

Had Seong Gi-hun escaped from wherever they were keeping him, to kill the masked man and take his place? Had he infiltrated the place, to stop this game once and for all? Was that why she was feeling so secure around this mysterious figure?

It would make sense if the man behind the mask was one of her protectors. 

Turned out she was right. But he wasn't the protector she was expecting to see.

“Mr. Young-il?! But they told us you were dead…!”

“Jun-hee, listen to me. Don’t be afraid,” he said in a calm voice, holding out one hand to her. Jun-hee took a small step back.

“You’re… you’re the masked man. The one Mr. Gi-hun was talking about…!”

In-ho frowned. He couldn’t blame her for her mistrust, but if she was to deliver that baby safely, she had to remain calm, and he needed to act quickly.

“What did you do to him?” She asked, fear painting her misty eyes.

“He’s safe. Away from here. So is everyone else, they’re being shipped back home right now, all of them. Just take a look.”

He showed her on the screen a big room where all the remaining players were being handed back their belongings. Some were putting their clothes back on, others were already in the cars, about to be put to sleep.

Seong Gi-hun was lying unconscious in one of the cars, in the passenger seat. He was alone; there was no circle guard on the driver’s seat either, unlike in the other cars. But he seemed to be doing okay, there were no injuries that Jun-hee could see.

In another car, Myung-gi was swearing at the circle guard, demanding to see Jun-hee and be at her side during the childbirth. Geum-ja and Hyun-ju were trying to calm him down.

“See? They’re all going back home unscathed,” In-ho reassured her. “All you have to worry about is delivering your baby, then I’ll get you both safe back home. Alright?”

Jun-hee felt reheartened by the footage she had just seen. She looked at Young-il with starry eyes and a moved smile, regretting having ever doubted him.

“You killed the masked man, right? They thought you were dead, but you infiltrated among them to help us all!”

Her good faith was like a stab to In-ho’s chest. Maybe Gi-hun was right about people after all. Or maybe, Jun-hee was just like that Ji-yeong girl, someone special, who never deserved to have ended up in the games anyway.

If the games ever continued, he needed to improve their recruitment methods.

“There will be time for explanation, Jun-hee. Now, just listen to me, okay?”

In-ho held his hand out to her, and this time, Jun-hee took it. He encircled an arm around her shoulder and started guiding her steps. “Take a deep breath through your nose, okay? Now exhale… now inhale again… In… out…”

His late wife had insisted so much they took antenatal classes. In-ho never thought he’d see the day when he’d put those lessons to use. He took Jun-hee to one of the rooms, where a silken robe was waiting for her, then left her some privacy to change. At least, if there was one thing that the unsufferable VIP woman was good for, it was leaving one of her spare robes for Jun-hee to use. A soft, cotton nightgown would have been better, but childbirth was the last thing they were prepared for. The island was a place of death, not life.

In-ho started worrying when Jun-hee didn’t come out. He knocked on the door, “Jun-hee? Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m done changing.”

When the man entered, Jun-hee was sitting on the bed, changed in the silk robe, breathing in and out like he had told her to do.

“The doctor is coming. Are you in pain? Do you need anything?”

“Just some water… please…”

In-ho put on his mask again, and called for his guards to bring some water. Minutes later, the guards arrived, together with the doctor, who was too dressed in a pink suit and circle mask.

“Remove your mask.” The Frontman ordered.

“But-”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you, this is a special case.”

“But aren’t the VIPs-”

“Do you want that scary mask to be the first thing the baby sees when they are born? Take. It. Off. It’s an order.”

The doctor complied. Jun-hee was almost shocked by how… mundane his face looked. Like a regular human. One she would pass by on the street and never know he could be up to things like this.

But after that, other people arrived, wearing masks of gold in the shapes of different animals. Even though they were wearing normal clothes, they looked a lot less human than the guards she was used to seeing.

They were laughing, looking down at her like they were predators and she was just a little mouse, a little prey there were going to feast upon.

“What’s happening here? Who are these people?” She asked, looking at the man she knew as Young-il. She wished he would take his mask off too, but all he did was gently take her face in his hands.

“Jun-hee, listen to me,” He said, his voice calm though distorted by the modulator. Jun-hee could still feel Young-il in that masked man, in his mannerism and in his way of speaking, but it wasn’t enough to soothe her fears away. “These are the people that finance the games.”

“Mr. Young-il, please send them away…!” She said through tears. Part of her hoped seeing her cry would prompt those men to go away, but they looked at her like they had almost been expecting her to cry.

Her contractions became more painful. The second those people walked into the room, she had started feeling weaker. Like something in her body had shut off. When her water broke, when the guards had interrupted the game and had taken her away, she had felt strong. She had felt like she could do this, like she was born to do this. But now, she wasn’t sure anymore.

“Can’t you send them away…?” She begged Young-il.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, Jun-hee. They agreed to end the games if they could watch.”

“But I can’t… I can’t…!”

Jun-hee broke down sobbing. In-ho sighed deeply, squeezing his eyes shut beyond the mask. He didn’t want to do this, but he needed to calm her down, somehow. He was sitting on the edge of the bed facing Jun-hee, his back to the VIPs. There was no risk they could see him anyway. He slowly pulled down his hood, taking off his mask. Then, he gently stroked Jun-hee’s hair.

“Jun-hee, look at me. It’s going to be okay, just breathe.”

Her tears kept falling copiously on her cheeks. She tried to breathe, but taking deep breaths was almost impossible when they were continuously interrupted by her sobs.

“Just pretend they’re not here, okay?”

“I want Geum-ja and Myung-gi here with me…! Please…!”

He didn’t know how the VIPs were going to take that, but it was the least he could do for her. She needed as much support as possible. Luckily, he hadn’t been notified of the cargo ships leaving the island’s port, so that meant all the players were still here.

All except one, who was being taken away on a different, smaller ship.

“Fetch player 149 and player 333,” he said into the walkie-talkie.

*

In-ho could tell Myung-gi wanted to kill the VIPs. Geum-ja too gave them the nastiest look she could muster, but they had been instructed not to do anything. In-ho had put his mask back on, not wanting to give them any explanation.

The delivery had been long and exhausting for Jun-hee.

Myung-gi held her hand throughout the whole process. He ruefully regretted not being there for her during the pregnancy, and was putting his whole heart into making it up to her.

Geum-ja was more useful than their own doctor; the elderly woman didn’t hesitate in pushing him out of the way when she felt he wasn’t doing a good enough of a job. It provided some comedic relief, not for the VIPs but for Jun-hee’s sake.

In-ho waited outside. With Myung-gi and Geum-ja, he felt he wasn’t needed anymore. He stayed in his armchair, watching on his screen what was going on outside. The cargo ships with the players on board were still in the port. They wouldn’t take off until after the delivery, since three players were missing on the roll call. The players on the ships hadn’t been knocked out yet, and some were complaining loudly; player 100, that obnoxious old man, was hollering about the money they didn’t give him.

On a lonely ship out in the sea, Seong Gi-hun slept soundly.

In-ho’s lip slowly curved in a smile, one he didn’t even catch himself making. His face then tensed again at a sudden sound.

A beeping sound.

He turned around to stare at his green old-style phone, mouth agape.

It wasn’t just any beeping. It was a code, one he and Captain Park had agreed upon, to only ring in case Jun-ho and the rest of his crew had found the island, so that the Frontman would know how to act in time. Captain Park must’ve been either discovered or wasn’t able to keep the situation under control.

As In-ho was deciding on what the best course of action was, the VIPs started swarming out of Jun-hee’s room. Among their loud cackles, a little cry of a newborn baby could be heard.

It was finally over. Jun-hee had given birth, and from the strong sound of that cry, the baby was a healthy one. And just like that, just like they came, the VIPs left, without congratulating the new mother, without so much as a goodbye. They had gotten what they wanted and were already growing bored with it.

“So where are the next games?”

“Russia, it should start in a week or so.”

“Aw, can’t we do something to make it start sooner?”

In-ho felt his blood boiling. He should have been used to their antics, but everyone had a limit. And the VIPs had just crossed In-ho’s limit.

He could keep them on the island for a little longer. Long enough for Jun-ho to come here. Then, the whole system would have crumbled like a castle made out of matches.

On one thing, Gi-hun had been right; he could end all of that if he wanted. He just didn’t want to, because that would mean his own demise.

But what else did he have to lose? He never wanted his brother and mother to find out what he was doing, but Jun-ho had found out anyway. His little brother was smart. In-ho had hurt him, and even so, he had protected him. He could have shown Gi-hun his picture, he could have told him who he was. His clever little plan to infiltrate the game and manipulate Gi-hun from the inside out would have crumbled so fast, if only Jun-ho had told him the whole truth. But he didn’t.

All to protect In-ho.

He didn’t deserve it, he knew he didn’t deserve it. Was it too late to make it right? All he needed to do was press one button to trap the VIPs within the island.

“Do a detailed engine inspection on all the VIPs' aircraft,” he said on the walkie-talkie.

“But that’s going to take a few days.”

“Do you want to endanger our guests? Do as I told you.”

“Yes, sir.”

He put down his walkie-talkie, ran both his hands through his hair, sighing deeply. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He didn’t know who was more at fault for this, if his brother or Gi-hun. Or maybe it was Jun-hee who had been his wake-up call.

Or maybe he was just tired of keeping up the act. Tired of the covering up, of guarding every step, of bribing, of ordering, of disposing.

He was tired of being the Frontman. He just wanted to go back to being In-ho. Hwang In-ho. Just Hwang In-ho. The man who had lost his wife. The doting older brother. The loving husband and righteous policemen.

He doubted he could be righteous again. But doting and loving? How he longed to be again. And nothing could stop him from being that again.

“Mister Young-il!” Geum-ja called him merrily. His efforts to hide his identity were useless; Jun-hee must have told them. Not that it mattered anymore, it was only a matter of time before everyone found out.

The old woman was sweaty, tired, but immensely relieved and happy. Just like Jun-hee, she had not understood what was going on with him. She still believed in the fairytale of the good Mister Young-il.

“It’s a girl! Come see her!”

He started wondering where exactly the line was, between good faith and stupidity. But being gullible wasn’t a sin as terrible as the ones he was guilty of. If there was even a name for someone as vicious and as vile as him. He was the one responsible for putting those people in that hell. He had called them trash to justify to himself what he was doing ot them. And yet, they were calling him like a dear friend, inviting him to see Jun-hee’s newborn baby girl.

When he entered the room, Jun-hee was pale, tired yet radiant. He had never seen anyone smile so brightly. And for a moment, it was Yu-ji he saw, with his baby in her arms.

Myung-gi was looking at him with skepticism. He was a smart guy, he must have seen through his mask in a way the two women couldn’t.

In desperate situations, people most often choose to trust people close to them, because they have no other choice. Like Jun-ho with Captain Park. Like Gi-hun with Young-il. Like Jun-hee and Geum-ja, with whom they still believed was Young-il.

However, people like Myung-gi, people who were able to put logic before feelings, could sense something was wrong.

“This is Min-yeong. Do you wanna hold her?” Jun-hee asked him.

“Can I?” He asked, and Jun-hee nodded. In-ho’s eyes were misty. He hadn’t expected that; he almost felt his legs going limp. A few moments later, the baby was in his arms. Myung-gi looked displeased, but didn’t do anything to get between Jun-hee and her wishes.

The baby girl smelled sweet, making gurgling sounds that could melt the coldest of hearts. Maybe even his. And then his thawed heart was stabbed with a horrible pain as he realized something;

That baby had been so close to never seeing the light of day.

If it wasn’t for Gi-hun coming back to the games, he would have never infiltrated. And perhaps, Jun-hee would have never passed the second game, or mingle. No, even before that.

During red light green light, if Gi-hun hadn’t stepped in to help the players, the doll would have detected her movements. She had a cramp, back then, and had only survived because she hid behind Geum-ja, following Gi-hun's instructions. In-ho had noticed that. And back then, it had made him angry. That was a player who should have been eliminated from the game if it wasn’t for Gi-hun’s little stunt. He had ruined the fairness of it by giving them that advantage.

But when Jun-hee approached them during the pentathlon, revealing she was pregnant, he had felt more mortified than he had ever felt in his entire life.

I’m so sorry, baby. He said those words to baby Min-yeong with his eyes, unable to say them out loud. He didn’t deserve to be there holding her. Gi-hun should have been the one to cradle her in his arms, Gi-hun was the reason that the baby and her mother were alive. He didn’t deserve her sweet eyes looking up at him with curiosity, he didn’t deserve Jun-hee looking at him with gratefulness, nor Geum-ja’s smile.

He did, however, deserve the look of distrust Myung-gi was giving him. He did deserve Gi-hun’s voice echoing in his mind, telling him I told you so, over and over.

And most of all, he deserved everything that was about to come to him.

Chapter Text

His whole empire was about to crumble. His whisky lay forgotten on his table. As much as he wanted to drown his feelings in alcohol, he couldn’t afford it. In-ho wanted to be vigilant when he finally reunited with his younger brother.

He had gone through these death games twice. He worked a dangerous job before the games, and an even more dangerous one after them.

And yet…. And yet, nothing scared him more than knowing he was going to see his brother again. He didn’t know how he was going to face Jun-ho.

On his screen, chaos was unfolding. In-ho never liked chaos; he liked order and keeping things under strict control. This was the one time he found the lack of control charming, and almost liberating.

Jun-ho’s men had infiltrated the island. They had taken control of the cargo ships with the players and the limo that was transporting Jun-hee with her baby. They had also infiltrated the main building, killing more than half of their soldiers and taking others hostage. There was also one soldier, number eleven, who seemed to be collaborating with them out of her own free will. The VIPs, locked in their rooms, were trembling with fear and yelling at the guards to do what they pay them to do. But it wasn’t long before Jun-ho’s men reached those rooms, handcuffing them and taking them away. A loopsided smile appeared on In-ho’s mouth; it would have been more satisfying to see them bleed, but seeing them screeching like pigs as they were dragged away had its appeal too.

How Gi-hun would have loved to see that. But it got captured on tape, and In-ho would have made sure he saw it later. And not only the VIPs’ arrest.

In-ho felt like Nero watching Rome burn.

Fascinated by the fire consuming everything he had for so long kept hidden and safe. He wondered if history was ever going to remember this moment. How much future historians will distort and tell a different story, perhaps turning him into a tragic hero instead of the villain he knew he was. Or maybe it was going to be lost in the pages of history.

His empire wasn’t as magnificent as ancient Rome after all. Not that he knew that much about Roman history anyway.

He couldn’t spot Jun-ho in any of the footage. But if he knew his brother, he was going to come in in the same way he escaped last time. Through the passage only he knew of.

It didn’t take long for the cabin that hid the secret ladder to open. Jun-ho crawled into the room, eyes scanning his surroundings, searching with a clear purpose, until they fell on the man in the chair.

His little brother looked so different from the last time he had seen him. His eyes looked tired, but it was a type that went beyond physical exhaustion.

“I was waiting for you, Jun-ho.”

“Brother.”

Jun-ho didn’t know if he wanted to hug his brother or beat the shit out of him. His whole body was frozen as he watched his brother get up from his chair and walk towards him. His brown eyes were misty, he almost looked like a kicked dog. This man had done many horrible, horrible things. Then why did Jun-ho still feel sorry when he looked at those tearful eyes?

His little brother’s bloodshot eyes felt like a stab in In-ho’s guts.

“Jun-ho… I…” He started, not sure what he wanted to say. In-ho had rehearsed in his head what he wanted to tell him a million times. Yet now that his little brother was here, words left him. Because what could he ever say?

Jun-ho grabbed him by the collar, surprising him fierce, and slammed him against the wall. In-ho didn’t react.

“WHY!? You have to tell me why, brother!” he hollered. “Why would you participate in something so horrible!? Please tell me someone coerced you. Tell me you didn’t become the Frontman out of your own free will!”

In-ho wished he could say that. He wished he could bring himself to lie for his little brother’s sake, but he owed him the truth. The castle of lies he had built around himself had crumbled the very moment Jun-ho had stepped back into his chamber.

Now he could see the truth. The whole truth. Plain and simple.

“I did it for myself. It was the only way I had of regaining control over my life.”

“Regain control?! You sent hundreds of people to their deaths just to regain control?!” Jun-ho hollered, his voice scratchy and broken.

“I’m sorry.”

It was cliché, and it was useless, but it was true.

“You’re sorry?! Is that all you can say!?”

“What else do you want me to say!?”

Jun-ho’s legs gave in. Still holding onto his brother, he fell on his knees. In-ho grabbed him by his arms to sustain him, but ended up sitting on the floor with him.

The younger man broke down crying, his body shaking with sobs, his hands still clutching his older brother’s jacket, holding on as if his life depended on it.

In-ho’s eyes cried silently. Seeing his little brother hurt like that was tearing him apart. For the first time since he became the Frontman, he wished he could take everything back. He wished he could undo all the hurt he had caused, just to take Jun-ho’s pain away.

Tentatively, In-ho laid a hand on Jun-ho’s nape, bringing their foreheads together. Jun-ho didn’t stop him. They wept together. The younger a wailing whale, the older a weeping willow.

Jun-ho buried his face in In-ho’s shoulder, holding him like his life depended on it as he kept wailing.

The more they cried, the more the brothers held each other close.

“I won’t ask you to forgive me. I won’t even ask you to understand me. All I ask of you, from now on, is to try to be happy. Go out there. Fall in love. Have children.”

“I want to do all of that, but I want my brother by my side…!”

Jun-ho wanted In-ho to be there. His wedding, the birth of his children… he couldn’t picture a future where his older brother wasn’t there by his side.

“That’s not possible anymore. I’m so sorry I robbed you of that.”

Truth be told, In-ho didn’t feel like all of it was his fault. He was pulled into the games, then his wife’s love had been snatched from his arms... It was all of that that led him to become the man he had become. And he had had no control over any of it. But he couldn’t say that to Jun-ho. He didn’t want to make excuses.

“Why? Why did you cut me and mom out of your life?”

“The games gave me a chance at a new life. But I didn’t want you to see what I had become. I thought it would be less painful for you if I just disappeared.”

“You could have come to me. I know you were suffering, but you could have leaned on me! Did you not trust me…?”

“You were my little brother. I was not supposed to rely on you, it’s the other way around.”

“Yes, you could! I’m an adult, In-ho! I’m no longer a kid.”

In-ho knew that. His little brother had grown into a good man. Everything he failed to be. Yet in his eyes, he would always be the little brother he held in his arms when he was just a teenager.

“You may not be a kid anymore, but I’m your older brother and I will always be.”

“Don’t give me that crap, now! Brothers should rely on each other, it doesn’t matter who’s older.”

Before In-ho could think of what to reply, someone contacted Jun-ho on his walkie-talkie, “Jun-ho? Can you hear me?”

“Yes, Woo-seok.” He sounded slightly pissed off as he replied.

“We checked all the survivors. Seong Gi-hun is not among them.”

“What? Are you sure?” He asked, looking at In-ho straight in the eyes. His brother looked away, a gesture Jun-ho interpreted as guilt.

“Positive. There are only 75 people. We checked all of them twice, there’s no trace of Gi-hun. Nobody has seen him either, but there’s this girl who says she saw security footage of him unconscious in one of the cars.”

“I see. Keep searching. Interrogate the guards, there’s gotta be someone who knows where he is,” he said, before ending the conversation.

In-ho’s gaze finally met his brother’s again, whose eyes had never left him.

“What happened with Seong Gi-hun? Is he dead?”

Jun-ho wasn’t mad. There was no condemnation in his question, nor accusation in his tone. He didn’t appear to be worried for his ally either. He just wanted to know what happened.

“I let him go,” In-ho told him, “He’s on a ship that already set sail. Searching for him here is useless.”

“So he’s alive?”

“Yes.”

Jun-ho didn’t know if he believed him. Seong Gi-hun was the one who had brought them to the island after all, he was the one who had permitted this operation to take place. From what he heard from the surviving players, he had also started a rebellion that cost In-ho a lot of his employees. He had all the reasons to hate him. But perhaps, letting his worst enemy go unscathed was the sign his brother hadn’t completely lost his humanity.

And that’s what he chose to believe. Jun-ho chose to believe in his older brother.

“Jun-ho…You know where the archive is. There’s everything you need to know there. The names of the VIPs, the workers, the soldiers… All the info you need to stop the games once and for all.”

Jun-ho stared at his older brother, mystified. In-ho took his hand in both of his.

“My fate is in your hands, Jun-ho. If you want to arrest me, do it. If you want to kill me, do it. I’ll accept whatever you choose for me.”

Jun-ho closed his eyes as he let out a long exhale. Bringing an end to the games was his mission, it was what he came here to do. But the reason he found himself in that mess wasn’t for some high sense of justice, no. His top priority had always been his older brother. But maybe there was a way to bring justice to the victims of that game, and at the same time save his brother.

“In-ho… do you have any way to escape? A ship, a helicopter, anything?”

A helicopter was too flashy as a way of escape, and the only ships were the ones transporting the players. But there was one small submarine; it was supposed to be used by the VIPs in cases like this, how In-ho loved the poetic irony. They would be arrested, while he went away unscathed thanks to their toy.

“I do have a… mean of transport, yes.”

“Then use it. Get away before my men storm in here.”

“You covered for me with Gi-hun. You’re going to do it again?”

“I will cover for you with the entire world if I have to. Do you have a change of clothes?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Then change, quick! Leave these clothes and the mask here. I’ll take care of the rest.”

In-ho did as he was told. He changed into his regular clothes, leaving the Frontman’s clothes, which he would never wear again, in the hands of his brother. It wasn't just the clothes he was finally getting rid of, it was the Frontman's role. His little brother, whom he had tried to shelter from all of this as long as he could, was the one who was setting him free.

He didn’t need to ask him what he would do with the clothes. Outside, sounds of gunshots could still be heard. There were a lot of dead bodies lying around.

The brothers hugged one last time, holding so tight it almost crushed their bones.

“Jun-ho, thank you… Thank you so much. I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but…”

“Just go now. Please…!”

It cost In-ho a lot to let go of his brother. Giving away another kidney would have hurt less than feeling the warmth of his brother slipping away, as they separated from their hug. Walking away towards the ladder, every step felt like stepping on sharpened knives.

“In-ho,” Jun-ho called. When In-ho turned around, suddenly his little brother looked so much younger. Like when he was still a young child, who didn’t want his big brother to leave for school but knew he had no other choice. “Please, don’t shut us out of your life again. Let’s keep in touch.”

It wasn’t going to be easy. He suspected what Jun-ho was trying to do, but nothing guaranteed his plan would work. If he had to be on the run, keeping in touch with his loved ones was going to be difficult, not to mention dangerous for his mother and brother.

“I’ll try,” he said, sincerely so.

*

Deep inside the forest somewhere around Seoul, an off-road vehicle was parked, abandoned. No driver in sight, but on the passenger’s seat, a man lied unconscious.

After a long journey, In-ho had finally made it.

Seeing the gray vehicle in the distance, he felt how Odysseus must have felt when he finally saw the shores of Ithaca on the horizon. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. The journey ahead was still long, and he was tired, but they were almost home.

“Young-il…?” Gi-hun was stirring up, still half asleep. He rubbed his eyes, which were still struggling to adjust to the light.

“Oh, no. It’s not time for you to wake up yet…” In-ho said, more to himself than to the other man, as he grabbed the syringe with the tranquilizer. He quickly injected it in Gi-hun’s thigh without the man even realizing.

“It’s my turn… isn’t it…?” He grumbled.

Poor, poor Gi-hun. One foot still in the game.

“Go back to sleep, Gi-hun. I’ll take care of things here…”

Despite the man's struggle to stay awake, he ultimately succumbed to the effects of the drugs and fell back into a deep sleep. In-ho couldn't believe he had made it this far. When he decided to let Jun-ho onto the island and place his fate in his brother's hands, he truly meant it. If Jun-ho had arrested him, Gi-hun would have woken up in that car alone, free to roam wherever he pleased.

However, it appeared that destiny favored In-ho's original plan. Their paths were meant to converge, never to be separated again. In-ho firmly believed in that. He gently placed a hand on Gi-hun's cheek, stroking it with his thumb.

"I know you hate me now, but I believe that one day you will learn to love me. You will come to adore me as much as I adore you."

Chapter Text

The birds chirping outside soothed his ears. The morning light shone on his tired eyes, which were slowly taking in his surroundings. It all felt like a dream. What he saw was a window, the rustling, white curtains slightly moved by the morning breeze, and the leaves on the trees moving with the autumn wind.

It was too peaceful.

Gi-hun thought he might as well be dead for real this time. But when he woke up, there was no Sang-woo, Sae-byoek, Ali, or even his mother to greet him.

He was all alone.

The mattress underneath him was soft, and the sheets smelled of lavender. All his senses were responding to him, yet nothing felt real. Nothing at all felt real.

The room he woke up in was neither the gloomy motel nor his mother’s old house. The walls were white, and the sparse furniture was made from expensive, carved wood. A few intricately woven carpets adorned the parquet floor, in stark contrast with the bare walls, which had no pictures adorning them.

Gi-hun tried getting up, but his body ached all over; it was the type of sore you get from inactivity. The only other type of pain came from the wound on his arm, which had been redressed cleanly. He was wearing a black, two-piece pajama that, from the feel of it, must have been organic cotton. Definitely like nothing he had ever owned.

For a moment, a part of him wanted to believe the rebellion never happened, that they had won the vote and gone home, and that he and his friends had bought a house to live all together. He would get down in the kitchen and find Jung-bae eating his morning rice. He would find Dae-ho making faces at Jun-hee’s baby to make her laugh, Geum-ja scolding Yong-sik over something silly, and Hyun-ju going through travel brochures for Thailand. He would even find Young-il, reading the news on his tablet while sipping a cup of black coffee.

But Young-il didn’t exist.

He was In-ho, the Frontman. Jung-bae was dead. In-ho had killed him.

Gi-hun didn’t even have the time to grieve his friend properly. But tears wouldn’t spill, no matter how much he hurt inside.

Where was he? The last thing he remembered was being drugged and then In-ho watching his minions take him away. He must have brought him there, but why? Or had they dropped him off on some random street, and someone kind enough had rescued him, welcoming him into their home?

He couldn’t have found the answers if he had stayed put, so he got up from the bed and started exploring. Stepping outside the room he was in, he found a corridor with several doors. Not bothering to check them all, he headed straight for the winding staircase. This too appeared to be expensive, with the railing made of wood and wrought iron.

The rest of the house was much more decorated compared to the room he had woken up in, full of art on the walls, sculptures in every corner, flowers, and plants. He could see through the door window that the house had a lovely enclosed garden, in the traditional Korean hanok style. Now that he thought about it, that house seemed to mix modern European elements with traditional Korean style. It must have been tailored to the owner’s taste, so whoever owned that house hadn’t just bought it, they must’ve had a hand in the whole designing and building process.

Gi-hun stepped outside in the garden, taking in some much-needed fresh air. After spending days in that inferno, without seeing the light of day, feeling the sun on his skin felt like a miracle.

But his happiness was short-lived. Pictures of the people who had died in the games resurfaced violently in his mind. People who would never feel the sun on their skin ever again. He kept thinking of the girl who got stabbed to death right under his eyes, the night they hid under the beds. Of the people who were locked outside during mingle and were killed. Of the man with the injured leg whom he and Hyun-ju had carried to the finish line, but couldn’t save anyway. He thought of all the people who had followed him in his rebellion.

And then he thought of Jung-bae. His best friend. Perhaps the only friend he had left in this world. And now, because of him, Jung-bae was gone too.

The tears he couldn’t spill earlier erupted like a volcano now. How could he stay there and enjoy the sun, when Jun-bae was gone? When he didn’t even know if Jun-hee and her baby were alright? When he didn’t know the whereabouts of any other player? The game had stopped. But had they gone back home safe?

He remained crouched down, sobbing in the garden for he didn’t know how long, until a realization hit him.

That was an enclosed garden.

Beautiful, but he couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that it was designed to trap him inside. All the door windows opened towards the garden; on the other side, there were no doors or windows. And when he realized it, he started gasping for air. Gi-hun sprinted on his feet, going back inside, searching for the main door, the one that would lead him to his freedom. He wouldn’t have been able to breathe until he found it. He opened all the doors he could find, which only led to either the bathroom, the kitchen, or other rooms.

Then he finally found it.

And he knew it was the door he was looking for, because it was locked. He felt like a noose had been tied around his neck. And the feelings of dread, of being trapped, suddenly switched to anger.

“IN-HO! I KNOW YOU’RE WATCHING ME, ASSHOLE! YOU PROBABLY HAVE CAMERAS ALL OVER THIS PLACE, DON’T YOU!? COME OUT!” Gi-hun screamed at the top of his lungs.

Silence.

Then the sound of a door opening upstairs.

“You know, you could have asked nicely, there was no need to yell,” In-ho said as he walked down the stairs, peeved but calm to a degree that made Gi-hun even more furious.

In-ho was wearing a greyish blue turtleneck and a pair of black slacks. His hair was no longer parted, but brushed back. It was the first time Gi-hun saw him in something that wasn’t the player’s tracksuit or the Frontman’s clothes. In-ho looked like an ordinary man, and that infuriated him. This was the man who had kidnapped him, who had killed his best friend. How dare he look this normal? How dare he act this normal? Walking down the stairs like it was just an ordinary morning?

In-ho was now in front of him, a smile in the corner of his mouth that he was trying fruitlessly to hide. He was simply happy to see him up and about, but Gi-hun interpreted that smile as a mockery.

“Let me out of this fucking place!”

In-ho looked up at him wide-eyed. And for a second, Gi-hun thought he was seeing his friend Young-il. The friend who worried and looked out for him. Not the monster he truly was.

“You’re still recovering, Gi-hun. You need to calm down,” In-ho tried to put a hand on his arm, but Gi-hun brusquely stepped back. The younger man clenched his jaw, lowering his gaze.

“What else do you want from me?! What else could you possibly want from me!”

“I want you to calm the fuck down, Gi-hun,” He said, although he was getting pretty heated up himself. “Your body went through a lot of stress. You still have to get everything out of your system.”

“I’ll get it out of my system, alright. But out of here! I-”

A sharp pain behind his eye interrupted his rambling, forcing him to close his eyes and bring a hand to his forehead. He was too in pain to protest when In-ho took him by the arm.

“Gi-hun! C’mon, sit down. You’re not supposed to get upset in your condition.”

He let him lead him to a table, where he pulled up a chair and made him sit down. The pain in his head started subsiding, becoming bearable enough to keep talking. He started recollecting his last memories on the island, the last moments before he passed out and woke up here.

“…where is Jun-hee? And the baby?”

“They’re fine, they’re both fine,” In-ho reassured him, “Jun-hee had a baby girl.”

Gi-hun looked up at him slowly, unable to hide his smile at the news. “A baby girl?”

“Yes, a baby girl. A healthy baby girl.”

In-ho smiled, and for a moment, the two of them shared that moment of joy. And what a genuine moment of joy it was... but Gi-hun’s smile quickly faded away as reality set back in.

“And… what about the others?”

“They’re all back home. I respected the terms of the contract. The games terminated, so they’re all back home.”

“And where am I?”

“This is a house I bought years ago. I never got to live in it. Nobody knows about this place except me, and now you.”

Gi-hun puffed in disbelief. “The perfect place to hide someone, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” In-ho replied, with a tinge of something in his voice that sounded like resignation. It was true that In-ho wanted to keep Gi-hun hidden from the world, but he didn’t know how to make the other man understand it wasn’t his intention to bring harm upon him. Not anymore.

In-ho took Gi-hun’s hand, the gesture taking him by surprise, so much so that he didn’t even retract his hand this time. In-ho put something in his palm, then closed his fist.

“There’s something I want you to watch,” he said, as he let go of his hand.

Gi-hun opened his palm, which revealed a USB key. He laughed bitterly. “What kind of footage have you accurately selected to torture me this time? Is it Sae-byeok’s death in high resolution? Or Sang-woo’s? Or maybe it’s a highlight reel of this year’s deaths?”

In-ho slowly shook his head. “It’s nothing of the sort. It’s something that I know will make you very happy.”

Gi-hun raised one eyebrow, understandably skeptical. In-ho pointed at a laptop lying on the table.

“Just take a look. I’ll let you punch me in the face if I’m wrong.”

The proposal was tempting, and Gi-hun felt like his chances of winning were high. A bit begrudgingly, he turned on the laptop and put the USB key in. There was a folder with his name on it, containing various video files. The names of the files were just a sequence of letters and mostly numbers, so Gi-hun wasn’t sure where to start.

He clicked on the first file. It was a news report from the most important South Korean news channel. When the images started rolling in, Gi-hun couldn’t believe his eyes.

It was the island.

The place that had plagued his nightmares, now seen from a bird's-eye view. He saw the field where he had played red light green light twice, the place where Sang-woo had died in his arms. He wondered if this was the view Sang-woo had when his soul floated away from his body.

In-ho was standing behind him, putting his hands on his shoulders. It felt like that time in Oh Il-nam’s room, when he put his hands on his shoulders in front of the mirror.

His presence was imposing, yet somehow grounding. It told Gi-hun he wasn’t dreaming it up, it was all real; the island had finally been found.

The reportage showed pictures of the players' room, of the pink corridors being so empty, so eerie. Not all the blood had been wiped out before the police arrived. The TV had blurred the bloody spots, but Gi-hun could still see them clearly in his mind.

Those weren’t pictures he could blur or erase that easily.

Jun-ho popped up on the screen. He looked shaken and exhausted, but still managed to answer the reporter’s questions with a steady voice. He seemed in control, but Gi-hun knew he was breaking down inside. Just like Gi-hun himself, he could never be the same after that experience.

In the background, Gi-hun could also spot the other members of his team. He wondered how many losses they had faced. But he was happy at the very least, to see Woo-seok alive and kicking. When they interviewed him, he wouldn’t stop singing Gi-hun’s praises. Then the young man got emotional when he said they were surely going to find him, that they were not going to abandon him.

He looked up at In-ho, who didn’t let too much emotion transpire, but he seemed almost… satisfied.

Gi-hun didn’t know why he was surprised. In-ho had kidnapped him after all, brought him to this house in the middle of who knew where, it was a given that he was considered a missing person now. But what did In-ho want with him? Did he want to keep him there until the authorities declared him dead? Declared both of them dead? And then, what was he going to do to him? Kill him once and for all, after psychologically torturing him until he was satisfied?

It didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was that he had finally succeeded; he had stopped the games once and for all.

His own life didn’t matter to him anymore.

Gi-hun kept watching, reportage after reportage. They started showing the faces of the masked workers, from the guards to the ones pulling the strings behind the cameras. Their identities were finally revealed to the world.

Finally, they announced the Frontman’s death, showing his picture and his name.

Neither of them belonged to Hwang In-ho.

Chapter Text

Gi-hun looked up at In-ho, a million questions in his eyes. The other man took a deep breath, then pulled up a chair at the table next to Gi-hun.

“That was my second in command,” he explained. The man who substituted In-ho when he joined the games had always craved the Frontman’s spot. And now, he was taking his spot in history. For Jun-ho to use the body of that man to pass as the Frontman was just a hysterical twist of fate. In-ho wasn’t a believer, but if a god was pulling the strings, they certainly had a sense of humor.

“I cannot believe it… after everything you’ve done, you’re going to get away scot-free?!”

In-ho remained stoic, not looking at Gi-hun’s angry eyes. For once, he wasn’t the one responsible for this; he had put his fate in Jun-ho’s hands, and he had decided to give him a new life.

“It wasn’t me. This was all Jun-ho’s doing,” he said.

“What the fuck are you saying, why would Jun-ho be helping you?”

“Hwang Jun-ho,” In-ho said, looking straight into Gi-hun’s cold eyes. He didn’t need to utter another word, for Gi-hun to make the connection that for too long he had tried to ignore. He pressed his lips in a hard line, shaking his head lightly, as if negating reality could somehow change it.

“He’s my little brother,” In-ho added, just to twist the knife in an already opened wound.

Gi-hun got up so fast, the chair made a strident, sliding sound against the floor. He covered his mouth, still in shock.

Furiously, he started pacing back and forth, back and forth, in a vain attempt to calm himself down. But every muscle in his body was burning, the flames of rage and deception enveloping him. He couldn’t wrap his head around this; In-ho and Jun-ho were brothers. Letting In-ho get away with his life was one thing, but letting him get away scot-free? After everything the man had done? Yes, Gi-hun understood Jun-ho's feelings, but wasn't he still a man of justice?

“How long?” He asked through his teeth, jaws clenched so tightly it was starting to hurt.

“What?”

“How long has he known?”

“Since he infiltrated the island years ago.”

Gi-hun let go of a long exhale, the news hitting him like a punch in the guts. He was angry, extremely angry. Mad at Jun-ho for not telling him sooner, mad at both brothers for making fun of him. But most of all, he was mad at himself for having fallen for their shit. He never wanted to see either of the Hwang brothers again. If he was ever lucky enough to be able to go back to… whatever was left of his life, anyway.

Gihun had always assumed that Jun-ho was after justice and revenge, just like him. But now he could see their objectives were never the same. Maybe Jun-ho never truly cared about stopping the games, about bringing justice to the victims. All he cared about was taking his brother out of that mess unscathed. Gi-hun felt betrayed, but most of all, he felt used.

Jun-ho had used him to get to his brother.

It wasn’t the first time in his life either, but every time it fucking hurt.

“Don’t hold it against my little brother, he never wanted to deceive you. He only wanted to protect me. I’m sure you can understand.”

“Understand?! The only thing I understand is that it must be a Hwang brothers thing to enjoy fucking me over!”

The silence after his outburst was heavy. Just like Gi-hun’s breathing after he had wrung his lungs out, screaming at In-ho. But the other man remained stoic as always; all he did was take a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pockets and offer them to the older man. Gi-hun rolled his eyes, peeved that In-ho would offer him exactly what he needed. Reluctantly, he took the cigarettes and lit one for himself. It was the first one he had smoked in days.

It felt so damn good, yet he hated it was In-ho who gave it to him.

Happy with his cigarettes, he took that small joy in a sea of despair and went out to sit in the garden, needing a moment alone, a moment of peace away from that man. He was halfway through the pack of cigarettes when he heard In-ho approach him.

“Did you get it all out of your system?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I guess not.”

In-ho sat down next to him, trying to ignore how much it hurt when Gi-hun rolled his eyes and scooted a little further away from him.

“I let Jun-ho decide. I was ready to go to jail, if that’s what he wanted. But he wanted me to start a new life.”

“So I got kidnapped all thanks to Jun-ho. Good to know.”

“He doesn’t know I brought you with me.”

“He has some decency left, then, how nice.”

In-ho smiled to himself. He loved Gi-hun’s spark, he loved how he managed to keep it despite everything. Despite him, and everything he had done to snuff it out.

“Don’t you wanna keep watching? There’s a lot you haven’t seen yet.”

Gi-hun sighed deeply, the smoke from his last drag of cigarette creating a cloud of smoke around him as he closed his eyes. Did he even want to keep watching? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t need to hear more news that would only upset him. How many like In-ho had escaped punishment? How many of his friends had escaped death? Could he truly live with not knowing?

Begrudgingly, he got back on his feet and walked back inside.

*

His friends were alive. Even Gyeong-seok, whom he believed dead, had survived thanks to a woman guard who had defected, the same guard who helped Jun-ho and the others.

The VIPs had all been arrested. This caused a major worldwide scandal, because the names behind those golden masks, were all names known to regular people. The woman behind the peacock mask was the wife of a fat cat Canadian politician. The man behind the lion mask was the CEO of an American healthcare insurance company.

It turned out, Korea wasn’t the only country hosting the games. The same games were hosted in the United States, Qatar, Singapore, Colombia, and many others.

After the Korean games were discovered, the whole system crumbled, like a game of dominoes.

Tears started prickling in Gi-hun’s eyes as the reality finally settled in.

He did it.

He actually did it.

His worthless life had meant something in the end. Silent tears of pure relief started slowly descending from his eyes.

In-ho’s hand moved on instinct, before he could stop himself, his fingers were drying Gi-hun’s tears. Irked by that gesture, Gi-hun slapped the man’s hand away. In-ho didn’t express his disappointment; his hand merely rested on the other man's shoulder, which didn’t seem to trouble the older man much.

“You succedeed, hero. You stopped the games.”

If Gi-hun wouldn’t let him comfort him with his touches, then In-ho would use his words. If he didn’t want to hear him talk, then he would have continued with small acts of service, like he did with the cigarettes.

“You should be happy.”

“I’m relieved rather than happy.”

He couldn’t be happy. Not after all the lives that were lost in the pursuit of that end. Not after all the lives that had been destroyed, including his own.

The next reportage was back in South Korea. They were interviewing the players who had safely escaped that inferno. Player 100, Im Jeong-dae, was complaining that the state should have compensated them all for the trauma they had gone through.

“Tch. As if that asshole didn’t vote to stay every single time,” Gi-hun shook his head in indignation, taking a long drag out of his cigarette.

When the reporter asked Jeong-dae a question related precisely to that, calling him out on it, the old man was stunned, opening and closing his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Gi-hun let out a short laugh while In-ho smirked to himself. It served him well.

Gi-hun was happy to see the old man, and the other Os wouldn’t see a cent of the prize money. If there was someone who knew how to use that money for good, it was Jun-hee. He had complete faith in her.

Reporters were now swarming Dae-ho, who was trying his best to avoid them. “I don’t want to talk. Please, have some humanity,” the young man begged.

“Morbid curiosity. Another vice of the human race,” In-ho commented. Gi-hun didn’t think much of his comment.

The next interview was player 333, Lee Myung-gi. He was outside of a private clinic, where Jun-hee and the baby were staying to make sure everything was alright. The young man reassured the reporters that both the mother and the baby were okay, but were staying in the clinic for precaution. Jun-hee had little to no prenatal care; it was only fair she and the baby got a little pampering now.

In-ho had already suspected it when Jun-hee had asked for Myung-gi when she was in labour, but now both he and Gi-hun finally knew for sure who the father of Jun-hee’s baby was.

“Man, I never imagined the father of Jun-hee’s baby was in the games. That was beyond cruel,” Gi-hun said, side-eyeing him.

In-ho was getting fed up with the constant passive aggressiveness.

“Look, I have no say in the recruitment process,” he said. “My job only starts when the games start.”

“Doesn’t make you any less guilty.”

Altercations with the former Frontman aside, Gi-hun was glad to see Myung-gi by Jun-hee’s side. He was glad he was finally there for her. He hoped Myung-gi would be a more present father than he ever was. And a better husband, if they ever decided to get married. Jun-hee only deserved the best.

The other reports he watched were in other languages. He couldn’t understand a word, but the images spoke for themselves.

It was only when he watched a reportage in English that a horrible feeling struck him. They were talking about him in the US, too. They were showing his picture, full screen and in clear quality, and Gi-hun could understand the word missing.

Ga-yeong could have been watching that. Gi-hun prayed, hoped, and begged all the gods that his ex-wife would shelter her from such a horrible truth, that she could keep her from finding out for as long as possible.

But who was he kidding? That wasn't how the news works nowadays. All kids of Ga-yeong’s age had phones with access to the internet now. You had to be living under a rock in order not to be able to come across such news, especially when it came to a historical event of this caliber. And Ga-yeong lived in Los Angeles, not exactly some isolated town in the middle of nowhere.

“Ga-yeong… I need to talk to her... She will be worried sick!”

He got up from his chair and walked towards the door. He didn’t care he was barefoot, he didn’t care he was in his pajamas, he didn’t even care that the door was locked. He would have kicked it down with his bare feet, but nothing in this world was going to stop him from getting to the airport and going to his daughter. Not even the Frontman himself.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To my daughter! Open this door, In-ho.”

In-ho rolled his eyes, appalled by the man’s stubbornness. That was one thing he liked about him, but where did he think he could go with no shoes, no wallet, and no documents? Gi-hun started banging and kicking the door, fruitlessly trying to get it open. It wasn’t something anyone could achieve with their bare hands.

“Gi-hun-”

“OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR, IN-HO!” He yelled, but In-ho didn’t budge.

“Gi-hun, you can’t leave now,” he said, approaching him cautiously like you would do with a feral animal. “You don’t remember, but you’ve been knocked out for two days with a very high fever. Give your body time to recover.”

The news shocked Gi-hun enough for him to stop his ill-treatment of the poor door.

“For two days…?!”

It was no wonder his body felt the way it did. But it didn’t matter. In-ho could have broken both his arms and both his legs if he wanted to. Gi-hun was going to crawl to Los Angeles if he had to.

“Yes, for two days. You were barely conscious enough for me to feed you. Don’t you remember anything?”

The idea of In-ho nursing him back to health was absurd. He couldn’t see him taking care of him. He had tended to his bullet wound a few days ago, but that was something different.

Taking care of someone who was sick was not the same as treating a wound; it was a lot more intimate. Maybe he could picture Young-il doing that for him, but not In-ho. As much as the man in front of him looked like Young-il.

“You must be lying…” He said it almost in a mutter, speaking more to himself than to the other man.

“Gi-hun, I know you probably don’t want to listen to me right now, but I didn’t bring you here to hurt you.”

“Why then?”

“You’ve seen how those reporters assaulted Dae-ho, didn’t you? Those vultures are also camping outside Jun-hee’s clinic. They’re camping out there, Gi-hun! Can you imagine what they will do to you if you come out right now? You’re the world’s hero right now. Just let things calm down first.”

Gi-hun looked at him with a blank expression. Then, without warning, he erupted into a fit of laughter.

“You need help! You’re completely out of your fucking mind," he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "You’ve kidnapped me! And you think you’re doing me some big favor? Is that how you justify it in your mind?! ” Gi-hun spat those words with so much rancour. But it didn’t matter how much vitriol he threw at him, In-ho remained calm and composed. He looked up at him with such tender and caring eyes, even Gi-hun started doubting his ill intentions.

Get a grip, Gi-hun. The man told himself. In-ho had already fooled him once, he was not going to let him fool him twice.

“As if I’m supposed to believe you actually care about me!”

“You don’t have to believe anything, Gi-hun. But I do care. I really do.”

Teeth gritted, eyes narrowed, Gi-hun stepped closer to In-ho, looking straight into those misty eyes. He wouldn’t let those eyes deceive him, not again.

“You care, you say?” he said, with the muted anger of a starving wolf. “Is that why you killed my best friend in front of me?”

In-ho’s composure finally broke.

“How many times are you going to throw that back in my face?! I already told you I’m sorry!” He cried, the veins on his forehead popping.

“No you fucking didn’t! You just said you weren’t happy about it.”

Dumbstruck, In-ho’s mouth opened to speak. But soon it closed, because there were no words he could use to rebuke. Gi-hun was right. The words I’m sorry never left his mouth concerning Jung-bae’s death. Not that those two words could ever be enough. In-ho walked towards him, Gi-hun staring him down with a scowl.

In-ho dropped to his knees, his hands clutching the fabric around Gi-hun’s ankles while he sobbed at his feet.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Gi-hun…!” He choked out the words, leaving the older man in stunned silence.

Chapter Text

If someone had told Gi-hun one day the Frontman was going to be crying at his feet, pathetically asking his forgiveness, he would have laughed in their faces. Sangwoo and Sae-byeok coming back from the dead seemed more believable than that.

Yet here he was; Hwang In-ho. The Frontman. The man who oversaw death games where people were forced to kill each other and show the worst version of themselves, the man who made plans the devil himself would admire.

He was now crying at his feet. What was the meaning of that? Another manipulation tactic? Did he really believe Gi-hun was gonna buy that? He felt In-ho’s tears falling on his bare feet, but no matter how much he cried, his tears couldn’t wash away his guilt. That stain was not going to be easily washed away. If it could ever.

“I’m so sorry…! Believe me, I’m so sorry…!”

Sobbing, begging like a pitiful wet dog. Gi-hun could have easily kicked him, smashed his pearly white teeth with his foot. Instead, he threw his head back, closing his tired eyes as he sighed deeply. How he wished he could be back at his mother’s house. Broke, riddled with debts, but at least back then, he was fighting against devils he knew.

The man crying at his feet was a mystery, a riddle he couldn’t solve, no matter how much he broke his head on it. His mystery disgusted and terrified him, yet a weird fascination almost made him want to explore In-ho’s mind, to solve that enigma he was putting in his hands.

He was a gambler, after all. He loved the risk, but he also knew when it was time to walk away.

“Get off. Don’t fucking touch me,” Gi-hun said. He tried to walk away from him, but In-ho put his arms around his legs, raising his head to look at him. His eyes were red and teary, his expression pathetic.

“I’m begging you, Gi-hun…! Forgive me…!”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I know you have it in you to forgive me. I know you will.”

Gi-hun fell into a stunned silence, staring into In-ho’s bright eyes. He almost felt like laughing, but a muted rage overcame him instead.

“I will never do that,” he said through gritted teeth.

In-ho looked up at him with a frown. His eyes looked hurt. Whether he was feigning hurt or not, Gi-hun didn’t know, and didn’t care.

“Yes, you will. Because you’re a good man, Gi-hun. I know what kind of person you are. You believe in humanity. You believe in forgiveness and redemption, don’t you?”

“What is this, a test? Is that why you brought me here? You know I won’t forgive you, that’s what you want to prove. That humans are not capable of forgiveness, am I right?”

In-ho shook his head. “No…! That’s not it at all!”

“Leave me alone, In-ho. I am sick and tired of your games! I cannot do this anymore!”

Gi-hun walked away, and this time, In-ho didn’t stop him. He let him go while he remained on the floor, sobbing. The older man took the first step on the stairs, but then he started feeling lightheaded. He almost lost his balance and had to lean on the handrail for support.

He climbed a few more steps, but his legs gave out after the third.

“Gi-hun…?”

When In-ho saw him struggling, he immediately got on his feet and rushed to his side. He put a hand to his forehead, which confirmed his suspicions. “Fuck, your fever is coming back up again.”

“I said, don’t touch me!”

“Stop being so stubborn! You have to let me help, there’s no one else here who can help you. ”

And who’s fault is that? Gi-hun wanted to say, but let the matter drop. He didn’t have the energy to keep fighting with him. In-ho was surely going to think he was talking about his dead friends again, but it wasn’t just that. If he had been allowed to leave, if he had been permitted to return to his motel, he could have reconnected with Dae-ho and the others. He could see from the few interviews they gave that they all had each other’s back. He could have been part of that little found family, but In-ho had robbed him of that too.

Now he found himself in the Frontman’s lair, and he had his arm around his waist, escorting him to his bedroom. Was he going to tuck him in bed, too? Gi-hun didn’t even want to think about it. He sighed in relief when he let go of his waist as soon as they had walked into the room.

“Is there something else I can do for you?” In-ho asked when Gi-hun had tucked himself into bed.

He didn’t want to ask him anything. Didn’t want to owe him anything. But he doubted his legs could bring him any further, and he really wanted to keep watching the videos on that USB. He needed to catch up on what was going on out there, on how the world was reacting to the games being discovered.

“Bring me the laptop,” he said. In-ho looked surprised; he was expecting to be asked for food, water, or medicine, certainly not the laptop. But he complied with his request, bringing the device and also an unrequested bottle of water to Gi-hun.

“If you’re hungry, the kitchen’s downstairs, second door to the right. If you need help with anything, don’t hesitate to call me, okay?”

“Okay,” Gi-hun replied coldly, not bothering to thank or even look at him.

In-ho knew it was going to be a hard and rocky road, but he was going to get Gi-hun to trust him.

Even if he had to break him completely in order to do so.

He walked to the door, but hesitated when he was on the door sill. One hand on the doorframe, he slowly turned around.

“Gi-hun?”

“What?” The man replied, irritated. He had just put the USB back in and wanted to keep watching those videos in peace. But there In-ho was, walking back into the room, now at the feet of the bed.

“You may not realize it now, but you and I are the same. Instead of pushing each other away, we should lean on each other.”

Gi-hun glared at him warily. He didn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore, so he just rested his head against the headboard as he asked in a flat tone, “Why on earth would I lean on you?”

“Because you have no one else.”

“I have friends,” he said, in the same flat tone as before.

“Friends? You mean Dae-ho and the others?”

“Of course. I know it was all fake for you, but we created a strong bond in those days.”

“It wasn’t fake for me, Gi-hun. I had a mission, but that doesn’t mean I’m emotionless. It doesn’t mean I can’t feel human connection. I swear I’m not looking for excuses, but keeping up with my mission after that was a lot harder than I thought.”

Part of Gi-hun wanted to tell him off. He wanted to spit in his face and tell him to fuck off. But there was a part of him that felt relieved to hear those words. The part of him that had cared for Young-il, the part that had to pretend Young-il had died, the part of his mind that had to trick himself into believing Young-il and In-ho were two different people, in order to avoid going insane.

“Gi-hun…I know there’s nothing that bonds people more than going through hardship together. But you and me… You and me are different from Dae-ho, Jun-hee, and the others.”

“Different how?”

In-ho sat at the edge of the bed, by Gi-hun’s feet. Far enough not to anger the other man too much, and close enough for the conversation to feel intimate.

“Dae-ho has his own family. Yong-sik and his mother have each other. Hyun-ju will leave for Thailand soon and start a new life. Jun-hee, Myung-gi, and their baby have their own family now. All that’s left is you and me. We have no one else out there.”

“Are you kidding me? You have a brother. And I have my daughter.”

“My mother and brother are better off without me. And your daughter doesn’t need you right now.”

“Oh, shut up…” Gi-hun rolled his eyes, then looked everywhere but at him. He acted all peeved, but In-ho knew he had hit him where it hurt.

“You know that’s true, Gi-hun. You were absent for most of your daughter’s life; you know she doesn’t need you. You know it better than me.”

When Gi-hun finally looked at him again, his eyes were bloodshot and filled with unshed tears. “For someone who says he doesn’t want to hurt me, you’re sure hurting me a great deal right now.”

In-ho lowered his gaze. He didn’t feel good about hurting him, but it was necessary.

“I’m sorry… but this isn’t the right time to go back to Ga-yeong’s life. Can you imagine what's gonna happen if they find out she’s your daughter? The daughter of the people’s hero Seong Gi-hun? Journalists and curious people will follow her everywhere. Do you really want that for her?”

“Of course I don’t! But it’s going to come out, eventually. She’s my daughter, and nothing can change that!”

In-ho got up from the bed.

“I’ll leave you alone now. But you should think about it,” he said as he headed for the door.

“In-ho.”

The man couldn’t hold back a sinister smile as the man called his name, but he did his best to wipe it off his face before turning around to heed to his request.

“I’m never going to leave this place alive, am I?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I have no intention of killing you. Once you get better, you’re free to leave.”

“You know I won’t let you get away with any of this, right? I’ll tell the police you’ve kidnapped me. I’ll tell everyone you’re really the Frontman. You better either be ready for prison or to kill me.”

“I won’t do either. Because you won’t do any of that.”

“And what makes you so sure of that?”

“I just do,” he said, closing the door behind him without further explanation.

Gi-hun wanted to bang his head against the headboard, yet sighed in relief when he heard the distant sound of steps down the stairs. In-ho remained an enigma, but even if temporarily, he was out of sight and out of mind.

After drying the tears he hadn't realized he shed, he fully devoted his attention to his laptop screen..

*

Later, when In-ho went to check on him, Gi-hun had fallen asleep with the laptop in his lap, one of the videos still playing. In-ho took it, closed it, and set it aside on the bedside table. Then he I examined the man's hands; they were bruised, the knuckles scratched and bloody. The result of his attack on the door earlier. He checked the man's bare feet as well, which weren’t in any better shape.

In-ho sighed. When was Gi-hun going to stop disregarding himself? He fetched his first aid kit and treated his wounds while he slept.

“Ah, my unsung hero… You really should take better care of yourself…” He said, knowing he couldn’t hear him. That fever had knocked him out bad. He checked his temperature using an infrared thermometer: it gave 38 degrees Celsius. It wasn’t too high, but it wasn’t good that he kept having a fever for so many days. In-ho had taken care of him the best that he could in those past days, staying by his bedside day and night, but if he didn’t get any better, he had no choice but to call a doctor. And finding someone he could trust was not only expensive, but could also take a lot of time. He didn’t know if he could afford to wait too long.

He could only hope Gi-hun would get better with some rest.

*

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Gi-hun watched horror-stricken as In-ho slid under the covers next to him, that night.

“I can keep an eye on you better if I sleep here.”

“Then sleep on the floor.”

“Why should I? This mattress is so comfortable.”

Gi-hun scoffed at In-ho's smug grin. He turned on his side, giving his back to him. Gi-hun would have rather walked out and gone to sleep somewhere else, but every muscle in his body ached. He could do nothing but pretend In-ho wasn’t there.

A doubt suddenly numbed him with fright; could it be? That In-ho’s obsession with him stemmed from something that wasn’t hate, as he had previously thought?

He was no stranger to that game. He had always been exceptionally good-looking, especially in his youth. Once, he even had his fair share of stalkers, both men and women. A couple of them were unhinged, even. Not In-ho's level of unhinged, but he still remembered the fright of being followed home, of being touched against his will.

Gi-hun could never have imagined he’d have to deal with that even in his fifties. First that VIP woman, and now even In-ho?

Looking over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of In-ho reading a book. He seemed innocuous enough, perhaps he wasn’t going to assault him in his sleep. But he could never be sure.

There were bigger problems at hand; he wasn’t feeling good at all. He felt like his body was a lot heavier than it was, as if the blood in his veins was fighting to push through.

If he had to be honest, he felt like he was dying. And there was one thought that haunted him. Out there, people were still searching for him. They were searching for Seong Gi-hun, the Hero who exposed the games. But no one was searching for Seong Gi-hun of Ssangmun-dong. His mother was dead, his ex-wife despised him. His friends were dead and gone. Ga-yeong would forget him.

“If I died right here, nobody out there would miss me,” he said to himself.

Those words chilled In-ho to the bone.

“That’s not true. I would miss you.”

In-ho doubted Gi-hun was listening to him. The man was quickly falling into a restless sleep. In-ho closed his book, laying it on the bedside table. Something told him he wasn’t going to pick it up again that night.

His gut feelings rarely betrayed him, and they didn’t that night either. Gi-hun kept getting worse by the hour, breathing heavily, sweating profusely in his sleep. In-ho kept checking his fever, but the numbers only ever went up.

In-ho was sitting next to him, washing his sweat-ridened face with a damp cloth, when Gi-hun opened his eyes. He looked at him, but In-ho knew he wasn’t truly seeing; Gi-hun was completely out of it.

“Mom… mom, I don’t feel well…”

“No. No, no, no, it’s not time to see your mom yet…”

“Sae-byeok, I’m sorry I couldn’t get your mom out of the north.”

His skin radiated warmth when In-ho took his face into his hands. “Gi-hun! Gi-hun, stay with me, okay? It’s not your time yet. It’s not your goddamn time…!”

In-ho knew he had to take drastic measures. He scooped him up in his arms, and when he did, he could feel his skin’s high temperature seeping through the fabric of his pajamas. This was bad. If he couldn’t bring his fever down, he’d have to take him to a hospital. But Gi-hun was only his to take care of, only his to heal. If he took him to the hospital, they were going to take him away from him.

He couldn’t let them do that.

In-ho gently lowered the man into the bathtub, took the shower head, and turned on the faucet, soaking him in ice-cold water.

The cold cutting his skin shook Gihun out of his fever-induced slumber.

His breathing stopped for a few instants, then he let out a voiceless scream. When he came to his senses, the first thing he saw was In-ho’s frightened face. He was trying to kill him. He was trying to kill him for real this time.

“W-W-Why d-do you enjoy torturing me like th-this?!” He said through chattering teeth.

“I’m so sorry, I had to do it to get your fever down,” In-ho apologized, as he was frantically drying his hair with a soft towel.

“You’re full of shit…!”

In-ho started unbuttoning the top of his pajama, Gi-hun’s trembling hands grabbed his wrists.

“W-What the f-fuck do you think you’re doing!?”

“I have to change you into dry pajamas.”

“I-I can do it on my own!”

In-ho gave him some privacy as he changed, then finished drying his hair with a towel while he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Gi-hun’s upper body swayed; the man didn’t have the strength to even hold himself upright anymore.

Then he just gave up. He let himself fall against In-ho, his head resting on the other man’s shoulder. He put a hand on In-ho’s chest, snuggling up in the crook of his neck. Soft, almost imperceptible sobs escaped his lips. He was like an abandoned puppy seeking warmth.

A warmth In-ho was more than willing to give him. He leaned his head against Gi-hun’s, moving his hands up and down his back.

“It’s okay… it’s okay…”

“Young-il…”

In-ho’s jaw clenched. His fingers itched to curl around that slender neck and squeeze until the right name came out of his lips. The trembling of the other man in his arms soothed him out of his anger, bringing him back to reality; Gi-hun was sick, and his confusion was due to the fever. He had no right to be angry at him.

There would come the time for Gi-hun to call him by the right name. There would come a time for his real name to escape his lips, in much more pleasant moments.

“Young-il, I’m so tired…”

“It’s okay, let’s get you to bed now, okay?”

As he picked him up in his arms again, Gi-hun nuzzled up in the crook of his neck, falling back into sleep. He might have hated him with all his force when he was awake, clinged to the past like the stubborn man he was, but this was how his body reacted when he had no inhibitions, when he had nothing but istinct to guide his movements; he held onto him like his life depended on it.

All he needed to do was be patient. It was all just a matter of time.

Yes, In-ho knew it. It was only a matter of time.

Chapter Text

You've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust

But everyone's true colors are revealed in acts of lust

*

The birds were chirping louder than usual that morning, almost as if they had wanted to wake him up. When Gi-hun opened his eyes, he was, to his relief, alone. But still in the same room that was prison disguised as paradise.

He got up from the bed, his muscles felt sore, but not quite as bad as the previous day. He was wearing a gray pajama that he hardly remembered changing into; memories of the previous night were hazy, and he couldn’t tell memories apart from his dreams.

He suddenly felt the urge to change into something other than those pajamas. He didn’t know what he expected to see when he opened the wardrobe, certainly not his own clothes. But the garments in front of him didn’t seem quite In-ho’s style either. So, whose clothes were those? And why had In-ho given them to him?

He hated taking anything In-ho had given him, but he changed into a pair of black sweatpants and a black hoodie. It was an unassuming outfit, comfortable and anonymous. That’s how he wanted to be. Anonymous. Like a ghost, able to leave that house without being seen, to roam through Seoul without being seen. Or through Los Angeles, without being seen by anyone who weren’t his estranged.

In the distance, he heard the unmistakable sound of a car approaching. He hurried to the window, where he could spy a gray, off-road vehicle coming. It was the same car they used to gather up the players, the same car he guessed they used to bring him there. He saw In-ho getting out, arms full of grocery bags. If only he had known In-ho was out, if only he had woken up earlier, he would have explored the house, searching for a way to escape.

An idea popped up in his head, telling him not everything was lost. If only he could knock out In-ho long enough and hotwire that car, then it was all over. He saw it, the sweetest prize one could ever yearn for: his freedom. And he was willing to bet everything he had on it.

Now it was his chance. 

He rushed down the stairs, taking the first heavy thing he could find, in his case a coffee table lamp.

Gi-hun waited behind the door. His pulse started racing as the key was being turned in the lock. He wasn’t going to get another chance. He had to strike. As soon as In-ho’s nape came into view, he swung with all his might. Because of his illness, it wasn’t much, and while he missed the nape, he still managed to hit the man between the shoulder blades, making him fall to the ground, groceries scattering on the floor.

He let the lamp fall to the floor while he ran for it.

“This fucking idiot…” In-ho grumbled as he pulled himself up from the floor. With all the calm in the world, he dusted off his clothes, recomposed himself, and walked out of the house. He could see Gi-hun running into the forest; he must have thought there would be plenty of places to hide.

He didn’t know In-ho had an ace up his sleeve.

The man grinned as he strutted towards the forest.

*

His plan to hotwire the car now unfeasible, running for the forest seemed like the best next thing. But Gi-hun wasn’t able to run for long. His muscles were burning with every step, his lungs were begging for mercy, and the more he ran, the more his head hurt. But he couldn’t stop, In-ho wasn’t knocked out, just tripped over. He could have caught up to him any moment.

He had to stop when his body was on the verge of collapsing. Leaning against a tree, he tried catching his breath. His vision was becoming blurry, but he could see a thick pack of vegetation that could serve as a good hiding spot. He went to sit under the thick foliage, deciding to stop just long enough to restore his energies and stabilize his breathing.

In-ho couldn’t possibly find him there, and sooner or later, he was going to give up. He had survived worse things, he could survive a few days in the forest.

Anything to get away.

Minutes passed, and he started to feel drowsy. Taking a nap didn’t sound so bad, and he felt safe enough in his hiding spot to close his eyes for a while. He was at the door of the dream realm, when a distant voice brought him back to the forest.

“Gi-hun! It’s dangerous out here. Let’s go back inside!”

The man held back his breath. He just needed to stay still and silent. In-ho would have gone away. He would have.

“I’m not mad you hit me with a fucking lamp. But I’m gonna be real mad if you don’t come out right now.”

His voice was getting closer. The beating of Gi-hun’s heart became louder. But he only needed to make it through this moment. He would have gone away. He would have passed by his spot without seeing him. There was no way In-ho could have found him. No way.

“You have a fever. What the hell do you think you’re doing out here in the woods? I went to get medicine. You need to take it if you want to get better.”

Gi-hun almost wanted to scoff. Did In-ho really believe he’d trade his freedom for some medicine? To cure a simple fever?

The swift swishing of leaves startled him out of his skin.

“Gotcha.”

He gasped out loud when he saw In-ho’s smiling face standing before him, appearing in his vision like a nightmare. Gi-hun’s body hadn’t recovered enough to fight back when In-ho grabbed him by the arm and hauled him out of his hideout.

“How the heck did you find me there!?”

“Have you forgotten? You still have your player’s tracker,” he said, waving his phone, showing him the application that revealed his position on the map.

Panicked, Gi-hun brought his hands behind his ears, but all he could feel was the texture of his scar on one side and the smooth skin on the other.

“You really think I’d put it there again after you found it the first time? C’mon Gi-hun, you’re smarter than that.”

Gi-hun started frantically searching in his hair, his arms, his forearms, his wrists, but he couldn’t feel anything.

“It’s useless. You won’t find it so easily this time.”

“What am I to you? A dog?! Do you want to keep me in your house like some kind of pet? Is this what this is all about?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t have used the tracker if I didn’t have to.”

“Oh, how gracious of you!”

Ignoring his hollering dissent, In-ho kept dragging him along with him across the forest.

“Let me go! I’m not going anywhere with you!”

He kept trying to yank himself out of the other man’s grasp, without success. In-ho didn’t let go of his arm, and it was starting to hurt. Gi-hun could feel his blood circulation halting. In-ho stopped walking, his jaw clenched. He rolled his eyes as if he were dealing with a badly behaved dog, and not a human being he had kidnapped and was keeping secluded against his will.

“Gi-hun, you’re still sick. Let’s go back inside.”

“I said I don’t want to!”

In-ho exhaled loudly, closing his eyes as he did so. It was then that Gi-hun saw it: the gun in his holster. If he could only be quick enough, he still had one way out of this mess.

“Gi-hun, I swear to god I am this close to knocking you out before dragging you back.”

“Do it, then,” Gi-hun said, shortening the distance between them with a calm demeanor. “C’mon. Do it.”

The two locked eyes; In-ho was still peeved, his jaw relaxed, but his lips pressed in a hard line. Gi-hun maintained eye contact with him, lowering his defenses while he quickly snatched away his gun.

In-ho let go of his arm, raising his hands in the air. As Gi-hun pointed the barrel at his chest, stepping backwards, In-ho couldn’t refrain from a smirk.

“You won’t do it. You don’t want any more blood on your hands.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

In-ho’s smug smile quickly vanished as Gi-hun pointed the gun at his own temple.

This wasn’t a turn of events he had anticipated.

“Gi-hun, don’t do anything rash now,” he tried to calm him down, but only succeeded in making the man’s hand tremble even more.

“You still have so much to live for. You still have to see Jun-hee’s baby. You still have to see your daughter again. Don’t you want to see her again?”

“I’m never going to see her again. I’m never going to see anyone’s face again but yours!”

“It doesn’t have to be like that. If only you would listen to me, Gi-hun.”

He shook his head, tears falling from his eyes. “I don’t wanna listen. I’d rather die than play your mind games again.”

He closed his eyes, the image of In-ho’s frown burned into the back of his mind. He didn’t want that to be the last thing he saw before dying. He tried to envision Ga-yeong, tried to envision Jun-hee with her baby in her arms. But the only image that came into his mind was Ga-yeong crying, begging him not to take his own life.

“I’m so sorry, Ga-yeong…!”

He hated to make his daughter wait, but Gi-hun was sure he was going to see her again one day, on the other side. Hopefully as late as possible.

His finger curled around the trigger and pulled.

When he opened his eyes again, he wasn’t on the other side. Not that he knew what the other side looked like, but it couldn’t look like the same forest. It couldn’t have In-ho looking at him with a subtle smirk in the corner of his mouth.

Breathing heavily, he pulled the trigger again. In-ho’s lips pressed into a hard line as he saw Gi-hun pull the trigger over and over, desperation setting in with each empty slot, cementing his despair when he realized there wasn’t a single bullet in there.

“No…”

He collapsed on his knees, crying like a little lamb. In-ho looked down at him, almost with spite. How could he? After escaping death so many times, how could he still prefer the embrace of Thanatos to the one of In-ho? But when he heard his soft whimpering, his heart yielded. In-ho crouched down in front of Gi-hun, gently taking the gun from his hands.

“Sh… It’s all over,” he said softly, before enveloping him in his arms. Gi-hun became stiff, but didn’t pull away.

“Please…! Just kill me already…!”

"Don't say things like that, Gi-hun. You just need to get some rest."

In-ho tried to haul him up to his feet, but Gi-hun pushed him away. “No! Just tell me why! Why!? Why do you insist on keeping me here with you!?”

The man looked down on him, exhaling slowly, nostrils flaring up. “I told you a hundred times. Because. You. Are. Sick.”

“You could have dropped me off at a hospital! Or on a random street! I have enough, In-ho! Tell me the fucking truth!”

“You really don’t get it yet? Do you want me to spell it out for you?!”

The veins on In-ho’s forehead were popping, the capillaries in his eyes bursting. His voice cracked with feelings he could not express. He wanted to, but he didn’t have the courage to say it. He was able to drug him, tie him up, manhandle him, take him and lock him away from the world, yet he didn’t have the courage to tell him.

When Gi-hun stared into the black ocean of his eyes, he knew the answer.

It was him he wanted. Not his nemesis, not his rival, him. All of him.

And a kind of fear he never felt before took hold of him.

In-ho took seized him by his arm again, hoisting him back on his feet, and Gi-hun felt like he was being carried away by a strong blast of wind, one that was fruitless to fight against.

“C’mon, Gi-hun.”

It was the last word spoken for the rest of the trip back to the Hanok.

*

“Is this necessary?” Gi-hun asked as In-ho was tying his wrists together, binding him to the bed. After he had forced antipyretics down his throat, In-ho had carried him over his shoulder, then slammed him onto the bed. Gi-hun was almost relieved when he tucked him in; at least that meant he wasn’t going to do anything to him.

“You’ve forced my hand. This is tough love.”

“Love? You think this is love?”

“It’s tough love!”

Gi-hun didn’t want any kind of love from him. He wanted nothing from him. Whatever In-ho meant by love, it couldn’t possibly be what normal people meant. Gi-hun refused to believe it. In-ho was too far gone; maybe he had known how to love once, but he had clearly forgotten.

“You don’t know how to love.”

He winced in pain as In-ho tightened the knot around his wrists, with more force than he had intended. But the man was fuming with a kind of rage Gi-hun had never seen in him. When the knot was done, he exited the room without another word, slamming the door as he walked out.

He trotted down the stairs like a fury, trying to cool down his boiling heart.

He had fucked up. He had fucked up big time, and he was furious. Furious at Gi-hun for trying to take his own life, for pushing him to the brink of confessing what he wasn’t ready to confess yet. But most of all, In-ho was furious with himself.

He was doing everything wrong, everything. For once, he hadn’t been able to take care of Gi-hun properly; it had been days, and his fever still hadn’t gone away. He couldn’t even make him see how much he adored him, how much he wanted to take care of him. Gi-hun didn’t even accept his apologies, he didn’t even believe in his sincerity.

And lastly, he was furious because deep down, he knew Gi-hun was right; he had forgotten how to love.

A decade. It had been almost a decade since his beloved wife had died, another person he had failed. He had forgotten everything except his own guilt, including how to love. But he wanted to learn again, and he wanted to do it with Gi-hun and no one else.

Splashing some water on his face, he looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror; his eyes were bloodshot. In-ho was almost scared of his own image, and if he had to bet, Gi-hun must’ve been too.

He needed to do better.

Now that his anger had cooled down, he went out in the garden to get some fresh air and take care of the most pressing matter. His trip to the city had proved more than useful; he was able to get the number of a doctor who knew how to be discreet.

“Will twenty million won be enough?” He told him over the phone. “Forty then. Alright.”

In-ho rolled his eyes. “No I don’t know what the cause of his fucking fever is, why do you think I’m calling you?”

“No, I’ll text you the time and place tomorrow,” he said at last, before hanging up without further explanations.

If there was one thing In-ho liked about having lost his job as the Frontman, it was not having to deal with unpleasant people anymore. Talking to that doctor was almost as uncomfortable as the VIPs, but it was necessary for Gi-hun's well-being.

In-ho went to look at himself in the mirror. He quickly fixed his hair, happy to see his eyes were finally back to normal, the flush on his face was gone too. Now that his ire had finally stilled, he could go check on the man upstairs.

*

His arms were starting to hurt. The position In-ho had left him in, with his wrists bound and tied to the headboard above his head, wasn’t exactly the most comfortable one. He was supposed to rest because of his fever, but how could he get any rest like this? Tough love, he had called it. Gi-hun could do nothing but scoff at that.

The door creaked open, revealing In-ho, who walked slowly into the room with his head hung low. He looked like a dog with his tail between his legs, as if he knew he had done something wrong and had returned to asses the damage.

“How are you feeling?” He asked in a small voice, and it took Gi-hun all his self-control not to be catty.

“Can you untie me? I need to use the bathroom.”

In-ho gave him a tight-lipped smile before quietly complying to his request. Once he was finally free, Gi-hun let out a relieved sigh, as he massaged his sore wrists.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make the knot so tight,” In-ho said, his head low, eyes looking up at him like the ones of a lost puppy.

“You know what they say. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

It wasn’t just a worn-out cliché. Gi-hun spoke it with such sorrow, because he knew what he was talking about. In-ho had his fair share of mistakes born from good intentions as well. The hard truth was that in the end, it was the result that mattered. And In-ho wasn’t satisfied with his results in his relationship with Gi-hun so far. As he waited for him to come out of the bathroom, In-ho sat on the bed and pondered on what he could do to show him his love.

When Gi-hun came back, he wasn’t peeved or annoyed about finding In-ho sitting on his bed. He was surprised and somewhat afraid, two feelings that had him frozen in place. For a long moment, the two just stood there, looking in each other’s eyes.

The solemn silence was only interrupted by the rumbling of Gi-hun’s stomach, and it was then that both of them realized the man hadn’t had a single bite all day.

This was the perfect chance In-ho was looking for; what greater demonstration of love was there than making sure somebody was well-fed?

“Are you hungry? Do you want me to make something for you?”

“I can prepare food on my own.”

Gi-hun’s answer felt like a bucket of iced water had just been dumped on In-ho’s head. As he slowly left the room, In-ho was left there, sitting alone on that king-sized bed, with the weight of failure preventing him from getting up. Discarded on the floor, at the feet of the bed, lied Gi-hun’s pajamas. In-ho picked it up, hugging the fabric tight to his chest, slowly inhaling the lingering scent of the man’s skin.

*

In-ho was lying awake in his bed that night. Gi-hun had cooked alone, eaten alone, and spent all day pent-up in his bedroom. He knew the day they would cook, eat and do everything together was far away, but In-ho was beginning to feel impatient.. He didn't just want Gi-hun in his house; he wanted him at his table, at his side, and in his bed.

He heard the door creaking open and for a brief moment, he believed whatever god was up there had listened to his wishes. But logic soon swept his hopes away. Gi-hun never came to him voluntarily, never asked him for anything unless he absolutely had to. In-ho started wondering if something had happened.

“Gi-hun? Is something the matter?”

The only light in the room came from the corridor, casting a faint glow that barely outlined his silhouette. In-ho couldn't see his eyes, which made his figure appear almost threatening. He wouldn't have been surprised if Gi-hun had crept in with the intent to kill him.

He stood there, unmoving, taking in deep breaths, almost as if he was trying to give himself courage. It seemed that being discovered didn’t falter his resolve, so if he intended to kill him, he wasn’t counting on taking him by surprise.

It’s what Gi-hun did next that caught In-ho completely by surprise. So much so, he had to turn on his bedside lamp, to make sure he was seeing it right. Gi-hun was unbuttoning his pajama shirt, his eyes shut closed, almost as if he was in pain. Once his shirt was off and on the floor, he undid his pants too. His breath hitched as he let the pants of his pajamas fall to the ground, then he stepped out of them.

“This is what you want, isn’t it? This is what you’re after.”

In-ho was so stunned he couldn’t utter a single word. His lips slightly parted, he started reeling as Gi-hun walked over to him and went to sit in his lap, a giddy smile appearing on his face. Gi-hun took In-ho’s hands, guiding them to his hips, setting his whole body ablaze. In-ho could already feel himself growing.

Gi-hun’s movements were mindful, hesitation was present exclusively in his eyes. It was like his muscles were moving on memory.

It was then that an awful thought struck him; it wasn’t the first time he had done this. Of course, In-ho wasn’t expecting Gi-hun to be some virgin, he knew his history well. And even if he hadn’t known about his ex-wife, given his looks and his age, it wasn’t a shock that he was experienced. In-ho had just hoped he could have been the first man to ever lie with him. He didn’t care about his ex-wife, but he thought of another man touching Gi-hun filled him with anger. A feeling he quickly shoved aside to concentrate on the man in his lap. His skin was warm, but not worringly so; his fever had finally come down. His breath smelled of mint, and he smelled of pinewood, his skin soft to the touch. He must have used the lotion that In-ho had left in his bathroom. The tips of his hair were damp, as if he had just taken a shower and his hair wasn’t completely dried yet. Gi-hun had prepared for this, it wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision.

He was trying so hard to hide it, but In-ho could see the fear in his eyes.

“Let’s make a deal. I’ll give you my body tonight, you can do whatever you want to me. And in exchange, in the morning, you’ll let me go. Deal?”

In-ho put his fingers through his hair, pulling just enough to make Gi-hun’s head recline, granting him full access to his bare neck. In-ho bit his lower lip in anticipation, before leaving a soft kiss on his jaw, slowly working his way down his neck.

His kisses were sluggish, dragged out for as long as he could. He was like a hungry animal who didn’t want to wolf down his prey in one bite. He wanted to savour every bite, every inch of his flesh.

Gi-hun gulped, trying not to make it too obvious, but his ragged breathing gave away his fear. As much as he was willing to pay any price for his freedom, he was only now realizing he had thrown himself into the hands of a starving lion.

One who was so hopelessly obsessed with him.

Gi-hun just hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much. And he wasn’t thinking only about physical pain, he could endure that well. But how was his mind going to take it? This was the man who oversaw a deadly game that sent hundreds of people to their deaths every year. Who knew what kind of kinks In-ho was into? Given his twisted mind, he couldn’t exclude anything. And he had just given this man permission to do whatever he wanted to his body.

He grimaced as In-ho pulled on his hair again, this time to bring his mouth closer to his own, smashing their lips together. But his kisses were far more gentle than he had ever imagined. It was like In-ho was holding himself back, like he wasn’t using his full force. His kisses were dragged out, long and full of need, only taking small pauses between one and the other.

“Gi-hun…! Ah, Gi-hun…!” He said his name between kisses, Gi-hun could barely catch his breath. When In-ho finally pulled away, Gi-hun had his eyes closed shut.

In-ho took his face into his hands, forcing him to look at him. Gi-hun wanted to keep his eyes closed, but afraid the other man might have taken it as an offence, he opened them, to be greeted with In-ho’s misty eyes and a smile that looked almost… endeared?

“Oh, Gi-hun. Oh, Gi-hun…!” In-ho’s thumbs were gently caressing his cheeks, his eyes filled with something Gi-hun might have even called love, if he didn’t know any better.

“Of all the plans you ever came up with, this is by far the stupidest one.”

“… what?”

But he had kissed him. He had touched him. He hadn’t pushed him away when he sat on his lap. Could he have had it all wrong?

“You really think that after getting a taste of you, I’d let you go? That would only make me wanna keep you tighter in my grasp.”

From cupping his face, In-ho’s hands moved to his arms, holding him in a clutch that a panicked Gi-hun tried fruitlessly to free himself from.

“Wait… wait…!”

“You were right, Gi-hun. You’re not a horse, and your body is not a bargaining chip.”

Before he could even ask him to let him go, In-ho pushed him on the bed, their roles now reversed, with In-ho on top, trapping him between his body and the mattress.

“You think this is what I want, Gi-hun? You think I want to fuck you while you grit your teeth and hold back your tears, praying it for it to be over soon?”

Gi-hun’s breath hitched as In-ho lowered his head, his lips now so close to his ear he could feel his warm breath on it. “No. I want you to scream my name,” he whispered. “I want you to writhe in pleasure, crying as you beg me to keep going. I want you to want it as much as I do.”

He pulled away to look into his eyes as he asked him, “Do you understand?”

Gi-hun took in a shaky breath. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, “And what if I never want it?”

The smile slowly vanished from In-ho’s lips. He exhaled slowly as he caressed his cheek with a sad smile. Closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead against Gi-hun’s and kept caressing his face.

“Go back to sleep, Gi-hun,” he said as he pulled the blanket over his body and got up from the bed, leaving Gi-hun confused and unable to move a muscle.

Wanting to spare him the humiliation of picking up his clothes and walking away almost naked, In-ho left him in his bed as he walked out of his own room.

It was only when In-ho closed the door that Gi-hun let go of the breath he was holding. In-ho might have left, but the sheets still smelled of him. His skin was still marked with his kisses. He could still feel his hands on his skin, where his touch had lingered. In-ho was everywhere.

Gi-hun hated it. He hated that Hanok, he hated that room, he hated that man, he hated that he didn’t really hate his touch. And he hated himself for it.

Unable to move, unable to speak, he remained enveloped in the blanket, sobbing himself to sleep.

*

In-ho walked the corridors, his tears on the brink of falling. There were many rooms he could have slept in, but his feet brought him to Gi-hun’s bedroom. The bed was empty, ready to welcome him. He wanted to shut his eyes and fall into oblivion, but as soon as he lied his head on the pillow and took a deep breath, his nostrils were pervaded by the scent of Gi-hun’s skin. It was like having him in his arms again. He hugged the pillow tightly as he cried.

Chapter Text

In-ho was the first one to wake the following morning. The pillow drowned in his salty tears; it had now completely lost Gi-hun’s scent.

He started stirring, slowly getting out of bed. His body was sore; he had reached an age when he couldn’t get away with a few hours of sleep anymore, but he couldn’t afford to go back to bed either. The day ahead was a full one. After showering, shaving, and putting on the first dignified outfit he could find—a pair of dark jeans and a black, round-neck sweater—he made himself a black coffee, which he drank in a hurry. He usually liked to sit in front of his wall window, watching nature while he drank his coffee slowly, but his room was occupied now by his sleeping guest.

Speaking of, he was the last matter In-ho needed to settle before going out.

When he reached the room, he opened the door slowly, so that if Gi-hun had prepared another sneak attack, he could countermove in time.

But the man was sleeping. In-ho stood there, leaning against the doorframe, admiring that sweet sight.

Gi-hun’s cheeks were still salty from the tears he had shed, but a veil of serenity had fallen on his sleeping face; at least in dreams, at least this once, he seemed to have found a peace he hadn’t found on earth in a long time. His hand was lying on the pillow, mere inches from his face, his fingers long and slender like those of a pianist. His hands were so much different from In-ho’s veiny and rough ones, whose palms were wide and fingers thick. In-ho had many times before brushed his fingers with those elegant and slender ones, back when Gi-hun still didn’t hate him. Back when he didn’t know how much blood In-ho’s hands were bathed in. Back when Jung-bae’s blood still flowed in the man’s veins and hadn’t stained In-ho’s hands yet.

He longed to feel that thrill again. That casual touch, one that Gi-hun wouldn’t scoot away from. In-ho sat on the bed, wanting to admire his favored person for a little longer before heading out. He caught Gi-hun muttering in his sleep, with a small smile on his dried lips.

“Ga-yeong…”

In-ho’s eyes welled up, as the corners of his mouth curled up in a soft, sad smile. He could have brought him to his daughter, he could have granted his every wish, if only Gi-hun had let him. But he had no other choice, he had to keep him where he could control him. He couldn’t let him out, not until Gi-hun understood they belonged together.

As he caressed his face, In-ho noticed something that made his heart sink; Gi-hun was warm. Too warm.

“Not again…”

He went to grab the infrared thermometer, and when he saw the number on the display, In-ho closed his eyes as he let out a long sigh.

His fever was back up.

Yesterday, when Gi-hun's fever seemed to be a thing of the past, In-ho had almost considered not taking the doctor to their home. He had breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he wouldn't have to have an intruder in their idyll, tainting their paradise. But it seemed he had been too hopeful.

Maybe Gi-hun’s hopefulness was starting to rub off on him. The thought made him smile.

The sleeping man was starting to stir, waking In-ho from his thoughts. He needed to act quickly; if he had to leave him alone to go fetch the doctor, he had no other choice but to tie him up again. Luckily, Gi-hun had simply stirred, but didn’t look like he would wake up yet. He snuggled up on the pillow, making himself more comfortable.

In-ho tied one end of the handcuffs around Gi-hun’s slender wrist, careful not to wake him. The other end was tied to the headboard. The chain was long enough to allow him complete freedom inside the room and the attached bathroom, but leaving that bedroom was out of the question. Unless he was willing to take the whole bed with him.

Wanting to be extra careful, on his way out, In-ho closed the door as softly as he could, turning the key in the lock as slowly as possible.

But the sound of clicking metal was enough to wake Gi-hun from his sleep. It took only a few instants for his mind to register what had happened; he bolted out of bed, his hands reaching for the doorknob, and when he was finally holding it, it wouldn’t budge. He was trapped again. A cage within a cage.

“In-ho!” He banged on the door. “In-ho, please! Let me out!”

In-ho gritted his teeth as he kept walking down the stairs, doing his best to ignore the man’s pleas.

“In-ho…!”

Gi-hun felt the energies slowly abandoning him, and with them, whatever was left of his hope.

*

In-ho hated driving into Seoul. Logically, he knew that in a city of almost ten million of people, it was easy to blend in and go unnoticed. But even with his light brown wig and his fake glasses, he felt observed. As if anyone could recognize him at any given moment.

He knew Jun-ho had deleted any proof that linked his identity to the Frontman, but Jun-ho wasn’t the only person who knew. There were a couple more of his managers who had survived - now serving life in prison - who knew his true identity. They might have ratted on him to try and get a lighter sentence. They hadn’t done it yet, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t in the future.

In-ho could never truly feel safe.

But he guessed that was the price to pay for getting out of his crimes scot-free, for getting a second chance at a life with the man he adored.

The doctor he was about to pick up was another prick who knew about his identity, but he needn’t worry about him, at the very least. He had nothing to lose and all to gain.

After stopping to pick the doctor up near a park, the car’s tinted windows allowed In-ho to tie the man’s hands and blindfold him right there. The road ahead was long, but he couldn’t risk anyone having the slightest clue about the location of the Hanok.

The man stayed silent for the first few minutes.

“This man I have to examine… It’s Seong Gi-hun, isn’t he? You’ve kidnapped him.”

“You’re hardly one to give morality lessons, need I remind you of your little organ trafficking ring?”

The doctor had been lucky that there were no records of him in the island’s files. After all, he was a clandestine in a clandestine game. His luck had helped him get away with it, but he was pushing it too far now.

“I’m not interested in giving anyone morality lessons. All I mean is that everyone’s looking for Seong Gi-hun right now. The police are offering a reward, and they’re being more generous than you.”

In-ho rolled his eyes. “God. If you just wanted more money, you could have said so sooner, asshole. How much do you want?”

“Double what you promised me.”

“Fine. Now knock yourself out,” In-ho said, out of patience. The car’s last reserves of sleeping gas had been used on Gi-hun, but In-ho sank a pre-filled pen in the doctor’s thigh, sending him to the dream realms.

*

Gi-hun didn’t know how long it had been since In-ho had left. He was starting to get hungry, and there was no food in that room, only a coffee machine on a small, round table near the window. Two stuffed chairs were on each side of it, facing one another. He wondered why In-ho had two chairs in there. Was he thinking of his wife when he furnished this room?

He guessed one coffee with a lot of sugar couldn’t hurt. Now that he was looking at it more closely, the machine looked even fancier and expensive. Nothing Gi-hun had ever seen before. In-ho had no qualms when it came to treating himself with his blood money, but then again, why was he even surprised?

After wasting a couple of capsules, Gi-hun finally understood how it worked, and soon a cup of warm, sweet coffee was in his hands.

The view was breathtaking, but Gi-hun found himself sightseeing the inside of the room instead: two of the four walls were windows, with dark green velvet curtains which were now drawn back. The other two walls were so thickly covered in art and portraits, it was impossible to tell what color they hid underneath. A bookshelf made out of dark wood was filled almost entirely, the empty spaces between each volume filled with small sculptures. The bed Gi-hun had slept in had black silk sheets, the opposite color of the bedset in his room. He wondered if that was a coincidence. The pavement, made of a lighter colored wood, was adorned with woven carpets that looked Turkish, or Arabic, Gi-hun couldn’t tell.

All in all, that room was bustling with personality. They said that a person’s room tells a lot about their personality, yet Gi-hun doubted anyone could tell from this room just what kind of job In-ho did for a living.

If you could even call it living.

Hours passed, and Gi-hun was almost convinced that if In-ho wasn’t going to kill him, boredom would have eventually. He observed every portrait, read the title of every book, and examined each sculpture. He briefly considered reading one, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything. He hated having nothing to do. It gave him too much time to reminisce.

In the end, he sat at the feet of the bed, hugging his knees. Memories of his friends came to mind, but tears wouldn’t come. His eyes had long dried out, drowning his need to cry in his own tears.

*

“Gi-hun?”

In-ho found him in that same position when he came back home. Sitting on the hard floor, hugging his knees, head hung low. Not looking up at him, not even acknowledging his presence, nor the doctor’s.

“Gi-hun, the doctor’s here to examine you. C’mon, get up from the floor.”

The doctor didn’t know what he was expecting to see when he agreed to this job. When the man who used to be the Frontman contacted him, he didn’t think much of it at first. Then after watching the news, he started connecting the dots. Seong Gi-hun was the man who destroyed everything the Frontman stood for, everything he had worked to build. It was only natural he wished for revenge. At first, he didn’t think much on what reasons the former Frontman might have had to want to keep him alive. Maybe he wanted to torture him for longer, maybe Seong Gi-hun had some info he wanted to exort out of him before he killed him.

But now that he was looking at these two men, he was even more confused. Because what he was seeing, wasn’t two arch-nemesis bent on destroying one another. What he was seeing, was the man who used to be a ruthless killer helping a sick man off the floor with a gentle touch. And said sick man recoiling from his touch as if his hands were made of scorching iron.

Seong Gi-hun looked far from the Hero they were depicting on the news. He looked like a broken man, done with life. And yet, the former villain of the story desperately wanted him to cling to it instead.

Gi-hun let himself be visited without complaints, sluggishly obeying the doctor when he asked him to cough or open his mouth.

In-ho wasn’t happy about that disgusting man touching Gi-hun again, but he was the safest option.

When he was asked questions on when the symptoms began though, he kept staring into nothingness, his head almost on another planet. In-ho answered for him, the best that he could.

It had all started the day they left the island, of that, the doctor was sure.

“It couldn’t have been the sleeping gas, could it?”

“I highly doubt it. That thing either does its job right or kills you. It doesn’t give you a long-lasting fever.”

“Then what does he have?”

“There’s no infection or congestion, so it must be psychosomatic. Prolonged or intense stress can cause that.”

“I wonder what’s causing that…” Gi-hun muttered, his voice barely audible. He hoped he had at least annoyed In-ho with his little squib. He couldn’t refrain from a smirk when, with the corner of his eye, he could spy the man standing in the corner like a reprimanded kid.

“Antipyretics are not going to work in this case. An anxiolytic might work better, but that needs a prescription, and you know damn well that I can’t give you one. So all you can do right now, Mr. Seong, is try to relax.”

Gi-hun looked up at the doctor with an annoyed frown, tilting his head to the side. His face looked almost comical, but the doctor didn’t feel like laughing in his face. It was clear as day that the man was being kept there against his will, but both of them knew that even though he was the only one with the power to help him, he was not going to do anything except take the money and leave like he had never been there.

In-ho would have had to buy those medicines on the black market; it wasn't a problem. But there was only so much those medicines could do if the issue wasn’t taken care of at the root.

He hated to admit it, but the solution to the problem was a lot simpler; In-ho was well aware he was the main source of Gi-hun’s stress.

*

In-ho felt like he had spent the whole day driving. He didn’t feel like driving back to Seoul, so he dumped the unconscious doctor on a random street in the first town he found. He had enough money to get where he wanted, after all.

He could finally breathe in relief when he came back home. But when he went to check on Gi-hun, the man had barely touched the food he had left him before leaving. He just stood sitting on the bed, his feet crossed at the ankles and his hands in his lap, as he stared into nothingness.

“Gi-hun, why haven’t you eaten? You need to eat to get better.”

“You heard what the doctor said. I’m dying here.”

His words felt like a stab to In-ho’s heart.

“I’m fine with that, to be honest. I did live longer than I was ever meant to, anyway,” he said, remembering the words that Shaman lady had told him in the mingle room.

“Gi-hun,” In-ho called him, almost sounding like a reproach.

The older man slowly turned his head to look at him, his eyes like an extinguished bonfire. In-ho had meant to break him once, but seeing him so despondent didn’t make him happy in the slightest. Back then, he thought he was doing him a favor, but now everything was different. He didn’t want Gi-hun to lose his hope anymore, not now that they could be free and happy.

“Look, the house is big enough for us to never meet. Your bedroom is on the opposite side of the house. There’s a gym, a library, and a dozen other rooms. I only use the gym in the morning, the rest of the time, I’ll be in the library or my study. You can easily avoid me.”

“Or you could just let me go.”

In-ho exhaled slowly from his nose. Taking the key out of his pocket, he unlocked the cuff around Gi-hun’s wrist. The man looked up at him with surprise and the faintest spark of hope behind those eyes.

He hated to snuff out that little spark again.

“This is all I can do for now. I can’t let you out of this Hanok, Gi-hun. Not yet.”

“You think uncuffing me is enough? I’m still a prisoner!”

“Gi-hun,” he started, “You’re not my prisoner. You’re my guest here. ”

The older man looked up at him with wary eyes, his mouth almost in a pout. He didn’t utter a word, but his eyes spoke for him. He still didn’t trust In-ho, but he wasn’t doing anything to antagonize him like he did back on the island, when he was keeping him chained in his chambers.

He clearly had no will to fight against him anymore. Like he was at peace with whatever destiny had in store for him. Even death.

“Get some rest. You know where to find me if you need anything,” In-ho said, ready to leave when Gi-hun spoke again.

“Can I ask you something?”

In-ho stayed on the spot, nodding to let him know he was listening. Gi-hun started scanning the room, looking around at the walls with curiosity. “Why is the room I’m staying in so plain compared to the rest of the house?”

“Because I wanted you to decorate it however you like.”

Gi-hun’s head slowly turned towards In-ho, his lips parted. His eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights. Decorate it? In-ho wanted Gi-hun to decorate that room himself? That was something extremely personal. Something you wouldn’t do to a room you were only going to stay briefly in. Giving a personal touch to a place was something that made a home your own. Gi-hun never decorated the room he was using in his motel, never made it his own, because it never was. It was bought with blood money, only to be used as a base to complete his mission. He had never intended to make it his own. Just like he never intended to make that room in In-ho’s house his own.

But In-ho’s answer begged the question;

“How long are you going to keep me here…?”

“As long as it takes.”

As long as it takes for what?

It was the question hovering between the two of them, but this time, Gi-hun didn’t dare to bring voice to it. In the back of his mind, the answer was present. But if the answer was the one he feared, then he was sure he was never going to leave that Hanok alive. Because how could he ever give In-ho what he wanted from him?

*

In-ho did the best to avoid him in the following days. However, Gihun was as stubborn as they come, and he kept stressing himself out on his own.

The house had a library, a gym, a music room, and even a home cinema. Anything anyone could ever need to relax and calm their nerves. Yet Gi-hun never even tried to enjoy those luxuries. He only ever spent his time in the living room, in front of the TV, scanning all the news channels, watching every bit of news he could find about the games. He was obsessed. He watched every interview, he even watched the shows that discussed it; he wanted to know the public opinion about all of this.

The people were angry. Billions swarmed the streets in protest, demanding a fit punishment for everyone involved in the games. It turned out, the names of the players matched the names of people who had gone missing over the years, and the families were furious. But it wasn’t just them; the people from the poorest classes were finally revolting.

“Looks like the world is going full French Revolution right now.”

In-ho commented one day, while they were watching together. Gi-hun didn't seem to be so intolerant of his presence anymore, and although In-ho didn't dare try to get too close, he enjoyed watching the news together. The older man didn't seem that interested in him anyway, he was too concentrated on his only contact with the outside world. 

Gi-hun never imagined that stopping the games would bring out all of that. But it seemed he had set in motion a domino effect that was about to cause devastating consequences, for better or for worse. Class consciousness became a trending topic worldwide. The lower classes were fed up. Many were attacking places they considered symbols of wealth and excessive luxury, like the Vittorio Emanuele II gallery in Milan. The ultra-wealthy people were being attacked too, and some were even killed. Gi-hun suspected the number was only going to grow in the future.

The VIP wearing the lion mask, who was out on bail while awaiting trial, was shot dead by a kid in Manhattan. It wasn’t the first, nor the last incident of sort. Corrupt politicians were being hanged by their feet in public plazas. As much as Gi-hun understood the rage of the people, those images were disturbing to see. It was like he never left the games, but was now a silent witness in the comfort of a warm home instead of actively participating.

It sent a chill down his spine when he realized he was finding himself in almost the same position the VIPs had been once. The only difference was that he did not enjoy it.

Gi-hun didn’t know how he felt about igniting that revolution. He thought class consciousness was important, and he did support class struggle, but he had re-entered the game to stop people from dying. And yet, out there, people kept dying. Not that he felt sorry for that VIP, that disgusting man was beyond nasty, but he would have much preferred seeing him rot behind bars for the rest of his life.

“See how easily the world falls into chaos?” In-ho said, when Gi-hun was watching a reportage of the revolts. Images of destroyed luxury shops and designer clothes being set on fire passed one after another. Images of villas of celebrities in Hollywood being raided, of crowds lynching corrupt politicians in the streets. “This is why we need rules. This is why we had the games.”

“Maybe what we need is for rich people to stop exploiting the poor, In-ho.”

“Have you ever heard about Freud’s work, Civilization and Its Discontents?”

“Can’t say I have, no.” Literature wasn’t really his forte. Mechanics was his field of expertise. In-ho knew that well. Gi-hun was bracing himself, because he knew it was just a rhetorical question, about to be followed by a lecture.

“Well, I read it a long time ago, but the gist of it is that society has rules, means of control that often kill our desires and wishes, thus creating discontents, but are necessary for order and the collective good. One of these means of control is money. Money leads to freedom. But too much freedom to act upon our desires is not a good thing. Imagine what would happen if everyone had the freedom the VIPs had. If everyone were free to act upon their perceptions like them. The world would go up in flames.”

“Not everyone is as perverted as the VIPs.”

“Everyone can get corrupted with too much freedom.”

“This is where you’re wrong, In-ho. This is where you’ve always been wrong. You see, I’ve heard somewhere that money doesn’t change people. It reveals them for what they are.”

Gi-hun was right to an extent. Money did reveal people for what they were. In the games, people would kill each other for money, revealing their nature as selfish animals. Their own freedom, their own greed, was more important than human life. And this went for everyone, except for Gi-hun. Poor, old naive Gi-hun, who just couldn’t see he was the exception to the rule. Who was the only one willing to give up 45.6 billion won just to save the life of his friend, just to save the life of a girl he had met a week before. This was exactly what made In-ho set his eyes on him. He was different from the rest of the trash that had been eliminated from the games. He was special, he just couldn’t see that.

“There’s no point in carrying this conversation further. Let’s just agree to disagree.”

Gi-hun raised both his eyebrows in shock.

“Hard to believe you would agree to that, given the lengths you were willing to go to prove a point.”

They fell back into silence, the audio from the TV the only sound echoing in the living room. In-ho poured himself a drink. As always, he offered Gi-hun some, but he declined.

Swirling his whiskey, In-ho kept thinking of the last thing Gi-hun had said. “If money reveals people for what they are… what are we, then? You and me?”

Gi-hun stared at him blankly, like he wasn’t expecting that question. Then he looked up and sighed, thinking about it for a couple of seconds. “I’m a good-for-nothing deadbeat who wanted to make himself useful for once in his life… and succeeded out of pure luck. And you… you’re a control freak.”

In-ho let out a small chuckle. “Fair enough.”

Chapter Text

“No, Mom. I haven’t heard from In-ho yet,” Jun-ho said as he walked to his car. “But I’m sure he’ll get in contact with us soon. He promised me.”

Jun-ho knew it had only been a week since everything went down. In-ho must have still been adjusting to his new life, it wasn’t surprising that he still hadn’t gotten in contact with him. Jun-ho didn’t know if he was safe, he didn’t know if he had gotten away from the island in one piece and had settled down. He was resourceful for sure, but until he heard his voice again, the fear that something could have happened to his big brother wouldn't leave him.

He had to tell his mother so many lies to cover up for him. But she had been so happy to know In-ho had gotten in contact with Jun-ho, as brief as that had been. She would have been heartbroken had she known the real circumstances, but the burden of those lies was Jun-ho’s alone to bear.

“Yes, I’m coming back home now. See you later, love you.”

As he got into his car, he took a long sigh. Now that the island matter was taken care of, he and his squad were concentrating on finding Seong Gi-hun. Jun-ho owed this to him; he had helped him find the island, he had helped him find his brother. And in return, Jun-ho had lied to him. He needed to tell him he was sorry.

But the more the search went on, the more Jun-ho was feeling discouraged. He had spent days in and out of prison, interviewing the former guards who had been arrested. He talked to those who had been assigned to watch over Gi-hun and bring him food after his failed rebellion. Apparently, In-ho was keeping him imprisoned in his lodging, and then had forced him to watch the games on request of the VIPs. When Kim Jun-hee was giving birth, those same guards were tasked with knocking Gi-hun out and taking him away from the island.

Just as In-ho had told him.

Under the promise of a shorter sentence, the guards told him more; they were ordered to drive the car with the knocked-out Seong Gi-hun into the forest, and to leave him there, unharmed. Unconscious, but unharmed.

That was everything they knew.

But if Gi-hun was left in that forest alive, then where was he? The police had searched that area, yet of the man, there was no single trace. It was like he had vanished, lost in the woods like the characters in those old cautionary tales they were told as children.

His brother hadn’t lied. The two former guards hadn’t, either. They had no reason to. Then where was Seong Gi-hun?

The most logical explanation was that he had woken up, and had driven away in the car. If the vehicles used for the games didn’t have false license plates, they might have tracked him down by now.

The guards made it very clear Gi-hun had all his personal belongings on him when they left the island, including his phone. But if it was so, why didn’t he call them? He had only known Gi-hun for two months, but he knew he would have let them know if he was alright.

Jun-ho had reached the only logical conclusion: something must have happened to him on the way home. Maybe someone had hurt him, or maybe his car fell into a ditch. He mustn’t have been in the best shape when he started driving, anything could have happened… The police were searching, but it could have taken months to find anything. The area was vast, and the places where a car might have gotten lost were many. Ditches, rivers… it sent a shiver down Jun-ho’s spine.

The more time passed, the more Jun-ho was sure Gi-hun was dead.

Sweet Kim Jun-hee called him every day to ask if there was any news about him. She couldn’t wait for Gi-hun to meet her baby daughter, Min-yeong. It was a wish she dearly clung onto, a hope she didn’t want to let go of.

It was hard for Jun-ho to look her in the eyes and reassure her, when he didn’t believe his own words.

And yet there was something that made him feel even worse.

Jun-hee kept asking him about Young-il. For those who had known him with that name, he was just as much of a missing person as Gi-hun was. Jun-ho didn’t have the heart to lie to her anymore.

But he could never tell the truth either.

*

In-ho was worried about Gi-hun. Keeping up with the news was okay, but it was the only thing filling Gi-hun’s days. He rarely moved from that tv, sometimes he even fell asleep in front of it. Although his fever had finally gone away, it couldn’t be good for his mental health to think about the games twenty-four seven.

A boy named Min-su was being interviewed on TV. It took In-ho a bit of memory effort to remember who he was: he had the number 125, and was part of the group of that Thanos guy. He was a grown twenty-seven-year-old man, yet he still looked and acted like a kid. He always hid behind others, being protected and never fighting back. In-ho was amazed he managed to survive during light out, and wasn’t surprised when he said in the interview that he only made it because he hid well.

Min-su was telling the interviewer about how he wasn’t able to save the girl he liked, Se-mi, because he had been too scared to step in when she was being attacked. He recounted hearing her screams, trying to block out the sound by covering his ears. Pitiful little thing he was, truly. In-ho felt like he was witnessing a therapy session, rather than listening to an interview. He almost felt like an intruder.

He was about to walk out of the room when he noticed Gi-hun was crying. Was he blaming himself again? Or was he just empathizing with Min-su’s pain? In-ho couldn’t guess; the only thing he knew for sure was that Gi-hun was such a pretty crier.

When he cried, his lips and cheeks turned into such a lovely shade of red. His misty eyes looked innocent and rounder than usual. The light behind those eyes was more mysterious than the light of the moon.

It was rare for somene to look cute while crying. Seong Gi-hun had been given that rare feature by whom In-ho was sure was no other than the Goddess Aphrodite herself.

But just because he looked so pretty, that didn’t mean In-ho wanted to see him cry. He snatched the remote out of Gi-hun’s hand and turned the TV off. “That’s enough.”

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

In-ho sat on the floor right in front of him, his eyes fixated on Gi-hun’s teary ones. His stare was so intense, it stunned Gi-hun into silence. Now that he knew he had his attention, he started talking, “Gi-hun, stop. You’ve stopped the games, everything’s over. Now you can move on with your life, find something you like doing. Watch a fun movie, read a book for fuck’s sake. Take your mind off this damn matter.”

Gi-hun scoffed, never breaking eye contact with him. “Do you think it’s easy, In-ho? Do you think I can just go back to a normal life after this? I still have one foot on that island. I always will.”

“You’re not on that island anymore, Gi-hun. You’re free.”

“I’m not free, In-ho. I’m not like you.”

In-ho didn’t like his tone. Didn’t like the implications behind his words. “What do you mean by that?”

“For you, it was all just a job. You came back to your place at the end of the day, you drink your whisky, and then you go to sleep like a baby.”

In-ho clicked his tongue, his eyes narrowing, his tone becoming somewhat bitter. “You think it was that easy for me? You think I’m that ruthless?”

“I think your actions speak for themselves, In-ho.”

In-ho exhaled slowly, diverting his eyes for the first time since the conversation started. He didn’t have much to say to that. But he never enjoyed what he was doing, it was just a way to keep going forward. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but Gi-hun's words preceded his own.

“When I close my eyes, all I see are blood and tears. All I hear are screams…!”

In-ho’s eyes widened. Gi-hun looked exactly how he had looked back in the games, when other players got eliminated or murdered right in front of him. Lips quivered, jaw clenched, his eyes screaming.

In all ways but physical, Gi-hun was back on that island.

Seeing him like that felt like an iron claw tightening around his heart. In-ho put a hand on his shoulder to shake him out of that trance.

Gi-hun looked up at him. He didn’t look any better, but at least it looked like he was back with him. His breath still trembled, his eyes still scared, but he was in the present.

“C’mon, breathe… inhale deeply…” In-ho instructed him, running his hands up and down the man’s arms in a soothing manner. Gi-hun followed his instructions, the deep breathing exercise releasing oxytocin in his body, helping his muscles relax.

“I can’t forget it… I can’t forget any of it…”

“That’s exactly why you need some distraction! Start a hobby, it helps a lot.”

Gi-hun eyed him warily, then after a few seconds, his eyes softened.

“Did it help you?”

“Yes, it did.” In-ho smiled. It looked like he was finally succeeding in making him warm up to him. Or so he hoped. “Art helped me a lot.”

“Art?” Gi-hun seemed genuinely curious.

“Yeah. Designing, furnishing, and decorating this house was one of my pastimes. It was like my blank canvas. I also paint, sometimes.”

Gi-hun remained silent for a brief moment.

“Are you any good at it?”

“The point of art is not being good. The point of art is putting your soul into something. Letting all your feelings out. It’s therapeutic.”

“Well, I don’t understand much about art.”

“You don’t have to understand it. You have to feel it.”

For a moment, they stared into each other’s eyes without saying a word. Gi-hun’s eyes didn’t seem so hostile anymore. Wary, like someone who was scared to get hurt again. But there was also longing in those eyes, longing to learn how to trust again. Longing to regain some sort of normalcy, of everyday life.

“Can you show it to me?”

In-ho blinked, the request almost stunning him into silence. Then a small smile spread on his lips. “You want to see them? My paintings?”

“Yeah. I don’t have much else to do anyway.”

In-ho led him to a room that was the most well-lit of the house, but also the messiest. Gi-hun would have never believed In-ho had something like that in his house; paints, pencils, and papers were scattered everywhere, some neatly collected in pen holders, but others left almost abandoned. Canvases were left to dry near the windows, others were hung on the walls. The tables, the shelves, and the floor were all stained with paint, it didn’t seem like In-ho had ever even tried to wash it off.

“ This room looks pretty lived. I thought you had never lived in this house before.”

“Not stably. I only ever came here to let off steam.”

If that was true, that meant this house couldn’t be too far from Seoul. That thought gave Gi-hun a weird kind of comfort. Seoul hadn’t always been the kindest to him, but it was everything he had ever known. It was, and it was always going to be, his home.

And that’s how he felt when he watched one of In-ho’s paintings that depicted the Seoul Tower.

He felt at home.

He hadn’t expected In-ho’s paintings to be like that at all. He had imagined some gruesome depictions of blood and murder, red splattered across the canvas. Maybe portraits of Jun-ho or his late wife. But he wasn’t expecting most of In-ho’s paintings to be abstracts. Paint splattered on the canvas, but it didn’t look like blood. Nor was it red. Some of them were very colorful, and every stroke or splash of color looked like it had a purpose. Like it was placed there with reason.

“What do you think?”

“They’re… peculiar.” He pointed to a painting in various shades of gray, with black ink splattered from top to bottom. “This one reminds me of a rainy day. Which is weird because it has noting that looks like rain.”

In-ho was beaming behind Gi-hun. “See? You do understand art. It’s supposed to make you feel something.”

“This one makes me feel weird.” He said, pointing to a portrait of a deformed creature with one eye that was oddly shaped.

“Yeah… I wasn’t having a great day.” He remembered painting it after the 2018 edition of the games. His manager had pissed him off so bad, he painted the creature in his likeness, his eye representing the square shape on his mask. “Anyways, I keep the blank canvas in this closet. If you ever want to try it out too, everything in this room also belongs to you.”

Gi-hun looked at him wide-eyed, lips parted in surprise. “In-ho… why?” It was the only word he could get out. In-ho looked at him, reasonably puzzled.

“Why are you doing all of this?” He tried again.

“What do you mean?”

There was no question in his mind anymore that In-ho cared about him. Gi-hun knew he was sincere, that he wasn’t trying to trick or manipulate him anymore. What he didn’t understand was why. When did In-ho start caring about him? Did it happen during the games? His little plan to destroy him had perhaps backfired, and now it was hurting them both in a way neither of them could have imagined.

Or did it happen after, in those days he kept him imprisoned? Gi-hun couldn’t understand what he could have possibly done to have this man so crazily head over heels for him.

“Why did you bring that doctor to cure me? Why are you letting me use this house like it’s my own? Why do you care about me?”

Gi-hun’s bloodshot eyes reflected his own. He knew he was still wary of him. He knew he was scared of his love. And yet, In-ho could see it in his eyes that he wanted so much to accept it, Gi-hun needed nothing else but to be taken care of.

He just didn’t want it from In-ho. And that knowledge shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“Gi-hun… maybe you don’t realize it, but you’ve freed me too.”

The older man looked at him in wary puzzlement. His eyes demanded answers.

“One does not simply start working for the games. If you get too close, they suck you in like a maelstrom. If you hadn’t set Jun-ho and your men after the island, you would have ended up working for them too. You would have ended up working with me.”

Gi-hun let out a small chuckle.

“And where do I look like I am right now? Stuck here with you. You’re a maelstrom of your own.”

“Perhaps you’re right…”

Maelstrom. That word defined him well. After all, he did nothing but hurt the people he loved. He tried keeping Jun-ho away to protect him, but all he did was suck him right into the games. He had done the very same thing to Gi-hun. He tried pushing him away to America, but all he did was sucking him right back into the games. He had hurt him, was hurting him, and would have kept hurting him.

But he didn’t know how to stop. He needed Gi-hun, and he would have him even if it hurt him.

“So you’re grateful because I set you free? Is that why you care? Or do you feel guilty?”

In-ho couldn’t say. Maybe it was a bit of both. But the main reason was the one he couldn’t speak, the one he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud. He tried, though. He really tried, because he wanted Gi-hun to know how he felt.

But the words remained stuck in his throat.

*

As he was lying in his silky sheets at night, Gi-hun couldn’t close his eyes. The room was quiet and warm, the perfect environment to fall asleep. But his thoughts were too loud.

He thought of Hyun-ju, of Dae-ho, of Geum-ja, and Yong-sik. Of Jun-hee and her baby, wondering how they were all doing. He also thought of the ones who didn’t make it. Of Se-mi, of Young-mi, of Jung-bae.

Jung-bae…

He wondered what his best friend would think if he knew he was sleeping in the house of his killer, eating his food, wearing his clothes, admiring his paintings, getting his comfort… guilt gnawed at him like a lion devoured its prey.

Gi-hun wanted to leave. He wanted to leave more than anything. But his body was the weakest it had ever been, and trying to fight In-ho in that state would equal suicide. He needed to act clear-headed and think of a plan, because if he stayed there any longer, he was sure he was going to go insane.

In-ho was being so kind to him. This man had lied to him, manipulated him, made him go through hell, and caused the death of so many of his friends. Yet he treated him like he was the most precious person in the world, and it was making Gi-hun go absolutely insane. It made no sense, it had to be another one of his manipulation tactics, but what exactly was his goal this time?

What on earth did he want from him? As much as he thought about it, Gi-hun couldn’t figure it out. It was the uncertainty that scared him, but there was something that scared him a whole lot more.

He was starting to see In-ho as a human, instead of the monster who caused so much suffering. He was starting to see his fragilities and his beauty. And it terrified him to the core.

*

Gi-hun had long fallen asleep when In-ho went inside his studio. He couldn’t sleep that night. The man he loved was shriveling up, becoming a ghost of who he once used to be.

In-ho opened the first drawer of his desk, which was usually locked with a key. Gi-hun’s phone, wallet, and other personal belongings were in there. Gi-hun’s whole freedom was in his hands. The keys to the front door, the keys to the car, his belongings… all he had to do was give them to him, and he would have been free.

He would have gone far away from him.

The thought filled his eyes with tears. He didn’t want Gi-hun to be away from him. But his very presence was making him sick.

Gi-hun was so hopeless, so lost and lifeless. What was the point of keeping the man he loved close to him if his very presence was destroying everything he loved about him?

In-ho went through the man’s phone; messages and calls kept piling up in his inbox. Most numbers were unknown, but scrolling through the texts, it was easy to tell who they belonged to. Jun-hee, Dae-ho… they were all trying to contact him.

The annoyance he felt at that was illogical, he knew it was. Yet he couldn’t help wanting Gi-hun only for himself.

Every time he went through Gi-hun’s phone, he always ended up staring at one number in particular.

Jun-ho’s.

Unlike the others, his calls and messages had stopped after a few days. It was like he had given up on getting in contact with Gi-hun. His little brother wasn’t like the others, he knew that if Gi-hun hadn’t answered their calls, it meant he couldn’t answer. There was no point in persisting with a failing strategy.

Jun-hee and the others weren’t like that. They clung to hope, even if it didn’t bring results.

In-ho had promised his brother he’d at least try to keep in touch. And nothing was stopping him from calling, except his own fear.

His hands trembled as he copied the number from Gi-hun’s phone to his own. He had to call him. He promised him he would. It was late, too late in the night to call, but he couldn’t keep Jun-ho waiting any longer.

“Hello...?” His voice was still half asleep, wondering who could be calling at that indecent hour of the night.

“Jun-ho…?”

“Brother…!” Any trace of sleepiness was washed off from his voice. Jun-ho was awake and jubilant, like a kid whose big brother had finally come home from war. “In-ho, is that really you?”

“It’s me, Jun-ho.”

“Oh my…! Are you okay? Did you manage to find somewhere to stay? Are you abroad?”

“I’m okay, Jun-ho. I’m still in South Korea. Thanks to you, I don’t have to hide anymore.”

“Yet you’re still hiding. Why don’t you come here to Mom? I had to tell her so many lies to justify your absence all these years.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry.”

“Brother, please come home. It’ll make her very happy.”

“I can’t. Not yet. I still need time, Jun-ho. Just a little longer.”

“In-ho, are you sure you’re okay? Please, stop isolating yourself. It’s not good for you.”

He wasn’t okay. How could he lie and tell his brother he was okay? Jun-ho had pardoned him, helped him build a new life, and how had he repaid that opportunity? By committing crimes again. Yet he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t, and didn’t want to. No matter how awful he felt about it.

“No… I’m not okay. I don’t deserve to be.”

“Have you considered going to therapy?”

In-ho snorted.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, Jun-ho. Let’s tell the therapist how guilty I feel about having organized the death games for years.”

Let’s also tell the therapist how guilty I feel about hurting the man I love. Who, by the way, I’ve kidnapped and I’m keeping by my side against his will. Oh, did I mention I shot his best friend and caused the death of his other friends?

“Sorry… but you have a lot of money. Can’t you find a therapist who will stay silent?”

That would have been one person more he had to bribe to keep quiet. Finding people he could trust was hard, and frankly exhausting. He didn’t wanna do that anymore.

“Easier said than done.”

“Brother… there’s one thing I need to ask you. Do you know what happened to Seong Gi-hun?”

In-ho’s heart skipped a beat at the question. His heart was in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. But he couldn’t falter. He needed to keep up the act.

“I already told you I let him go.”

“I don’t doubt what you told me, but we can’t find him. I found the two guards who took him off the island, I need to confront your version with theirs to see if they’re telling the truth. What did you order them, exactly?”

“I told them to find somewhere isolated around Seoul, and to leave him there with the car. I thought he’d need one to get back home.”

In-ho didn’t lie to him. He just omitted part of the truth. He felt awful in doing so, but he couldn’t let anyone know where Gi-hun was.

“Are you sure the guards followed your order? Could they have done something to him? He got a lot of their colleagues killed after all.”

In-ho couldn’t help but chuckle at his naivete. “The guards are not friends. Believe me, they’re not moved by vengeance. And they wouldn’t follow only half of an order. If I told them to leave him around Seoul, they left him around Seoul.”

“Then what happened to him? Why can’t we find him?”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found. Maybe he wants to be alone.”

“Do you think… he might have hurt himself?”

“Surviving the death games twice only to die by his own hand? I’d like to believe a better ending was written for the unsung hero.”

“Brother, I really need to get some sleep now. But you have to promise me you’ll call me again in the morning so Mom can talk with you too.”

“I’ll try.”

In-ho wanted to call, but he couldn’t make any promises. He didn’t want to call during the day, when Gi-hun was awake. It just seemed cruel to talk to Jun-ho in front of him when Gi-hun couldn’t talk to his daughter, since In-ho had hidden his phone. He knew he was being extremely selfish and cruel, but he didn’t trust Gi-hun to make phone calls yet.

“What ending do you want to write for the unsung hero, then?”

In-ho bolted on his feet.

“Gi-hun…?!”

The man was standing there, arms crossed, leaning against the door. How long had he been listening for?

In-ho walked up to him, scared and ashamed. Gi-hun didn’t look completely awake yet, like something had disturbed his sleep. When he got closer, he knew the matter was something else.

His breath smelled of alcohol.

In-ho usually kept his liquor cabinet locked, but it looked like Gi-hun had found the secret stash of whiskey that he kept in his bedroom. What was he even doing in there?

His eyes were heavy-lidded and hazy, looking at In-ho, but at the same time, they weren’t looking at him at all.

Gi-hun wasn’t drunk, but he wasn’t completely in himself either.

“I wish you hadn’t killed him,” He said, voice heavy with sadness and nostalgia. Like he was grieving something that could have been.

“I…” In-ho wanted to apologize again, but his throat felt like a noose was being tightened around it. Gi-hun had drunk, thinking of Jung-bae. It was Jung-bae with whom he wanted to drink. And In-ho had taken that away from him.

“I’m…! I’m so sorry, I-”

He was interrupted by Gi-hun’s hand, which, to his surprise, was now gently caressing his cheek. His eyes were soft, and his smile was melancholic and doleful.

“Young-il.”

“…what?

“I wish you hadn’t killed Young-il.”

After softly speaking those words, he gently walked away, as if he hadn’t just crushed In-ho’s soul. As if he hadn’t released a storm of salty rain in his eyes.

Chapter Text

Things were quiet the following morning, as they usually were. Gi-hun never paid much attention to him, unless In-ho spoke to him. He was always the first to initiate their talks.

The only sound was coming from the news on the TV, which Gi-hun was watching while sipping on a cup of green tea. The volume was low, the lowest it could go before being unable to hear a thing. Gi-hun must’ve had a pretty bad headache, which wasn’t surprising; although In-ho didn’t think he was that drunk the night before, when he returned to his bedroom, he found out that Gi-hun had wolfed down the entire bottle he kept hidden. He hadn’t left a single drop for In-ho’s needy lips.

He was dying to know if Gi-hun remembered what happened last night. If he remembered what he told him, last night. The way he had gently caressed his cheek… In-ho still had the lingering feeling of his touch on his skin. The warmth of his hand… it was the first caring gesture Gi-hun had ever shown him since they lived together. In-ho was yet to wash his face that morning, dreading that lingering feeling to be washed away from his cheek.

He needed to know if Gi-hun remembered that.

Tentatively, In-ho sat beside him. Gi-hun didn’t flinch or scoop away, which he took as a good sign.

In-ho was still getting used to sitting on the floor. Although the hanok had various floor furniture, In-ho had bought it purely for the aesthetic. He usually ate in the kitchen, at his Western-style table. Gi-hun, on the other hand, was quite content eating at his little table and watching TV while sitting on the floor. He looked so comfy, while In-ho’s knees started aching after a while.

He placed a glass of banana milkshake and a plate with two toasts on the table, sliding both of them over to Gi-hun’s side. The man looked first at the food, and then at In-ho with a puzzled expression.

"Potassium helps after a hangover. You also need something solid in your stomach.”

Gi-hun stared at him, his eyebrows in a slight frown, eyes round and puzzled, his mouth small and slightly opened. He looked so endearing. In-ho could tell he hadn’t had anyone taking care of him after a hangover in a long time.

"Don't worry, it's soy milk."

His misty eyes looked down at the food, which he took with lethargic gestures.

“Thanks…” He said in a small voice, as if it had cost him to speak those words. He ate quietly, taking small bites out of the toast and sipping on the milkshake slowly.

In-ho waited for Gi-hun to be at least halfway through the meal before asking what he was dreading, but at the same time dying to ask.

“Gi-hun… do you remember what happened last night?” His face went ablaze as he asked that, but Gi-hun didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“Did I try to fuck my way out of here again?” He asked so nonchalantly that it stunned In-ho out of words. The lack of a response made panic arise in Gi-hun’s eyes. “I did, didn’t I?”

“No… no, you didn’t,” In-ho said, snapping out of it.

Gi-hun laughed to himself. “That was my plan before finding the whiskey. I guess I make better decisions when drunk, who would’ve thought…”

For a while, only the low volume of the TV filled the silence between the two of them. In-ho felt nervous, like he hadn’t felt in years. You’d think that after working as the Frontman, a man would become emotionally detached from everything. But In-ho felt like a teenage boy who didn’t know how to talk to his crush.

“Why did you drink last night?”

“To forget. Sounds cliché, but it’s the truth.”

“Forget you’re here with me?”

Gi-hun rolled his eyes before biting aggressively into his toast. “God, In-ho, not everything is about you. My life was fucked up way before you decided to kidnap me.”

In-ho looked down in shame, at a loss for what to say. After gulping down a huge chunk of food, Gi-hun sighed heavily. “I keep wondering if Ga-yeong hates me… what does she think while watching the news? What will she think, now that everything’s over and I’m still not calling her?”

In-ho gave him a reassuring smile. “I bet she thinks you’re a hero.”

“A child doesn’t need a hero. A child needs a father who’s there. And I never was. You said it yourself, didn’t you?”

He did. And he regretted it bitterly. He didn’t need to go that far to keep Gi-hun by his side. Trying to sour his relationships with other people was fair game, like everything was in love and war. But there were lines that couldn’t be crossed, and Gi-hun’s daughter was one of them.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry, Gi-hun.”

“But you were right. Ga-yeong has a father figure, and it’s not me.”

The silence after that was heavy. Not even the annoying buzz of the TV could fill that silence. In-ho didn’t know how to comfort him. He knew a lot about him from his player’s file; he knew he had a daughter, he knew he was divorced, and her daughter had a step-dad and step-brother, but he could never know for sure how those interpersonal relationships were, on a deeper level. Ga-yeong’s step-father could have been the best father she could have had, but he could have also been the greatest piece of shit to ever live. All he knew was that he provided for her financially, which isn't enough to make a good father.

Only Gi-hun, Ga-yeong, and the rest of her family had the answer. But In-ho knew Gi-hun was never going to share anything more than what he already had. He didn’t have that kind of trust yet.

There was something else he was pressured to find out.

“Gi-hun… do you really not remember you came to my office last night?”

“Oh, so I tried to seduce you in your office this time. Like a cheap whore in a b-rated movie,” he said, giggling to himself. In-ho knew his sense of humor wasn’t the best, but Gi-hun’s self-deprecating one wasn’t much better.

“You shouldn’t talk like that about yourself.”

“Shut up, I’m coping,” he said. His tone wasn’t mean or catty. He either didn’t remember what happened last night or was simply using humor to divert In-ho’s attention from it. But In-ho wasn’t having it.

“When you came to my office, you said that… you said you wish I hadn’t killed Young-il.”

The grin soon vanished from Gi-hun’s face. He looked at him with wide eyes, then lowered his gaze in shame.

“Oh. Well, forget I said that.”

He got up to leave, but as he was about to, In-ho grabbed at the fabric of his pajama bottoms. He looked up at him with pleading eyes, “Gi-hun, Young-il is not dead! It’s me. It’s still me!”

Gi-hun’s lips pressed into a hard line. “He was your fake persona.”

“He’s not fake! He’s who I was before the games… I didn’t kill him, and I can be him again, if only you-”

“In-ho,” he interrupted, voice stern. “I want to be alone. Please, for today, just leave me alone.”

In-ho’s eyes welled up, and Gi-hun almost yielded. But his resolve and his anger were still stronger than any benevolent feeling he might have felt towards him.

“Alright…” Slowly, In-ho let go of him, his eyes still not leaving him. In-ho felt defeated. He had once again managed to anger him so badly that he didn’t even want to be in the same room with him. Sometimes, he felt that for every step forward he made in his relationships with Gi-hun, he took three steps backwards.

If he needed alone time, he was more than willing to give it to him. Maybe this way, at least he could go see his mother and brother, like he had promised Jun-ho.

As Gi-hun was about to walk out the door, In-ho got up on his feet. “Gi-hun, are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?”

The rest of the alcohol present in the house was behind a locked cabinet. Although In-ho was still wary about leaving him alone, there wasn’t anything in the house he could use to hurt himself.

“I told you. I need some time alone.”

Maybe Gi-hun would finally use his time to enjoy the home cinema, or the gym, or the art room and all the other diversions this house offered. In-ho held onto that small hope. He had to.

“If you’re fine on your own… do you mind if I leave for today? There’s somewhere I need to be…”

“Go on. I promise I won’t hang myself.”

“Don’t joke about that.”

Gi-hun wanted to tell him that it wasn’t a joke, but his bloodshot eyes and worried look held him back.

“I won’t if you bring me more cigarettes. I’m on my last pack,” he said, offering a small smile that In-ho returned.

*

In-ho hated driving. If there was one small thing he missed about being the Frontman, that was having a driver to take him wherever he wanted. It was funny to think he literally had a chauffeur at home, but he wouldn’t let him out of the house. He wondered if Gi-hun was ever going to drive him places, eventually. Oh, how In-ho would have loved Gi-hun to chauffeur him, and him alone.

Another thing he hated was multitasking. Thankfully, the road ahead was deserted, so he could afford to take his eyes off the road long enough to make Jun-ho’s number.

Jun-ho was ecstatic when he heard his voice again. His only chagrin was not being home, thus not being able to pass the phone to their mother.

“Should I give you Mom’s number so you can call her?”

“I’m doing better than that,” In-ho said with a contented smile, “I’m driving to Seoul right now.”

“You’re coming back home?” His voice was hopeful. In-ho hated to snuff that out and tell him he wasn’t staying long.

“I’m coming to visit.”

“Ah…”

Jun-ho should have known this. Things could never come back to how they were before. In-ho might have been free, but it was still wiser to lay low for the time being. Him visiting them was risky enough.

“Mom will be very happy. Thank you, brother. I know how difficult this must be for you.”

“Jun-ho, I need you to fill me in on what you told Mom.”

“There’s a lot you’ll have to memorize, so there are no inconsistencies in our stories.”

“Well, it’s a long ride...”

Jun-ho’s cover-up story was simple enough. What he told their mother was that after winning the games and losing his wife, In-ho went into a depression. So far, everything coincided with the truth. He explained to her mother that In-ho tried to stay strong, but in the end, the weight of everything started crushing him, that’s why he decided to leave without telling anyone anything. The year that In-ho started working for the games, in Jun-ho’s cover story, he instead started traveling the world with his prize money. He was in India to find himself again, when he heard about the reality of the games coming to light, and that’s when he decided it was time to contact his family.

In-ho was amazed by the story Jun-ho had wound up. He wished that it could have been what he actually did. He wished that could have been what Gi-hun did, too. If only both of them weren’t so bent on self-destruction…

*

When In-ho knocked on his mother’s door, he didn’t have the time to utter a single greeting before being engulfed and crushed by a pair of old, but still incredibly vigorous arms.

“IN-HO! My baby!” His mother screamed so loud she caught the attention of the whole neighborhood. “Don’t you DARE disappear like that ever again! Do you hear me!? Have some pity on your poor elderly mother!”

“Mom, I’m so sorry…” He choked out, as he put his weak arms around her, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet familiar scent of rose in her hair, one he had missed for so long.

“You better be sorry! And you must apologize to your brother too, when he comes back! You don’t know the hell he’s been through to search for you!”

“Trust me, I know… And I’m so sorry.”

After being almost dragged inside the home, his mother sat him down and started pampering him like he was a small child again. She hugged him, kissed him, caressed his hair and face, she made him tea, and started baking a cake for him.

In-ho didn’t feel like he deserved any of it. And it wasn’t just because of the monstrosity he had contributed to for all those years. This was a different type of guilt, the guilt of a son who knew he had hurt his own mother. The guilt of a big brother who knew he had not only hurt his little brother, but had also shouldered him with the weight of unspeakable secrets.

Yet both of them had welcomed him home like a hero back from war. All while Gi-hun was back home alone, wondering if his daughter would still love him. How could Ga-yeong not, when even Jun-ho still loved In-ho after all he did? Would he be able to make Gi-hun see that?

He knew the answer. Gi-hun wouldn’t see that unless he brought him to see his daughter. His selfishness still stopped him from letting him free, and that was perhaps the guilt that pained him the most.

Tears were falling on his hands, which were joined and resting on the table.

“Oh, In-ho…” His mother wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on top of his. She didn’t know the reason behind his tears, not the full extent of it, at least. Behind those waterfalls, there was a cave of secrets not even a million words could explain.

But she didn’t need any to comfort her baby in time of need.

The sweet embrace was interrupted by the doorbell.

“Oh! It must be Jun-ho!” She said, drying her own tears while leaping to the door.

In-ho took advantage of this moment to check Gi-hun’s movements on the app on his phone. According to the tracker, he was in the garden, probably smoking. Which reminded him, he had to stock up on cigarettes on the way home. In-ho would have preferred for him to quit, but he didn’t want to take that small pleasure away from him. He wanted to ask him for nothing more than his presence, which he already knew was far more than he should have ever dared to ask.

“Brother!”

Soon, another pair of familiar arms were around him. He hadn’t hugged his brother so tightly since that day on the island, since the day he had forgiven him and set him free. Tears were shed on both parts, and even their mother’s eyes watered at the joy of seeing her sons finally reunited.

After many tears and hug, the three sat down to drink tea and catch up about their lives. In-ho told some made-up stories about India, then they briefly talked about the games, but it got tense really fast. The mother knew it was a touchy subject, so she quickly changed the topic.

“In-ho, don’t you think it’s time for Jun-ho to get a girlfriend?”

“Mom! We’ve talked about this already!”

While they were bickering, In-ho stole a glance at his phone, under the table. Gi-hun wasn’t in the garden anymore. He looked like he was wandering through the house, never staying in a single room for too long. Was he searching for something? In-ho had a gut-wrenching fear that he was looking for something to harm himself. He started considering saying goodbye to his mother and brother to rush back home, but he couldn’t think of any possible excuse.

“Are you okay, In-ho? You look worried. Like you left your kettle on at home or something,” his mother said, snapping In-ho out of his troublesome thoughts.

“Uh, I…. I need to water my plants.”

Both Jun-ho and their mother laughed.

“Oh, your plants won’t die if you don’t water them for a day,” she reassured him. “By the way, what would you like for dinner, In-ho?”

“For dinner? Uh…”

He wasn’t initially planning to stay that long. It was a long drive back home, and he didn’t want to leave Gi-hun alone any more than he needed to. He should’ve had someone to look after him, but there was no one out there he could trust with the task. He didn’t have an army of obedient dogs at his disposal anymore.

“How about kimchi?” His mother’s question pulled him back from his thoughts.

“That sounds good.”

“Perfect! I’ll go buy some pork!”

“Wait, Mom, if you don’t have all the ingredients, it’s not necessary…”

“It’ll take just a minute!”

Jun-ho smiled sheepishly as he watched In-ho realizing he had lost a losing battle; nothing could stop a mother when it came to cooking her child’s favourite dish, after all.

Once the brothers were left alone, silence inexplicably fell between them.

“So, where is it exactly that you’re staying?”

“I told you already. In the countryside.”

“Yeah, but where exactly?”

“Jun-ho, I’d rather keep this to myself for now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…”

Jun-ho took the empty tea cups and started tidying up. While he was busy, In-ho checked his phone again. Gi-hun was in his bedroom. Had he gone to sleep already? He wondered if he had eaten dinner. He wondered if he had eaten anything at all since he left that morning. Gi-hun had looked so despondent at breakfast.

“What are you looking at on that phone?” Jun-ho asked him as he went to sit in front of him.

“Hm?”

“Your phone. Sometimes you space out looking at it.”

In-ho hid the screen nonchalantly. “Oh… just my security cameras. Sometimes the raccoons come to eat my strawberries.”

“You’re growing strawberries? You couldn’t even keep two fish alive.”

In-ho’s jaw dropped, and Jun-ho laughed at his offended expression.

“Have you found anything about Gi-hun yet?”

In-ho didn’t know why he asked. Maybe it was to make sure Jun-ho, and consequently the police, were far from finding him. Maybe it was to seem less suspicious in Jun-ho’s eyes. After all, if you want to hide something, put it in plain sight.

“No, everything’s been a dead end so far.”

“He has a daughter who lives in America. Ever thought he went there?”

“I have considered it, but… if he went to see his daughter, he would have let me or Woo-seok know, don’t you think? There are also the surviving players he helped get through the games. They said they bonded during those days. You know it better than I, don’t you?”

In-ho gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah… I know he’d love to meet Jun-hee’s daughter. But maybe he just needs time.”

“I don’t know about that. Something happened to him, I can feel it.”

“And don’t you think he’s just trying to lay low like me? You think he’s not the type, but he did the same thing three years ago after winning the games. He ghosted everyone he knew.”

“Really…? How do you know that?”

“I kept an eye on him after he won the games. He never contacted anyone, he went MIA.”

Jun-ho went silent. He seemed to be taking In-ho’s words seriously, pondering on the possibility that Gi-hun simply didn’t want to be found.

His faith in him only made In-ho feel worse. What would he think if he knew what truly happened to Seong Gi-hun after the end of the games? How would he feel, if he knew In-ho was unashamedly lying to his face? Would he forgive him again, or would that be the last straw for Jun-ho?

“Brother, there’s something you should know.”

In-ho listened, trying to maintain his calm, although a storm was brewing inside of him.

“The players who were on your team, the ones who knew you as Young-il… You’re still Young-il to them. They think you’ve gone missing just like Gi-hun.”

“… what?”

“I don’t know what to tell them anymore. Especially Jun-hee, she keeps asking if I've found anything about you.”

If he closed his eyes, In-ho could still smell the sweet aroma of Jun-hee’s baby. He could still see her relieved smile when she saw he was alive, the way she wouldn’t even take into account the possibility he might be a traitor. Geum-ja was the same. Myung-gi was the only one who had seen through the cracks in his mask. But just like anyone else, he didn’t have any proof.

For Gi-hun, he wanted to live as In-ho, with his lights and his shadows. But for them, he preferred to die as Young-il. As a good man with no stains.

“Just tell them I’m dead.”

“Don’t you think you owe them the truth? It’s not like you can get prosecuted at this point. There is no proof against you anymore. But those people you’ve deceived? They deserve the truth, In-ho.”

“Jun-ho, what the hell are you saying? I can never tell them the truth. People they cared about died in those games! And you’ve covered up for me. You’re deceiving them as well.”

“And I feel awful for that! Every day, I pray Gi-hun is safe and sound, because I need to tell him the truth! I need to tell him I’m sorry for hiding the truth from him!”

In-ho took Jun-ho’s hands, holding them in his own from across the table. “My brother… I’m so sorry I’ve burdened you with the weight of those lies. But it’s too late to go back now. We have to carry it until the rest of our lives.”

“In-ho… you know I’m with you until the end. But please, you have to at least think about it. It will do you good to finally get rid of this burden.”

“But… the consequences…”

“We’ll face them like the adults we are, brother. Okay?”

Facing the consequences. That was something In-ho was definitely not good at doing. That’s why he ghosted his mother and brother when he became the Frontman, so he wouldn’t need to face the shame of looking into their eyes, knowing what he’d done. That’s why he walked away after shooting Jung-bae, so he wouldn’t need to see Gi-hun’s anguished face.

But everything always caught up to him eventually.

His brother followed him to that island, finding out all his sins anyway.

And walking away couldn’t block out Gi-hun’s heart-wrenching screams.

One day, even his last sin was going to be discovered, and he would have to face the consequences.

“Alright… I will think about it.”

*

In-ho was tired after the long drive. It was late at night when he finally made it back home, and he couldn’t wait to get in bed and sleep.

But as he was pulling over, he noticed the light in Gi-hun’s room was still on. Was he still awake? He knew he had promised him he’d leave him alone, but he guessed checking up on him couldn’t hurt.

When he was in front of his bedroom door, In-ho hesitated. What if he was sleeping and had simply left the light on?

Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

“Gi-hun? Are you okay?”

“Mhm.” A grunt of approval came from behind the door. It looked like Gi-hun didn’t have the energy for more than that.

“Can I come in?”

Another grunt. As In-ho stepped inside the room, the first thing that caught his eye was a few pieces of crumbled papers lying here and there on the floor. Gi-hun was sitting cross-legged on the bed, hunched over a sketchbook, a pencil in his hand, and a box of pencils lying near his knee.

It looked like Gi-hun had finally decided to take advantage of the art room. It offered every kind of art supply, but it looked like he decided to start from the basis; simple paper and pencil. Around him, on the bed, various portraits were not scattered, but placed with care. When In-ho got closer, he could see a lot of them were drawings of cars, but most of them were portraits of people.

“Can I sit?”

Gi-hun didn’t look at him, but he moved the portraits away to leave space for him to sit. After finding another spot for them, he went back to work on his current project, while In-ho sat next to him, admiring the ones he had already finished.

“Damn, you’re pretty good,” he commented, looking at his work. “You said you didn’t know anything about art.” He bumped his shoulder against Gi-hun’s, eliciting some small chuckles out of him. “You lied to me.”

“About time it was my turn, don’t you think?”

Both of them chuckled, then fell into a comfortable silence.

”It was just a hobby I had in high school… then I only ever did technical drawings… when I worked at Dragon Motor. I didn’t think I still had it in me.”

“It’s like riding a bike.” In-ho took one portrait in his hand to admire it better. It was of a young girl with a cold yet forlorn expression. In-ho remembered her; she was number 067, from Gi-hun’s game. But it took him a moment to recall her name. “Is this… Sae-byeok?”

“Yeah…”

In-ho looked over Gi-hun’s shoulder. The man became imperceptibly tenser.

“And this is your daughter?”

“Yeah...”

In-ho rested his chin on Gi-hun’s shoulder, admiring the portrait. He knew Ga-yeong was fourteen, but she still looked ten in Gi-hun’s drawing. She looked like the child she was the last time he had seen her.

“I can see the resemblance, it’s in the cheeks.”

The smile had slowly disappeared from Gi-hun’s lips. Slowly, he closed the sketchbook, shielding Ga-yeong’s portrait from In-ho’s eyes.

He got the clue, loud and clear; he didn’t want him to look at his daughter. In-ho moved away, but the tension in Gi-hun’s shoulder didn’t ease. He hugged the sketchbook, holding it tight to his chest, while he started swaying his upper body back and forth, in an attempt to comfort himself. His eyes were absent, like he was lost in some meander of his mind, somewhere in his past where he was happier and more at peace.

Maybe In-ho was inflating his self-importance way too much. It wasn’t his presence that had made him shut himself away; Gi-hun was homesick, just as much as he was. In-ho felt a pang of guilt, knowing he went to see his family while keeping Gi-hun away from his own. As In-ho caressed his hair, he made a silent promise to him that he would reunite him to his daughter, when the time came.

In-ho put a hand on his back. “I’ll go to sleep now. Goodnight, Gi-hun. Try to get some rest too, okay?”

When he leaned in to leave a kiss on his temple, Gi-hun didn’t flinch. Didn’t protest, didn’t move away, didn’t even speak. But for the first time, In-ho didn’t take it as a good sign.

Chapter Text

“Is this all you’re planning to do? Stand around and let him treat you like his pet?”

Sae-byeok looked down at him with her hands in her pockets. Gi-hun didn’t utter a word, he just shrugged as his hand tightened around the rope of the swing. It was always back to his childhood places in those dreams he had. Places Sae-byeok, Ji-yeong, and Ali couldn’t have known. He always wondered why that was, why they came to visit him in those places? He guessed some things didn't have answers. He never really questioned those weird dreams in the first place anyway. They brought him too much comfort to start rationalizing them.

“What happened to you, Gi-hun? You came back to the games to save everyone. You led a whole rebellion against that man and his army. Getting away from him should be the least difficult thing you’ve ever done.”

Gi-hun knew that Jung-bae only wanted to give him courage. But getting away wasn’t as easy as it seemed. He had no idea where he was, and In-ho was always one step ahead. No matter how hard he tried, he knew In-ho would always find him. Was there even a point in fighting anymore?

“I can’t do this anymore, Jung-bae.”

“You’re being ridiculous, hyung. You’ve come this far, only to let that man subjugate you now?" Sang-woo berated him, "You’re almost done! This is the last step. Get your ass up and do something!”

“Didn’t you call that salesman a lapdog? And look at you now. You’re the Frontman’s kitty.” When Sae-byeok said that, the others had to stifle a laugh.

Gi-hun pouted.

“You’re all bullying me.”

Jung-bae gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “Hey, we’re doing it out of love. We want you to keep living.”

“I just want to join you guys…”

A strong smack hit him in the back of the head. For being a dream, Gi-hun thought that the pain felt way too real, just like Jung-bae’s slightly regretful but firm expression.

“Ouch! What did you do that for!?”

“You still have a lot to do on the other side!” He told him, “Do you really want to die before seeing your daughter again?”

“Of course I don’t want it!”

“Then keep on fighting, Gi-hun!”

His friends always made it seem too easy. But his determination always dissipated at dawn. Once they were gone, his will to fight was gone with them.

*

When he opened his eyes, Gi-hun wished to see the dark and gloomy motel room he had gotten used to. He wished to feel the cheap polyester sheets instead of the fine silk. But as always, the room he found himself in was brighter, bigger, and richer.  And yet, it suffocated him more than any small and dark room in the world ever could. His sketches and crumbled pieces of paper lied scattered all across the room and on his bed, reminding him that it was all real. He had spent enough time in that house that it wasn’t a temporary stay anymore. It was becoming his home. Something not even his motel room had become, even after years of living in it. It was becoming his home the moment he decided to trace the first line on paper.

He had started out of boredom, out of the desperate need to keep his head busy. He had no idea he was signing away his doom.

In-ho was never going to let him go.

Gi-hun knew that much. Among that ocean of uncertainties, all Gi-hun knew was that In-ho was never going to let him go until he got what he wanted from him. It would have been so easy if all he wanted was sex, but what In-ho truly wanted was something Gi-hun wasn’t sure he could ever give him.

Which meant his freedom was hopelessly out of reach.

He didn’t even have the energy to talk when he met him in the morning.

“Gi-hun! Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

He only responded with a nod and a mumble. He didn’t know if he would say he slept well, seeing his friends in his dreams always gave him comfort, but he didn’t feel more energetic after the night’s rest. If anything, he felt more lethargic than he had ever felt in his entire life.

Gi-hun didn’t eat a whole lot at breakfast. After all, if all he was going to do was roam around the house or draw, he didn’t need much energy, did he?

As he was sitting outside in the garden, watching the first snowflakes softly fall on the emerald green leaves, In-ho sat beside him.

“Are you planning to draw some more today?”

“Maybe.”

Gi-hun wondered when his avoidant and cold attitude was finally going to make In-ho snap. But the man didn’t seem bothered by his lack of affection; he was always so kind and patient with him. Like he was waiting for a flower to bloom. In-ho took something out of his pocket and put it next to Gi-hun. The man was way too familiar of the sound a pack of cigarettes made when put on a surface, he didn’t need to turn around to know what it was.

“I forgot to give you this, yesterday,” In-ho said.

Gi-hun didn’t turn around. He reached for the cigarettes, and when he put his palm on top of the pack, he could feel the lighter on top of it. In-ho always thought of every detail.

“Thanks.”

He hated every time that word came out of his mouth to reach that man’s ears. He hated how he didn’t really hate In-ho. Because this man had nothing of the Frontman, nothing that reminded him of the man who ran the games, nothing that reminded him of the man who had compared humans to racehorses in that limo, nothing that reminded him of the man who had called eliminated players trash.

But he had everything that reminded him of a man he once knew as Young-il.

Don't forget who this man is.

It was something Gi-hun had to constantly remind himself of: Every time In-ho smiled at him. Every time he did something sweet for him. Every time he started feeling anything but contempt for him

Every single time, Gi-hun had to keep reminding himself. Even if it drove him insane.

*

As the weeks passed, Gi-hun had gotten a lot quieter. He hardly ever commented on the news anymore, and when they talked, he usually let In-ho do most of the talking. All that ever came out of his mouth were little mumbles to signal his agreement or disapproval, or some acknowledgment to let him know he was still listening.

It was only when In-ho said something he disagreed with, that he spoke more than two words in a row. In-ho sometimes tried to provoke him on purpose, just to hear his voice, but Gi-hun quickly started picking up on it and went even more silent.

In-ho was starting to get truly worried about his lack of talking. But there was another subtle change in Gi-hun that worried him a whole lot more; the two of them always prepared and ate their meals separately. In-ho prepared his food in one of the kitchens and ate at the table in the very same room. Gi-hun used the other kitchen, and ate at his floor table, in front of the TV.

Then one day, when it was time for lunch, In-ho prepared his meal like always, but Gi-hun didn’t do the same.

In-ho didn’t think about it much; perhaps Gi-hun just wasn’t hungry. Then the night came, and as In-ho was preparing his dinner, Gi-hun stayed as still as a leaf, only moved by the wind. He sat at his floor table, his cheek resting on his palm, eyes staring into nothing. He didn’t even turn on the TV to keep up with the news like he usually did.

Gi-hun used to eat little, but now he had suddenly stopped altogether. It all felt too familiar to In-ho.

Despondency.

That was the plague that ailed him. In-ho knew too much about it, he had gone through it all before. The lack of appetite, the lack of energy,  the boredom... Gi-hun was slowly losing the will to keep himself alive. It’s not like he wanted to die; he just didn’t care enough to feed or take care of himself. He had finally reached his goal, had stopped the games, and dismantled that whole disgusting system. It had cost a lot of human lives, a lot of friends, but he had done it. There was no purpose left in his life. There was no one out there who would have missed him. His daughter was still very little when he left. Maybe she would have been sad, but eventually, she would have had a wonderful life thanks to a father who wasn’t him. There was no reason to fight In-ho to leave this house anymore, either. Perhaps it was his destiny to die there, to be buried by the very same enemy he had once defeated. Let him have that one small victory of dancing over his dead body.

A bowl of bossam on a bed of white rice was put right under his nose, with a pair of chopsticks. Gi-hun raised his head to see In-ho sitting on the opposite side, with his own bowl of food. Gi-hun stared at him like he was a bird with three heads. All In-ho did in response was point to the food, prompting him to eat.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat, Gi-hun. You’re skin and bones.”

Gi-hun thought he was getting used to In-ho’s weird pampering. But that day it was rubbing him the wrong way. He was on the edge of a nervous breakdown, and In-ho’s face was the last thing he wanted to see. Especially his soft and caring face.

Because he hadn’t slept a wink the night before.

He was back on the island, the night before. Back to the screaming, the gunshots, the incessant firing of machine guns. The feeling of blood on his hands that would never wash off.

And the man responsible for all that was in front of him, eating without a care in the world. Gi-hun couldn’t hold back a sneer. How did In-ho have the audacity to sit at his same table, eating food with him like nothing happened? Gi-hun didn’t even have the strength to be mad at him anymore.

In-ho ate without raising his eyes from his bowl. He remained quiet until he realized Gi-hun hadn’t touched his food.

“You don’t trust my food? I promise it’s good. I learned to cook when my wife was sick, I used to cook three meals a day for her,” he recalled, with a softness in his eyes and voice that reminded Gi-hun of Young-il. Is this what this was all about? Did this man feel lonely? Was Gi-hun some kind of surrogate of the family he had lost?

Any feeling of pity he had for In-ho was quickly leaving him. Gi-hun felt used. He felt used, abused, and beguiled, and he felt something building up inside of him that only needed to be detonated.

“I’m not your wife, In-ho.”

In-ho’s hand froze as he was about to eat his next morsel, rice falling back into the bowl. “I… don’t want you to be my wife, Gi-hun. I just want you to eat.”

“And I told you I’m not hungry.”

“C’mon, don’t make me eat on my own.”

Who did In-ho think he was? Make him eat on his own? Did this man actually think Gi-hun owed him anything? Gi-hun owed him nothing. He didn’t owe him to eat the food he made, he didn’t owe him his talks, and most of all, he didn’t owe him his company during meals, or any time of the day for that matter! Gi-hun didn’t owe him a cure for a loneliness that was In-ho’s fault alone.

With a swift movement of his arm, he wiped out everything that was on the table in front of him, sending his bowl of food across the room, which shattered on the wall with a sound that made even In-ho recoil in fear for a second.

“I TOLD YOU I’M NOT FUCKING HUNGRY, IN-HO!”

Gi-hun bellowed as he got up on his feet. The words scratched his throat as they were violently screamed out, for In-ho to hear. He wanted him to hear how mad he was. He wanted him to know he wanted as far away from him as possible.

But Gi-hun’s anger was quickly replaced by fear as he stared into In-ho’s icy eyes. Had he gone too far? Had he finally done it? In-ho had never gotten mad at him. He never screamed, never yelled. But even In-ho must’ve had a limit. Was that the day Gi-hun finally found out what it was?

He was expecting In-ho to finally get mad. To slap him. To punch him. To punish him, to make him lick the floor clean.

But In-ho didn’t even get up on his feet. He just looked up at him coldly.

“Do you feel better now? Now that you’ve got everything off your chest and nothing in your stomach?”

Gi-hun’s breath hitched. It made it all worse for him when In-ho acted like this. When he refused to act like you’d expect a kidnapper to act. Because no matter how sweet he was, Gi-hun had to remind himself constantly that he was a kidnapper. In-ho had taken him and kept him against his will, he was keeping him away from everyone and everything he knew.

And yet Gi-hun was the one who felt like shit for throwing his food away.

“LEAVE ME ALONE, IN-HO!”

He screamed one last time before storming out of the room.

*

Gi-hun resisted for two days.

For two days, he stubbornly refused to eat any food. He barely drank enough water to get by. Yet no matter how many plates he broke, how much food he threw in his face, In-ho was always back with more.

Always back with the hope that Gi-hun would eat this time. But even he was losing patience.

Gi-hun was sitting on his bed, his old sketches taped to the walls now. The man was hugging his knees, barely able to keep himself awake. The lack of food was finally getting to him. He honestly didn’t know how long he could go on. Death by starvation was long and painful, but it’s not like he had many other options. In-ho would have stopped him if he tried anything else, but not even he could force him to eat.

Or so Gi-hun thought.

He rolled his eyes when the man stepped into his room, a glass of water in one hand and a sandwich in the other. In-ho sat beside him on the bed, bringing the sandwich close to his mouth. He felt the soft bread against his chapped lips, the mouth-watering smell of mayonnaise and smoked salmon tempting him to accept, yet also giving him a nausea he couldn’t explain.

“Eat,” In-ho commanded. Gi-hun moved his head the other way. “Gi-hun, eat.”

In-ho was authoritarian, like you would expect from a former cop. But Gi-hun was stubborn. He shook his head, eyes watering with unshed tears.

“Gi-hun.” In-ho’s voice was stern, yet it almost sounded like a plea. Gi-hun didn’t falter. He started sobbing quietly, but he didn’t falter. His mouth remained closed.

He heard In-ho exhale deeply from his nose as he moved away from him. Then he heard the glass of water being set down on the bedside table. Moments later, In-ho’s now free hand was gripping his jaw, forcing his mouth open. But In-ho didn’t force the food into his mouth. He held it just outside, waiting for him to eat on his own. Gi-hun cried, sobbed, and squinted his eyes, but in the end, he gave up.

After the first bite, his will to starve himself to death got thrown out the window. He took the sandwich out of In-ho’s hand, eating voraciously as if he was never going to see food again. The sandwich was big, and it looked like it might never end. Gi-hun almost wished it didn’t.

“Don’t you feel better now?” In-ho asked once the food was gone, and Gi-hun was licking his fingers.

He didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see his satisfied smirk. But when he turned around, he didn’t see the slightest hint of a smile on In-ho’s face. He saw teary eyes and relief. Gi-hun quietly nodded, looking away from In-ho. He had to admit, life didn’t seem so shitty now. Food had always made him feel better. Not as much as his mother’s home-cooked meals, but any type of food had always been an instant mood lifter. The problem was, he did not want to feel better. He did not want to keep living. Not like this, not with him.

*

The uplifting feelings the meal had given him didn’t last long. A few hours later, when In-ho went to check on him, he found Gi-hun curled up in a fetal position, clutching his stomach and breathing heavily.

“You’ve poisoned me… haven’t you?”

In-ho exhaled slowly from his nose, his brows furrowing in worry. “It’s called indigestion. It can happen when you eat after fasting for a long time. You’re the one who did this to yourself, Gi-hun. You’re the one who refused food when you had plenty.”

“Fuck…!”

Gi-hun writhed in pain. He hadn’t even realized In-ho had left when he came back with a pill and a glass of water.

“Here. This will help.”

He wasn’t sure if he could trust anything In-ho gave him. But even if that pill was more poison, refusing it surely wasn’t going to make a difference. At the very least, he would have gone out faster. But as time passed, the pain was slowly going away. As the cramping in his stomach subsided, Gi-hun’s breathing evened as well. The rhythm of his own breathing was lulling him into sleep. In-ho lied down behind him, his stomach close but not touching Gi-hun’s back. Propped up on one arm, he used his free hand to scratch Gi-hun's nape.

Gi-hun hated how soothing that gesture was. He wanted to tell In-ho to stop, but at the same time, he didn't. In-ho was captivated by Gi-hun's pale neck, so mesmerized that his lips found their way on his skin, leaving a kiss so soft that Gi-hun almost didn’t notice. But In-ho’s lips lingered too much to pass unnoticed for too long.

“In-ho…? What are you doing…?”

“Shh… I’m kissing it better…”

“That’s not… that’s not where it hurts?”

“You want me to kiss it where it hurts?”

“No…!”

After that, Gi-hun couldn't help but laugh. His laugh caught In-ho by surprise, but soon it rubbed off on him, and he started laughing with his face buried in Gi-hun's neck. It felt so silly, and he felt so light of heart, like he was suddenly living a life that wasn’t his own.

Soon he fell asleep, and In-ho’s arms wrapping around his waist didn’t feel so bad. No, they didn’t feel bad at all.

Chapter Text

Oh Love, it is foolish and green, my love

How quickly we forget the sting, my love

What a pretty yet dangerous line, my love

What bitter, yet delicious wine,

my love

*

A thin layer of snow covered the garden when Gi-hun woke up. He opened his eyes in the same clothes he had fallen asleep into, and with a blanket wrapped around him in place of In-ho’s arms. The change brought Gi-hun relief; he didn’t know how he was supposed to act, had he woken up with his archnemesis wrapped around him like a clamp. Yet a small part of him couldn’t help mourn the loss of In-ho’s warmth. Because for the first time in forever, he had remembered what it felt like to have another human’s loving touch.

Gi-hun sighed deeply. Out of all people, did it really have to be In-ho?

It still felt surreal that In-ho would love him like that. It was never supposed to end this way; the two of them were supposed to be at each other’s throats, they were supposed to destroy one another. Maybe they were, but destiny had written a longer and more torturous way for the two of them to annihilate one another. Not with hate, it seemed, but with love. The sweetest and most heinous of all poisons.

As he sat by the window, sketchbook in hand, intending to draw the scenery outside, his eyes fell on In-ho, who was sitting in the garden. He looked lost in thought, staring up at the statue of Aphrodite. Of all the statues and sculptures inside the house and outside in the garden, the one of the Goddess had always struck Gi-hun as the odd one out; all the other statues leaned more towards the surrealist style. Some were abstracts that Gi-hun still had trouble understanding what they were supposed to represent. The sculpture of Aphrodite, though, was classicist style. Stunning, majestic, and feminine, clearly representing the love Goddess in all of her beauty. It was a reproduction of Botticelli’s famous painting, not at all in In-ho’s style. If Gi-hun wasn't sure of the contrary, he'd say somebody else chose it. But In-ho was the only one who ever lived in that house. Except for, well, himself now.

In-ho’s face looked so vulnerable. So open and honest, in a way he could only be when he knew no one was watching him. Gi-hun’s hand moved on its own, as he started to draw the first line on paper. After he got most of his current expression on paper, mostly his eyes, he stopped looking out the window for reference. He was able to draw his uneven lips, his hair, every wrinkle and pore on his skin from memory. It surprised Gi-hun fiercely, just how many details of In-ho’s face he had imprinted in his mind.

He got so lost in drawing that when he raised his head to look out the window again, In-ho was gone.

“Is that me?”

Gi-hun jumped out of his skin.

“No,” He said as he hid his sketchbook behind his back. But the sheepish smile in the corners of In-ho’s mouth told him it was too late.

“C’mon, let me see,” In-ho said, trying to grab the sketchbook from Gi-hun’s hand, who took a few steps backwards.

“No!”

In-ho didn’t desist, trying to snatch the sketchbook out of his hand, which Gi-hun raised above his head. Being a few inches taller, this gave him an advantage. In-ho got on his tiptoes, his hand almost reaching the object of his pursuit when the tip of his nose slightly grazed Gi-hun’s cheek.

It was the moment both of them realized how dangerously close they were.

Eyes locked. Lips lightly parted. Both of them were holding their breath. It was like time itself had slowed down; even the tiny snowflakes outside the window fell more tenderly through the crispy air. In-ho blinked slowly, seeing his own eyes reflected inside Gi-hun’s. His face was flushed, heat radiating from his reddened cheeks. Gi-hun's eyes fell on In-ho’s uneven lips, which were now red. In-ho wanted to shorten the distance between their lips, he wanted to kiss him and run his fingers through his hair. But when Gi-hun's lips pressed in a hard line, he knew the man still wasn't ready.

In-ho was the first to take a step back. Gi-hun hid his sketchbook behind his back again, looking everywhere but in In-ho’s direction.

The shorter man cleared his throat.

“I came to ask you if you were hungry… dinner’s almost ready.”

Gi-hun slowly raised his eyes. He hadn’t realized it was time for dinner already; the rumbling of his stomach had become such a constant companion during those days that he couldn’t rely on it to know when it was time to eat anymore.

“Yeah… yeah, I am.”

A warm smile spread on In-ho’s face.

*

There was a vast abundance of food on the table. It almost looked like a banquet, but there were only two people at this party. Gi-hun was starving, but not even his hunger could make him eat all of that.

“Why did you cook so much food?”

When he asked, In-ho drew in his shoulders, suddenly appearing smaller than he was.

“I… I wanted to make your favorite foods. Then I realized I don’t know what food you prefer…” he confessed. In-ho thought he knew everything he needed to know about Gi-hun, like his birth date and place, his work history, his familiar history… and yet, there was so much he still didn’t know. In-ho felt great shame in his heart when he realized that when it came to the most important things, he knew nothing. He didn’t know his favorite dish, nor his favorite color, nor his favorite song. But he wanted to learn them all, if Gi-hun would only let him.

Gi-hun, unaware of the storm inside his heart, already had his chopsticks in hand and was putting different foods on his plate, serving himself like at a buffet. White rice, kimchi, bulgogi, fried chicken, stir-fried noodles… his mouth was watering, and he couldn’t hold back a smile.

“I don’t really have preferences… I like all foods. The only things I don’t eat are dairy and steak.”

It surprised In-ho fiercely. He still remembered the voracious way he ate his steak the night before the final game. Was he just hungry back then, content to eat whatever, after the scarce rations of food they had been given?

“You don’t like steak?” He found himself asking, regretting it when Gi-hun’s hard-earned smile slowly started fading away.

“Not anymore…”

In-ho connected the dots. And when he did, he wanted to hit himself for not realizing it sooner.

“Oh…Gi-hun, I’m… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up.”

In-ho knew they had different ways of reacting to the same trauma. He had always known that, that's where his curiosity about Gi-hun started. He was intrigued at first, then frustrated, then he had even hated him until he realized his hatred was nothing but envy. Gi-hun might have retained his faith in humanity, but the game changed him in other ways. In-ho rarely thought about it when he ate the same food he was given in his own game. It was only when food was missing – due to his forgetfulness – that he was brought back to his games. That’s why he always made sure his pantry and fridge were full.

Gi-hun was the complete opposite.

Not only was he triggered by specific foods, but after the games, he had stopped eating well altogether. He used to be more muscular during his first game. But the second time around, he was almost skin and bones. In-ho had taken him to his Hanok for him to get better, but so far the only thing he had managed to do was take the almost out of almost skin and bones.

“In-ho. Let’s just eat,” Gi-hun said calmly. In-ho looked at him wide-eyed, disarmed by the softness of his voice and the sweetness in his eyes.

“Yeah, let’s eat.”

Gi-hun started with the rice and the fried chicken. The food didn’t just taste good, it tasted like a home-cooked meal. It tasted of home, it tasted of warmth and love. And it was then that realization struck him; someone had cooked that food for him. Someone had cooked that food specifically for him, like it hadn’t happened in years.

He felt his throat getting tighter, as if he wanted to sob. But he gulped down the feeling as he gulped down the food.

The more he filled his cheeks with food, the more a warm feeling started spreading from his chest to his face. Soon, that tight feeling in his throat reached his eyes, which stung and started watering.

In-ho was about to ask Gi-hun how the food was when he saw silent, warm tears starting to flow freely on his cheeks. Subtly, In-ho moved closer and placed his hand on Gi-hun’s cheek. When he didn’t pull back, he started drying his tears.

“Why are you crying?” he spoke softly, his voice almost breaking, as if he were afraid of the answer.

“I don’t know…!”

In-ho left a kiss on his shoulder before he started to rub wide circles on his back. Gi-hun kept eating, even as he was crying. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, and unlike that time with the fever, he felt completely powerless. He had no idea how to help him.

“You can’t be crying for nothing. Is it my fault?"

“No. In-ho, I swear I don’t know…!”

In-ho knew he wasn’t lying. At the very least, he was eating, and it had to be enough for him. In-ho took his chopsticks, but instead of filling up his own plate, he put more food on Gi-hun’s. With the corner of his eye, he saw the small smile on his now colored lips, adorned by tears that wouldn’t stop flowing.

Food was a love language after all. And the more food In-ho put on his plate, the more Gi-hun felt like crying. In that moment, he almost felt happy, with all the foreignness and the weirdness of it all. And it scared him to death.

*

Gi-hun had eaten everything. Insatiable and voracious, he ate with a speed that was almost reminiscent of anime characters. He had spent two whole days without eating after all, but he was insatiable for something more than simple food.

When he withdrew into his room that night, he was assaulted by guilt all over again. He felt that churning in his stomach all over again. Of all the food he had joyfully eaten up, half of it ended up down the drain. Gi-hun was glad he had a private bathroom, at least In-ho wouldn’t have heard him throw up. If he knew he had gotten sick, he would no doubt be at his side, doting and smothering him.

It was the last thing he needed. In-ho’s love and care were like a drug, and he was sure he was already overdosing.

Accepting that food had been a mistake.

*

His dreams were the only place he could get some peace. In his dreams, he was always back in Ssangmun-dong, back to his homeplace. He missed his hometown, in a way he never thought he would. There was a time, before he decided to stop the games, when he briefly considered moving to the US to stay close to Ga-yeong. He didn’t think much about Ssangmun-dong; he was eager to leave it for good.

He never could have imagined he’d come to miss it so much.

Gi-hun was now sitting on the side of a road, people passing him by with no idea of the pain that he harboured in his heart.

Then someone, maybe taking pity on his misery, knelt in front of him.

“Stop looking so sad. Your situation is not as helpless as you think it is.”

That voice. Once again, that voice, reaching out to him in his weakest moment.

“Sae-byeok…?”

Her smile was so sweet. Gi-hun’s heart clenched when he realized he had seen her smile more often in his dreams than he ever did when she was alive. She had become her guardian angel now, but perhaps she always had been. She had stopped him from almost becoming a murderer once, and now she was stopping him from plunging into despair.

“Gi-hun, you need to eat more and regain your strength. You’re not disrespecting us if you accept food from him.”

“Sae-byeok, I…”

“You’ve done nothing but honor our memory. You helped my little brother, you reunited him with my mom. You helped Sang-woo’s mom. You've helped so many; now it's time to get out of here and continue helping others. You need to fight back.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Haven’t you realized it? He’s giving you everything you need to fight back against him. Fairness was the game’s whole thing, wasn’t it? The game is still not over, Gi-hun. This is the longest one yet, and you need to win. Eat. Get in that gym and get stronger. Then you can defeat him. Then you can go back to all your loved ones.”

“But there’s no one out there who…”

“What are you talking about? There are more people out there who care about you than you think. You just have no idea.”

Chapter Text

I'm just a man

who's fighting for a home

even after all the years

of hardship that I've known

I'm just a man

who's selfish, cruel and vain

deep down I know only you

could ever ease the pain

Gi-hun wished he could stay in bed all day. But when the dawn greeted him with her soft rays and orange hues, he was reminded of Sae-byeok and found the strength to get out of bed.

In-ho usually still slept at that hour. Gi-hun couldn’t believe he had lived long enough in that hanok with him to pick up on his habits.

Being alone, though, gave him some sort of peace. His stomach was still upset, so he only made himself some warm tea to sip in front of the TV. He honestly didn’t care anymore for the news about the games; everything was said and done after all, he still kept watching in the hope of catching a glimpse of his friends. They rarely gave interviews, but when they did it warmed Gi-hun’s heart to see them on screen. This was the only way he could know how they were doing.

That morning, however, he couldn’t concentrate on the news. He kept thinking about the dream he had the night before. Why did Sae-byeok appear in his dream alone? His friends were usually all together when they appeared in his dreams. Had he angered Sang-woo, Jung-bae, and the others? Was that why Sae-byeok was on her own?

Gi-hun thought they were right to be angry with him. After all, he had stopped trying to get away from In-ho. He should have broken a bottle on his head, strangled him in his sleep or something. Instead, all he seemed to be doing nowadays was sulking and drawing, and sometimes eating just enough to keep going.

But there was another detail from his dream that was bugging him. Sae-byeok said he had reunited her mom with her brother, but when he left to enter the games again, Sae-byeok’s mother was still in the north. The broker had assured him they would get her out as soon as it was possible, but there was no way for Gi-hun to know if they had finally made it. He had tol him to contact Sang-woo’s mother if for any reason he wasn’t available, and he wasn’t. Even if he was still breathing, for the others out there, it was almost like he was dead. Out of reach.

“If you could speak to Seong Gi-hun right now, what would you say?”

Gi-hun was unfazed of hearing his name on TV. He wasn’t even tired of it, because most of the time it felt like they were speaking of somebody else. This decanted hero who disappeared mysteriously, who everyone adored and everyone was looking for, it couldn’t be him.

“I just want to thank him personally. Face to face. I’d like to ask him how my daughter’s last moments were… I want to hear it from him.”

His eyes, which up until then had been fixated on his tea, shot up to look at the screen. The woman being interviewed… there was no doubt about it.

That was Sae-byeok’s mother. Cheol and Sae-byeok’s mother. And she was being interviewed in front of the shop of Sang-woo’s mother. He wondered if they knew how exactly Sang-woo and Sae-byeok had died. While most of the games recordings were kept secret, too sanguinary to be shown on television, the families of the remaining players were informed, Gi-hun knew that.

But it couldn’t have been the same. Having a policeman tell you the last moments of your loved ones wasn’t the same as hearing it from someone who was there, from someone who had held them in his arms while they were drawing their final breath.

Gi-hun got back on his feet, so fast that he knocked over the cup with the remaining tea. He rushed up the stairs, rushed to the room he was determined not to call his own anymore. He needed to get out of there. They were right, his friends were right. There was so much he still needed to do in the world outside, so many people he still needed to help.

He opened his wardrobe, looking for something that would protect him from the air that was getting colder. There wasn’t really anything for the colder weather in there, which made him wonder if In-ho really hadn’t planned to keep him there that long, or he simply hadn’t thought to fetch winter clothes for him yet. It didn’t matter. It’s not like he was going to take things from him anymore. Not his food, not his medicine, and not his clothes.

He opted for a pair of black slacks and a button-up wine-red shirt, not the best choice for the cold, but the black wool jacket he found would have had to suffice until he could reach civilization. The jacket wasn’t his. In-ho had left it on the coat hanger in front of the main entrance door. It still smelled like him, smelled of honey and spices and wood. And Gi-hun hated it. He would have burned that jacket as soon as he got the chance to wear one of his own again.

“What are you doing?” The man, sleepy and still in his pajamas, asked him when he saw him put on the coat that belonged to him.

“I’m leaving, In-ho.”

“To go where?”

“None of your business. Now give me back my phone, my wallet, and all my stuff.”

In-ho didn’t say anything. He just stared at him with a puzzled expression and drowsy eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that? You said I was free to go once I got better. I’m all better now, so I’m going.”

In-ho pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re better now? Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am.”

Although there were days it seemed like he was relapsing, that abnormal fever he had suffered never returned. In-ho was glad for that, but it didn’t mean Gi-hun was okay now. His body was far from recovered.

“You’re not better, Gi-hun. You’re skin and bones, you can barely hold down the food you’re eating.”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened. So In-ho had heard him when he threw up the night before. Or did he have cameras around the house, so he could watch the recordings whenever? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He was still in the game. And just like Sae-byeok said, this was the toughest one yet.

“Please give your body time to recover. If you throw yourself out there, it’s only going to be more stressful for you.”

“I doubt anything could be more stressful than living here. Now give me my stuff, In-ho. And unlock that damned door!”

“No.”

In-ho was like a wall of ice. Unmovable and imposing, so gelid it irradiated a coldness that penetrated Gi-hun’s bones. But even ice can burn, and Gi-hun’s skin was already raw. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed In-ho by the collar.

“You cannot keep me here! Who do you think you are!?”

At first, In-ho let him yank him around. Gi-hun was too debilitated to match In-ho’s strength, and the man was afraid he could have seriously hurt him if he reacted. He needed to act carefully.

“You’re gonna unlock that damn door now, okay!? You’re gonna let me go!”

“No.”

In-ho was unfazed. Completely. But his coldness only ignited the fire in Gi-hun’s heart. He let go of In-ho, only to curl his hand in a fist, prepared to strike.

For In-ho, dodging that blow was child’s play. He grabbed him by the wrist, turned him around, and crossed his arms on his chest, keeping him locked tight from behind.

“Let me go! You asshole, let me go!”

“Not until you calm down first, okay?!”

Gi-hun thrashed and kicked, but In-ho’s arms were like a fullmetal claw; impossible to force open. They clenched around him so tightly that he felt the air missing from his lungs, he felt like he was unable to breathe. Sae-byeok was right. He was weak. He needed to get strong first if he wanted to have any chance of fighting against In-ho. In the end, he fell on the floor, a sobbing mess, In-ho still not letting go of him.

“Please let me leave…! Please…!”

“Ssh… hush… It’s okay, it’s going to be okay…”

His soothing voice whispering in his ear felt like honey. In-ho was his tormentor, his jailer, his bane. And yet he was his comforter, his caretaker, his panacea. How could this man be both? How could a songbird also be a snake? How could he be both Eros and Thanatos? How could an angel fall so far from heaven’s grace? In-ho had his face buried in his neck, inhaling his scent. Gi-hun kept weeping, coating his cheeks with warm tears. In-ho had always wondered what they tasted like. He never wanted him to be upset, yet he couldn’t deny how much his tears fascinated him, how much his flushed face awakened something in him. Slowly, he loosened the grip of his strong arms, while Gi-hun remained a sobbing mess on the floor. He gently took his cheek, slightly turning his head towards him. Then he laid a kiss on his wet skin. His lips lingered, wanting to savour it all. He kept leaving a trail of small, slow kisses on his cheek, traveling up until he arrived at the end of his eye, where a newly shed tear found its way onto his needy lips.

His tears didn’t just taste salty. They tasted bitter. It intrigued and fascinated him, and it sort of made the scientist in him wake up; would his tears taste different if his emotions were something other than despair? In-ho wanted to test it out. The mere thought gave him a thrill and a rush of adrenaline he hadn’t felt in years.

Gi-hun exhaled heavily, closing his eyes shut.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake… do you have a hard on?” His voice quivered as he asked, hoping with all his might that what he was feeling against his back wasn’t what he thought it was.

In-ho’s face went ablaze. Too caught up in the euphoria of having Gi-hun in his arms and his tears on his lips, he hadn’t noticed what was going on down there.

“Shit…! I’m sorry,” In-ho said, releasing him from his hold completely. Gi-hun pushed him to the side as he hastily got back on his feet and stormed out of the room.

One step forward and three steps back. It was always like that in his relationship with Gi-hun. But after this fuckup? He had gone back a mile.

*

After having taken care of his little problem, In-ho changed out of his pajamas and timidly started looking for Gi-hun. He needed to choose his next words carefully; Gi-hun’s nerves were already on edge, one wrong move and In-ho was done for. But no matter how much he put the gears inside his mind at work, he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make him look bad.

Although the air was getting chilly, In-ho found Gi-hun out in the garden. He had taken the coat off, and he was now sitting cross-legged by the pond, a blanket wrapped around himself. He was observing the koi carps inside the pond, with marvel yet sorrow in his eyes.

“Gi-hun…?” In-ho spoke softly, as he approached him with feline steps.

The man didn’t speak. But he wasn’t yelling at him either, so In-ho took another tentative step.

“I’m sorry for before… I didn’t mean for it to happen. But you know, physical proximity and all…”

“In-ho, please. If you have to talk, talk about something else.”

Gi-hun was pissed. Understandably so. He wouldn’t even look at In-ho in the eyes, but at the very least, he wasn’t turning him away, and In-ho couldn’t be more glad for that. He sat next to him, but with enough distance between them to leave him his space.

For a while, they sat in silence, the only sounds coming from the nature around them.

“They look happy, don’t they?”

At first, In-ho looked at him, puzzled, not sure who he was referring to. Following Gi-hun’s eyes, In-ho stared into the pond.

“You mean the carps?”

“Yeah… They don’t know they’re trapped. Unlike me.”

In-ho wouldn’t have said they were trapped. Fish only needed water and each other, no matter where they were. He had hoped that Gi-hun and he could have been like two fish, but maybe the only fish between the two of them was In-ho himself. Maybe Gi-hun was a bird, and you couldn’t force a bird to live in the water. Because no matter how beautiful the pond, a bird will suffocate without air.

In-ho understood that deep down, but he wasn’t ready to accept it.

The blanket had slipped off Gi-hun’s right shoulder, leaving it to the bites of the cold. In-ho instinctively reached for it, and although he had a slight moment of hesitation, he pulled it up to his shoulder again. Gi-hun let him do it.

A blanket could be cozy, but it wasn’t ideal. Soon, the snow of December and January would come, and sweatshirts and tracksuits were not going to cut it anymore. He needed sweaters, thicker pants, and jackets.

“We need to buy some winter clothes for you,” he said, changing the topic. Gi-hun, who up until that moment didn’t even spare In-ho a glance, turned his eyes onto the man. His orbs were hopeful and bright, as a smile gently formed on the corner of his lips.

“You want to go shopping?” 

Gi-hun knew escaping would have been hard, but even just the thought of going outside, seeing something that wasn't that hanok, felt exciting and thrilling. 

“We’ll buy online.”

“Oh...” Frowning, Gi-hun returned his gaze to the pond, the light on his face slowly dimming. In-ho hated shooting down his hopes, but he couldn't trust Gi-hun to come with him on his trips to the town yet. He would have much preferred taking him to a shop, trying on the clothes with him, choosing them together... but he couldn't risk it. Gi-hun was going to choose them online, and then In-ho would have picked them up from a pickup point.

“Whose clothes are these anyway? The ones in my wardrobe?”

“Some were mine. Others were Jun-ho’s. I hadn’t planned on taking you here until last minute, I had to quickly throw a wardrobe together.”

Gi-hun smiled to himself, then let out a small but audible chuckle. He had forgotten Jun-ho was the reason he was stuck there. His ally Jun-ho. The biggest traitor of them all.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just that you Hwang brothers are the bane of my existence.”

In-ho grimaced.

“Is it so bad living here with me?” He asked in a frail voice.

Gi-hun turned to look at him with wide eyes and his jaw to the floor. He couldn’t believe he was seriously asking him that.

“What do you think, In-ho? You brought me here without asking me what I wanted. You keep the doors and the windows locked, and you won’t let me out, not even to go shopping for clothes. You’ve imprisoned me here, and you expect me to thank you? You expect me to be happy?”

“Gi-hun, you’re not my prisoner, you’re my guest.”

“Did you ever ask me if I wanted to be your guest?!”

“Have you ever asked yourself if what you want is also what you need?”

Gi-hun scoffed, turning away from him again. He didn’t know how to answer that question. He didn’t know what he needed, but it certainly wasn’t all this.

“I know you want to go see Ga-yeong, I know you want to see Jun-hee and the others again. But to them, you’re a leader, a pillar to rely on. That’s not what you need right now, Gi-hun. You can’t take care of them. You’ve been strong for far too long; you need someone to take care of you.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

In-ho bit his lip in frustration. He wished he had some whisky at hand so he could wolf it all down in one go, and to hell with his remaining kidney.

“Why not?”

“Because you enjoy seeing me suffer.”

“What…? No, I do not!”

“I was crying, In-ho. Earlier, I was crying and you had a hard on!”

In-ho’s jaw dropped, his mouth opened, but words took effort to come out. “That’s not…! That’s not why I was hard!” He tried explaining himself, his voice a pitch higher than usual. He tried recomposing himself after a small pause. “I… I never held you that close. And you’ve never worn such tight clothes.”

Gi-hun wrapped himself tighter in his blanket, using it as a shield to hide his body. In-ho hadn’t meant to blame him. He was just trying to explain himself, but it looked like he was making things worse. He couldn’t deny the effect, the thrill that kissing Gi-hun’s tears had had on him. The thrill that rushed through him when the salt graced his lips. In-ho was a cruel man. Selfish and cruel, and he didn’t need to recount all his crimes, the unspeakable things he had done, to remember that. He had done horrible things even to the man he claimed he now wanted to take care of.

And yet, realizing that seeing Gi-hun cry had turned him on… it scared him. It terrified him so much, he couldn’t even admit it to himself.

He never wanted to see Gi-hun in pain. He had done his best to take care of him precisely for that. Then why had he liked it when he saw him cry? Why had he enjoyed the taste of his tears?

“Gi-hun… I don’t enjoy seeing you suffer. But you don’t believe me, do you?”

The man, who was now hugging his knees, shrugged. In-ho clearly shouldn’t have posed a question that he already knew the answer to. After all, how could Gi-hun believe him when he didn't even believe himself? He cursed his body that had betrayed him, when he truly did hate seeing Gi-hun in pain. Like he was right now.

His lips had lost color; how long could he stay in that weather until they turned blue?

“It’s cold out here. We should head back inside.”

Gi-hun shook his head lightly. He was cold, but he didn’t want to go back inside. No matter how big that house was, its walls still felt too tight around them. The enclosed garden was still a cage, but at least he felt like he could breathe there. He felt like those carps in the pond; not free, but comfortable.

“Gi-hun, you’ll get sick again.”

“I am sick. I’m sick of you, In-ho.”

Gi-hun didn’t even look him in the eyes while he delivered the words that cut through his heart like a dagger. Slowly, In-ho got back on his feet, the weight of gravity on his shoulders feeling heavier than before. Gi-hun thought he’d feel relieved once he left him alone, but he wasn’t. His heart was heavier than it ever was. Minutes later, when In-ho unsurprisingly came back, he had a long wool coat that he draped around Gi-hun’s shoulders.

“You need to be covered properly if you want to stay outside.”

Gi-hun hadn’t realized how cold he felt until In-ho wrapped that coat around his shoulders. But he wasn’t going to thank him, not this time. He was determined to put distance between the two of them.

If only determination could be enough to bring the desired results.

In-ho knelt behind him, placing his hand on his back. His palm rested where his heart was, the heart that would never be his. He felt like a mortal man who was watching through the porthole of a submarine, admiring and marveling at the mermaids thriving in an underwater world that he would never be part of, a world that would never be his.

“In-ho…?”

The man had pressed his cheek against Gi-hun’s back, listening closely to every beat of that heart that was never going to beat for him. He sobbed against him, his body trembling, making Gi-hun tremble slightly with him.

“In-ho?” He called again, but it didn’t seem like he was hearing him.

“Gi-hun…! Please… please…!"

In-ho sobbed, and sobbed, and cried so much he was barely able to breathe. Gi-hun turned around, facing him, grabbing both his shoulders with his hands, trying to shake him out of that trance. But In-ho remained with his head bowed, his eyes squeezed shut, tears running down his cheeks.

If Gi-hun had had a hard time remembering this man was the same who used to hide behind that black mask, that day had been the hardest of all. In-ho looked like anything but the monster he once knew. He was crying like a baby, leaving all his fragility exposed for Gi-hun to see.

“Okay, calm down now, In-ho. Take a deep breath, okay?”

In-ho followed Gi-hun's instructions, breathing in through his nose and breathing out through his mouth. Gi-hun breathed with him, almost cried with him. From a sobbing wreck, In-ho slowly started regaining composure, although the tears still filled his eyes. 

“I know I don’t have the right to ask you anything, but please…! Please, will you stay with me? Just another while?”

Gi-hun was dismayed. In-ho had never looked and sounded so pathetic. A mix of emotions was swirling in his heart right now: pity, commiseration, but also endearment. Yet one emotion prevailed over them: anger.

“Do I even have a choice, In-ho?”

“I will let you go! I swear I will let you go, I just need you to stay with me a little longer.”

“But why? Why do you insist on keeping me here?”

In-ho's lips quivered, eyes shining with unshed tears as he looked into Gi-hun's round eyes. “I am a cruel man. I’ve caused hurt far beyond what I can repair. But if there is one person out there who can help me become human again, that person is you, Seong Gi-hun.”

Gi-hun’s head was starting to spin. He felt like his fever might be coming back from that confession alone. Did In-ho not realize what kind of burden he was putting on his shoulders? In-ho was fucked up. He had a twisted view of life and even of love. Even if Gi-hun wanted to help him, where would he even start? What could he even do?

“I need you, Gi-hun…!”

“What do you think I can do…?”

“You just need to be yourself. Talk to me, Gi-hun. Show me the world through your eyes.”

Gi-hun was sure he was going to regret this. But what other choice did he have?

“And if I stay and help you… Will you let me go see Ga-yeong?”

“I will get you to Los Angeles with a private flight, I swear.”

“How can I believe you?”

“Ever since you found out my identity, have I ever lied to you?”

“No. Not since then, no…”

“Then trust me. I know I’m asking you a lot, but you have to trust me. I would never lie to you again.”

“Do you promise you will never lie again?”

“I promise.”

Gi-hun took a deep breath. It wasn't the most dangerous thing he had done, it wasn't even the most difficult thing he had done. All In-ho was asking him was to stay around and be himself, although he wasn't sure he was the same person anymore. He just hoped he wouldn't lose himself at the end of that road.

“Alright… alright, I’ll stay.”

In-ho’s bloodshot and glassy eyes lit up with hope, as a smile slowly spread on his face.

“You’ll stay…?”

“Not for long, though, okay?”

His iron claws wrapped around him once more, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you…! Thank you so much, Gi-hun!”

In-ho buried his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. He snuggled up to him like a bird getting comfortable in its nest, as if it were a place he had known his whole life. Gi-hun, on the other hand, found it difficult to return the hug. His hands moved with uncertainty, and as his lips pressed in a tight smile, his hand started patting In-ho on the back.

He couldn’t stop himself from giving him his help. Not when he was asking him so openly, showing him his most vulnerable side. Gi-hun knew it couldn’t have been easy. In-ho must have been truly desperate to do that. Gi-hun knew a thing or two about desperation, and the mortifying things it makes you do. He wasn’t sure he had the power to help him, but he had to at least try. It would have been the ultimate proof that there is hope for humanity, that all people deep down are good. Even people like In-ho, who had done such horrible things.

"In-ho?"

"Yes?"

"I will help you. But it's important to me that you know that..." Gi-hun paused, not knowing how to say this. "I can't... love you the way you want me to. You understand that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know!" In-ho replied, too hastily to come off as sincere. The kiss he left on his shoulder was even more in contrast with what he had said, yet Gi-hun chose to trust him. It was too late to go back on his word now, anyway.

He just hoped this road didn’t end with the destruction of both of them.

*

Sae-byeok was standing with her hands the pocket of her oversized jacket, her back leaning against the wall. Gi-hun handed her a bungeo-ppang, which she accepted without saying a word. They ate their pastries, and although the meal was shared in silence, the air didn’t feel tense.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Mh… no, not really. It’s a strategy. I’m not sure it might work, but it’s a strategy. You’ll still do what I told you, right? You’ll get strong.”

“Yes. I’m gonna put that gym to good use. I’ll be prepared in case he doesn’t keep his promise.”

“Good. I don’t trust him, not one bit. I know you do, but I’m glad you’ll be ready to fight when the time comes.”

Gi-hun wasn’t sure brute force was going to help him in that case. Even if he was able to put on some muscle mass, what could it do against In-ho’s training and years of experience? If he was to make it out of that place, he needed to tap into In-ho’s humanity.

“Just try not to fall for him, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Chapter Text

The sight outside the window of her mansion in Seoul was marvelous, but for Jun-hee, the most beautiful sight was nestled in her arms. Little Min-yeong was looking into her eyes with her big, curious ones as Jun-hee nursed her.

“Jun-hee?” Geum-ja stepped into the room some time later, with a wide smile and her hair slightly disheveled. Her apron was dusted with flour, and she brought into the room a smell of vanilla and chocolate. It was the day Hyun-ju and Gyeong-seok came back from Thailand after her surgery, and on the ground floor, there was an explosion of balloons, streamers, and food.

Jun-hee had meant to help Geum-ja with the cake and everything else, but Min-yeong had been fussy that day.

“Did our little princess drink her milk yet?”

“Yes, I was just done breastfeeding her,” Jun-hee said as she held her baby and gently patted her on the back, using the method Geum-ja had taught her to make the baby burp. Jun-hee felt so blessed to be surrounded by so many people who loved her, in that house they all shared, but Geum-ja was special. Jang Geum-ja was not only the mother, but also the grandmother she never had.

She helped her with the baby, and she taught her how to cook. And she also always knew when there was something on her mind.

“Jun-hee, do you want me to put Min-yeong to bed?” She offered. The old woman had magic hands when it came to making the baby fall asleep; just the sound of her voice was enough to get little Min-yeong into a trance. When it was one of those days that made life as a mama too stressful, Jun-hee would usually come begging the old woman to lull the baby to sleep in her place. But that day wasn’t one of those days.

“No, it’s fine. She’s not fussy anymore.”

Little Min-yeong was struggling to keep her eyes open. She wanted to experience the world a little longer, fighting against Morpheus, who was reclaiming her presence in the realm of dreams. But that wasn’t the only reason Jun-hee wouldn’t hand her baby over to Geum-ja. She needed her baby, she needed to hold her as long as she could, to have the comfort of the milky scent of her skin and her gurgling sounds as she fell asleep.

“Jun-hee, what’s on your mind, dear?”

The young woman sighed. She could never hide anything from Geum-ja for too long. Her heart was like an open book to her.

“I wish they were here,” Jun-hee confessed, and Geum-ja’s eyes softened. It was on festal days like this that the absence of those who were gone was felt stronger than before.

“I know. I wish Young-mi, Jung-bae, and the others were here too. But we need to go on and be happy, we owe this to them.”

“Do you think Gi-hun and Young-il are alright?”

“They’re both tough. And that police gentleman that found us will also find them, I’m sure of it.”

A lot of unspoken questions wandered through Jun-hee’s mind. If they were alive, why didn’t they come into contact with them? And if they were dead, how and when did it happen? Before either of them could bring those unspoken words into existence, Yong-sik’s voice called from downstairs.

“MOM! The cake!”

“I have to go now. Min-yeong might be fussy, but this other baby is no different.”

Geum-ja chuckled on her way out, glad to see Jun-hee was chuckling too. Her worries remained, but the mother and son duo managed to bring a smile to her face. Min-yeong yawned, her eyelids heavy as her mother’s lulling slowly dipped her into the ocean of dreams.

Jun-hee never had parents. Ever since she was a child, she has always had to fend for herself. When she got in debt, her friends and colleagues would ask her, “Can’t your parents give you a hand?” It was a question that got her down in the dumps. She had never trusted anyone enough to tell them her whole backstory until Myung-gi came around, and then Geum-ja and the others.

Growing up, there was nothing she envied more about her classmates and friends than when they talked about how they would turn to their parents when they had a problem, economic or not. But that had never been an option for Jun-hee. Back in the games, when Seong Gi-hun told them he was going to help all of them once they got out, Jun-hee had felt a warm feeling in her heart. She wondered if that was what it felt like, to have someone older to rely on, to have a father to catch you when you fell.

That feeling lasted as briefly as a summer breeze. Now there was only longing and emptiness in that part of her heart that had felt so warm.

She didn’t need Seong Gi-hun’s money anymore, but she needed him. She needed far more than his economic support. As much as she tried telling herself all her life that she didn’t need a father figure, she was wrong. Deep down, she had always known she was wrong, and now she knew it more than ever. She wanted Gi-hun to meet Min-yeong; she wanted her daughter to meet the man who had saved her parents’ lives, and consequently, Min-yeong’s own life too.

As she was putting the now fully asleep Min-yeong to bed, a sudden fear and sorrow assaulted Jun-hee. Her daughter was surrounded by both her parents, by Geum-ja, who was like a grandma, by Yong-sik, Dae-ho, Hyun-ju, and Gyeong-seok, who were her aunt and uncles, but how long was that going to last?

Jun-hee was terrified someone could have snatched them away. Just like the games snatched away Jung-bae, Young-mi, and now even Young-il and Gi-hun. She wasn’t afraid of being left alone, she wasn’t even afraid of dying.

What she was afraid of, was her daughter growing up without their love. Growing up alone like she had.

“Jun-hee?” Myung-gi quietly entered the room. “I’m heading out to the airport to pick up Hyun-ju and Gyeong-seok,” He informed her. Jun-hee was in front of the crib, giving her back to him. She slightly turned around to give him a small nod but didn’t utter a word.

She only turned around briefly, but it was enough for him to notice something was wrong.

“Jun-hee…? Are you crying?”

“Yeah, but I’m fine now,” she said, brushing away the tears from the corner of her eyes.

Myung-gi wanted to hold her. He wanted to put his arms around her and comfort her in the longest hug. But he wouldn’t. Because he knew she didn’t want that. When they went to live together in that big mansion, with all of their friends, she made it very clear that although they would raise Min-yeong together, they were not getting back together. Not for the time being at least; she told him she still needed time.

Myung-gi would have accepted her decision even if she never wanted him back. But deep inside his heart, he never lost hope that one day, the two of them could fall back in love. For now, however, her friendship was more than enough. Seeing her and their daughter every day was more than enough. It was a blessing he never thought he’d have, back in those hard days running away from all the people who wanted him dead.

He couldn’t hold Jun-hee in his arms, but still, he wanted to do anything he could to comfort her.

“Are you sad about Young-il and Gi-hun? I’m sure that Jun-ho will find them. He found the island after all, finding two people should be a piece of cake.”

Myung-gi wasn’t really sure he trusted Hwang Jun-ho. He was still suspicious of Young-il, and while he could never share his suspicions with Jun-hee, he did share them with the policeman. Jun-ho had acted standoffish back then. He said he’d look into it, but he’d follow other leads first. The important thing was finding Seong Gi-hun first, and while Myung-gi agreed, the way he had quickly dismissed his theory that Young-il might have been working for the games left a bad taste in his mouth. Jun-ho’s attitude just gave him a bad feeling, but he tried to shake it off as much as he could; it’s not like there were many other people they could trust.

And as for what concerned Seong Gi-hun, Myung-gi didn’t have much hope they’d find him alive, if they even found him at all. He respected the man, it was thanks to him that his family was alive, and as much as he wished he could thank him in person, he had no hope that would ever happen. He was the man who brought down that twisted system after all, he was the man who led the rebellion that killed so many of those masked men. It was no wonder they decided to enact revenge on him. What villain wouldn't want to take their enemies with them, if their ship had to sink?

At least, that was his theory. He hoped for Jun-hee’s sake that he was wrong, but logically, he could not picture any other scenario.

“I miss them, Myung-gi. I miss them so much…” Jun-hee raised her head to look at the ceiling, trying fruitlessly to prevent her tears from falling. “Those games were hell on earth, but they made me feel protected… they made me feel like I could make it out. Jung-bae, Young-il, and especially Gi-hun…. When I was next to him, I started wondering if that was what it feels like to have a father. To have someone I could rely on.”

“You still have people you can rely on. They’re not here right now, but you still have all of us.”

Jun-hee didn’t seem to have heard a word of what he said when she turned around to look at him in the eyes with her earnest ones.

“Myung-gi, please don’t ever let Min-yeong wonder that. I want her to know what it’s like to have a father.”

“Jun-hee, I’m never leaving the two of you again. Never.”

“That’s not enough. I know you won’t leave again, but I need to know you won’t die. That you won’t disappear. I need to know my daughter won’t become an orphan at some point.”

Myung-gi was completely taken aback by her request. He could stay with her, and he could do his best to be a good dad. But not dying? That was something that was out of his control. He could lie to her about what he truly thought of Young-il, he could lie to her about what he thought had been Gi-hun’s fate, but he couldn’t lie to her about that.

“Jun-hee… you know I can’t promise you that.”

“Then lie to me!” She yelled, waking up the little Min-yeong, who started crying. Despite the baby’s wailings, Jun-hee made no move towards the crib. It took Myung-gi just a few instants to realize she was expecting him to pick the baby up.

“Hush, hush baby… daddy’s here, my little princess…” He said, cradling the little baby in his arms. The sudden yelling had startled her, but it only took a few cuddles and lullabies for her to fall right back into sleep.

Jun-hee looked at the scene with a smile on her face. While her behavior slightly worried Myung-gi, he could see where she was coming from. Considering the trauma she had endured, being pregnant in the games, having to give birth in front of strangers and seeing so many people she had learned to care about die in such a short period, it was only natural her mind would have repercussions. Someone more fragile than her couldn't have endured all of that, but Jun-hee was strong. And knowing that cemented in Myung-gi's mind the idea that she didn't need him. While it hurt him, he had accepted that. Jun-hee needed a father for her daughter, not a lover for herself.

*

“Gi-hun, you’ll only hurt yourself if you start with those.”

In-ho had walked in on Gi-hun trying to lift weights in the gym. For some reason, Gi-hun felt like a kid being caught with his hands in the cookie jar. He had forgotten that In-ho used to train in the morning. He should have waited for the afternoon, but he was too eager to start.

And now, he had to deal with In-ho, who had appointed himself as his personal trainer.

“Did you warm up at least?”

Gi-hun shook his head.

“When was the last time you went to the gym?”

“Uh…”

In-ho scratched the back of his head. “Okay… I think you should start with the treadmill.”

Sulking, Gi-hun followed his advice. The treadmill was perfect as a starting point; it wasn’t too tiring, you could control the intensity, and it was easy on the joints.

“You need to fix your posture,” In-ho told him with firmness yet gentle concern. It was a thing he had noticed long ago, but it had gotten worse since he joined the games the second time. Gi-hun didn’t do it on purpose, he just felt self-conscious about his body. He always had, but now that he was so scrawny, he felt even more insecure. He felt weak, fragile, and not man enough. It didn’t help that someone like In-ho was next to him. Someone so brawn and well-built.

He tried swallowing his pride and straightening himself up, although it made him feel terribly exposed.

“No, not like that…”

In-ho put one hand between his shoulder blades and the other on his chest, guiding him into the right position. Although the change helped release some tension in his muscles, Gi-hun couldn’t help feel slightly pissed off. He had accepted to help In-ho, he had given up on his freedom to do so, and he had only asked him one simple thing in return: that he respected his feelings. That he wouldn’t expect him to return his love. Yet with the way he was putting his hands on his body, Gi-hun couldn’t help feeling he was just using it as an excuse to touch him.

“Here. It’s hard to maintain this posture if you don’t strengthen your back muscles first. I’ll show you some exercises once you’re done on the treadmill.”

Once In-ho’s hands left him, Gi-hun felt relief wash over him but also a weird sense of loss.

They went to train in their own separate ways, until Gi-hun was done with the treadmill. In-ho proceeded to show him some exercises and handed him the smallest weights he had in his gym, earning some scornful looks from Gi-hun.

“I know you’re eager to start, but anything heavier than that and you’ll find your muscles torn.”

It didn’t take an expert in bodybuilding to know he was right. Still, the meagre 1kg weights in his hands felt like a joke. When had he become so weak? When had he let his health deteriorate so much? Even with the lightest weights, he was tired after barely one set. He tried to hide it, but In-ho was as watchful as an eagle.

“That’s enough for today,” In-ho told him.

“But-”

“Gi-hun, building muscles is something you have to do gradually. Give your body time!”

When did Hwang In-ho become the voice of reason? Gi-hun hated to admit he was right. He wanted to get strong as soon as possible and fulfill his promise to Sae-byeok, but realistically, he knew it was going to take a lot of time. As he watched In-ho lift his 10kg dumbbells, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of envy in his heart, but also inadequacy; when was he ever going to match with that? How could he ever wish to defeat an enemy who lifted those weights with so much ease?

No, physical fights definitely weren’t his forte. Like he had already realized, if he wanted to be free, he had to tap into In-ho’s humanity. He had to make In-ho better.

But could he actually do it? Gi-hun wasn’t sure. After stopping the games, you’d think anyone would feel invincible. But Gi-hun felt dried out instead. Helping In-ho felt like something out of his league, like something only a licensed therapist could do, and he wasn’t one.

In-ho said he wanted to look at the world through Gi-hun’s eyes, but would sharing his worldview really suffice? It seemed way too easy. Where was the catch?

As a storm brewed in Gi-hun’s heart, In-ho’s one was a starry night sky. He was surprised that morning, when he woke up to Gi-hun already up and about, being busy in the kitchen. He hadn’t disturbed him, aside from the usual good morning, but then he had left him alone. The last place he had expected to find him was the gym, when he went for his usual workout that morning. But In-ho was pleasantly surprised. He never quite understood what happened, but something had changed in Gi-hun overnight. It was like he had found the will to fight again. Not knowing about Sae-byeok’s visits in dreamland, he felt a slight wavering of the heart, believing that the change had been because of him. That Gi-hun was holding on to life to be with him.

After all, when he had asked him to stay, he agreed right away, to In-ho’s great surprise. He had expected him to protest, to try to run off again, but he had accepted to help him with so much ease; In-ho could barely believe it when he let him hold him in his arms. Gi-hun was his nest, and he never wanted to fly away.

*

Gi-hun couldn’t say why he had decided to stay and help In-ho. It went against all logic and common sense. Anybody would have said he was a madman who felt sympathy towards his captor, but Gi-hun was used to being considered crazy anyway. It was the same when he went back into the game to save everybody, and people calling him names never once made his resolve falter. Gi-hun firmly believed there was good in anybody. That everybody was worth being saved. Even people like In-ho. And he had asked for his help, which to Gi-hun felt like a clear indicator that there was hope for him, that he could be saved.

The truth was, he wanted to help In-ho. He truly did. He knew what the man had done, he knew his acts of crime were irredeemable, but he couldn’t help seeing that deep down, there was still some good in him, too. He could see it in the way he took care of him; he was so gentle, so loving… it was clear he was capable of love, but loving someone also meant letting go. Gi-hun wasn’t going to forget his promise, because whether In-ho honored his promise or not was going to be the ultimate test; if he loved him enough to let him go, then it meant he had finally regained his humanity.

There was only one flaw in that plan. One mortal danger that could have changed everything. For In-ho to become a better person, he couldn't get what he wanted. He couldn't be selfish. And for that to work, it was imperative that Gi-hun didn’t fall in love with him.

It wasn't only for In-ho's sake, but mostly for his own. Gi-hun was playing with fire, he knew he was. And never like this time the risk of getting burned was sky high.

Gi-hun tied his apron around his waist as he started preparing lunch. He was absolutely famished, thanks to the exercise, and for the first time in days, he was actually looking forward to having a hearty meal. His stomach seemed to be cooperating as well, since it had held up his breakfast that morning. He even felt like singing as he chopped up vegetables. Usually, he only prepared food for himself, but if he wanted In-ho to become a better person, maybe having someone care enough for him to make him lunch would have been a good start.

Sometimes the best way to teach someone the right way to love, is to love them the right way.

In-ho’s training had lasted longer than his, so he was still in the shower. But it wasn’t long until he walked to the kitchen’s entrance, lingering on the doorsill, watchful as always.

Gi-hun could feel his hungry eyes boring into him.

“If you wanna stare at my ass, don’t you have camera recordings?”

In-ho was silent for a moment, stunned from the embarrassment of being caught staring. “I don’t have cameras in this house,” he said, once he snapped out of it.

“Really? Now that’s surprising.”

There was no reason to. He had never planned to live there with anybody, let alone Gi-hun. But the day the games ended, that was the day everything changed.

“Anyways, are you gonna help me or are you just gonna stand there like a creep?”

The man didn’t let him repeat it twice. This man, who used to be in charge of an army, was suddenly following his orders like an enamoured puppy. And while it surprised Gi-hun, realizing he had some sort of power over him gave him a sudden thrill.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Wash the rice and put it in the boiler.”

Gi-hun had already placed the uncooked rice in a bowl in the sink. In-ho was surprised to see the quantity; just like the exercise, food was another thing he had to take in small doses if he wanted to gain weight back healthily. Did he plan to eat all of that, or…?

“Are you cooking for me too?”

“Consider it a thanks for helping me with training.”

In-ho stared at him in stunned silence, then quietly started his job. With the corner of his eye, Gi-hun could see In-ho’s giddy smile and the bright eyes. He couldn’t help but think that if he forgot all about the games, Hwang In-ho was actually so cute. He didn’t seem like a bad person at all. Then, what happened to him? How did this man become the monster he knew?

“Wait, if you don’t have cameras in here, how did you know I threw up the other day?”

“The walls are thin. I wanted to check how you were doing… but I didn’t enter.”

“Why…?”

“I don’t know… I felt like you’d be pissed at me if I did.”

“I sure would have.”

In-ho was glad to see that leaving him alone had been the right choice. He wanted to get to his room and comfort him, but Gi-hun’s nerves were already tense that night. He didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Still, he had gotten so worried, he couldn’t help sneaking in after the man had fallen asleep. He had to make sure he wouldn’t vomit and suffocate in his sleep. Yet In-ho stayed longer, far longer than he needed to, just to observe him sleep. It was the only time of day when his beautiful face wasn’t frowning, when he could admire his beauty in all his innocence.

He would never confess it to Gi-hun, though. Not when it finally seemed he didn’t despise his presence anymore.

*

“And the search continues for the lost hero of the game island, Seong Gi-hun,” the newspresenter on the TV said.

They didn’t have much on their hands, so when it came to Gi-hun’s disappearance, they always told the same infos over and over, but in different ways, to keep the audience engaged. Jun-hee didn’t concede any interviews, but they knew she was the last player who saw him, even if just through a screen, thanks to the testimonies of Gi-hun’s team. Since their actual information was scarce, the theories were wild.

Dozens of journalists, criminologists, and other experts presented their theories on national television, and even the common folks did it online. Some even theorized he was dead, that he had killed himself, unable to live with all that trauma. They weren't that far off, both Gi-hun and In-ho knew that. The latter wondered if that would have been what Gi-hun was going to do, if he hadn't taken him with him. And somewhere in his mind, he started convincing himself he had saved him.

The news was also filled with false sightings; some swore they had seen Gi-hun in China, others in New York. The media frenzy had also attracted many mythomaniacs. One guy, whom Gi-hun had never seen in his life, was currently swearing to the reporters that he and Gi-hun were childhood friends and used to play backgammon together. Not only that, he also said that Gi-hun was in the Bahamas under a fake identity because he didn’t want to be disturbed.

If the theories amused Gi-hun, In-ho was far less impressed. “The things people will do for five minutes of fame…” he said, shaking his head.

“How does it feel to be the only one who knows the truth?”

Gi-hun’s question had meant to be playful, but In-ho lowered his gaze, suddenly shutting himself off. He could have sworn the man looked regretful of what he had done, of the knowledge he wouldn’t share, even if the world was going crazy looking for the lost hero.

But he was wrong.

In-ho felt shame, not regret. He didn’t feel an ounce of regret in hiding Gi-hun away from the world. What did the world do to deserve him, anyway? Gi-hun was his own to keep, and In-ho was Gi-hun’s to save.

“Hey. Hwang In-ho, I’m talking to you. Must be nice, to know something nobody else knows. Y’know, when I was a kid, I used to read in the newspapers all about these murder mysteries or missing people mysteries with my friends, we would get together and share our thoughts and theories. We were always dying to know the truth, it made me so mad to think there were people out there that did. I wanted to know too! So tell me, Hwang In-ho, how does it feel living my dream?”

Gi-hun’s rambling had made In-ho chuckle lightly. He finally raised his head to look into his eyes with a small but sincere smile.

“You’re talkative today. I’m glad.”

“Well, one of us has to do the talking, since you won’t.” Gi-hun smiled, and he had the sun in his smile. It was perhaps the first time he ever smiled at In-ho like that, ever since he had taken the mask of Young-il off. He was smiling at him, at Hwang In-ho, not Young-il, and it filled his heart with joy. His next goal was to make him laugh. Last time he had laughed genuinely, it had been with Jung-bae. In-ho had felt an inexplicable amount of rage that night, a feeling he was only now realizing was called jealousy.

In-ho was so happy to see that he didn’t break Gi-hun, that the hurt he had caused him wasn’t irreparable.

“If anyone has any information about the lost hero of the game island, please do come forward…” the reporter on TV said. That was the phrase that always accompanied the end of any reportage on Seong Gi-hun. The man couldn’t believe the irony of all that. He used to run away from people he owed money to. Had he gone missing back then, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have cared or searched for him. Yet now that he was some hero, they were offering a reward to find him.

“Lost Hero, tch. That’s such a lame name,” In-ho commented. “The one I came up with was better. Unsung Hero. Don’t you think?”

Gi-hun stared at his food. He didn’t look abashed, he almost looked sad. Like he didn’t feel like he deserved to be called a hero. “I’m hardly unsung anymore…”

“What did you expect, when you set your mind to stop the games? That people wouldn’t have talked about it? It’s obvious you’d be famous. It’s obvious you’re a hero now.”

Gi-hun kept playing with his food instead of eating. “I just wanted to stop the games. I never wanted to be famous. And I never thought I’d survive my mission…”

“So that’s the type of hero you wanted to be? The self-sacrificing hero. The one whose praises only get sung after his death.”

Gi-hun slammed his fist on the table, making In-ho flinch and the items on the table shake. “Will you stop calling me that!?” He cried, “I’m no fucking hero! I never wanted to be a hero!”

In-ho didn’t think he’d struck a nerve. He didn’t mean to be teasing him either, but there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse. He had upset him, and the least he could do was acknowledge that.

“I’m sorry.”

Even if with time In-ho had grown fond of the moniker and called him a hero with affection, the nickname was born as a mocking, as a jeer for a man who wanted to take down something far greater than him. He believed Gi-hun to be an idealistic, hopeless fool. In the end, this little David had triumphed over Goliath, and the only fool left was In-ho.

“I truly mean that, Gi-hun. I’m sorry. I won’t call you that anymore.”

Gi-hun, whose face and eyes were red, took a deep breath to calm himself down, diverting his gaze from In-ho.

“No, I’m sorry too… I don’t know what came over me. It all just makes me so mad!”

He shoved food in his mouth, eating angrily as he usually did when he was upset, until his plate was empty.

“I only ever wanted to have a quiet, fun life. I never looked for trouble, it’s the trouble that always found me. And look at that, I dismantled a whole sick system and now the whole world’s looking for me. And here I am, being the personal therapist of a sadistic freak…”

“Sadistic…?”

“Don’t look at me like you never enjoyed seeing me suffer.”

“But I don’t!?”

“I was crying and you got hard, In-ho.”

“But I wasn’t hard because you were crying! The two things were not related!”

“Then why were you hard, In-ho?” Gi-hun was harsh, his tone inquisitive. It was pushing In-ho into a corner.

“B-Because!” He was stuttering. The Frontman was stuttering. It filled Gi-hun with a weird sense of pride and retribution, but part of him also felt sorry for this man, who looked so embarrassed about the reactions of his own body. In-ho was a control freak, but that was one of the only things he couldn’t control.

“I was holding you tight, and I was kissing your cheek, and you weren’t pulling back! It made me so happy and… that happened!”

Gi-hun scoffed. “So it’s my fault, right? Because I didn’t push you away, because I was wearing tight clothes…"

“No! It’s not your fault! It’s just that I- ugh!”

In-ho buried his face in his hands, frustrated beyond his limit. He wasn’t used to talking about his feelings; he rarely ever did, not even when he was married.

“Look, I’m not mad at you because that happened,” Gi-hun told him in a firm but reassuring tone. “But if you want me to help you, you gotta help me help you. Y’know what I mean?”

In-ho looked up at him briefly, then slightly nodded his head to let him know he agreed. The first step towards fixing a problem was admitting you have a problem. But that was also the toughest part.

Gi-hun wasn’t judging him. He was looking in his eyes with a heartening smile, nodding his head slightly, to signal that he could trust him. That he could confess his heart’s darkest desires.

“It’s just… it’s that you’re pretty when you cry.”

Gi-hun’s smile dropped. That was one hell of a confession, one that caught him completely unprepared. He wasn't expecting that. He was expecting some insight in the mind of someone who took pleasure in the suffering of others, he wasn't expecting In-ho to admit that he thought his crying made him attractive. He rarely ever thought of himself as good-looking, but pretty? That was the last word he'd ever use to describe himself. And Hwang In-ho of all people was using it for him?

“Alright… that’s kinda weird and creepy, but it’s a good thing you’re able to admit it.”

The rest of the meal was consumed in silence. Neither of them really knew where to take the conversation after that. But even when the night fell, Gi-hun couldn't stop thinking about it. Eun-ji used to hate it when he cried. Not because her heart ached at seeing him upset, she was just disappointed, and would usually tell him to man up. What In-ho confessed to him was scary, and should have made him break that table over his head and run as far away as possible. But in a terrible way, it was also strangely flattering.

Chapter Text

Gi-hun was on the treadmill, In-ho on the bench lifting weights. The morning went on quietly, the only sounds filling the room were the ones coming from their training equipment. Gi-hun was still in disbelief over what In-ho had told him the day before. All throughout the morning, he tried stealing glances at In-ho’s direction. He was lifting those weights like they were nothing, wearing a black tank top. The sweat made his skin glisten under the artificial light, enhancing his sculpted physique. Did the Frontman really need to be that muscular, or did In-ho simply like it like that?

In-ho must have felt his eyes lingering on him, because he turned his head in his direction. Gi-hun quickly turned back straight.

He felt ridiculous, stealing glances like a schoolboy with a crush, but he couldn’t help it. This man was always observing him. And now he felt drawn to observe him too.

Pretty. This man had called him pretty. Even though the circumstances should have raised a million red flags, Gi-hun couldn’t stop thinking about it.

In-ho was pretending not to, but he had noticed Gi-hun’s furtive looks and rosy cheeks. He was trying to be so nonchalant about it, and when he was caught staring, he always turned his head around so quickly. He wasn’t subtle at all, which made In-ho smirk to himself.

*

Gi-hun was sipping his hot tea out on the porch, observing how the spare snowflakes were slowly transforming their garden into a winter wonderland. The cold wasn’t his enemy anymore. He was now wearing a high-collared, white cashmere sweater, courtesy of In-ho. He had made him choose his clothes from an online catalogue, which didn’t display the price tags. He wondered how much he had paid for all of that. Gi-hun didn’t want him to pay for his clothes, but it’s not like he had access to his own money.

In-ho walked out to the porch, his step feline as always, but Gi-hun had learned to recognize it. When he stopped beside him, In-ho just stared at him. He was used to the man’s stares, but that morning it felt different. More intense. More penetrating. He didn’t even say good morning to him like he did every day.

In-ho’s shoulders were tense, his jaw clenched, his eyes not even blinking. As if he was afraid Gi-hun would disappear if he closed them even for an instant.

“Good morning,” Gi-hun said, looking up at him. The man looked distraught, but the sound of his voice made him start tearing up. Before Gi-hun could ask him if something was wrong, In-ho sat down, his shoulders feeling like he was bearing the weight of the world, then slowly laid his head on Gi-hun’s lap. Without saying a word.

“In-ho? What are you…”

“I had a nightmare you were dead.”

“Oh…”

In-ho snuggled up to him, his movements sluggish, rubbing his cheek on his thigh. His hand went up and down his leg, almost as if he wanted to make sure Gi-hun was real. That he was physically there.

Gi-hun didn’t know what to say to him. The real nightmare, when it came to dead loved ones, was waking up and realizing it wasn’t just a nightmare. But In-ho didn’t have that. Gi-hun was there, and he was supposed to comfort him, if he could only snap out of the shock that such a nightmare would have In-ho in such a state.

He was almost trembling, his whole body tense, his breathing hitched. Eyes red and glassy with unshed tears.

“You were lying in a pool of your own blood.” his voice sounded so broken as he began telling the tale, that dreadful image still in front of his very eyes. “Your eyes were open and looking at me. You didn’t look dead. But I knew you were. I knew. And it was all my fault.”

“I’m right here, In-ho.”

“I know. I just need to feel it. Let me lie like this. Just for a little while.”

“Okay…” He agreed in a breathy whisper. Gi-hun knew he was doing enough just by letting him cuddle up to him like a clamp, but he found himself wanting to cuddle him too. To run his hand up and down his back, to hug him like he had that day he broke down crying.

The day he had promised he’d stay with him and help him change.

But he didn’t want to give In-ho the wrong idea. Yes, he cared. Yes, he wanted to comfort him, but he didn’t want to get too close. He gave him a light pat on the shoulder, and In-ho had to make do with that.

“I didn’t stop it. You died because I didn’t stop the games.”

“The games are over, In-ho. And I’m here. It was just a nightmare, stop thinking about it.”

“I can’t…! It was so real. I heard your bones crack. I could even smell the blood…!”

Gi-hun looked around himself, trying to think of something to change the topic. His eyes fell on the statue of Aphrodite, which had always aroused his curiosity. Maybe telling the story behind that choice would have made In-ho feel better.

“You looked so beautiful. Even in death.”

“Speaking of beautiful, that statue of Aphrodite doesn’t look like your style.”

In-ho smiled, exhaling softly from his nose.

“It’s Yu-jin’s style,” he quietly explained, his voice sweetening. “She loved classicism… The Birth of Venus used to be her favorite painting. She used to have a miniature of this statue in her studio. She always wanted to travel to Italy to see the painting in person... I was never able to bring her there.”

“I was never able to keep any of the promises I made to Ga-yeong either…”

“You’re still in time.”

“If she even wants to see me anymore.”

In-ho felt the sudden urge to get him on a plane to Los Angeles. But he was held captive by the fear that Gi-hun would have tried to run away from him if they ever stepped out of the safe boundaries of the Hanok.

He hated to keep him away from Ga-yeong, but he wanted him for himself just for a little while longer. Even if Gi-hun did end up running away, he wanted more memories to keep.

*

In-ho felt so elated by the way Gi-hun was taking care of his health. Now he had the good habit of waking up early and preparing breakfast, exercising every day, and he had also started smoking a lot less. Life was coming back to him, as his muscles started growing and filling out his clothes that had been too loose on him for far too long.

His glutes in particular were gaining a lot of benefits from that new regimen. Every time Gi-hun was on the treadmill wearing shorts, In-ho couldn’t help but stare.

“I think you’re ready to start lifting heavier weights, if you want,” he told him once he was done for the day.

Gi-hun looked way too excited when he handed him the 5kg weights. He was finally seeing the results of his work, but when lifting heavier weights, posture was really important, and he was doing it wrong.

“Wait, Gi-hun, not like that. You could seriously hurt your back this way.”

Gi-hun’s posture had gotten better, but he still hadn’t completely lost the habit of hunching his shoulders. Even his hips were tilted forward when they were supposed to be in line with his spine. After fixing his shoulders, In-ho put a hand on his stomach and another on his lower back to position him in place. Gi-hun felt a sudden shudder. His hands were too low on his stomach and back, way too low. In-ho’s hand was right over his dimples of Venus, and he was suddenly struck with a severe heat.

“In-ho, wait! Get off for a minute...!”

In-ho stepped back, confused to see Gi-hun had suddenly hunched his shoulders worse than before. It was like he was trying to hide himself, as he went to put the weights back on the ground.

“Gi-hun?”

In-ho didn’t understand why Gi-hun had turned so panicky all of a sudden. Why had his cheeks and lips become red in only a few seconds? He didn’t understand until he lowered his gaze, his eyes falling right under his waistline.

“Oh…”

An embarrassed Gi-hun was about to leave the gym in shame, when In-ho stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

“Gi-hun, wait!”

He stopped, but he wouldn’t look In-ho in the eyes. All he wanted was to go take an ice-cold shower and forget any of that had ever happened.

“Don’t be embarrassed, it’s just a physiological response. It’s normal.”

“Did you have to put your hands there?!” He suddenly snapped at him. It was In-ho’s fault. It was all his fault.

“Well, yes. It happened to me too with my personal trainer once. It doesn’t mean anything. It's not like I was attracted to him.”

Gi-hun stared at him with doubt in his eyes, “You weren’t?”

“Yeah, like I told you, it’s just a physiological response.”

Physiological response or not, he couldn’t stay there. He needed to take care of the problem

“I have to go take a shower.”

“Wait,” In-ho pulled him back as he was leaving, his grip on his wrist not too tight, but enough to not let him go. Gi-hun’s jaw clenched.

“In-ho, it’s becoming really uncomfortable, let me go take care of it!”

“It was my fault, let me make up for it.”

Gi-hun slowly turned to look him in the eyes. Surely he couldn’t be proposing what he thought he was proposing? That was insane. But In-ho didn’t look like he was joking, he was looking at him, waiting for what he would say to his proposal. Gi-hun’s eyes widened as he slowly shook his head.

“Don’t be ashamed. I’m just a man helping out another man.” He said, as if they didn’t both know that In-ho wouldn’t have done that for any other man. Why did he keep insisting? Gi-hun was too shocked to react when In-ho slowly led him to the training bench. “Just sit down and relax…”

Gi-hun sat down, his pulse racing as In-ho knelt in front of him, spreading his knees apart and positioning himself between his legs. Meanwhile, the throbbing erection in his pants became more painful each second he looked into In-ho’s hungry eyes.

“In-ho, wait, wait…! I’m not like that… I can’t separate sex from love…!”

“Don’t look at it like that, then. Look at it like this… It’s like that time your shoulders were hurting after training, and I gave you a massage. It’s just pain relief. Okay?”

It really hurt. Pain relief didn’t sound too bad at that moment. He knew he was going to regret it, but he looked at In-ho and weakly nodded. Resting his hands on Gi-hun’s hips, In-ho took the end of the drawstring with his teeth, slowly untying it while keeping eye contact. Gi-hun couldn’t look away. But when his aching cock was freed, standing so close to In-ho’s face, he couldn’t stand looking anymore.

“Gi-hun… open your eyes…”

He shook his head. His hands, now resting on In-ho’s shoulders, tightened his grip. In-ho didn’t insist. He started with some gentle strokes from the base of his dick to the tip, which was already leaking with precum. Gi-hun was biting his fist, his other hand on In-ho’s shoulder, nails digging into his flesh. His eyes were closed, but In-ho still smirked, seeing his face already writhing in pleasure. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.

A thrill ran through Gi-hun’s entire body when In-ho’s tongue started licking his balls, while his hand took good care of his aching cock. In-ho moved the hand that was still on Gi-hun’s hip to gently take his hand and move it away from his face, so that his mouth could let out those beautiful sounds.

“Don’t hold back. Sing for me, songbird,” In-ho said, tightening his grip around his cock ever so slightly, increasing the pace of his strokes. Gi-hun’s whole face became red, his eyes squinting to the limit. “Let it go, Gi-hun. You’re gonna explode if you keep holding back~”

He let out a small mewl, making the side of In-ho’s mouth curve in a smile. His hand let go of Gi-hun’s dick, now using his mouth as a substitute. His tongue swirled around his tip, cheeks hollowing for the suction.

Gi-hun groaned, throwing his head back, nails digging into the flesh of In-ho’s shoulders. His sounds made In-ho hum, the vibrations of his mouth only amplifying Gi-hun’s pleasure.

“In-ho, I’m close...!” Gi-hun cried, and In-ho only increased the pace, bobbing his head, his own saliva dripping down his chin as he deep-throated him. He only pulled back when he feels the first drops in the back of his throat, to welcome his seed inside his mouth instead.

Gi-hun tastes sweet.

After swallowing his whole load, In-ho pulls back and lets go of his dick with a loud pop. When Gi-hun has the courage to open his eyes, he’s greeted with the sight of a flustered In-ho, lips red and swollen, eyes bright, smirking as he uses the back of his hand to wipe the side of his mouth.

“Better?” He asked.

Gi-hun nods, unable to pronounce a single word. He doesn’t know how they go back to training after that, but they do. In-ho does it without breaking a sweat, while Gi-hun’s legs take a few instants to stop shaking. This motherfucker was good, it was like he had sucked his brains out.

*

It’s late afternoon when the two are watching some shallow drama on TV. Gi-hun yawned, not from boredom, he just found himself tired, even if he hadn’t done much all day. In-ho takes a pillow from the couch and places it on his lap, inviting Gi-hun to lay his head on it. He doesn’t know why, maybe it’s the tiredness, maybe it’s that In-ho’s presence is not unwanted anymore, but he accepts the offer. As he lay down, In-ho put a hand on his shoulder, running up and down his upper arm soothingly. Then he starts caressing his hair instead.

“Your hair is getting longer. Do you want to grow it out?”

“Yeah… I guess.”

In-ho thought he was stunning either way. But if he loved the idea of him growing his hair out, of being able to run his fingers through those long and fluffy locks he had years ago. Gi-hun started feeling drowsy, but his comfort is disrupted when he realizes how close he was to In-ho’s crotch. There is a pillow between it and his face, but it still makes him somewhat uneasy.

“In-ho?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t want me to… return the favor, right?”

It takes a second for In-ho to realize what he was talking about. When he does, he exhales slowly, almost exasperated by the question.

“Gi-hun. I told you I was just helping you out. I won’t ever demand anything of the sort from you. Unless you want to, of course.”

Although he felt slightly reassured, deep inside his heart, fear still gripped him at the core. He felt like he was free-falling into something very dangerous. A sweet ocean of black poison he was never going to get out of. He had let this man suck his dick. And as much as he tried to justify it like that, a blowjob was no massage. Gi-hun never once let anyone touch him that way in his entire life, unless he was romantically attracted to the person. Not even when one of his loadsharks had offered to lower his debt if he went to bed with him, had Gi-hun ever accepted. So why had he accepted when In-ho proposed it? He sure as hell wasn't attracted to him. He could have thrown, he should have thrown the dumbbells in his face as soon as he proposed that, but he didn’t. He didn’t, and deep down, he knew why.

As much as he tried to deny it to himself.

*

“Can I come with you?” Gi-hun asks In-ho one day, when In-ho’s about to head out. He doesn’t know how far exactly the city is from the Hanok, but every time In-ho leaves, it always takes him half a day to come back. If those trips to the city relieved Gi-hun once, now he dreaded them.

He didn’t like being alone anymore. The Hanok was too big, too cold, too lonely for him to roam on his own.

In-ho would have loved to bring him along. But he still didn’t trust him fully. Gi-hun was like a bird in a cage; no matter how much it seemed to get attached to its owner, once you opened the door, it would fly away and never come back.

“Gi-hun, we’ve talked about this.”

He huffed as he went to sit on the floor pillow, resting his elbow on the table and his cheek on his fist. “Why do you even need to get groceries anyway?” he complained, “There’s enough food in the fridge. Yesterday, I even had to throw away a bunch of carrots that had molded. You should always eat the food you got first before you buy new groceries!”

“I’d rather be safe than sorry and have the pantry full.”

After that, Gi-hun didn’t speak to him anymore. He kept his back turned on him, ready for him to leave him on his own again. He was so not looking forward to that. There was a lot to do in that Hanok, but Gi-hun didn’t like doing things alone. He wasn’t an introvert like In-ho, he never had been. He needed company.

“C’mon. Don’t be like that,” In-ho said, kneeling down behind him and hugging him from behind. “I’ll bring you cigarettes.”

“I’m trying to quit.”

“Then I’ll bring you whatever else you want.”

“You can’t buy me. Asshole.”

In-ho laughed before leaving a kiss on his cheek and getting back on his feet. As much as Gi-hun tried to keep his pout, In-ho spied the little smile he had with the corner of his eye. He was almost out of the living room’s door when Gi-hun suddenly stood back on his feet.

“Wait, In-ho!” He cried, as if he had just remembered something. In-ho turned around, standing still and waiting for him to speak.

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

In-ho took a few steps towards him, looking in his eyes and nodding ever so slightly, to let him know he was listening. Now that Gi-hun had his undivided attention, he turned slightly shy, and started fidgeting with his hands, but took courage and went forward.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I can’t see how I can help you be better when we’re stuck in this house 24\7.”

In-ho already didn’t like where this was going.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that if you want to fix your karma for all the hurt you’ve caused, you need to get out of here and help people. Taking care of me isn’t enough.”

“Do you want me to go out and feed the homeless or something?”

“That’s a good start!”

Gi-hun’s enthusiastic smile almost thawed In-ho’s heart, which had turned to ice the moment he suggested this. He didn’t care about feeding the homeless, but part of him wanted to do it just to make Gi-hun happy. Part of him was already picturing himself and Gi-hun, walking around Seoul with baskets full of bentos, distributing it to the most forgotten people on this earth. Maybe doing that would have moved something in his heart. Maybe he would have felt his karma getting fixed, he would have felt something that wasn’t contempt for humanity.

But deep inside his heart, he couldn’t shake the fear that Gi-hun roaming free in Seoul would have meant people were going to see it. They were going to recognize him and ask questions, leading to countless opportunities for him to break the tie that was binding the two of them.

His jaw clenched, eyes turning to stone. “You just want to run away from me.”

Gi-hun’s smile slowly dimmed. Every time it looked like he made a breach into In-ho’s stone heart, he always rose a wall taller and harder to climb than the other. He put his hands on the shorter man’s shoulders, looking intensely into his eyes.

“In-ho. I made you a promise, didn’t I? You wanted me to help you be better. You can’t do that by locking yourself in this golden cage.”

In-ho frowned, looking up at him like a lost puppy. Gi-hun was right, he had all the right in this world. And maybe it wasn’t him that In-ho didn’t trust, but himself. He didn’t trust what he could have done if he ever tried to leave him. He didn’t trust what he could have done to this beautiful creature, the only good thing he had left in his life, if he ever tried to fly away.

But they had to get out there sooner or later. Even In-ho, for how far removed he was from reality, knew that humans were migratory animals. They weren’t made to stay stuck in one place, as beautiful and safe as it might be.

“I will think about it,” he said, not giving too much hope, but not destroying it completely either. Gi-hun’s hands slowly moved away from his shoulders, as his lips pressed in a tight smile.

“Alright.”

Gi-hun’s voice was feeble, devoid of energy. In-ho could barely keep eye contact before he left, leaving his beloved with his feeble hopes and his solitude.

*

He was lying on the wooden floor, his legs up in the air. He lowered them on the floor and then raised them up again, slowly and distractedly. It could be considered an exercise, but he was just doing it out of boredom. He didn’t even feel like exercising, it wasn’t the same without In-ho guiding him.

Gi-hun got back up on his feet, wandering thoughtlessly. The Hanok was big, but now he knew it almost by memory. The two kitchens, the four bathrooms… he had even counted ten bedrooms. Of course, only two of them were being used, and while all the others were empty, if not for a simple futon, two of them were unused but fully furnished.

One had flowery wallpapers, birch tree wooden furniture, and soft pastel colors. The other had blue décor and a library full of mystery and thriller novels. Gi-hun wondered if those bedrooms were meant for In-ho’s mother and brother. Had he planned to ask them to move in with him at some point? In-ho seemed pretty adamant in his belief that his family was better off without him.

But walking through that Hanok was like walking through his own heart, and it was clear what his heart wanted.

There was only one room in the entire house that Gi-hun hadn’t checked, and it was the one next to In-ho’s office. The door had been locked every time he had been there before. Curiosity brought him to check again, but nothing changed.

This only made him die of curiosity more and more.

What could In-ho possibly keep there? What could he possibly keep from Gi-hun? He knew his soul. He knew every terrible thing he had ever done, so what could he possibly want to shield even from his eyes?

Without giving it much thought, he continued his tour by entering In-ho’s office. It was the first time he got there while sober, and he realized he hadn’t given much attention to the décor before.

If he had to imagine In-ho’s office, he would have imagined black and gold. Luxury and minimalism, like his quarters on the island. But that room was nothing of the sort; expensive, yes, but everything in it was warm, cozy, and almost homey.

To the mahogany furniture, to the leatherbound books in wine red, forest green, and navy blue. Various plants adorned every angle, and the walls were full of prints of Picasso, Magritte, and Monet. Gi-hun took a look at the library; there were Freud’s entire works in a fancy leatherbound collection. They didn’t look like they had been read much. In-ho did say he had read it once a long time ago, perhaps he read the shitty paperback when he was broke and bought himself the fancy version once he could afford it. He knew Sang-woo did the same with his favourite books when he was younger.

The modern, grey computer on the mahogany desk jarred with the whole old academia décor. Gi-hun wondered what In-ho needed that computer for. They were both filthy rich, thanks to those hideous games, it’s not like either of them needed to work another day of their lives. Which reminded him, he didn’t have access to his own money now, or anything of his own, for that matter.

Just as he was pondering this, he heard a ringtone. It was a generic one, the one that usually comes with every smartphone until you change it. It could belong to any phone, but In-ho must have brought his own with him. So, unless he had another one, this only left one option.

Gi-hun investigated the noise and realized the ringtone came from the first drawer of the desk. Which was, of course, locked.

That must have been where In-ho was keeping all his stuff.

He started searching frantically, on the desk, on the shelves, even in the plant pots. The phone had long stopped ringing when he finally found one key, inside the sculpture of a medieval knight.

His hand trembled as he inserted the key in the keyhole, his whole body shaking with adrenaline as it unlocked and the drawer finally opened.

It wasn’t just his cellphone: his wallet, his documents, his keys, all of his personal belongings he had on him when he went back in the games were there. Finding his stuff in that locked drawer was a not-so-gentle reminder that no matter how sweet and caring In-ho had been, he was still a kidnapper. Yes, he might have chosen to stay with him out of his own free will, but In-ho still wasn’t treating him as a guest;

He was still treating him as his prisoner.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kept his belongings away from him. He needed to confront In-ho about this later, but that wasn’t his main concern in that moment. His hands trembled as he picked up the phone, immediately checking the missed calls. Gi-hun’s eyes filled up with tears as he recognized the number.

It was Ga-yeong’s.

There were a whole lot of missed calls from her too. Gi-hun hated himself. He hated himself for thinking even for a moment that Ga-yeong didn’t need him, that she was better off without him in her life. His girl was smart, even if he didn’t say anything when he called her, she had understood it was him. She must have watched the news and put two and two together. She must have known her dad would never have abandoned her without a good reason.

Gi-hun called back, his heart coming up in his throat as the phone rang.

It rang.

And it rang.

And rang.

His breath was dying with every ring that went off.

Then a voice. Uncertain. Hopeful.

“Hello?”

“Ga-yeong...?”

“Dad!”

Chapter Text

“Dad! Is it really you?”

The sound of her voice alone was enough for Gi-hun to break down crying. He was so terrified she would hate him, that she wouldn’t want to ever talk to him again. But Ga-yeong sounded so hopeful, so jubilant.

“Ga-yeong… I’m sorry…! I’m so sorry!”

“I missed you so, so much!” The girl was in tears, jubilant, but in tears. It was like a dagger to Gi-hun’s heart. He never wanted to cause his little girl to cry, even if they were tears of joy.

“Oh my baby girl, I missed you so much! Do you think you could ever forgive me…?”

“Dad, I used to be so mad at you… maybe I still am,” Ga-yeong confessed, “But then I watched the news, and now I understand everything.”

“You have all the right to be mad at me, Ga-yeong. Even if you know what happened now…”

“Are you okay, Dad?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. How about y-”

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Ga-yeong cried. For the first time since the call started, she genuinely sounded angry. “I just told you I watch the news, okay? I know you’re not fine!”

“I’m a lot better now that I’ve heard your voice.”

Ga-yeong wanted to scoff and smile, altogether. She thought her dad was so cheesy, and even if she loved it, she hoped he'd be more sincere with her. She knew she was still a kid, but she wasn't as little as he remembered anymore.

“Where are you right now? They say you’ve gone missing. That the masked men took you away from the island, and no one ever saw you since then.”

“I’m somewhere safe,” He said, hating himself for using the same words In-ho had used.

“When can you come here, Dad? I just miss you so much. I want to see you!”

Gi-hun's chest tightened. He would have been there yesterday if he could have chosen. But there was an obstacle on the road between him and his daughter, and that obstacle had a name. Hwang In-ho.

“Ga-yeong, listen to me. I won’t make you promises I can’t keep anymore. I don’t know when I’ll be able to come to see you.”

“Dad... I know it’s crazy out there. I know everyone’s been looking for you. I’m just a kid, but even I know those bad people will want revenge for how you’ve exposed them. But please…! Please, can you try to come here anyway? I need you! I need my dad!”

Gi-hun’s heart started bleeding, shattered pieces falling like a broken pomegranade’s seeds. How could he ever have believed In-ho’s lies? Most of all, how could he ever have believed those malicious voices inside his head, fruit of the insecurities of his own heart? His little girl needed him. His little girl had always needed him. He had told himself she was better off with her stepdad a million times, but it was only a fairytale he told himself in order not to face the truth.

And now the truth was punching him in the face, in the form of Ga-yeong tears and all her sobs.

“Ga-yeong, please don’t cry, baby, please!”

“I’ll stop crying if you come here! Like, right now!”

Gi-hun would have boarded the next plane to Los Angeles if it were for him. But was In-ho going to let him go? He had promised. He said he was his guest, not his prisoner. But if he tried to leave, was In-ho truly not going to stop him?

He guessed he was about to find out.

“I can’t promise you I’ll be there. But I promise you I will try.”

Gi-hun gasped when he heard the sound of the front door unlocking. How much time had passed since In-ho had left? Could he be back already?

“Are you okay?”

“Ga-yeong, I have to go now.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, don’t worry.”

“Dad.” Ga-yeong’s tone was demanding. She knew he was lying, and was settling for nothing other than the truth. But Gi-hun couldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t tell her that her father was being kept prisoner by a psychopath. She had enough on her plate already.

“Ga-yeong, I’m sorry. I’m just hyper vigilant right now. I’m afraid reporters might find this house and storm in any minute,” he said, hoping to sound convincing enough. Hoping, most of all, that In-ho wouldn’t have come straight for the office.

“I bet… I think they’ll be after you for a long time now.”

“Yeah… but don’t worry Ga-yeong. I’m not gonna let them catch me.”

In-ho was walking up the stairs. He needed to wrap up that call fast.

“Dad, will you promise me you’ll call more often from now on? You don’t have to call every day. I just want to know you’re okay.”

“I will be okay, Ga-yeong. I will try to call whenever I can. I love you so much, and I miss you.”

“I love you too, Dad. Be safe out there, okay?”

“I will. Watch some nice movies instead of the news, keep your mind off that stuff, okay? Don’t worry about your old man. I will be fine.”

“Do you promise you’ll be fine?”

“I promise. Bye, Ga-yeong.”

“Bye dad.”

Gi-hun closed the call with a heavy heart. He wanted to keep talking to her for hours, but he needed to put the phone back before In-ho found him. He quickly brushed away his tears before going for the desk, when something scared him out of his wits.

In-ho was standing there, on the door, still as a statue. Both looked into the other’s eyes, unable to say a word. Gi-hun stood there, the phone in both his hands, feeling like he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do, but holding the device tight in his hands. He wasn’t letting go of it. He wasn’t letting go of the only thing that could connect him with his daughter.

In-ho’s eyes were bloodshot, but with no tears. He clenched his jaw, grinded his teeth.

“Who were you talking to?”

“My daughter.”

In-ho’s icy eyes seemed to soften when he heard his answer. Gi-hun took a cautious step towards him, afraid he might explode any minute. But In-ho doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, at times it looked like he wasn’t even breathing.

“In-ho, I have to leave,” he says, but it’s like speaking to a statue. “Ga-yeong needs me. I need to go to the United States right now. Please, let me leave.”

In-ho’s eyes started welling up. “But you have promised. You said you would stay!”

“I know! But I need to go to my daughter! You understand, right? I know you understand. You were going to have a child, you can understand a father’s heart.”

In-ho bit the inside of his cheek, looking up at the ceiling to prevent himself from crying. Gi-hun caught a tear that still managed to fall, brushing it away with his thumb. In-ho didn’t have the courage to look at him in the eyes.

“I promise I will come back. But right now, Ga-yeong needs me more than you do, In-ho.”

In-ho finally moved his eyes to look at him. His eyes were not lying. His eyes were soft, looking at him with a fondness he knew he didn’t deserve. In-ho knew Gi-hun was sincere. He knew he meant it, when he said he would come back to him, and yet, he chose to listen to his fears. He chose to listen to the demons inside his head.

Taking advantage of Gi-hun being distracted, he took the phone away from his hand.

“In-ho! Give me back my phone, right now!”

“No,” In-ho replied coldly. Gihun tried snatching it away from him, but In-ho pulled his hand away. He felt like they were children fighting over a toy, it was a game he was already getting tired of. When Gi-hun was almost finally getting a grasp of his phone, his fingers grazing against the screen, In-ho gave him a powerful shove that made him stumble backwards and hit his back against the bookshelves, some tomes falling to the ground at the impact.

It gave In-ho enough time to put the phone back in the drawer and lock it, the key secure inside his closed fist.

“I’ll keep this. You can call your daughter whenever you want, but I’m keeping your phone.”

“How can I call her without my phone!?”

“You tell me when you want to call her and I’ll get it.”

Gi-hun momentarily lost the ability to talk from the shock. He stared at him like a deer in headlights. Was he really expecting him to be okay with that? Being granted access to his own phone only when In-ho allowed it?

“Are you fucking nuts!? In-ho, this needs to stop, please!” Gi-hun dropped on his knees, grabbing In-ho’s arm with both his hands, “You can’t do this to me anymore! I am a person, In-ho! A person! I’m not a pet!”

In-ho looked away, looking up at the ceiling to prevent himself from crying. Gi-hun’s fingers clenching around his arm didn’t hurt as much as the way his heart was clenching in seeing him in that state. He was hurting him. He knew he was hurting him, he knew he was pushing him to the brink. In-ho had fooled himself into thinking he was happy with him, but no human could be truly happy without their freedom.

Gi-hun was his favorite songbird, whose singing he loved too much to let him out of his cage. But he was loosing his feathers one by one. How long till he stopped singing too? How long till his tears replaced his songs?

“Please…! You can’t keep my stuff locked away, you can’t keep me here behind a locked door…!”

In-ho’s tears started falling, no matter how much he tried to hold back.

“I have to go see my daughter, I have to go see Ga-yeong…! In-ho… you were going to be a dad, You must understand how I feel…!”

Gi-hun’s voice was becoming weaker with each sentence he spoke, sobs crowding in his throat, making it harder for the words to come out.

“Get up… get up, my songbird…” In-ho took him gently by both his arms, pulling him up and accompanying him back on his feet. He took his face in his hands, bringing their foreheads together. “Gi-hun…I know I’m hurting you. And I’m sorry.”

Gi-hun wanted to tell him to take his apologies and shove them up his ass. What good could his apologies be, if he kept up with that behaviour?

“Sometimes I think you enjoy watching me suffer.”

In-ho frowned, using his thumbs to dry away Gi-hun’s newly shed tears. “Gi-hun. Look into my eyes and tell me. Tell me if this are the eyes of a man who enjoys hurting you. Tell me if these are the eyes of a man who wants to see you suffer.”

Heavy-lidded eyes that stared into Gi-hun’s softly, riveting and full of want. He hated to admit it, but no. Those were not the eyes of someone who wanted to see him suffer. Those were not the eyes of someone who took pleasure in his pain. Those were the eyes of someone who was yearning, of someone who wanted something from Gi-hun that was the complete opposite of pain.

What scared Gi-hun the most, was whether there was the same want, the same longing in him. But he couldn’t ask himself that, because the answer wasn’t one he was ready to face.

“In-ho…” He started, voice trembling, not knowing exactly what he wanted to say. In-ho’s face moved slightly closer to his own, his nose now brushing against his nose, eyes almost closed as he tilted his head to the side, his lips hazardously close to his own. A bolt of electricity was sent to Gi-hun’s spine when In-ho’s hand fell on his hip, then traveled up to his waist.

He needed to stop this. He needed to stop this before they went too far.

“In-ho stop…! Just stop…”

Gi-hun put his hands on In-ho’s shoulders, somehow finding the strength to push him away from him. As In-ho watch Gi-hun flee the room, away from him, he felt the energies in his body leaving him. He slowly went down on his knees, sitting on the ground, as if gravity was pulling him down with a crushing force.

He remained on the floor, too stunned to speak, too stunned to run after him. The weight of rejection was pushing him down, humiliating him into a hole he never wanted to crawl out of again.

*

He closed the door and locked it, letting his weight fall against the wooden frame. Gi-hun wasn’t new to love. He wasn’t new to that thrill, that longing to have your lips on somebody else’s. That want of the other’s skin against your own.

But he couldn’t have found it in that place. Not here, not in him.

Anyone. Anyone would have been fine but him.

After what happened in the gym that day, he had tried telling himself it was just lust, not love. But it was time he actually faced the truth. He could outrun In-ho, but he could not outrun his own heart. His whole body shook with sobs, tears started falling freely from his eyes. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him. He couldn’t have fallen in love with his enemy. His captor. His torturer.

He hated himself. He hated himself more than he did when he stole money from his mother. More than he did when he deceived Il-nam to win in marbles. More than when he let people on the X team die for the greater good. More than when he dragged people to their doom with his failed rebellion. More than when his actions led to Jung-bae’s death.

He hated himself.

He hated himself.

He hated himself for loving the man he should have hated.

A light knock on the door made his breath hitch.

“Gi-hun? Gi-hun, open the door.”

In-ho was the last person he wanted to see at that moment. Too bad he was also the only person who was around to be seen.

“Go away.”

“Alright… you won’t open the door, but will you at least listen to me?”

“I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Gi-hun. I know I caused you so much pain. But I promise you, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will do anything you ask me to do.”

“You will do anything?”

“Anything.”

“Then leave me alone right now. Please.”

“Alright…” In-ho said, defeated. Gi-hun didn’t relax until he heard the footsteps fading away in the distance.

And then he kept crying. He cried his head off, taking out everything that was inside his heart. And when he was done, he felt emptied. Tired as if he had carried a boulder uphill. He wanted to sleep, but at the same time, he was terrified of falling asleep.

He couldn’t face Sae-byoek and the others in his dreams.

They would have hated him. They were dead, they were dead and gone, and he had fallen in love with the man responsible for it.

He wanted to go downstairs to make himself some coffee. It was the only thing that could have helped him, but he didn’t want to risk meeting In-ho.

Exhausted, he went to lie on the bed and fell asleep in those soft, silky sheets he had learned to despise.

*

Gi-hun had never been to the Myeongdong Cathedral on his own volition before. He visited it once with school, and had never returned to it since.

So he couldn’t quite understand why he was sitting on the stairs leading up to the building, but there he was. Behind him, Ji-yeong was sitting a little higher up, looking down at him with a knowing smile.

“My father would call this a sin, an abomination against nature. But I think love is love.”

“Love… I’m not in love with In-ho. I can’t be.”

“You can’t be?” Ji-yeong did that endearing gesture she did so often. She rested her cheek on her hand and tilted her head. “It’s fine if you’re gay, Gi-hun.”

“It’s not about that, believe me. I came to terms with my sexuality long ago.”

“Then what’s the problem?” She said, tilting her head in the other direction.

“Mh, I don’t know… that he’s literally kidnapped me? That he’s been running death games that killed hundreds of people each year? That he killed my best friend in cold blood? He’s even responsible for your death.”

“Fair points.”

The two remained in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the sun and the bustling sounds of a lively morning in Seoul.

“You’ve played with fire, old man. And now you’re burned. You’re in love and you can’t go back.”

“I have to get away from him."

“You can get away from him. You can’t get away from your own heart.”

“So what are you suggesting I do? That I stay with him for the rest of my life?”

“I’m not suggesting that at all. In fact, I think you should run away as fast and as soon as possible. All I want you to do is accept your feelings for him.”

“No, I can’t…! I just can’t. That would be like being his accomplice.”

“C’mon, old man… you’re what? Forty-eight? Forty-nine?”

“Fifty.”

“You have like… thirty to forty years left on this earth, if you play it well. A lot less if you keep stressing yourself like that. You can’t decide who you fall in love with. You have to forgive yourself, Gi-hun.”

“I should have never agreed to help him…”

“Oh, you’re right on the money. Wendy syndrome never got anyone anywhere pretty.”

Gi-hun looked at her with the corner of his eye. He didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but whatever that Wendy syndrome was, it sounded like she was well aquainted with it.

“Accepting I’m in love with him… just feels like an insult to you and the others.”

“No amount of punishing yourself will ever bring us back.”

Gi-hun found her to be wise far beyond her years. Both wisdom and death had reached her too soon. And while he knew her words were true, it was exactly her untimely death that prevented him from being kind to himself. In-ho had caused her death. And countless others.

“You’re right, but-”

“But what? Forgive yourself, Gi-hun. And get away from him. Love ends, your life won’t.”

Ji-yeong patted him on the back before walking away.

*

When Gi-hun woke up, he felt strangely at peace. He had been terrified of his dreams, but the talk with Ji-yeong hadn’t been so bad. He wasn’t sure the others were going to be as understanding as her, though. He still had no idea what those dreams meant, if they were supernatural events or just a projection of his own subconscious. But he hated to think Sae-byeok, Jung-bae and the others could look at him differently, even if it was just a dream.

He heard a knock on the door. He groaned, putting the pillow over his head. Shortly after the knock, he heard the steps of In-ho walking away. Was he really giving up that easily? Gi-hun found it weird. He got out of bed, and when he walked to the door, he saw In-ho had slipped a note under the door.

I know you’re mad at me but you still need to eat.

I left your dinner outside the door.

He unlocked and opened the door, to find a tray with rice, fried chicken, and even a chocolate muffin for dessert. In-ho was nowhere in sight. At the very least, he had learned to leave him some space.

Gi-hun wasn’t particularly hungry, especially not after all that crying. But the food was too inviting to pass.

He ate in front of his bedroom window. The evergreen plants had a vivid emerald color, even in the bleak december. A golden prison was still a prison, but if Gi-hun had to chose, he guessed it was better than his bleak motel in Seoul. He observed the fireflies among the green, darkened by the night. He hadn’t seen fireflies in forever.

*

In-ho was staring out the window, sitting in one of the living rooms with the wall window that overlooked the garden. He and Gi-hun were on different floors, but both were looking at the fireflies.

Was there anything more romantic than a garden lit by fireflies at night? But In-ho wasn’t there with the person he loved. He wasn’t part of that picture-perfect scenery; he was looking at it through a window. Longing, yearning, for a romantic dream that would maybe never come true.

Too lost in his own rue, he hadn’t heard Gi-hun slowly walking down the stairs. When he walked into the room, he almost felt pity, looking at In-ho’s frown. The living room was full of any kind of entertainment anyone could wish for; TV, radio, a fancy vintage record player with a shelf full of records… and yet, all In-ho did was stare out the window.

“In-ho?”

He turned around when he heard that sweet, sweet sound of his songbird calling his name. He looked at him with a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

“We need to talk.” Gi-hun's voice was serious. He meant business.

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you, too.”

Gi-hun went to sit on the cozy armchair next to In-ho’s.

“It’s cruel what you’re doing to me. You cover me in luxuries, and shower me with gifts, and food and affection, but what you’re really doing is just sugarcoating what you really are: a kidnapper.”

A dead silence fell on the room, his words echoing between them. It was like a dagger of ice had penetrated In-ho’s heart, impaling him to a wall of shame. Gi-hun’s words held nothing but the truth; he hated to face it, but he had to.

“This is why I need you, Gi-hun! I am cruel and a piece of shit. I need you to help me change!”

In-ho looked at him with begging eyes, but Gi-hun’s remained stone cold. “Do you want to change, In-ho? Do you genuinely want to change? Or do you just want to keep me chained to you!?”

In-ho’s lips pressed in a tight smile, as his eyes became redder. He reached into his pocket, then with his other hand, he took Gi-hun’s hand, leaving something in his palm. The man looked at him, confused, before looking down at the metallic object.

“What is this?”

“The key to the front door.”

Gi-hun’s eyebrows quivered, as he looked at him with teary eyes. In-ho had that vulnerable expression he always had, those eyes that seemed so far removed from the rest of his face, which was stoic and cold.

It seemed like a dream come true that In-ho would hand him the key so easily. There had to be a catch.

“What about my wallet? My phone, my stuff?”

“I can’t give it to you right now.”

Gi-hun gritted his teeth. “So you’re just mocking me, aren’t you?”

“No. This is a token. A symbol of my promise. I promised I’d get you to Los Angeles, didn’t I? I promised I’d let you go if you stayed with me a little longer.”

“I should have asked what a little longer meant before I ever agreed to that deal.”

“Gi-hun… It’s not safe for you to travel right now, everyone will recognize you,” In-ho started, looking at him straight in the eyes. He wanted to be forward with him, and get to the point as soon as possible. Although Gi-hun knew he was just being rational - he was the world’s most wanted man after all - he still couldn’t help rolling his eyes. In-ho might just have been worried about him, but Gi-hun took it as his unteempth attempt to keep him on a leash.

“If you wanna go to America,” In-ho continued, “I’ll get you a passport and ID under another name when I go into town tomorrow.”

Gi-hun’s lips parted slightly as he stared at him with wide doe eyes.

“You… you’re letting me go to America?”

“We’re going to America.”

Gi-hun’s glee suddenly turned into a muted rage. Whatever there was between In-ho and him, it was something intense. It could be sweet. It was unpredictable and at times exciting. But it was also scary, fucked up, and highly destructive for anyone involved.

It was Gi-hun’s to deal with, and his alone. In-ho and Ga-yeong were two worlds that couldn’t come into contact. He would never let them come into contact.

“In-ho. You’re not coming with me to see my daughter,” He said, cold and immovable.

“I’m not coming with you to your daughter, I’m coming with you to America.”

“So you can keep me on a leash?”

His frown softened when In-ho placed his hand on his. “Gi-hun… It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just want to be with you. I won’t come with you to visit your daughter if you don’t want me to, but please, don’t put an ocean between the two of us. I cannot stand to be separated from you.”

After that confession, Gi-hun’s heart skipped a beat. In the back of his mind, a voice told him not to trust him. Yet his heart was fluttering at his words, a feeling that was anything but unpleasant. In-ho loved him to that point, to the point he couldn’t stay away from him. The most fragile part of Gi-hun was attracted to this side of him, but the most rational part was scared to death.

“I need a drink…” He said, leaning his back against the cozy chair and massaging his temple.

“I think it’s finally time we get to drink that soju together, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… I’d like that.”

In-ho disappeared into the kitchen and came back with two bottles of soju. The liquor cabinet was another thing in the house that was behind a locked door. But Gi-hun was actually glad about that one; if alcohol were readily available to him at that point in his life, he was sure nothing would have stopped him from drinking himself into an ethylic coma.

In-ho uncapped his own bottle and handed Gi-hun his. They had a half-hearted toast and started sipping in silence, looking at the spectacular sight that he garden, lit by the fireflies, was.

“How did you find this place? It’s beautiful,” Gi-hun asked, trying to break the awkwardness with a little small talk.

“I’ve wanted to buy this plot of land for years… A colleague told me about it, back when I was a cop. It was always my dream to build a safe haven to retreat to, when I needed to stay away from the chaos of the city. For me, for my family… I knew you’d love it here. Humans need to stay in nature to heal.”

“Yeah… I guess.”

In-ho looked at him softly, while Gi-hun gazed in the distance and drank his soju. He wanted to trace his profile with his fingers. He knew every curve of his features by heart now, but they still weren’t his to touch.

“Do you hate living here with me?”

In-ho sounded so vulnerable. Like someone who needed constant reassurances. If he had asked him at any other moment, Gi-hun might have just done it. But alcohol had loosened his tongue, and he couldn’t hold back his cattiness this time.

“Why did you think I’d enjoy living with the man who ruined my life?”

“I ruined your life? Gi-hun, I didn’t ruin your life. I didn’t make the games.”

“You kept them going.”

“Yeah, I did. And if you didn’t win those games, you’d still be running away from loan sharks who were gonna sell your organs. The games gave you another chance.”

Gi-hun clicked his tongue. “You can’t still be defending those damn games.”

“I’m not defending the games. I’m just saying it how it is. Now you’re here. You’re alive. I think it’s finally time you start looking towards the future.”

“What’s there to look forward to in the future?”

“America, for one. But there are also small things to look forward to, in the closest future.”

Gi-hun looked at him with puzzled eyes, that asked the questions for him. In-ho smiled, getting up and walking towards a record player in the corner of the room. The disk started playing, some oldie song starting with a chorus of la las. Then a deep, warm voice sang in English.

In-ho started walking towards him in a way that made Gi-hun question if he was already drunk with one bottle of soju. When he was in front of him, he extended his hand out to him in a playful manner and with a dashing smile.

“Care to dance?”

Gi-hun couldn’t help laughing. “Are you serious?”

He was sure In-ho was just making fun of him, but the man only wiggled his eyebrows to invite him further.

“I can’t dance,” he said, and it was In-ho’s time to laugh.

“So? Nobody is going to judge us.”

Gi-hun sighed. After all, what did he have to lose, at this point? He gulped down what remained of his soju, left the bottle on the coffee table and grabbed In-ho’s hand, and let the man conduct him to the center of the room. In-ho put his hands on his slender waist, while Gi-hun’s just fell on his shoulders. He wasn’t really sure what to do with his hands, or any other part of his body for that matter, so he just let In-ho lead.

They didn’t do much except swing around. In-ho dipped him at a certain point. The look in his eyes had him mesmerized; he was looking at him with such a burning intensity, like he was afraid Gi-hun could disappear or get hurt if he looked away. He couldn’t look anywhere else for the rest of the dance.

Dance me to the end of Love

let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone

let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon

show me slowly what I only know the limits of

Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the end of love

Gi-hun couldn’t understand the whole meaning of the lyrics, but he was sure he grasped the gist of it. It was a love song, a lover begging the other to dance with them until the end of love.

Love ends. That was what Ji-yeong said. But that begged the question: where did love end? When both parties were dead and gone? When feelings dimmed and faded? Where was the finish line?

It was like a letter to the future. It was like In-ho, deep within himself, knew that whatever they had couldn’t last forever. That the Eden he had worked so hard and build would one day come to an end. Deep down, In-ho knew that one day, Gi-hun was going to disentangle himself from his web and run away.

Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long

We’re both of us beneath our love

we’re both of us above

Dance me to the end of love

dance me to the end of love

They weren’t really doing much of dancing now, just holding each other tenderly as they swayed from side to side, their foreheads touching. Gi-hun could feel the warmth of his body, could smell the scent of his skin. In-ho’s eyes were half closed, taking in the moment, but how Gi-hun wished he would look up at him. How he wished he would look at him with those adoring eyes again.

As the music stopped, In-ho’s silent tears finally spilled from his misty eyes. He looked to the side, unable to look into Gi-hun’s eyes, until the latter posed his hand on his cheek, wiping away his tear with his thumb. In-ho leaned into his touch, a soft smile appearing, as he looked up at Gi-hun with so much love.

“One more dance?” He asked.

“One more dance,” Gi-hun conceded to him.

As In-ho turned his back to put the song back on, Gi-hun felt his heart fall.

He was in love with him.

Seong Gi-hun was unequivocally, fully and helplessly, in love with Hwang In-ho. And while in his heart, he wished they could have stayed in that Hanok forever, dancing until love ended, Gi-hun knew there was a line he needed to draw. Following his heart had always led him to heartbreak.

He needed to start taking more rational decisions. A line needed to be drawn, and the time was here and now.

He wouldn’t get another chance.

In-ho hadn’t even reached the record player when he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. Broken pieces of green glass scattered on the ground were the last thing he saw before everything went dark.

Chapter Text

I hate that I fell in love with you

Why did I fall in love with you?

What do I do with this love for you?

How am I supposed to get over you?

When In-ho came to his senses, he was alone and confused. A broken bottle of soju was lying on the ground, with small pieces all around. The pain in the back of his head made him reach for the spot with his hand, which soon felt the warmth of his own blood.

It didn’t take him long to connect all the pieces.

He quickly raised himself back on his feet, and rushed to the entrance. As he had feared, the front door was wide open. It was only then, when he saw that open door, and the coat missing from the coat hanger that he realized it.

Gi-hun was gone. He had left him. Betrayed him. He had danced with him, only so he could strike him down in his most vulnerable moment; when he believed he could love him back. In-ho knew he deserved it, that it didn’t even come close to his own betrayal, yet it still hurt so fucking much. He felt his energy leaving him, as he leaned against the wall.

“How could you do this to me…? Gi-hun, how could you do this to me…!?”

In-ho breathed heavily, walking back and forth, wanting to pull his hair and skin out. Gi-hun had left him, but what was left of him without Gi-hun? What would be left of this empty shell, whose heart only started beating again after meeting him?

He couldn’t fathom an existence without him. He couldn’t fathom the thought of a life without him, a life where Gi-hun didn’t want him.

In-ho went into the kitchen, opened the first drawer. He took the longest, sharpest blade in his arsenal. He tried it on his finger first, cutting and drawing blood. The blade was so sharp he couldn’t even feel the pain at first. In-ho was going to make sure he would end it before Gi-hun felt any pain.

He would end it quick, but it would end it.

*

It didn’t make sense. The app on his phone said the tracker was just a few meters away from their home.

Unless… it couldn’t be. The tracker was in his calf; he couldn’t have taken it out on his own. He couldn’t be that mad to hurt himself like that! Most of all, he couldn’t have been that desperate to get away from him. However, the bloody tracker and the knife he found at the foot of a tree told a different story. A steak knife. Not even the sharpest one in their cutlery set. He must have been limping and in pain, however far he had gotten.

In-ho clenched his jaw. If he didn’t find him, that dumbass was in serious danger. An open wound oozing fresh blood was basically a wrapped invitation for the wild animals to come and tear his flesh apart. In-ho was never going to let any other predators get within an inch of his prey.

Gi-hun was his own to hunt and his alone.

It took him almost an hour of driving around, but he finally found Gi-hun walking by the side of a sandy backroad. Oh, Gi-hun. Poor, old, limping, and stubborn Gi-hun. It took hours to reach the nearest town in a vehicle; what did he think he could do on foot? He didn’t even have any luggage with him, just a bundle with maybe some food and water. It was cute how he believed he could survive out there with just that. Surviving a death game twice didn’t really hone his survival skills at all.

Seeing him so vulnerable, limping and alone in the wilderness, with only the moon to light his path, made In-ho’s resolve to end it all falter. All he wanted was to bring him home, take care of his wound, and kiss him tenderly, giving him one more chance, or a thousand if he had to. All he wanted was to keep him.

Gi-hun slowly stopped walking when he heard the engine of the car. He looked hopeful as In-ho pulled over in front of him. The light of the moon clearly wasn’t enough for him to recognize the car, and since the car had tinted windows, he hadn’t realized who the driver was yet. Hitch-hiking to Seoul? Was that really his plan? Gi-hun’s relieved smile disappeared as soon as In-ho rolled down the windows. He limped backwards, almost stumbling and falling.

“Get in the car, Gi-hun,” In-ho commanded.

“No,” he said, keeping his voice stable. Although his voice was firm, In-ho could see how terrified he was, the fear that transpired from his eyes.

“Where did you think you could go? You’re on your own and injured.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Get in the car.”

“Like hell I will!” He cried as he mulishly walked away, gritting his teeth and trying to hide his limp.

“Fine. Have fun being eaten by wild animals.”

Gi-hun smiled to himself, shaking his head lightly.

“What? You think I’m joking? It’s full of boars around here. Wolves, too.”

“And it’s better to get in a car with one?” He asked, still walking, looking straight into In-ho’s eyes.

“Gi-hun. You can’t get anywhere around here without a car. I mean it. You can try all you want, but you’ll end up dead. Don’t push your luck.”

The man started walking faster in response. He was so goddamn stubborn, but two could play that game. In-ho followed him, the car going at Gi-hun’s same speed. The man did what he could to ignore him, to appear strong despite his still bleeding wound. They kept doing that for a good twenty minutes, neither of them saying a word, only the moon and the headlights of In-ho’s car keeping them company and clearing the path they were walking.

A chilling cry ripped the night sky. Gi-hun jumped out of his skin.

“What the fuck was that?”

After the first, a harmony of howls followed, becoming increasingly loud and scary. It made the hair on Gi-hun’s body stand up.

“Wolves…?”

“I told you. But you didn’t want to believe me,” In-ho said, as he rolled up the car window and pressed on the gas pedal.

Gi-hun watched with eyes wide in horror as the car drove away. The moon shone its light on the trees, but not on the creature lurking inside the forest. The wolves’ howls sounded like laments of wild, starving animals.

“Wait… In-ho, wait! WAIT!” he hollered as he ran towards the car, scared out of his skin, adrenaline pumping in his veins, and smothering the pain in his leg. He didn’t want to go back to the Hanok, but being eaten alive was maybe the only thing that was worse. In-ho stopped the car, waiting for Gi-hun to catch up. The man climbed inside, shutting the door with all the strength his arm allowed.

“What are you waiting for? Go!” He cried, not even catching his breath. Once In-ho restarted the car, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply in relief, putting a hand on his chest.

Gi-hun didn’t dare look at In-ho. Didn’t dare look at the man that he knew must have had a satisfied smirk on his face. In-ho felt relieved, most of all. But all that tension resulted in a nervous chuckle, which Gi-hun took the wrong way. He sighed, shutting his tired eyes. He wanted to cry. Trying to get away from that Hanok was like trying to climb a marble wall with his bare hands; it didn’t matter how much he tried, in the end, he kept slipping back to the bottom.

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Gi-hun defeated, In-ho triumphant. Even if he didn’t speak, he could feel the warmth of his body in that tiny space, right next to him, and that had sufficed. He had felt abandoned when Gi-hun left, unloved and alone. So much so that he had planned to do the unthinkable once he found him. For a moment, In-ho had been afraid Gi-hun would rather have died by the wolves than come back to him. But he came back to him, like a ship searching for the light of a lighthouse.

He was Gi-hun’s safe port, and that filled him with pride.

“What the hell are you laughing about?”

“It’s just that in the end, you always come crawling back to me.”

“I had no other choice!”

“You don’t really want to get away from me, Gi-hun. If you did, you would have killed me. You had many occasions to do so.”

He was right about that. He could have easily strangled him in his sleep or slit his throat when he was passed out. But Gi-hun didn't, and the only reason he didn't, was because he wasn't like him. He wasn't a murderer, and that was his only reason. It definitely wasn't what In-ho was thinking.

“Do you think it’s because I love you that I haven’t killed you!?”

In-ho smirked as he turned his head to look at him. “I never said that.”

Gi-hun's eyes widened as he fell into a stunned silence. Had he just slipped up?

“I don’t want you in my life, In-ho! Do you understand that!? I want to be free! I want to go back home! I want to be free to go wherever I want when the fuck I want!”

Gi-hun yelled, and the more he yelled, the more In-ho's smugness and self-reassurances slowly faded away. Every sentence, spoken from the heart, was like a stab through In-ho's insecure heart. Did GI-hun really not want him? Ever after everything they had been through together? Did their days in the Hanok really meant so little to him? In-ho’s bloodshot eyes slowly turned to look at him. Unspilled tears threatened to fall, as his breath hitched.

“Gi-hun… I need to ask you a question. And I need you to be honest.”

The man crossed his arms, letting out a long exhale, as he waited for his question.

“In all the time we have spent together… you never felt anything more for me?”

His lips parted. It wasn't at all a question Gi-hun was expecting to hear, not in that moment, not so suddenly.

“What do you mean with more…?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

The man just stared, his own tears rolling down his cheeks, as his lower lip trembled. He didn’t want to answer that question. Not to In-ho, not to himself, first and foremost.

That question scared him more than any of the games ever did. More than the glass bridge. More than tug of war. More than red light green light, more than dalgona and all the others combined.

He didn’t want to spell it out for him. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to think about it.

And suddenly, the wolves howling outside didn’t matter. Because it wasn’t a physical place, the one Gi-hun wanted to run away from, it was somewhere inside his heart. Somewhere that could not be outrun, but he tried anyway.

Gi-hun opened the car’s door, launching himself outside as In-ho screamed his name. His body rolled down a steep slope for he didn’t know how long. Once he stopped, he quickly got back on his feet, ignoring the aches in his body as he ran away.

He didn’t hear the sounds of the forest, he didn’t hear In-ho’s howling, just his own blood pumping in his ears. He ran and ran, trying to ignore the pain in his calf, but it increased with every step he took. He didn’t know how long he could keep running. Deep down, he knew it was a fight he had already lost, yet he kept running.

“GI-HUN! STOP!”

Fuck. How had he caught up to him so fast? He turned around, and the sight made the blood freeze in his veins; In-ho was running fast, awfully fast, towards him. And he… did he have a knife in his hand?

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Gi-hun shrieked, as he kept running as fast as he could. The pain in his calf spread to his whole leg, paralyzing him with excruciating pain. He tried biting through it, but he felt dizzier the more he went on.

He couldn’t keep going. He was done for anyway. He could never outrun him. In-ho was going to kill him, he knew he was. And like many before him, he would die for a love he didn’t want to return. He wouldn’t die a hero, nor would he die forgotten. Just another victim, in a passion crime that was as old as time itself. The most ironic thing was, this wasn’t a case of unrequited love. He just didn’t want to admit it. And he would have laughed, if he had any strength left to do so.

A few twigs snapped when his body hit the ground, tired. So tired. He just wanted to rest, and prayed that In-ho would have some pity on him and end it quickly. Everything went completely dark, right before he heard the slowing steps of In-ho, who had finally reached him.

In-ho stood over him, watching him as he caught his breath. He clutched the knife in his left hand, so strongly he could feel the handle against his bones. He never thought he’d get to the point where he’d actually use it. But it was all Gi-hun’s fault. He hadn’t answered, and he ran again. Why was he always running away?

He turned him around and straddled him, his knees at each side of his hips in a tight grip. In-ho started breathing heavily, holding the knife with both hands, wanting to hurt him just like he had hurt him. The tip was mere inches from Gi-hun’s eyelid, but In-ho was having a hard time keeping his hands steady.

A stab to the eye was a direct stab to the brain. And a stab to the brain meant instant death. It would have been painless and quick. Once it was done, In-ho would have prepared a bed of roses for him at home, in their garden. He would have lied his lifeless body on them with care, then he would have ingested whatever poison he could find, before lying himself next to him, hugging him for one last and endless time. If someone ever found their hanok, that’s how they would have found them. Two skeletons wrapped in an eternal embrace.

It wasn’t the first time he killed somebody who was asleep. But how could he do that to Gi-hun? His Gi-hun? How could he plunge the knife into his soft flesh, the same way he had with those pieces of trash he killed ten years ago?

Gi-hun wasn’t trash.

Gi-hun was the most precious thing he had in this good-for-nothing world.

His sweat-ridden skin glistened under the light of the moon, especially his eyelids. Those curtains of flesh that treasured those sweet and fiery eyes of a doe-eyed lion.

In-ho couldn’t stand the thought of those eyes never staring at him again.

He screamed his head out as he threw the knife far away, far into the forest. He took in a shaky breath, then looked down at the man still sleeping underneath him. Why was he sleeping so soundly? Could it be that he hit his head when he plunged himself out of the car? Could it be that Gi-hun was already…?

In-ho put one hand underneath his head and the other under his back. He raised his unconscious body, staring at his resting face with tears in his eyes and fright in his heart.

“Stare at me with anger, Gi-hun…! Stare at me with hate! But please, please stare at me again!” He begged as he held him in his arms, letting himself go to a desperate cry.

Gi-hun thought he had reached heaven. It was warm, and comfortable where he was. But someone was crying. Was it really heaven if someone was crying?

No. That place was too dark to be the sweet old hereafter. And the warmth around him was the one belonging to a living human being. Why was In-ho crying and hugging him? Was that his final goodbye before killing him? His hands were both on him, thought. Gi-hun couldn’t feel the blade anywhere.

“In-ho…?” He whispered, confused. The other man gasped, pulling away just enough to be able to see his face. In-ho’s eyes were full of tears, and a relieved smile brightened his face.

“Gi-hun…! You’re okay…!”

In-ho tried to hold him closer, but Gi-hun pushed him away. And the more he pushed, pressing his hands into his chest, the more In-ho held his grip. Gi-hun didn’t want to use physical violence, but he was leaving him no choice.

“In-ho…! Let me go, In-ho let me go… LET ME GO!”

With one powerful punch, charged with all his frustration and anger, Gi-hun split In-ho’s eyebrow while managing to get him away from him. In-ho landed on his side, clutching the side of his face. Gi-hun crawled backwards, falling into a puddle of mud.

“Why?! WHY DO YOU KEEP RUNNING AWAY FROM ME!?”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!”

Silence fell after Gi-hun’s outburst. The only sounds were the owls, the crickets, and the wind rustling through the leaves.

He had said it. The very thing Gi-hun never wanted to say out loud. The very thing he had run away in order not to say. And now he had said it. All his resolve to run away dissipated. It was far too late now.

Gi-hun fell on his back, panting heavily, as he made no move to try to get up. He was just too tired.

“Because I’m in love with you…! And I hate, I hate that I’m in love with you…! I hate it… ”

“Gi-hun…”

In-ho slowly crawled to him, until he was hovering over him.

The man had his eyes closed shut, his nose scrunched. His breath trembled. In-ho slid a hand under his back, and pulled him up to a sitting position before wrapping him into a hug. Gi-hun was wide awake, but pulling him up had felt like lifting a dead weight. He didn’t react. He didn’t know how to react. In-ho pressed his face against his, rubbing their cheeks together.

“I love you too… please don’t leave me… I love you…” He murmured softly in his ear.

“In-ho!” Gi-hun, who until that moment had been limp like a ragdoll in In-ho’s arms, suddenly jerked in his embrace. He tried pulling back but the more he did, the tighter In-ho wrapped his arms around him. “If you love me, let me go, In-ho…! Let me go, please let me go…!”

“Let me love you… I just want to love you…”

“You have to let me go…!”

In-ho pulled away just enough to look at the other man’s face, shaking his head. When Gi-hun begged him to let him go, he wasn’t talking about physical constrictions, and In-ho knew that. He wasn’t talking about his arms around him. He wasn’t referring to the locked doors and isolated home either. What he meant was to let him out of his heart. To let his obsession with him go. To release him from a black love that was keeping both of them prisoners.

“I can’t…! I can’t let you go, Gi-hun! I won’t…!”

He pulled him in again, his arms tight around him.

“Please…!”

Gi-hun sobbed on his shoulder. He didn’t return his hug, but his face just sank on his shoulder. This didn’t make any sense. He should have hated that man. He hated everything he did. Then why didn’t he hate him? Why did his arms feel so wonderful? Why did the warmth of his cheek brushing against his own make his chest warm? Why did his tired soul found rest in this man’s embrace?

It made no sense. But a lot of things in his life had stopped making sense long ago.

“I will be all that you need. If you just let me.”

In-ho’s voice was feathery and sweet like honey. The voice of a siren, which had already enchanted him once. Gi-hun knew what they said; fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. But he couldn’t help it.

He needed In-ho’s poisoned honey like he needed the air he breathed.

“I need my freedom, In-ho… I need my life back…” Gi-hun begged as In-ho started kissing him everywhere. On his cheek, on his jaw, on his chin, on his forehead.

“I will take you to see your daughter. I will take you to see Jun-hee and the others. I will take you to the moon and back. Just let me be part of your life.”

*

Sitting on the gelid soil, the two men were sitting side by side, Gi-hun’s head resting on In-ho’s shoulder, who had his arm still firmly wrapped around him, keeping them warm in the cold of the night. Their mud-stained fingers intertwined, like a tightly waved gauze.

“How… how could I have fallen in love with the Frontman…”

“I’m not the Frontman anymore. I’m just Hwang In-ho. And Hwang In-ho loves Seong Gi-hun.”

Gi-hun wanted to say that not being the frontman anymore didn’t erase his guilt. Didn’t erase his sins. But he felt like a hypocrite, reminding him of his sins when he was holding his hand as leaning into him like he was the rock he needed. Just like falling into the mud soiled him with its dirt, falling into In-ho’s arms soiled him with his sins.

In-ho gently caressed his cheek, with his hand that was stained with much more than just mud, transferring the dirt on Gi-hun’s cheek. He didn’t shy away from his touch, he didn’t slap his hand away, even if part of him still wanted to. He still wanted to shut him out and run away, but that part was slowly losing strength.

“My songbird... I understand where I went wrong, now. A bird should never be locked in a cage.”

“Took you long enough.”

In-ho cupped his chin, gently raising Gi-hun’s head so he would look at him. “You’ve changed me, Seong Gi-hun. And now, it’s time for me to respect my end of the bargain,” he said, closing his eyes as he laid a tender kiss on Gi-hun’s forehead. Gi-hun closed his eyes, savoring his kiss, savoring the hands that cradled him with love. He didn’t know if he believed him, he didn’t know if he could trust him yet. But he found himself releasing his grasp on the past, holding only in the present in his mind. Holding onto the lips that kissed him, the eyes that adored him.

A soft whimpering, a helpless sob escaped his lips.

“Gi-hun…?” In-ho worriedly took his face in both his hands. Gi-hun closed his eyes, resting his forehead against In-ho’s.

“Let’s go back… let’s go back home.”

In-ho smiled. It was the first time Gi-hun called the Hanok their home.

“Yeah. Let’s go back home. It’s cold out here, isn’t it?” In-ho told him, getting up on his feet when the other man nodded in agreement. He helped him back on his feet, but Gi-hun let out a badly suppressed whimper.

“Your leg hurts, doesn’t it? Are you sure you can walk?”

Gi-hun shook his head, and In-ho didn’t think about it twice before sweeping him off his feet, carrying him back to the car bridal style. He was a black ocean. A warm, sweet black ocean where Gi-hun loved to go adrift. Maybe he would have drowned at the end of that road, but Gi-hun couldn’t help resting his head on his shoulder. He felt safe enough to doze off.

*

In-ho and Gi-hun were sitting on the edge of the bathtub. With a warm, wet towel, In-ho was gently washing off the mud on Gi-hun’s hands. Then he washed off the mud on his face, the one In-ho himself had stained him with when he cradled his face earlier.

As he did so, Gi-hun’s eyes didn’t sway from him for one second. In-ho couldn’t read his expression. He looked tired, but he also seemed a lot more mellow.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Not even my ex-wife ever looked at me that way...”

“What way?”

“You look at me like I’m your entire world. Like you really love me.”

In-ho smiled softly, a smile that reached his eyes. “Because I do.”

Gi-hun’s dewy eyes darted from In-ho’s lips to his eyes. “Sometimes I’m scared you’re mocking me. Because your love feels too good to be true.”

“You offend me if you say that. I don’t open my heart easily, Gi-hun. The only people I gave my heart to were Yu-jin and you.”

Love had always been serious business for In-ho. Even before the games turned him into a heartless monster, he had always had walls around him. His late wife had been the first to bring them down. When she died, In-ho believed the iron walls he had erected around his heart were impenetrable. Until Seong Gi-hun came, bringing them down like they were made of sand.

“Sorry…”

“It’s not your fault. We need to work on your self-esteem, my songbird.”

In-ho didn’t really know how. All he knew how to do was love bombing, but that could never be enough, when Gi-hun had years' worth of feelings of self-loathing to heal from.

In-ho’s thumb stroked his cheek softly, as his left hand washed the last stain on his face. Gi-hun’s stare returned to In-ho’s lips, as he leaned forward ever so slightly. In-ho took his now clean face in both his hands, placing his lips on Gi-hun’s reddened ones.

This time, the man didn’t push away. In-ho’s lips were soft and moist against his own, pleasant like no kiss had ever been before. When they separated, Gi-hun couldn’t help smiling. It was a small smile but full of peace. Coming to accept his feelings had been painful, but he felt a lot better now, caught in the bliss and euphoria of love. He didn’t know how long it was going to last, but he wanted to savour every sweet moment.

“May I take a look at your leg, now?”

Gi-hun nodded slowly, not once taking his eyes away from In-ho’s. And his eyes followed him, even when he got up to take the first aid kid. Gi-hun took advantage of that time to remove his dirty clothes. Now he was sitting on the edge of the bathtub with only his underwear. It wasn’t the first time he was almost naked in front of In-ho, but this was the first time he was comfortable being so bare around him.

In-ho examined his wound, clicking his tongue. “That’s a pretty nasty cut…”

“In-ho… were you ever going to remove that tracker if I didn’t find it?”

He didn’t feel like answering that question. The truth was, he felt safer knowing Gi-hun had a tracker on him. Most of all, now that they were about to go to the outside world; it was full of dangers out there. What if Gi-hun got kidnapped or passed out somewhere when he was alone? How was he supposed to find him then? He was going to remove it, but he would have much preferred doing so after coming back from America.

“Eventually. But you have to admit it was pretty handy. It was easy to forget you had it, wasn’t it? And in the case you got lost, I could’ve-”

“I’m not a dog, In-ho."

It was like a dose of reality had been dumped on him like a bucket of iced water. In-ho had spent too much time on that island, too much time with people who were far too removed from reality. He thought his considerations about the tracker were logical, sound even. But he had forgotten most normal people didn’t like being tracked, didn’t like being treated like animals, as convenient as a tracker might sound in extreme situations. But then Gi-hun’s gentle voice pulled him back to reality.

“You’re right. I’m sorry…”

They stayed silent as In-ho carefully cleaned the wound. Gi-hun gritted his teeth, trying to endure the pain. Then, In-ho put some anesthetic cream on the wound before stitching it. Gi-hun watched him mesmerized as In-ho moved with the same effortless savoir-faire of an expert weaver.

“Have you done this before?”

“When I was a cop, I had to learn to take care of my colleagues ' wounds. I even took care of my own.”

“Really?”

“You've seen my scar in the gym. The one on my shoulder.”

After he was done, he dressed the wound tenderly with some sterile gauze.

“We should get cleaned up. We’re full of grime,” Gi-hun said. He was longing for a nice, hot shower more than anything in this world.

“Right. You shower first, I’ll wait for my turn,” In-ho said, going for the door, when Gi-hun grabbed him by the wrist.

“No. Stay.”

In-ho was so stunned that he couldn’t move, just stared at Gi-hun’s dewy eyes. He was serious. He wanted him there with him. Slowly, In-ho started removing his muddy clothes, and Gi-hun lost the few remaining garments he had.

They got into the tub and turned the water on. It was the first time they were both fully naked, one in front of the other, but there was nothing sexual about it. The way they both washed the other’s hair, the way they lathered each other’s bodies with a soft sponge and bubbly soap, felt more intimate than sex could ever be.

Gi-hun started humming contentedly, his songbird’s songs making In-ho’s heart quiver. He almost felt like crying, and he did, knowing his tears would mingle with the water from the shower. He couldn’t help feeling maybe life was all that. Sharing that sweet moment with his loved one. Gi-hun was light, and he had almost snuffed that light away.

He was never going to forgive himself for even thinking of doing that.

Gi-hun was turned around now, giving him his back as In-ho washed his shoulder and back. In-ho clutched the sponge tightly in his hand, then wrapped his arms around him, sobbing lightly into Gi-hun’s shoulder.

“In-ho…? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Keep humming, my songbird…”

*

The moon was shining bright that night. Brighter than any star. When In-ho pushed his bedroom door open, they didn’t need to turn the light on. The bed was bathed in moonlight. Soon it shone on Gi-hun’s pale skin, as In-ho started removing the robe wrapped around his body. Both of their hair was still wet and dripping from the shower they just took, and one droplet fell on Gi-hun’s shoulder, where one second later, In-ho rested his lips.

Now that he had gotten a taste, his appetite was increasing. His kisses became hungrier and desperate, like he wanted to kiss every cell on his skin, cover every inch with his lip, love away every scar on his body. His mouth traveled from Gi-hun’s jaw, to his neck, to his chiseled chest. Gi-hun looked back at the moon after his back found solace on the softness of the mattress. He looked at the moon, as In-ho took in every part of his body. As he sunk his sins and his want deep inside of him, now becoming one with his own.

Gi-hun wondered if the moon had the answers he sought. If it knew more than he did. But his questions were forgotten in the passion that enveloped both of their bodies. Never had he thought that the flames of hell could feel this sweet on his skin.

While In-ho was busy brushing the feathers of his songbird, his hand tried to reach the handle of the first drawer of his bedside table. He missed it a couple of times, then finally got a grip of the handle to open it and take out a bottle of lube.

He squeezed a generous amount into his hand, then started coating Gi-hun’s entrance, massaging the net of muscles around his hole. His songbird whimpered softly.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, In-ho.”

He slowly slid one finger inside the warm, soft inner walls, which were eager to welcome him. As he put in another digit, Gi-hun raised up to kiss his shoulder, where the scar from his gunshot wound was. In-ho slowly started moving his finger, and Gi-hun threw his head back, panting heavily. In-ho started kissing every scar on his body, while he inserted a third digit. He started from the scar on his arm, the one he got in the rebellion, the one on his torso, ending with the one on his hand. He kissed each fingertip, then slid the index finger in his mouth while his own fingers were still massaging Gi-hun’s insides.

The man’s songs were slowly transforming into wails of agonizing want for more.

“In-ho… I need you to…”

“You need me to what?” In-ho asked, his voice muffled by Gi-hun’s fingers that were still in his mouth.

“Please…!”

In-ho let go of Gi-hun’s finger with a small pop, and decided to end the agonizing pain for both of them. Removing his fingers, he positioned his aching cock at his entrance, sliding inside him as easily as a knife cutting through butter. Gi-hun inhaled sharply, taking a second to get used to the feeling of In-ho’s girth expanding his inner walls, filling him up like he was made for him. In-ho’s breath was cut off by the feeling of Gi-hun’s warmth around him, welcoming him home.

“Please…” Gi-hun begged. In-ho let go of the breath he was holding, taking in great quantity of hair as he started moving. He took it slow, wanting to savor every second, every chirp coming out of his songbird’s mouth. They stared at each other all the time, as In-ho’s hips moved like gentle waves crashing against the shore. Salty sweat poured from each and every pore of their body, their bodies so warm against the other. They were two flames, dancing in what Gi-hun was sure could be nothing but hellfire. He was sure he was committing the greatest of sins, but it felt too good to stop. In-ho was too sweet to push away, too late now to stop calling him his own. Hwang In-ho might have been a devil, a villain, but he was his villain.

“Faster!”

In-ho would have preferred taking it slowly, but every wish was his command. He picked up the speed, hips crashing against hips, making vulgar slapping sounds. Gi-hun squeezed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden increase in pleasure. He almost looked in pain, and In-ho was about to stop when his legs wrapped around his hips, locking him in. Gi-hun’s fingers were in his hair, gripping tightly as he breathed heavily in his ear. Even his breathing was like music to In-ho’s ears, who had heard nothing but screams for years.

The pleasure was taking them both far, far away from the Hanok, in a dimension where only the two of them existed. An earthquake could have torn Korea apart, and they wouldn’t have noticed a thing.

They were getting tired of that position. Rolling over, on their side at first, then Gi-hun landed on top, taking charge of everything. He controlled the speed now, and rode him faster than In-ho ever could. Their time in the gym had certainly paid off. In-ho’s hands were on Gi-hun’s hips, then his left hand traveled on his sculpted torso, until he reached his beautiful face twisted in pleasure. His thumb slithered into the corner of his mouth, and Gi-hun began biting and sucking on it.

“Gi-hun, I’m close…!”

The man on top of him didn’t seem intentioned to slow down, or move from on top of him at all. He kept his speed steady, riding through his orgasm when his seed fell on both of them. His movements became sluggish, but his hips kept moving, not wanting to lose the momentum, until he felt In-ho’s seed painting his inner walls. He kept grinding on In-ho’s cock, until he collapsed on top of him, a panting mess on top of another panting mess.

In-ho moved his sweat-ridden bangs away from his forehead to leave a kiss on his glistening skin. Gi-hun’s heavy breathing soon turned into a long, deep one.

He had fallen asleep, with In-ho still inside of him.

His weight, plus his steady and deep breathing, was making In-ho doze off too. He covered the both of them with the silky black sheet, and fell asleep hugging his songbird, his heart the most content it had been in years.

Chapter Text

Gi-hun was back in the streets of Ssangmun-dong. He felt like a kid coming back home after breaking a neighbor’s window, scared of his mom’s reaction.

As trivial as it may sound as adults, as a kid something like that felt scary. It was so much bigger than him. Knowing he’d disappoint and anger his mother, the person he loved the most in the world, was scarier than a thousand sea storms.

Nothing was as scary as knowing you’d disappointed the ones you love.

“Seriously, Gi-hun?” Sae-byeok side-eyed him. “I told you to fight back, and instead you completely give in?”

“Well, to be fair, you can’t say he hasn’t tried,” Ji-yeong said. She knew better than anyone how hard running away from certain situations was. How bonds created from the worst of experiences can be the hardest to break.

“But still! Sleeping with the enemy? That’s outrageous!”

“Well, at least the enemy’s hot,” Ji-yeong said with a smirk, making Sae-byeok roll her eyes. “He kinda looks like Lee Byung-hun, don’t you guys think?”

The others either clicked their tongues or rolled their eyes.

Gi-hun appreciated Ji-yeong’s attempt at trying to lighten the mood, but he didn’t feel any better about what he had done. Sae-byeok was right. He had given in. He had stopped resisting, stopped fighting, and had given himself to In-ho completely, and to his own mad, selfish desires.

Part of him went as far as wishing In-ho had forced himself on him instead. If he had, then this guilt wouldn’t be gnawing at him right now.

But no.

Not only had Gi-hun wanted it, he had enjoyed it. The best sex he had in a long time, if he had to be honest. And he didn’t regret it, which maybe was the worst part. He wished he could regret it, but as much as guilt was eating him alive, he didn’t.

He felt pure bliss after making love with In-ho, and his bliss was the wood that feed the fire of his guilt.

Gi-hun looked at Sang-woo, hoping for his childhood friend to have some words of encouragement for him, something to console him. But Sang-woo only looked briefly at him, shrugging as he took in a long drag out of cigarette. “I don’t even know what to tell you, Gi-hun.”

“I don’t either, to be honest, sir,” Ali said, but he looked embarrassed rather than disappointed or angry.

There was someone else who hadn’t spoken at all. Jung-bae just stood there, but unlike Sang-woo, he wasn’t shying away from looking at him. Instead, he was glaring. Intense anger filling those eyes.

“Jung-bae…?” Gi-hun’s voice trembled. His best friend had never looked at him that way. Sure he got mad at him from time to time, sometimes he even held grudges, sometimes he had been disappointed in him.

But he had never looked at him with hatred before.

Gi-hun got on his knees, taking his friend’s hand in both his. “Jung-bae, please…! Please don’t hate me…!”

Jung-bae retracted his hand harshly, not even looking at him anymore. Gi-hun grabbed the fabric of jeans, sobbing uncontrollably. “Forgive me…! Please, forgive me!”

There was nothing else he was able to say.

“Just… Just stay the fuck away from me, Gi-hun. Alright?” Jung-bae said, his voice dry, as he pulled away from Gi-hun, leaving him to sob on the ground.

He watched his best friend walk away, knowing he despised him and knowing he deserved every bit of his scorn.

He shouldn’t have cried, but he couldn’t stop. He shouldn’t have looked around for comfort, but he couldn’t stop. Sang-woo wasn’t even looking at him anymore. Like he didn’t exist. He was chatting with Ali, almost as if he had substituted him.

“Aw, c’mon old man, it’s going to be alright.” Ji-yeong took pity on his miserable soul. She knelt on his side, hugging his arm and lying her head on his shoulder.

Sae-byoek was standing on his other side, with her hands in her pockets. She was too mad to comfort him, but not mad enough to abandom him while he was in that state. Eventually, she got down on her knees and put a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles, but she still avoided looking at him.

Gi-hun couldn’t forget Jung-bae’s eyes.

His eyes followed him even as he woke up.

It was a quiet morning, the sun shining bright for a winter morning. The slight breeze made the white curtain rustle. It almost looked like a scene out of a movie.

Taking in his surroundings, he became aware of the silky sheets against his naked skin. He became aware of the warm body lying next to him.

In-ho was lying on his back, sleeping like a little baby, while Gi-hun’s face was still damp with the tears he had shed in his sleep. He turned on his side, his back to In-ho. He didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to remember what they had done the previous night.

They had exchanged everything. Their breaths, their sweat, their tears. Even their sins.

He was soiled. Dirty. Guilty as In-ho was.

Jung-bae’s blood now stained his hands as much as it stained In-ho’s. And not only his. The blood of countless people was now on his hands, more people than he could count.

Gi-hun couldn’t help wondering if after all, he and In-ho deserved each other.

The man next to him was slowly waking up. He stirred, turned on his side, and wrapped his arm around Gi-hun’s waist. His mouth laid on his bare shoulder, leaving a soft kiss. Gi-hun tried stealing a glance without being seen; In-ho had rested his head on his shoulder, his eyes closed but a contented smile on his face.

His was a look of complete elation. He had no idea of the turmoil going on in Gi-hun’s heart, of the storm tormenting his heart.

The feel of In-ho’s naked body against his own made his temperature rise, blood flowing south. Feeling his man becoming warmer in his arms, In-ho took a peek under the sheets and chuckled.

“Looks like you’re happy to see me.”

Gi-hun looked anywhere but at him, his pale cheeks now turning red.

“Let me help with that.”

His hand traveled from his waist to his groin, grabbing his length and stroking with regular rhythm. His stifled moans were sweet music to In-ho’s ears, who could feel his own length growing.

“Don’t hold back, sing for me songbird ~ ”

He tried to resist, but soon he let himself go again. His mouth was wide open as he let his throat sing. In-ho came just from Gi-hun’s sweet moans and sounds.

Gi-hun wished the pleasure was enough for him to forget about his woes, to forget about his guilt. But it only made it ten times worse. His friends were dandelions scattered to the winds, while he was in that bed of silk and lace, exchanging pleasures with the man responsible for it.

He hadn’t even realized more tears had falled from his eyes until In-ho’s warm hands took gentle hold of his face, turning his face towards him.

“Why are you crying?”

“Just a bad dream…”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No, I don’t even remember what it was about.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“I don’t know. It just felt… scary.”

In-ho moved to be on top of him again, the weight of his body on him felt grounding to Gi-hun. In-ho dried his tears with his thumbs, then kissed the tip of his nose, eliciting small giggles out of him. Gi-hun never thought he’d ever feel like this again, like a teenager experiencing love for the first time.

It wasn’t long until In-ho was inside him again, the stifled moans beneath him turning into delighted hums.

He rocked gently into him, like ocean waves crashing into the shore. The rustling of the sheets as their bodies rocked together reminded Gi-hun of the sounds of the ocean, and that’s where he imagined to be. Far away from those trees and meadows, on a shore on the other side of the ocean.

The pleasure was enough to make him forget where he was. If only the man who was making love to him wasn’t who he was. If only he hadn’t done what he did. Then perhaps Gi-hun might have loved him without the burn of guilt. Perhaps he wouldn’t feel this stinging, churning pain in his stomach.

In-ho stopped, putting a hand softly on his tear stained cheek. Gi-hun hadn’t even taken heed of the tears that had rolled down his face.

“Did it hurt?” He asked, worried.

“No, keep going.”

In-ho exhaled, resting his forehead against Gi-hun’s, who kept sobbing quietly. In-ho didn’t ask this time, his palms just brushed away his tears as he resumed his motion, but Gi-hun’s tears kept shedding. It didn’t matter how much he dried Gi-hun cheeks, they remained dewy, stained with tears. Just like the blood he shed in the games, those tears would never dry.

In-ho kissed each and every tear, tasted every single trace of salt on his face.

*

In-ho was resting on Gi-hun’s chest, in their post-coital bliss. Then he raised himself to a sitting position, causing Gi-hun to miss his warmth.

“I’ll shower and go prepare breakfast. You can sleep some more in the meantime, my prince.”

Gi-hun chuckled. “Prince? What happened to songbird?”

“You’re my songbird, but you’re also my prince.” In-ho’s lips pressed into what looked like a pout. “What, you don’t like it?”

“I’m older than you.”

“So what? You’re still my prince.”

“I’m still older than you.”

In-ho huffed, “You never like the nicknames I give you…”

Prince as a nickname sounded like something a teenage girl would come up with for her boyfriend, not a man in his fifties. And songbird was just plain embarassing, when he remembered how and when In-ho had come up with it. If he was ever to call him songbird in front of other people, Gi-hun was sure he was gonna die of shame. In-ho was indeed terrible with both nicknames and jokes, but Gi-hun didn’t have the heart to tell him, not when he was pouting like that.

“I don’t mind songbird. And Prince is fine too.”

A giddy smile appeared on the other man’s lips.

“What would you like for breakfast, my prince?”

“Mh… Gyeran Bap sounds nice right now...”

“Roger.” In-ho slipped out of bed, walking to the bathroom and not even bothering to cover himself up with a blanket. It was the first time Gi-hun took a good look at his naked body; his man was hot, there was no denying that. Perhaps, his destiny hadn’t been all that bad. He could have been kidnapped by one of those horrid VIPs, to be exploited and enslaved some more for their sick entertainment. But instead, it was Hwang In-ho who had taken him. Who had loved and taken care of him like a knight in shining armour.

There’s something deeply wrong with me, he couldn’t help whispering to himself.

It felt wrong, yet incredibly liberating to no longer deny it to himself anymore; he loved In-ho. No matter what he had done, he loved him. He always thought the Frontman would be cruel and cold, but In-ho had shown him he could be kind and gentle. In a way, Gi-hun began to harbor the belief that In-ho was also a victim of the games. Oh Il-nam had ruined him, exactly like he had ruined Gi-hun, just in different ways.

But the only real In-ho was the one who had been in his arms the night before. Not the Frontman, not the policeman. Simply Hwang In-ho.

Those moments of tenderness they shared almost felt like a dream. Gi-hun couldn’t help but wonder: how long was that dream going to last? If he were a prince and that Hanok was their castle, could that life really be their happily ever after?

No, it was nothing but a counterfeit version of that. Because how long could happy ever after last, when you live that far away from the outside world?

As he lied in bed and stared at the ceiling, he started picturing his daughter walking on the Santa Monica Boulevard, surrounded by people and those charming palm trees he always saw in the movies. It was the outside world, Ga-yeong’s world, one he wasn’t a part of anymore.

In-ho had promised him he’d take him to his daughter and his friends, that they’d finally leave the Hanok after months of capture. But was he truly going to keep his promise?

After all that time, Gi-hun understood why In-ho had taken him to the Hanok. It wasn’t just that he wanted to keep Gi-hun away from the world, In-ho also wanted to keep himself away from the world. He wanted to stay away from a cruel world that had hurt him so much, but why did he assume Gi-hun wanted the same? It’s not like he ever asked him what he wanted, anyway. He brought him there when he was unconscious, never let him out their magnificent prison of marble stone, expensive wood and emerald vegetation.

Gi-hun wondered, if he had asked him to move away, to an apartment in the city, perhaps, would In-ho have said yes?

He was terrified of the answer.

*

Freshly showered and still in his bathrobe, Gi-hun walked downstairs and then into the kitchen. In-ho was wearing a pink apron and cooking four eggs in a pan. When he saw him with the corner of his eye, In-ho smiled, trying to hide it by looking down at the pan, but Gi-hun still saw it.

“I have a surprise for you after breakfast.”

“Really?”

“Two, actually.”

“Oh?”

“But let’s eat first. You must be famished.”

Gi-hun sat down at the table, legs crossed, waiting like it was his birthday. In-ho put a bowl of delicious fried eggs on a bed of rice and chopped green onions under his nose. The smell alone was enough for his mouth to start watering; they were both starving after the intense night. It hadn’t been just physically intense, their emotions had dragged them both down in a whirlpool, and spat them back up leaving them stripped to the bone.

Gi-hun started stuffing his mouth, his cheeks full like one of a hamster. In-ho ate more slowly, despite being just as hungry. He brought a spoonful to to his mouth, but his eyes never left Gi-hun. He looked adorable when he ate, he just wanted to pinch his cheeks and kiss him all over.

His gaze was too intense for Gi-hun not to feel it, and he turned to him with a puzzled look on his face. “What? Do I have rice on my face?”

In-ho smiled, unable to keep his surprise to himself anymore.

“We’re going to Seoul today.”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened. “We?”

“Like I told you, we’re gonna need new documents to travel to the US. I’ll go talk to some people, and in the meantime you can – ” He was interrupted by two strong arms wrapping around his neck.

“Oh, thank you, In-ho! Thank you!”

In-ho melted into his embrace, slowly inhaling Gi-hun’s sweet scent. The man in his arms buried his face in the crook between his neck and shoulder, and In-ho could feel his mouth curling into a wide smile, through the think fabric of his shirt.

“I haven’t even told you the best part yet. I’ll take you to Jun-hee’s house. She’s living in a big mansion she bought, with her baby and everyone else she knew in the games.”

Wide-eyed, Gi-hun pulled away from the hug to look into In-ho’s eyes, to have a confirmation of what he had just said.

“Really? With everyone?”

In-ho nodded, and Gi-hun couldn’t help but feel the slightest ounce of resentment towards him. He should have been with them. He could have been with them. He chose to stay with In-ho, but the fact he didn’t have a say in the beginning would always sting.

“Yes. Dae-ho, Mrs. Jang and her son, that woman who was in the special forces… 120. And number 333, I don’t remember their names.”

Part of Gi-hun grimaced at In-ho still referring to them with their player numbers, but tried brushing it off. In-ho was trying, and he had to give him credit for that.

“Obviously you can go anywhere else you’d like. Just tell me and I’ll take you there.”

“No, no! I want to go see them!” He said, his smile went from ear to ear, lighting up his face and his eyes. In-ho pressed his lips in an almost resigned smile. He had a tinge of envy, for those people who had got Gi-hun to smile like that, without doing nothing. In-ho had to sweat blood to get Gi-hun to smile, while they managed to do that even with so much distance between them.

Not able to read his thoughts but more than capable of seeing the look on In-ho’s face, Gi-hun smile started slowly fading. “Are you really okay with me going to see them?”

In-ho snapped out of his sulking.

“Yes. I know you’ve missed them. I’m so sorry, Gi-hun… I was jealous and selfish. I stopped you from seeing them because I wanted you all to myself.”

That was a confession that caught Gi-hun off-guard. Not the content of it; he knew how possessive and crazy In-ho could be towards him. But he had never imagined In-ho admitting it out loud. He never thought In-ho had matured an awareness of himself and his own feelings like that. Gi-hun wondered if that change had happened because of him, and took a certain pride in it.

In-ho lowered his gaze before he could say anything, reaching for something inside his pocket. “This is my second surprise for you…” He took out something that he put on the table, the sound of something made of hard plastic against the wood echoed in the room. A short, neat sound, but that told Gi-hun everything even before he laid eyes on the mysterious object.

“My phone?” He picked it up, a smile spreading on his face. Gi-hun looked at the front and back, almost playing with it in his hands, looking at the phone with the marvel and wonder of a child who was looking at his first iPad. He tried turning it on, and with great surprise he noticed it was fully charged.

Charged, and bursting with missed called and unseen texts. His notifications were going to explode. But he tried going through them, little by little. A few unknown numbers, but whose first texts held names he knew.

“Damn…”

“What is it?”

“There are like… hundreds of messages in here.”

“That’s bad… I guess your number was leaked by the media.” In-ho had feared something like that might have happened. He and Gi-hun had stopped keeping up with the news, but Gi-hun was still a missing man, maybe the most searched missing man in south korea. No, not only South Korea, he was a worldwide hero after all. He coulnd’t imagine how many people might have tried to call him, if his phone number had leaked.

“No, they’re all from the others…”

“The others…?”

“Dae-ho, Mrs. Jang, Jun-hee, Hyun-ju… they all tried to get through to me… Even your brother.”

“Jun-ho must have given them your number, then…” In-ho said, almost to himself.

In-ho loved his little brother. He really did. But sometimes, as all younger siblings do, the little shit did things that just made him want to strangle him. This was one of those times. Why did all those people need to have Gi-hun’s number? How did they hope to get an answer from a missing man? In-ho clenched his jaws. What did all those people want with his man anyway? They really thought spending three days on an island gave them any right over his time and friendship. They couldn’t even come close to what they shared, to the bond between him and Gi-hun. It was something that transcended time, something written by destiny. Something none of them could understand.

In-ho mentally berated himself. What was he even so mad about? He was about to take Gi-hun to Jun-hee’s house that very same day. They were going to exchange their phone numbers anyway. They were going to touch him, to hug him, to look at him… the mere thought drove Inho insane.

In-ho didn’t want to share him. Gi-hun was his. His man. His prince. His songbird. His own to keep.

Gi-hun, completely unaware of the storm brewing in In-ho’s heart and mind, kept smiling at his phone, his heart fluttering. His whole squad sent him such caring messages, telling him to take care of himself and that they hoped he was alright. Woo-seok and a few others also left him some voice mails, which Gi-hun wanted to check, but he didn’t know if he wanted to do it in front of In-ho.

Geum-ja had left him such a sweet message, and Yong-sik had texted him to apologize about doubting him. His mother yelled at him until he gathered the courage, no doubt about that.

All that time, Gi-hun had thought he had no one in the world, and yet so many people had him in their hearts and thoughts.

“Aw, look! Jun-hee send me her baby’s pictures!” He said, squeaking like a mouse, as he showed In-ho the baby pictures. Little Min-yeong. In-ho hadn’t seen that baby girl since she was born, in his own bedroom on the island. He remembered holding her in his arms, right after she was born, and was pervaded by a mixture of nostalgia and guilt. That little baby was only alive thanks to Gi-hun, and he had prevented him from holding her.

Sometimes he wondered what it would have been like, if Jun-hee had died in childbirth, and he could have raised that baby together with Gi-hun.

He knew Gi-hun would have yelled at him if he could have heard his thoughts. Still, the image of the two of them raising that little girl was nothing but sweet.

It was a dream destined to remain a dream, in the meanders of his mind.

“I hope you’re okay wherever you are…” Gi-hun started reading Jun-hee’s latest message, “We miss you and Mr. Young-il everyday…”

Silence suddenly befell the two of them. Guilt and uncertainty clouded In-ho and Gi-hun’s hearts respectively.

“What are we gonna tell them, In-ho?”

In-ho hadn’t thought about it. He hadn’t planned on seeing them at all, only Gi-hun was to go visit them. And whatever the man was going to tell them, In-ho had decided it wasn’t his business. As long as Gi-hun came back to him.

“I mean… we’ll have to give them an explanation on why we were gone so long. Without, y’know... Telling them you’re the Frontman.”

“Was the Frontman.”

Gi-hun wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter if he wasn’t the Frontman anymore. What those people had gone through on that island wasn’t something they could simply forget.

In-ho put a hand on his tight, giving it a light squeeze.

“You decide. I will be fine with whatever you choose. You can even tell them I was a traitor and I ran off from justice, if you want. Which is the truth, anyway…”

Gi-hun let out a long, soft sigh. He thought about it for a whole minute, then came up with something that sounded satisfying enough in his head. “Okay. I’ll tell them this; Young-il is taking care of his sick wife. And that he’s trying to forget everything that happened in the games, so they shouldn’t expect you to show up. What do you think?”

It was a sound and logical explanation, one In-ho was sure the others would have no trouble believing, He had nothing to say about it. He patted him on the knee, with a tight lipped smile, just to show him he agreed. The topic clearly made him uncomfortable, so Gi-hun was quick to change the subject.

“So, how long do you think it will take for us to get our new passports? When can we go to L.A.?”

“If everything goes well, I’d say in a month or less we’ll be in America.”

Gi-hun had a toothy smile.

“I’m gonna call Ga-yeong and tell her the big news!”

With the phone in his hands, he started composing the number while trotting towards the garden, his veins so full of oxytocin he didn't even feel the pain in his leg. Then he suddenly stopped, as if he had remembered something. In-ho heard the same trot, this time getting closer instead of further away. Before he knew it, Gi-hun was in his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around his neck and his mouth locking him in a kiss.

In-ho’s hands hovered in the air, shocked by the sudden affection, then his hands fell softly on Gi-hun’s hips. He was almost getting out of breath, but Gi-hun’s mouth didn’t seem intentioned on leaving his anytime soon. His fingers were interlaced in In-ho’s dark brown hair, his other hand between his shoulder blades, running up and down his broad upper back. In-ho’s arm circled around Gi-hun’s waist, bringing him closer to him, his chest now touching his own chest. The pounding of their hearts slowly synchronizing with each other.

They separated for air, In-ho’s dewy eyes looking up into Gi-hun’s sultry, half-opened ones. Gods, how he wanted to carry him up to the bedroom and slam him onto the bed. But In-ho was sure his knees would have buckled if he had just tried getting on his feet after that kiss.

“What was that about?” He asked, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Nothing. I just felt like kissing you,” Gi-hun said, his voice a soft whisper, his hand cupping In-ho’s chin as he pulled him in for another kiss, a more tender, slower one.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” He said, slipping away from his arms like a nymph fluttering above the water. In-ho felt that by removing himself from his embrace, he had taken the spring away with him.

*

His veins pumped with happy hormones, Gi-hun put on his cashmere robe and his slippers, and went in the garden to talk to his daughter on the phone.

“Dad?”

“Ga-yeong! I have great news! I don’t have a date yet, but I’ll be in L.A. in a month or so!”

“A month? Why so long?”

“I’m sorry baby, my friend told me it’s not safe to travel with my own documents right now, but he’s gonna get me a new one under another name. It’s gonna take some time, but I’ll be there soon!”

“Under another name? Isn’t that illegal?”

“Well, yeah, but I don’t have many other options right now.”

“Right… just don’t get caught, okay dad?”

“Don’t worry, Ga-yeong! Your old man is a lost hero, don’t you remember that? Nobody’s gonna throw a world hero in jail!”

Ga-yeong laughed heartily, her mind still full of questions, yet slightly reassured by his father’s confidence. For a moment, she felt like she was finally talking to the happy dad she once knew. Not the distant, mysterious hero shown on TV, or the weary, weak-voiced man she had heard on the phone the other time.

“Alright, Dad. Just be careful. I can’t wait to see you!”

“Me too, my darling daughter... Ga-yeong, is there anything you want me to bring you from Korea?”

Ga-yeong thought about it for a second, but there wasn’t anything material she desired. Anything she wanted, she could easily get, right where she was.

Except for one thing.

“I just want you to show up this time.”

Ga-yeong didn’t mean it in a resentful way, not completely at least. The wound left by his sudden disappearance would always bleed, but she hadn’t meant to throw it in her father’s face. She knew he hadn’t had it easy, either. But she was too young to mask her feelings completely.

“Ga-yeong… I’m so sorry. I promise I’m going to make it up to you.”

“Dad, you said you bought me a gift that year, the year you were supposed to visit. Do you still have it? I’d like to open it, finally.”

“Yeah, I do… but I think you grew out of it by now.”

“I still want it.”

“Alright, Ga-yeong, I’ll bring it to you. Isn’t there anything else you want? Anything at all?”

“Mmh… can you bring me some Yakgwa cookies? They’re hard to find around here, and expensive.”

“Sure! I’ll bring you all the Yakgwa cookies you want!”

Gi-hun was no doubt going to fill a single suitcase full of Yakgwa and other Korean snacks.

*

"Ouch..."

"You need to be more careful, my Prince."

So much trotting and prancing around had inevitably opened up his wound. In-ho was fixing his stitches, but even with the anesthetic cream, the pain wasn't numbed completely. Gi-hun had been too giddy to notice the pain, and now he was feeling it all at once.

In-ho had cleaned, disinfected, re-stitched, and re-dressed the wound with such tenderness... Gi-hun could barely believe this was the same man behind the Frontman's mask. How could a man who was able to love so sweetly be the same ruthless, unfeeling monster who reigned on that island of terror? The more Gi-hun thought about it, the less sense it made. What happened to him? Gi-hun wanted to ask him. Sooner or later, he wanted to talk about it with him. By now, he was sure there was nothing he could find out about In-ho that would make him stop loving him.

*

In-ho loved everything about Gi-hun. He loved his heart, his faith, his optimism, and his silliness. He loved his face, his silky raven hair with its spare strands of silver, his soft skin, his gentle wrinkles, his beautiful body with that slim waist and round backside.

He even loved the way he snored. He loved the sound of his warm, slightly raspy voice, he loved it when he talked his ears off, when he hummed, when he moaned in pleasure. In-ho even loved his voice when Gi-hun was yelling at him.

Now that they were driving to Seoul, to his great chagrin he was finding out there was a single instance where he didn’t like his songbird’s voice:

When he sang.

For someone who emitted such pretty sounds when he was in pleasure, he was an absolute disaster when it came to actually sing.

At first, he found it cute. Gi-hun’s heart was happy, and a happy heart is a singing heart. He wasn’t the most talented of singers, but seeing him so full of joy was enough to fill In-ho’s heart with joy too.

Then the minutes turned into hours, and not for a single second did Gi-hun stop singing along the radio. He only stopped to take a sip of water from time to time.

As much as he loved his voice and his giddiness, it was starting to get on his nerves.

“You should try to get at least one note right.”

Gi-hun’s only answer to that, was singing louder and right in In-ho’s ear. It grated on his nerves, yet In-ho missed it when Gi-hun fell asleep, half-way through the trip to Seoul.

“Hey,” In-ho touched his shoulder and woke him up gently. “We’re here.”

Gi-hun’s eyes were still blurry. He started taking in his surrounding, felt In-ho’s jacket wrapped around himself like a blanket, while his vision started becoming cleared, taking in road signals and houses of a neighbor he didn’t recognize.

“See this boulevard?” In-ho said, “Just walk until you see a house painted in sky blue. That’s Jun-hee’s house.”

There was a sorrow in In-ho’s eyes Gi-hun had never seen before.

“In-ho… I think you should come with me. I think you should tell the others the truth.”

In-ho slightly shook his head.

“It won’t be easy at first, but I learned to forgive you, maybe the others can do the same.”

“I can’t face everybody after lying to them. Not everyone is forgiving as you are, Gi-hun.”

“Maybe they will forgive, maybe they’ll hate you forever. You won’t ever know if you don’t give the others this possibility, In-ho. You owe this to them.”

In truth, In-ho didn’t care about their forgiveness. The only thing he was truly afraid of, was loosing Gi-hun again. If the others started ganging up on him, reminding Gi-hun of his sins, they could have persuaded him to change his mind. They could have taken his beloved away from him.

In-ho couldn’t let that happen.

“I can’t.”

Gi-hun pressed his lips in a tight lipped smile. 

“Alright. Then I guess I’ll go alone," he said, giving In-ho a quick peck on the lips before going for the door.

“Gi-hun, wait. Before you go, I have something to give you.”

In-ho reached into his pockets, taking out some items one by one, and lining them up on the dashboard. A pair of keys attached to an owl shaped keychain. A wallet and a pack of cigarettes.

Gi-hun looked at the items, then at In-ho, and then at the items again, doe-eyed and confused. That was everything he remembered having in his pockets before entering the games.

In-ho took a deep breath. He blinked back his tears, looking up to prevent them from falling. How could it be that hard, to muster the courage to tell him what he needed to tell him?

Everything was so much easier when he shut his emotions off. When he worked on the island and was surrounded by death and rules, dehumanized victims and robotic personnel.

Everything was so much easier when he had shut off his heart. But Gi-hun had made it beat again, he had turned on the light in the darkness of his soul.

And now he could feel everything, ten times more intensely as he ever felt in the past decade.

He took Gi-hun’s hand, bringing it too his mouth. His kiss was soft and long, neverending. Gi-hun looked at him, without saying a word. In-ho’s gestures and eyes spoke for him. He spoke in the way his eyes closed when he kissed his hand, he spoke in the way his thumb brushed over his knuckles. He spoke when he brought his hand over his chest, Gi-hun could feel his heart beating fast.

“Gi-hun. In these months we spent together, I haven’t always treated you with the respect I owed you. I kept you against your will, I didn’t respect your boundaries… I kept you away from your daughter and all your friends.”

“In-ho,” Gi-hun started, not sure what he wanted to say.

“Please let me finish.” In-ho took another deep breath, looking at Gi-hun’s hand he was now holding with both his own. “I was horrible to you. I knew I was horrible, but I didn’t stop because I needed you. I put my own, selfish needs before yours. And now I’m trying to make amend for that.”

Gi-hun’s eyes softened, his eyebrows slightly raised as his eyes started welling up.

“What are you saying…?”

In-ho slowly turned his head to look into Gi-hun’s bright eyes, with his equally bright, bloodshot ones.

“You can leave, Gi-hun. You are free. If you want to leave me, leave. I’ll send you your new documents and your plane ticket by mail, so you won’t even have to talk to me again.”

“You’re letting me go…?”

“I told you so last night. A bird can’t be locked in a cage.”

“But… I chose to stay with you.”

“You didn’t have a choice. Not really. Now you do.”

They both knew that was true. Even if Gi-hun had chose to leave back then, In-ho was never going to let him go. Not at that time. Not when his desperation and obsession was clouding his judgment, not when he couldn’t see the hurt he was causing to his most beloved.

“I will be waiting for you. At eight p.m. I will come back here, waiting. If you come back, I’ll be very happy. If you don’t, we’ll live the rest of our lives separately. You’re free, Gi-hun.”

In-ho had fought so hard against his tears. But they had won. They poured from his eyes like water poured from its spring. He didn’t have the courage to look into Gi-hun’s eyes again. If he did, he would have seen the same tears were wetting his cheeks. He closed his eyes when Gi-hun laid his hand on his cheek, brushing away his tears.

“In-ho… Oh, In-ho…”

He couldn’t manage to say anything else. He knew that if he did, his voice would have broken. He took In-ho’s face into his hands, turning his face to look at him. But In-ho wouldn’t. He kept his eyes closed, trying to savour everything better. Gi-hun’s scent, Gi-hun’s warm touch, Gi-hun’s lips that were slowly laying on his own. Plump, soft and warm, like they always were when he cried. He couldn’t imagine his own lips felt the same to Gi-hun. He couldn’t image how that phantom of a goodbye was hurting him as much as it was hurting In-ho himself.

Was it a goodbye? Neither of them knew.

Gi-hun wanted to comfort In-ho, he wanted to tell him that he needn’t to worry, that he’d come back to him.

But he couldn’t. The words died out in his mind, not even reaching his breath. He didn’t want to lie to In-ho, didn’t want to lie to himself either.

What was he going to do? He had no answer. Had In-ho offered him this possibility months ago, he would have fled without as much as saying goodbye. But his heart had changed now.

What was he supposed to do? Stay with him in their sweet but poisonous haven, or go back to Seoul, to a life where he was free but where he hadn’t experienced love in a long time?

Freedom tasted so sweet. But so did the forbidden fruit In-ho had handed to him in their Hanok.

Their Hanok. When had Gi-hun started considering it as theirs? When did his cage of gold turn into his safe haven? When did this monster of a man, start looking more like a man than a monster? When did this man who haunted his waking and sleeping nightmares, become the one who’s kisses were the nepenthe for his wounded soul? When had his hugs become the panacea for his tortured heart?

And most of all, could he really live without all of that, now?

Gi-hun took the determination he needed to separate his lips from In-ho’s, in that kiss neither of them wanted to break. With the same determination, he opened the car’s door.

He left, winter wind on his face, tears turned to ice, stinging on his skin. In-ho, in the warmth of his leather seat, felt the same cold on his teary face.

Chapter Text

Jun-ho became increasingly discouraged the more people he interviewed. Being around prisons for so long gave him this eerie feeling he couldn’t shake off, until he realized one thing: the prison complex wasn’t much different from the guards’ lodging on the island.

The only difference was in the colors; the prison's were bleaker—ugly shades of whites and greys. And yet, the sun hitting those walls somehow washed away some of that bleakness, giving the place a sense of hope, holding promises of freedom that lied beyond those walls.

That’s what the island lacked. Natural light. The very source of light and hope on this planet.

There was life and hope beyond prison; there was neither beyond the island. Even for those who survived, life was drained out. He had lived it, and he had seen it in the past months, on the faces of Jun-hee, of the baby’s father and all their friends. They kept going, seizing happiness at every chance life threw it at them, but the shadows of what happened on the island were still looming over them, and they would probably never leave.

Jun-ho had felt it on his own skin. Even if he had found his brother, even if everything seemed to have ended with the classical hero's tale end, something was fractured in both of them.

In-ho wasn’t the same. The fact that he had come back to those games to work for them was proof enough. The fact that he kept isolating himself despite everything further proved it.

And Jun-ho wasn’t the same either. He still loved his brother dearly, but there was a fracture in his faith in him that was never going to heal.

And then there was Gi-hun. Maybe the most broken of them all.

Gi-hun, who had come back for other people. Not for himself, not even for someone he loved. For others. Strangers he didn’t even know.

Gi-hun, who had disregarded his own life to stop those disgusting games. And he had succeeded! But his ending wasn’t the one of a hero either. Because real life isn’t like in the tales of old, because the celebrations, the songs and the accolades can never heal wounds that run deep inside one’s soul.

Jun-ho grew every day more concerned; the thought that he might have ended his own life kept gnawing at him. He hadn’t known the man for long, but Gi-hun didn’t seem to be too keen on his own life; compared to how he looked before the games, when Jun-ho saw him again, he was a lot skinnier. Scruffier, even his clothes were darker.

But hope can come like a bolt out of the blue.

He was woken up early by a call that morning, by a prison guard he had befriended in his eternal quest to pry more information from the former guards.

Apparently, there was a former triangle soldier who was willing to talk. Not without proper payment, of course, which he was supposed to hand to the mother of the prisoner outside of prison before meeting him. Jun-ho didn’t have that kind of money, he had considered asking his brother, but he needed cash quickly, so he went to the only place he could go; the motel.

That money was just sitting around, and no one would reclaim it. Gi-hun certainly wouldn’t have minded, he never liked touching that blood money after all.

Gi-hun had used that money to find the island, and now, Jun-ho was using that same money to find Gi-hun.

Jun-ho didn’t meet this person in the usual visiting room. After talking to the director, he allowed him to meet the prisoner in his office.

Now he was face-to-face with this person, in the privacy of the office. The former guard looks more or less his same age, his face is unassuming.

“So, you know what happened to Seong Gi-hun, right?”

“I didn’t say I knew. I said I had a lead.”

“I brought you what you asked me. Now you have to give me what I asked. Talk.”

“This I’m about to tell you it’s just my theory, but… it’s based on some solid information I have. If I had to guess what happened to Seong Gi-hun, then your brother has something to do with it.”

It was like everything in Jun-ho stopped, for a brief moment. His breathing, his heart, his mind. Did that piece of shit just say something about his brother?

“Wait… how do you know…!?”

“I was there that day at the cliff. I was one of the guards. Relax, I’m not gonna tell anyone he’s the real Frontman. Really smart, that move you pulled, by the way. Putting his clothes on the officer’s dead body? Genius.”

Jun-ho pressed his lips into a hard line. Could he really trust this person not to say anything? He wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to get more money out of him. If things got bad, In-ho could always bribe him with his own money; it’s not like he could keep using Gi-hun’s. Not after he hopefully found him.

“What do you know about Seong Gi-hun?”

“I know that your brother is gay as hell for him. Did you know that?”

“…what?”

Jun-ho froze. He didn’t know what to think. Of anything he had expected to hear that day, he did not put that anywhere on the list. The man in front of him was smirking, a soft and amused laugh escaping his lips.

“I see being the Frontman wasn’t the only thing he was keeping from you. Your brother’s a faggot.”

Jun-ho had to snap himself out of his shock, and force the gears in his head back to work.

“My brother had a wife.”

“As many do.”

“But even if he was gay, what does this even have to do with anything?”

“Oh, it has everything to do with it. Your brother was obsessed with Seong Gi-hun.”

His brother? Hwang In-ho? The calm, cool and collected older brother, so serious he could almost feel cold at times, getting so passionate about someone he could even be called obsessed? Jun-ho could hardly see it.

“Define obsessed.”

“You see, there are about 500 participants in the games each year. 99% of them end up dead, and the dead don’t talk, but there are around thirty winners out there who could always run their mouths. We keep an eye on them for this reason. But when it came to Seong Gi-hun… let’s say your brother kept an eye on him more than necessary.”

“Of course he did! Gi-hun was actively trying to stop those games. You’re looking too much into it, and I just wasted millions of won.” Jun-ho sighed deeply, falling back into the chair as he brought a hand to his forehead. He could feel a headache coming.

“Hold up, detective. I wasn’t done.”

Jun-ho looked up at him skeptically, one eyebrow raised.

“We didn’t know why he let him into the games again. We’re paid to follow orders, not to think. But I think it became clear to a lot of us pretty soon.”

“Stop being cryptic! Just tell me what you know!” Jun-ho was starting to lose his patience. The man in front of him seemed to be enjoying it, keeping him on edge, giving the information a little at a time, watching him get heated. He wished he could have wiped that smirk off his face.

“When 456 led the rebellion, the Captain killed everyone who participated. Everyone but him. We thought he’d sent him back in the games, but he kept him locked up in his quarters instead.”

“He kept him in his quarters?”

“Yes. That’s when things got interesting. Despite 456 being cuffed to the bed, I was one of the guards ordered to keep an eye on him, so that he wouldn’t try to escape or hurt himself. The poor devil was like a rabid dog, thrashing and screaming.”

Jun-ho didn’t find it hard to imagine how mad Gi-hun must have been. How desperate he must have felt, while waiting for him and the others to come to his rescue. The guilt he felt kept gnawing at him, he was never going to forgive himself for not finding the island sooner.

“He had to be sedated at a certain point. And it was right then, when he was unconscious, that I had the confirmation of my suspicions. When I went to check on 456, imagine my surprise when I stepped into the room and found the Captain asleep, with his head on player 456’s chest.”

Jun-ho's eyes widened. The picture that came to mind was one he had already seen before. Countless times before. When Yu-jin was alive, it happened often that he would find his brother and her in a moment of sweetness, with In-ho resting his head on her chest and Yu-jin caressing his hair.

When she died, In-ho remained with his head lying on her cold chest for hours.

That gesture was too genuine, too typical of his brother, for the man in front of him to have made that up.

It was real. But why?

“This makes no sense. Why would he even let Gi-hun into the games again if he was in love with him? Risking his life?”

“He never truly risked his life. We were ordered not to kill him. If he ever lost the game, we were told to pretend to shoot him and then bring him to his quarters. He was never in real danger.”

“Okay, let’s suppose I believe you. My brother had feelings for Seong Gi-hun. What does this change? If anything, it explains why he let him go, even before we stormed the island.”

The former guard chuckled.

“You have too much faith in your brother. Look at what he kept from you! Do you really think he'd tell you about 456's true whereabouts? Do you think it would be hard for him to keep him hidden somewhere? With all his money and power? I get he’s your brother, but jeez, as a detective, you truly suck.”

Jun-ho left the prison that day with his head reeling. Not even the fresh air gave any relief to his troubled mind.

Could it be that In-ho actually knew where Gi-hun was, and that he had been lying to him all this time? Could it be that he had killed him, because the man didn’t want to return his love? It wouldn’t be the first story of that kind to fill the news. Or could it be that Gi-hun was still alive, and In-ho was keeping him hauled up somewhere hidden, to do with him what he wanted? Jun-ho didn’t want to believe that. But there was no arguing about it; his brother was more than capable of committing those horrible crimes. He had done far worse already, after all.

The days as a starry-eyed younger sibling, his days of having complete faith in his older brother, were long gone.

He had to talk to In-ho, and he had to do it as soon as possible.

*

In-ho had stayed in the car, watching Gi-hun slowly become a small figure and then disappear along the small streets. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from the horizon, from the point where Gi-hun had disappeared from his sight.

The man hadn’t turned around to look back at him. Not even once. Yet In-ho kept starting, somehow hoping he'd decide to turn back. The only thing that managed to pry his eyes away, was the ringing of his phone. Seeing his little brother’s name on the screen was a small remedy for the poison that was corroding his soul.

“Hey, Jun-ho.”

“Brother, how are you?”

“Pushing forward. How about you?”

“I’m good. In-ho, listen… there’s something I need to talk with you about.”

“Alright. I’m all ears.”

“I’d rather do it in person. When can you come home?”

“I happen to be in Seoul right now.”

“Perfect. Mom isn’t home so… I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah.”

After hanging up, In-ho went back to stare into that spot where Gi-hun had disappeared, for he didn’t know how long.

Finally, In-ho started the car and drove away from Jun-hee’s neighborhood.

*

It was a cold day, but Gi-hun felt fine in his expensive sweater and coat. He felt like a different man. One who had never stepped foot on that island, one who had never stepped foot in that Hanok where he spent his most desperate yet sweet days.

No, it couldn’t be the same Gi-hun from Ssangmun-dong, the one who was walking through that rich neighborhood, which streets he didn’t recognize.

Surely it couldn’t be the same Seong Gi-hun, who filled with a rage that was red like dawn, the one who found solace in Hwang In-ho’s arms.

It couldn’t be the same Seong Gi-hun, the hero that the whole world sang the praises of.

He didn’t know who he was anymore. All Gi-hun knew was that he was free.

He was free from everything. Free from the invisible borders of the Hanok. Free from the anguish the games had trapped him into, free from the guilt of being the only survivor.

Free from In-ho.

Free from his love, from his devotion and obsession. Free from the guilt of loving him.

Free to go wherever he wanted and visit whoever he wanted. Would Jun-hee and the others even want to see him, though? Would they have welcomed him with open arms, or were they going to slam the door in his face?

How could he even face them after ghosting them for so many months?

It was too late to go back now. He was in front of the gate, his finger hovering uncertainly over the intercom. He didn’t even buzz it when the automatic gate opened, and he slowly stepped in. They must have seen him from the camera, and clearly they weren’t mad at him if they were letting him in and not shutting him out.

Gi-hun walked the stone pathway that led to the main door, going through a beautifully curated garden. It paled compared to the Hanok’s garde, but it was still beautiful. It was a pretty house, the same color as the sky, just like In-ho had said.

The front door burst open, revealing a disheveled and wide smiled Dae-ho.

“GI-HUN!”

The young man sprinted towards him, literally jumping on him and clasping him in a tight hug. Gi-hun was sure that if he had been as skinny and weak as he was months before, Dae-ho would have definitely knocked him over.

Gi-hun wrapped his arms around him, giving small pats on his back when the young man started sobbing.

On the balcony, Yong-sik, who was reading a book, dropped his jaw at the scene. “Mom, mom!” he cried, rushing back inside. Soon a general commotion could be heard inside the house.

“You’re alive! You’re here!” With a tear-stricken face, Dae-ho pulled back to look Gi-hun in the face, touching his shoulders, squeezing his arms and hands to make sure he was real.

“Dae-ho, I’m so sorry I didn’t keep in touch.”

His only reply was to hug him again. Then Geum-ja, Yong-sik, and Hyun-ju all poured outside, all with big smiles on their faces.

Geum-ja hugged him tight as soon as Dae-ho let him go, and for a moment, Gi-hun was sure she smelled just like his mother did. For one moment, Gi-hun felt like he had been transported to the past. To a time were he wasn’t hurt. To a time when he wasn’t exactly happy, but a time when he couldn’t have even imagined what was going to happen to him. A time he couldn’t have imagined how much he was going to miss.

Geum-ja’s gray hair had been dyed a warm, dark brown tone, and she looked a lot younger than she did last time he saw her. When the old lady pulled away from the hug, she slapped him on the shoulder. “What were you thinking, making us all worry like that!? You could have at least told us you were okay!”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” That’s all he managed to say, with tears in his eyes.

“We’ll have time to talk. Let’s go inside,” Hyun-ju said, giving the man a side hug as the group all headed inside the house.

It was a modern house, with a lot of white furniture made of birch wood. The design was minimal, the complete opposite of the Hanok, with its dark ebony furniture and overflowing with art of every kind in every corner of the house.

Hearing the commotion downstairs, Jun-hee was trotting down the stairs, a big smile appearing on her face when he saw Gi-hun.

“Mr. Gi-hun!”

Jun-hee ran to hug him, her face buried in his chest while her arms were wrapped tightly around his waist. It reminded Gi-hun of the way Ga-yeong used to hug him, and he could barely hold his tears back as he caressed her hair.

She was wide-eyed when they separated, and she looked up at him, like a kid looking up at her hero in awe. Her cheeks were rosy, and she looked so much healthier in her cream colored, trendy tracksuit in place of that awful player’s one. She looked like a flourishing young mother, and an aura of happiness surrounded her.

“Jun-hee, you’re glowing. Motherhood made you even more beautiful.”

“Thank you! You look good, too!”

“Yeah, you look amazing! Look at that,” Dae-ho said in awe, touching his arms that were defined and shaped thanks to his training, “Have you been hitting the gym?”

“I’ve been keeping myself busy, yes.”

The image of Gi-hun in the games, with dark circles, malnourished and skinny to the bone, was still vivid in everyone’s mind. Of course, they hadn’t known him before that, but it was only in comparison to how healthy he looked now that they were starting to realize just how unhealthy he was back then.

“Jun-hee, how is your baby? I’d love to finally meet her.”

“Min-yeong’s doing amazing. She’s out on a stroll with her dad, but they should be home soon.”

“I’ll go prepare some tea for everyone!” Geum-ja said, “Yong-sik, come help me.”

“I’ll go buy some pastries,” Dae-ho said, already grabbing his coat and keys.

“Wait, there’s no need for that…”

“Yes, there is!” Geum-ja rebuked, “We should celebrate!”

“At least let me help you with the tea,” Gi-hun offered, but was quickly shut down.

“Don’t you dare! Now go sit your ass down,” the old woman commanded.

“Yeah, Mr. Gi-hun. You’re our guest! You’ll have lunch with us, right?” Jun-hee asked with twinkling eyes.

Gi-hun was overwhelmed by how loved he was, by how wanted he was. It was just like Sae-byeok had told him that time, there were more people out there who cared about him than he realized, he just had no idea.

But now he finally did.

*

“Where have you been all this time?” Dae-ho asked him once they were all comfortably sitting down on the big sofa, in the living room, sipping on tea and eating sweets.

Gi-hun knew the question was coming sooner or later. He was prepared to answer, but he could never be emotionally prepared for this.

“I was… in a Hanok, far from the city.”

“A Hanok? That must have been so peaceful.”

It hadn’t always been. No matter what, Gi-hun would never forget the feeling of being trapped, the first day he woke up there. The feelings of dread, every time one of his attempts at escaping failed.

But then there were always the days he spent with In-ho in the gym. Drawing while he read a book. The long talks, the meals they prepared together, the cuddles among sheets of silk.

“Yeah… yeah, it was.”

“Did the news not reach you, there? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be petty, but you could have given us a call. We were all worried. Jun-ho's been looking for you all this time, too,” Hyun-ju said.

“I’m sorry… I think I just needed some time to be alone. To process everything that has happened.”

Hyun-ju gave him a tight-lipped smile. Dae-ho patted him on the knee. Gi-hun knew he hurt them with his absence – although it wasn’t his fault – yet they all had such understanding smiles. Sad, maybe even slightly angry, but understanding. They had been through his same trauma after all.

They all understood, or at least had an explanation in their mind for his behavior. They had banded together after the fact, but it didn’t take a degree in psychology to understand Gi-hun had simply reacted differently. Even after the first game, he had isolated himself, but it was different back then. He didn’t have anyone who could understand him. If only he had gone back to Seoul, if only Jun-hee could have asked him to move in with them, Gi-hun was sure he was going to say yes.

He didn’t regret staying with In-ho, but he was going to wonder what that could have been like for the rest of his life.

“I can’t believe you went through all of this twice,” Yong-sik said, “Are you seeing a therapist, at least? Most of us are.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, not looking at anyone in the eyes as he stuffed a pastry into his mouth. Yes, the games were exposed, but what on earth was he going to tell a therapist? Would they have asked questions about his love life? Would they have asked questions about In-ho?

He was better off not questioning his relationship. For the first time in years, he was happy with someone. He didn’t want any headshrinker to burst his bubble.

“I don’t think I need one.”

“You do,” Dae-ho said, “I didn’t believe I needed one either, but I did. It can be exhausting, but… you’ll feel better after that.”

“I’m not sure about that…”

“You don’t have to do it now, only when you feel ready!” Geum-ja said, with the wisdom her years brought.

“Company is already therapy enough,” Jun-hee said. “You should stay here with us. We have a room ready, whenever you want to move in.”

“Yeah, it’s not good for you to be alone,” Hyun-ju reiterated, “Leaning on each other has helped us a lot.”

“It means a lot that you offered to stay with you… Truly, thank you from the bottom of my heart. But I can’t stay here in Seoul, I’ll be leaving for Los Angeles soon.”

“Los Angeles?”

“My daughter lives there with her mom and stepfather. I haven’t seen her since all of this started…”

“You have a daughter?” Geum-ja asked, pleasantly surprised, taking the words out of Jun-hee’s mouth, who couldn't help feeling the slightest bit jealous. All this time, she had imagined Seong Gi-hun joining their little family, being the father she had always needed. She had always assumed that, like the rest of them, he had no one. But it turned out, he was already a father to someone else. And how his eyes twinkled at the mention of his daughter. Jun-hee wished she had had a father whose eyes twinkled like that when saying her name.

“Her name is Ga-yeong,” Gi-hun said, a warm light in his eyes as he started telling them about his little girl. Jun-hee and the others listened fascinated as he told them those tales, about Ga-yeong, wearing his heart on his sleeve. He told them everything about her, from the first time he saw her little face, her first steps, to the last day he saw her. His face brightened when he told them about her; everyone could see just how much he loved that little girl. And from the way he was describing her, it was almost like she was right there with them.

Learning he had a daughter made Jun-hee, and also the others, realize just how little they truly knew about him. Living together made her and the others learn a lot about each other, so much more than they could in those three days in the games.

But Seong Gi-hun was still a mystery.

All of them wished Gi-hun had stayed with them. All of them wished he could have been the missing piece of the family they had created, just like Jun-hee had always dreamed.

Yet it seemed that Seong Gi-hun’s destiny was different from their own; it was something none of them could control. Perhaps, not even Gi-hun himself.

This saddened Jun-hee to a degree, but she couldn’t help being grateful for all she had, and for having him in their life in the first place.

Gi-hun was in the middle of telling them about a time when Ga-yeong had insisted on helping him in the kitchen, back when he still had the restaurant, but they were interrupted by someone opening the front door.

“Oh, Min-yeong and Myung-gi must be back!” Jun-hee said excitedly, jogging to the front door.

Myung-gi pushed the stroller with the baby inside, looking around confused. He could hear the commotion from the garden, and when Jun-hee came in front of him with that wide smile, he knew something was up. Jun-hee never smiled so widely at him, not since they broke up.

“Jun-hee, what with this smile? Did something good happen?” He asked, as the girl took the baby out of the stroller and into her arms.

“Seong Gi-hun is here! He’s alive, he’s okay!”

“Oh, that’s great to hear!”

Myung-gi was genuinely glad, mostly for Jun-hee, but he couldn’t help feeling a tinge of sadness. He wished he could have made Jun-hee smile like this too, one day. But that day seemed unreachable right now.

Together, they walked to the living room where Gi-hun was still telling them about his daughter, but went silent as soon as he saw the trio. He got on his feet to go meet them.

“Sir, I’m glad to see you’re okay,” Myung-gi said.

“Thank you, uh…”

The young man held his hand out to him. “Lee Myung-gi. I don’t believe we ever introduced each other.”

Gi-hun shook his hand, introducing himself in turn. “Seong Gi-hun.”

“Oh, I already know who you are. All the world knows.”

“Right… I forgot about that…”

Dae-ho patted him on the back as the man scratched the back of his neck, looking away. Everyone took it as shyness at his newfound fame, but to Gi-hun, that fame was nothing but a nuisance. He had planned to go on a walk through the town after visiting them, but he forgot his face was on all the newspapers now. It was just like In-ho had said, he had to be careful now.

Jun-hee stepped in front of him, with the baby in her arms, so she could finally introduce them.

“Min-yeong, meet your uncle Gi-hun!” She said to the baby, who smiled timidly, then turned her face away from the newcomer.

“Oh, so she’s Min-yeong?”

“Do you wanna hold her?”

Gi-hun stared at Jun-hee wide-eyed.

“Can I?”

“Of course!”

Little Min-yeong looked at Gi-hun and then back at her mother, who smiled at her encouragingly. Only then did the baby let him take her into his arms.

Gi-hun’s face lit up with joy, and a wide smile reached his eyes, brightening his features.

“Hey, little one… you’re such a pretty little baby. You take after your mom.”

His eyes started welling up, thinking back to the times Ga-yeong was a baby. He started playing with little Min-yeong, making her smile and laugh.

Min-yeong. Even their names were similar.

“Mr. Gi-hun, do you know anything about Mr.Young-il?” Jun-hee asked him at a certain point.

For a second, the smile faded from Gi-hun's face. But he caught himself just in time. He couldn't let any of them see right through him. “He… he’s with his wife and child now. He told me to tell you that he cares about you all very much, but he doesn’t want to keep in touch. He said he wants to forget everything that happened.”

A tight-lipped smile replaced Jun-hee’s joyful expression. She was relieved knowing the last of her protectors was safe, but knowing he didn’t want to see them again still hurt.

“So he’s keeping in touch with you?”

“We only talked once or twice… I don’t know where he is now.”

Gi-hun felt awful lying to them. But there’s not much else he can do, not if he wants to protect In-ho.

Protecting In-ho... not even in his wildest dreams could he have ever thought there’d come the day he’d want to protect In-ho. But that’s exactly what he wanted to do. He never wanted them to find out his true identity; he never wanted any of them to put the pieces together and report him to the authorities.

Gi-hun was well aware it was something he should have done himself. In-ho didn’t deserve to walk freely like other people.

And yet, the thought of him being taken away with his hands cuffed made his chest tighten. He didn’t want anyone to take him away from him.

Because who was going to love him, if not In-ho?

Yes, he had his daughter. Yes he had Jun-hee and Min-yeong, who were like two other daughters. Yes, he had Dae-ho and Hyun-ju, who were good friends. Yes, he had Yong-sik and Myung-gi, who could probably become good friends over time. Yes, he had Geum-ja, who was like a mother. Out there, there were also Jun-ho and Woo-seok, whom he couldn’t wait to meet again.

But who was going to love him like a lover? Who was going to kiss him, who was going to whisper sweet nothing in his ears, caress his hair, and press his body against his own?

Who, if not Hwang In-ho?

*

The two Hwang brothers spent the car ride to the cemetery in complete silence. It had been Jun-ho’s idea to go visit Yu-jin’s grave. He didn’t expect In-ho to comply so easily, but he hadn’t been there in years, and it was about time he paid his dues.

He had left his late wife alone for way too long.

Just like the car ride, the walk to the flower stand outside the cemetery to Yu-jin’s resting place was spent in silence. So were the first few minutes in front of her grave, where In-ho had placed a fresh bouquet of jindai flowers.

“Thank you for keeping fresh flowers on her grave.”

“I did it for her, not for you,” Jun-ho tried not to sound petty, but he failed. “Why didn’t you come, all these months?”

In-ho lowered his gaze. “I guess… for the same reason I didn’t all these years. I know Yu-jin would have been so mad if she knew what I was doing… I couldn’t face her.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

In-ho’s pained eyes looked at him, then looked away before giving him a small nod. Jun-ho put a hand on his shoulder, telling him he’ll be waiting for him outside and to take all the time he needed.

He stared at Yu-jin’s picture, of her holding that bouquet on the day of her graduation. In-ho knew it was just a photograph, but it looked like she was actually there, glaring at him. Despite her smiling in it, In-ho felt like she was reproaching him.

“My Yu-jin. I’m so sorry for everything. For leaving you for so long, for everything that I did since you were gone… I became a monster, and I know that. I don’t deserve to love and be loved again, not after all the lives I’ve destroyed. But I just can’t help it…! I love him. I love him so much and he loves me… You would have loved him, too, Yu-jin. Maybe even more than you loved me.”

Yu-jin and Gi-hun had so much in common. They were two rebels, two fighting spirits. Both extravagant, both extroverted and outgoing. They were the sun, whose light reflected on the moon of In-ho’s heart. He didn’t have light of his own, without them. That’s why things only started to get better when Gi-hun came along. He was the light he needed to chase away his darkness.

“He used to look at me with such hatred… if you could, I know you would have looked at me the same way, after what I did. Sometimes… I feel like you live on through him. When I looked into his eyes full of hatred… it was like you were looking at me through him. To let me know how mad you were at me.”

It’s not like he saw her in Gi-hun. They had similar personalities, but were also different in a lot of ways. Gi-hun was impulsive, while Yu-jin was more level-headed. Yet, when it came to how they loved and how they hated, they felt the same. It's called having a type, In-ho. He could hear her voice clearly, almost as if she was there talking to him, and he couldn't help but giggle.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’d still love me. Sometimes, I’m afraid of the answer.”

Yu-jin’s smile started looking sad in that photograph. Even the grayscale looked to be turning into blue.

Hwang In-ho. You'd better take that back. He could almost hear her reproaching him. Maybe she would have loved him still, but he knew the grief over what he had done would have killed her, if the illness didn't.

In-ho started reciting some prayers, formulas he knew by heart. He had long stopped believing in God or any sort of benevolent higher being, yet he put his heart into his prayer nonetheless. He prayed for whoever was listening to protect her, for her heart to be tender enough to forgive him, if they were ever to meet again.

Once his prayers were over, he kissed the cold stone of Yu-jin’s grave.

*

In-ho found Jun-ho on a bench by the gates of the cemetery. It overlooked on a hill, and there were little to no people at that hour. It was so peaceful… perfect to have an intimate conversation, which was exactly what Jun-ho was hoping to have with his older brother.

There was so much he wanted to ask him, so much he wanted to talk about. He had been mulling over it all day since that damn ex-guard told him that secret about his brother. Being gay wasn’t a crime, and being in love wasn’t a crime either. But being in love with Gi-hun? A missing man, whom his brother knew he had been looking for for months?

People like In-ho were always the first suspects in cases like that. Who could be more suspicious than a scorned lover? Or an obsessed lover, like that guard had called him?

Why had his detective skills failed him with Captain Park, but suddenly returned now that his brother was the suspect? Why couldn’t he stay in blissful ignorance and complete trust in his brother? Why did his suspects have to return now that they had finally mended their bond?

Jun-ho wouldn’t have been able to bear it if he found out his brother had been lying to him again. If he had done something to Seong Gi-hun, he was never going to forgive him for it. Nor himself, for that matter.

“Jun-ho, did something happen?” In-ho asked as he sat down next to him.

“No, why do you ask?” Jun-ho, arms crossed on his chest, didn’t even look at his brother as he replied.

“I can tell you’re pissed at me, though I don’t understand why. And it’s not ‘cause I didn’t bring Yu-jin flowers, is it?”

Jun-ho took a deep breath.

“In-ho, I’ve never seen you with anyone who wasn’t Yu-jin. Did you have anyone before Yu-jin?”

The older brother blinked slowly, his confusion spiking sky-high. “Uh… You brought me to the cemetery where my wife is buried… to talk about my exes?”

If he put it like that, it was almost funny. If only Jun-ho were in any mood for jokes…

“Well… I was just curious, because you see, I’ve talked to someone today and he told me something I didn’t know about you.”

“Like what?”

In-ho seemed genuinely confused, so Jun-ho decided to go straight to the point.

“I’ve never seen you with anyone who wasn’t Yu-jin, so the question never even crossed my mind before, but… In-ho, are you gay?”

In-ho was at a loss for words. He blinked several times before giving a sincere, straight-to-the-point answer. “Bisexual would be the more correct term, I guess.”

“Oh… that was easy." Jun-ho felt relieved yet slightly disappointed. He had mentally prepared himself to have to carve that information out of his brother, yet he just gave it up like that. "I didn’t think you’d admit it that fast. Why did you never tell me?”

“You never asked.” In-ho shrugged, still confused about where all of that was coming from. “But why are you asking me this now? And I repeat, in the cemetery where my wife is buried?”

Jun-ho took a deep breath before starting, passing a hand through his hair. “In-ho… I’m trying to have faith in you despite everything. So I need you to be honest with me, because I have a couple of questions, and I will not ask them twice.”

“Okay. Ask away.” In-ho says in a small voice. He tries to be steadfast, but he simply has no energy. The truth is, he’s terrified. What could have possibly made Jun-ho change his attitude towards him so fast? It’s not like he didn’t have secrets, but how on earth had he found out?

A terrible doubt arose in his heart.

Did Gi-hun call him? Did he tell him everything he did to him, asking Jun-ho to arrest him, to be sure he could never put him in a cage again?

Had Gi-hun not only left him, but also betrayed him?

“I went to the prison to talk to one of your former employees, regarding Seong Gi-hun.”

In-ho’s lived a relief that was as fleeting as the life of a butterfly. His heart was in his throat. None of his former employees knew the whereabouts of the Hanok. None of them knew that he took Gi-hun, after he was left in the forest. So even if one of them wanted to talk, what could they possibly tell Jun-ho?

“He said that… you were obsessed with him. He used this word, obsessed. I’d like to believe you were simply in love. I’d like to believe you’re not one of those sick lovers who kill when they’re not corresponded. I’d like to believe you wouldn’t hurt him and lie to my face, In-ho.”

Jun-ho's voice couldn't help but tremble in that last part. He had trusted his brother, and it killed In-ho to see the hurt into his eyes.

“I understand why you doubt me. I haven’t given you any reason to trust me.”

“What did you do to him?”

“I let him go.”

“Did you really?”

He did. In-ho did let him go. It just wasn’t in the window of time Jun-ho was thinking about. He held Gi-hun tight in his grasp back then, back in that forest. And it wasn't until that morning that he let him go. So much time had happened in between, unconfessable secrets, unconfessable crimes. The words they yelled at each other, the sweet nothings they whispered in each other’s ears… it was only for In-ho and Gi-hun to treasure. Unspeakable to everyone else.

“I let him go, Ju-ho. I swear..” In-ho breathed heavily, thinking about Gi-hun’s back walking away from him in the cold. “It’s true. I am in love with him. Maybe you can even say obsessed. Why else do you think I haven’t killed him after the rebellion? Why else do you think I let him go? It’s not like I didn’t want to keep him, I wanted to. But I know I was hurting him, so I let him go.”

As In-ho’s eyes filled with tears, Jun-ho’s stone-hard eyes started softening. In-ho sounded so sincere, his grief so deep. He now regretted how harsh he had been with him.

“Do you know where he is now?”

“No… no, I don’t. I wish I did. I wish I could talk to him one more time.”

And feel his breath on his skin, the sweet taste of his tears, the smell of his hair, his bare skin under his fingers. He wished he had savoured it more, when Gi-hun was still in his arms.

When In-ho turned to look briefly at Jun-ho, he saw his lips pressed into a hard line.

“I know what you’re thinking. You think it’s not love. You think I’m completely demented and dangerous.”

“No, no In-ho, I don’t think that. I think you haven’t been in love in a long time, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. But you did the right thing in the end. You let him go.”

“Yeah… I did.”

There was no doubt in Jun-ho’s mind that In-ho’s love for Gi-hun was genuine. Fucked up, maybe, but genuine. His older brother was fucked up after all, there wasn’t any other way his love could be. He was just glad he stopped himself in time.

Jun-ho had known him in love before. He had known him as a loving, devoted husband to Yu-jin. He knew he would have been the same with Gi-hun, if only they had met before all of this happened. He had precluded himself from that when he became the Frontman. Jun-ho couldn’t help but wonder; was that the reason In-ho had let him and the others find the island?

Seeing the love he could have had with Gi-hun, the love he had precluded himself from when he became the Frontman… had that been his wake-up call?

If that was true, Seong Gi-hun might have succeeded in his goal of stopping the games in the most unexpected way possible.

“There’s just one thing I don’t understand… if you were in love with him, why did you let him in the games again? Even if he wasn’t going to die, you just put him through trauma again.”

In-ho closed his eyes, a few tears escaping.

“You’re not gonna like the answer.”

“I don’t like a lot of things you did, In-ho. I won’t be fazed now.”

“I wanted him to become jaded, like me. In a sense, I thought I was doing him a favor. I wanted him to stop suffering for those deaths and see the other players the way I saw them; trash eliminated from the competition.”

Jun-ho definitely didn’t like that. He still couldn’t believe the brother who fought against injustice, the brother who became a cop to protect people, could ever be hurt by life to the point of completely subverting his own beliefs.

“But Gi-hun… his faith in humanity is unwavering. I couldn’t break it. I couldn’t break him. I think nobody really can. And… it only made me fall in love with him more.”

Jun-ho was at a loss for words. His eyes became watery, mirroring his older brother’s. He put an arm around his shoulder, while the older kept confiding his feelings in him.

“It’s cruel what I did to him, Jun-ho. Even I realize it’s cruel. He had every right to kill me, but he didn’t, even if I gave him the possibility.”

“Brother… I don’t know what to say. I surely wasn’t expecting that. But I’m glad you decided to trust me with your secrets.”

“Jun-ho… I don’t deserve a brother like you. I really don’t.”

The younger man’s only answer was putting his arms around him, holding him tight. In-ho started sobbing wildly, guilt consuming him from the inside out. He wanted to confess everything. That he had taken Gi-hun, that day. That he had brought him in his Hanok, that he had locked him there against his will.

He had been cruel before, and he kept being cruel to the man he said he loved. He kept lying to his brother, whom he said he loved.

The urge to confess tightened around his heart, but he couldn’t do it. Now that he wasn’t sure if Gi-hun was ever coming back to him, he couldn’t bear to lose his brother too.

“I’m glad we talked. I’m sorry I doubted you, In-ho,” Jun-ho said as they separated, drying a few tears that had escaped from his eyes. “Don’t cry, brother. It’s okay.”

His hands cupping his face and drying away his tears brought him back to when Jun-ho was still a small child. In-ho always tried not to let his little brother see him cry, but when he did, Jun-ho would always walk up to him and dry his tears just like this. Telling him not to cry, just like this.

His sweetness only made In-ho cry harder.

Chapter Text

A cup of warm tea in Jun-ho’s apartment seemed to have calmed him down a little.

“Thank you again for trusting me with this, In-ho. I know coming out mustn’t have been easy.”

“Mom would disapprove. But I knew you'd never judge me.”

“I’m glad." Jun-ho couldn't help but smile. Their parents were always old-fashioned, so when it came to certain things, the two brothers only ever confided in each other. Like when Jun-ho secretly got a tattoo the day after he turned eighteen; it had been In-ho who drove him to the appointment. And with it being on his back, their mother never found out until years later.

Jun-ho finally felt like they were brothers again. Sharing secrets, supporting each other, just like they always used to do.

"Although, I’m surprised you never told me before.”

“How could I? I never thought there would be another person after Yu-jin. Man or woman.”

“But now you understand you can love again, right? That’s what Yu-jin would have wanted. You can’t have Gi-hun, but you can love again.”

In-ho looked up at him, lips slightly parted. He would have laughed, knowing what he knew, but his brother’s assertion opened up old insecurities. Gi-hun loved him. He had told him so. He had kissed him, cuddled him, made him food, and made love to him. Then why did he feel like Jun-ho was right? Like all the moments they had in the Hanok were just a bubble of soap, and Jun-ho’s words were the needle that burst it.

“Why do you say that? That I can’t have Gi-hun?”

In-ho realized how ridiculous his question was when he saw the look on Jun-ho’s face.

“Brother, you know it better than me. Gi-hun detests those games and everyone who kept that system going. He lost so much because of it, so many people he loved died in front of him. He might even forgive you, but… being in a relationship? C’mon, In-ho. I know you’re more down to earth than that.”

"But... if I talked to him, Gi-hun could forgive me, maybe... don't you think?"

"I don't know. Gi-hun does have a big heart, but I wouldn't count on it too much if I were you, brother."

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”

In-ho shut his mouth by drowning his face in his teacup, looking away from his brother. He must have thought he was an idiot. But Jun-ho only felt pity for him. The fact that his brother could still harbour hope told him he really was in love. It reminded him back when Yu-jin was sick, when he thought he could save her by gathering up some money. But at that time, the illness had already progressed too much. There was no money, no transplant or doctor that could save her, back when In-ho had – unknown to them – first joined the games.

His brother had always been like that. Throwing logic and reason out the window when it came to people he was in love with.

Although relieved and happy, Jun-ho couldn’t help feeling frustrated too. Now he was right back where he started with his search for Gi-hun. He had no idea where to find Gi-hun, and no idea where to start looking, either.

“I just hope we can see him again. I don’t even know if he’s alive right now. Do you think he’s…?”

Jun-ho couldn’t even finish his sentence as he looked into In-ho’s grief-stricken eyes. The younger brother mentally berated himself; how could he insinuate that the man his brother loved could be dead? He didn’t realize that the terror he was seeing in In-ho’s eyes, was fear that Jun-ho could have seen right through him. Right through his lies.

Silence stretched between the two brothers, impregnating the air with fear and sorrow. The hope in Jun-ho’s heart for Gi-hun’s fate was slowly starting to fade when his phone rang, breaking the tension like a stone breaking a sculpture of glass.

In-ho could spy Jun-hee’s name on the screen of his phone. His stomach clenched. He knew Gi-hun was with her and the others. Had he told them everything about In-ho and the months as his captor?

“Hi Jun-hee, how are you?”

Jun-ho’s eyes widened, just as In-ho’s narrowed. Slowly, the corners of his mouth curled in a smile, and In-ho’s tension slowly loosened, but didn’t fade completely.

“What…? Really? Ah, that’s such great news! You have no idea how relieved that makes me! Thank you so much for telling me. Yeah, I’ll be on the way. I’ll see all of you later.”

After Jun-ho hung up, he put the phone on his chest as he let out a relieved sigh, looking up at the sky. “Ah, so there is a God up there!”

Then, addressing his brother, he explained the situation with a wide smile, "Gi-hun showed up at Jun-hee’s door this morning!”

In-ho isn’t surprised. But Jun-ho interprets his blank, teary-eyed expression as shock.

“I’m… going to Jun-hee right now. Do you want to come…?”

In-ho scoffed. “And for what?”

“You can see him from a distance. Make sure he’s okay. Jun-hee said he looks so much healthier since the last time they saw him.”

In-ho knew that. He knew it better than anybody. He was the one who had fed him, he was the one who had trained him. He was the one who had nursed him back to health, despite Gi-hun’s initial – and In-ho had to admit, justified – resistance.

He was the one who had held him as he cried. He was the one who had made him sing from pleasure.

But that would be no more, because he had let his songbird free. Others would hear his songs, others would brush his feathers. All In-ho had left were the memories and an empty, open cage.

“Jun-ho… I think I need to be alone for today.”

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be okay. I came to town to run some errands anyway, I should get back to those.”

In-ho had almost forgotten about the travel documents for Los Angeles. He had dreamed of flying there with his songbird, his prince, his Gi-hun. But whatever decision he took, In-ho had promised him he’d make him have what he needed to travel, to finally go see his daughter.

And he was going to fulfill his promise, no matter what.

*

When Jun-ho went to Jun-hee’s house, they were all seated at the long table in the living room, having lunch. Gi-hun was sitting at the head of the table, with baby Min-yeong sitting on his lap. He hasn’t eaten much, too busy feeding the baby instead. His once hollow cheeks had filled up; he looked almost ten years younger now.

“Jun-ho!” He was pleasantly surprised when he saw the young detective, a smile on his face, but his happiness was mixed with some other emotion Jun-ho can’t quite place. Was it surprise? Or fright?

Gi-hun gave the baby to her dad as he went to hug his old friend.

“I’m so glad to see you’re okay!” Jun-ho said, holding him tight as his eyes welled up. Gi-hun wasn’t as skinny as the last time he saw him, he didn’t smell like cigarettes either. His body was so different from the one of the man he could manhandle so easily, back when he broke into his motel, months before their whole operation started. Despite being so healthy and strong, Jun-ho could see it in his eyes, that nothing had been easy for him in the time he was away. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t find that damn island sooner. I’m so sorry, Gi-hun.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Gi-hun said, but it didn’t ease Jun-ho’s guilt. Failing to find the island, failing to see through Captain Park’s deceit might not have been his fault, but he did lie to Gi-hun. And that had no justification.

“What about you? Where have you been all this time?” Jun-ho asked as they separated from the hug. Gi-hun stared at him wide-eyed for a brief moment, and just when he opened his mouth to speak, they were interrupted by Geum-ja.

“There will be time to tell. Now you must join us for lunch! Have a seat, Jun-ho.”

Jun-ho wasn’t hungry at all, but he still sat down and forced himself to eat.

*

Some time after lunch, they were all chilling in the living room. When the baby was asleep, the table cleared and the dishes washed – Gi-hun had insisted on helping despite everyone’s resistance – Jun-ho asked Gi-hun if they could talk alone, apologizing to everyone for stealing him away.

Things were slightly tense as the two of them took a walk outside. Both had secrets they didn’t want to share. Both had things they didn’t want to say.

One of them had to, however. It was the whole reason Jun-ho had brought him out there. The temperature was cold, but the sky was clear, and strolling on the streets was pleasant.

“Gi-hun, there’s something I’ve been keeping from you.”

“Jun-ho, I know.”

“You know…?”

“Your brother told me. When he was keeping me locked up in his quarters… he told me his name was Hwang In-ho.”

“Ah… so In-ho actually told you...”

“I’m not gonna lie, I was fucking pissed at you for not telling me. But time helped blow off some steam.”

“So you’re not mad anymore?”

“I was more mad about you letting your brother get away scot free than you lying about his identity. But even that is beyond me now.”

There were things both of them didn’t dare speak. Jun-ho didn’t dare tell him he was still keeping in touch with his brother. He was glad Gi-hun didn’t ask where he was right now, because he didn’t have a lie ready to give him. Not a credible one, at least.

And of course, Gi-hun didn’t dare tell him that he had been with his brother all this time. Thankfully, after lunch, Dae-ho had told Jun-ho the lie Gi-hun had told all of them before, saving him from having to tell the same lie twice.

Jun-ho seemed to have believed it.

Gi-hun couldn’t tell him about his love for his older brother, about the time they spent together. He most of all didn’t dare tell him it had been against his will, at first. Jun-ho would never understand. No one could understand, besides the two of them. Their love was something only he and In-ho could understand, because they had lived it. They had felt it.

“What are you going to do now? Any plans for the future?”

“I will be going to see my daughter in Los Angeles. For now, I don’t have other plans. We’ll have to see… all I care about is seeing Ga-yeong again.”

“Just don’t ghost everybody again, okay?”

“I won’t. Rest assured about that. I have to go now, there’s somewhere I need to be. It was good seeing you, Jun-ho.”

“It was good seeing you, too. Take care, Gi-hun. And thank you for forgiving me.”

“Thank you, Jun-ho. It means a lot that you never gave up looking for me.”

The two hugged again before parting ways.

*

He had told another small, white lie to Jun-ho. There wasn’t really anywhere he needed to be; he just wanted to enjoy his newfound freedom by roaming through Seoul by himself.

Strolling through Ssangmun-don somehow felt so nostalgic. He had spent most of his life there, so why did its streets somehow feel like a far-off memory?

He retraced every place that ever meant something to him. The old house where he and his mother lived, that was now rented to someone else. The elementary school he attended, and that years later, Ga-yeong attended as well. He even went to the SNU campus, where he used to drive Sang-woo when he was attending, wishing he could have gone there with him as well.

Some people on the bus seemed to have recognized him, so all he could do was hide half of his face in his turtleneck and get off a few stops before his own.

In-ho wasn’t wrong when he said he had to be careful. People didn’t pay attention to him when he was walking, but in places like the bus or the shop where he went to buy a hat, people stared and whispered.

His next stop was the hippodrome. He grew to hate that place, but he still had some fond memories of Jung-bae there. How could he love the man who shot his best friend through his heart?

Gi-hun’s eyes welled up with tears as he thought about him. He hated himself for forgiving In-ho. He hated himself for loving In-ho, and deep down in his heart, he knew he would always have to bear the weight of that inner conflict.

In-ho was sorry, but he had killed Jung-bae, and that was something he could never undo.

Falling in love with In-ho was something Gi-hun could never undo, either. It didn’t matter how much he retraced every step of his life since he met him, he could never pinpoint the exact time it happened.

Love was something that couldn’t always be explained. Perhaps, it never could. Sometimes it just happened. You just catch it, like a disease.

Eight p.m. That’s how long he was going to wait for him, in the same place. Gi-hun still had a few hours to spare, a few hours to think about his future.

His freedom tasted bittersweet. He had enjoyed strolling through Seoul without In-ho, knowing he couldn’t have tracked him down even if he wanted to. But things were never going to go back how they were before. He wished he could sit at a cafe, having a cup of coffee and maybe some pastries. But people stared. People recognized him and took pictures and videos. He couldn’t stay too long in the same place. Jun-hee and the others told him they were experiencing the same.

He hated to think In-ho was right. That the Hanok really was a safe place for him after all. He went unnoticed most of his life; all this attention freaked him out. Were people ever going to forget his face? Or was he supposed to learn to live like this?

Gi-hun didn’t want to isolate himself. He wanted to be among people, make friends, and chat up strangers like he had always done before all of this started.

The Hanok was sweet, but it was no way to live. Gi-hun wanted to go back to In-ho, but would the man have forced him to stay there forever with him?

If you love someone, let them go. It was a phrase Gi-hun had heard, over and over again, ever since he was a kid. He wasn’t sure who this quote was from, but its meaning was universal knowledge. If you love someone, let them go.

In-ho did let him go.

Even a wolf, sometimes, could decide to let a prey go. But was it wise for the prey to go right back into his clutches? It was foolish. It was true, In-ho let him go, but that man was unpredictable.

Gi-hun, I need you.

That’s what In-ho had told him that day in the garden. The truth was, Gi-hun now needed In-ho as much as In-ho needed him. He needed someone to love him, someone to be his partner for life.

But there was also Ga-yeong, who needed her father. As much as he loved him, Gi-hun didn’t want In-ho near his daughter. As much as he had changed, In-ho’s hands were still drenched in blood. Gi-hun had accepted being soiled by those hands, but he couldn’t let him soil Ga-yeong, too.

What could he do? If he let In-ho be part of his life, could he really keep him and Ga-yeong separated?

*

It was ten minutes until eight p.m. Ten minutes left of the time In-ho had given Gi-hun to make his decision.

In-ho stared at the horizon, waiting for Gi-hun to appear. Waiting for his tall, slender, and delicate frame to appear.

The wait was agony drenched in pink. Drenched in the love he still wanted to give him.

He couldn’t stare any longer. He rested his forehead on the wheel, closing his eyes. His car felt suffocating, but he couldn’t bear to wait outside either.

The wait was making him sick to his stomach.

What would he do if Gi-hun didn’t come back? He had nothing else to live for. Yes, he had his brother and his mother, but how could that ever suffice? Birds flew away from their nests once they grew up. Lion cubs left their pack to find one of their own. Everyone needs something of their own. He had found it with Yu-jin, but then he had lost it. He couldn’t bear to lose Gi-hun too.

So he had to believe Gi-hun was coming back to him. He had to.

But who was he kidding? Jun-ho was right. He couldn’t have Gi-hun.

Seong Gi-hun wasn’t his. He never was, and he never would be. Those months they had spent together were nothing but a dream, nothing but a dream Gi-hun had given to him as a gift. Because he was too kind. Too in love with humanity to give up, even on someone like In-ho.

He didn’t have the courage to look at the time. But even if it was eight o’clock, where was the harm in waiting one more minute? Or maybe five? It’s not like he was going to leave as soon as the clock struck eight. Gi-hun might have incurred any kind of setback. Maybe Jun-hee and the others had insisted for him to stay for dinner. Maybe he met an old friend. Maybe he went back home to reminisce and lost track of the time. Or maybe some of those vultures who called themselves journalists were holding him back.

But when his eyes fell on the clock, all these scenarios in his head crumbled like a house of cards.

8:46 pm.

In-ho stared at those numbers, petrified. Gi-hun was not coming back. He was never coming back to him, he should have known from that last kiss. Too long, too deep to be anything other than a goodbye.

Sniffling, In-ho reached for the keys with his trembling hand, turning the engine on. He didn’t even know where he wanted to go now. How could he go back to their Hanok, where Gi-hun was everywhere? His scent lingered in every room. His clothes were scattered on every surface in his and In-ho’s rooms. His drawings adorned the walls. His favorite soju in the fridge.

Everything in that Hanok would scream of his absence, would scream of the dream he once lived with him.

For now, he had no other choice but to go to a hotel. Just as he was about to press the gas pedal, someone opened the car’s door, letting his weight fall on the passenger’s seat.

In-ho was frozen. His head felt heavy as stone as he slowly turned around to see the person seated next to him.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

When his eyes finally stared at the passenger, Gi-hun was staring back at him with a shy smile.

Chapter Text

“Gi-hun….?” In-ho whispered in a barely audible voice. The man next to him didn’t speak again, and he began to worry that it was all just a mirage.

In a sluggish motion, his hands reached for Gi-hun’s face, his fingers grazing his soft skin. He could feel his warm cheeks underneath his palm, the texture of his lips as he traced his thumb over them.

“…You’re here, you…. You came back.”

Gi-hun again didn’t speak, just blinked his eyes slowly, letting them talk for him. In-ho brought himself closer, slowly shortening the distance between them until his lips were on his cheek. He closed his eyes as he savored the taste of his skin on his lips, as he heard the sweet melody of his breathing, calming as the sound of a river during a starry night.

After that first kiss, he laid another on his cheek. Then another on his jaw, then another and then another, his kisses becoming shorter and faster. When he moved from his jaw to his neck, Gi-hun laughed, blessing In-ho’s ears with those familiar melodies. His songbird was singing again, for him and for him only.

“My prince, my songbird, my Gi-hun…” In-ho said between a kiss and a tear. When he finished his kisses and wrapped his arms around his neck, he pressed his cheek against Gi-hun’s so hard, he couldn’t tell if the tears he was feeling on his cheek were his own or Gi-hun’s.

Gi-hun kissed him behind his ear, as he ran his fingers through his hair. His other hand was drawing soothing circles on his back.

“I thought you weren’t coming back…”

“I thought I wasn’t coming back either…”

In-ho didn’t know what made him change his mind, he wasn’t sure he even wanted to know. All he knew was that his Prince was in his arms again, and he wasn’t letting him go.

“I’m so happy you’re here with me,” In-ho whispered tenderly.

“In-ho… I want to be with you. But I have a few requests.”

“Everything. Everything you want, my prince, I’ll give it to you.”

“First thing is about Ga-yeong… I don’t want you to meet her. You can come with me to America, but I want to go see my daughter on my own.”

“That’s… that’s fine by me. But why? Are you ashamed of me?”

“It’s not that, In-ho. It’s that our story didn’t exactly start in a conventional way. I don’t know how to explain that to Ga-yeong, and I don’t want to lie to her.”

“I understand.”

In his dreams, In-ho had always seen himself married to Gi-hun, and his daughter was part of that picture. But if that’s what it took for Gi-hun to remain by his side, then to hell with his picture perfect ending.

“In-ho. Listen very carefully now.”

“I am.”

“No more locked doors. No more restraints. I wanna be free to go where I want and talk to who I want, is that alright? Or else I’m gonna leave you for real.”

“Of course. I already told you, didn’t I? I won’t ever cage you again, my songbird.”

Gi-hun chose to believe him, even if he could feel his friends screaming at him from the hereafter.

“One last thing… Can we get an apartment here in Seoul?”

“In Seoul…?” In-ho was taken aback by the request. It surprised as much as it saddened him. He thought Gi-hun had grown fond of the Hanok, after all, that was the place that saw their love bloom. They had so many memories there. But In-ho guessed he was the only one who treasured those moments. After all, Gi-hun had always hated that hanok. Had always hated being bound in there. “You really don’t like the Hanok, don’t you?”

“It’s not that I hate the Hanok. It’s just that it’s a bit too isolated. I need to be somewhere livelier once in a while.”

“It could be dangerous. What if they recognize you?”

Gi-hun pressed his lips into a hard line. He was sure many people had recognized him already, and many probably took pictures too. He wasn’t sure he should have told him yet, but there was one thing he was sure of. “In-ho, we can’t stay hidden forever.”

In-ho wasn’t convinced. He wasn’t fond of the city, especially since his brother and mother lived there. Running into him with Gi-hun would have been hard to explain. But Gi-hun was a social bird, he knew he wasn’t happy living isolated, and he couldn’t keep hurting him.

“Alright. Tomorrow we can go look for apartments.”

The smile on Gi-hun’s face made it all worth it. But they needed to be careful if they were to live in Seoul. Hire some bodyguards and cameras outside the apartment. Gi-hun probably wasn’t going to like it, but he needed him to be safe.

“Wait, can I drive? I missed driving.”

This time, it was In-ho’s mouth that curled into a wide smile. Finally, his romantic dream of having Gi-hun chauffeuring him around town was turning into reality.

“Sure, Mr. Chaffeur.”

The two exchanged their seats, Gi-hun was excited like a kid on the day of his birthday when he got his hands on the car’s wheel. In-ho had good taste, when it came to alcohol, tobacco, décor, and cars, too.

“Before I forget. We need to make a stop at my motel.”

“Oh, so you’re inviting me to a love hotel, Mr. Seong Gi-hun? That’s indecent.”

Gi-hun laughed as he shook his head. “Shut up… there’s something I need to pick up there.”

“What is it?"

“Ga-yeong’s birthday gift… the one I was supposed to give her that year. She asked me to bring it to her last time we talked on the phone.”

“What did you get her?”

“I thought you knew. Didn’t you use to stalk me back then?”

In-ho lowered his head, going silent after that. He looked like a kicked puppy. Gi-hun poked him in the arm with his elbow. “Hey, I was just joking.”

“It’s a doll,” Gi-hun said, with an expression that was between a grimace and a smile, “I told her she’s probably grown out of it now, but she said she wanted it anyway. I still need to buy her a proper gift for when we go to Los Angeles.”

“I’m sure she’ll love the doll too, even if she’s grown. Because it’s from you.”

“I hope so. I doubt it, but I hope so…”

In-ho would have loved to see the look on Ga-yeong’s face when she opened her gifts. He most of all he would have loved to see the joy on Gi-hun’s face as he finally hugged his daughter again.

But he was to see all of that from a distance, and he was fine with that.

*

Everything’s just as Gi-hun had left it, the day before his dangerous mission. The day before rejoining the game. Just with more layers of dust. More layers of a muted, unheard cry of his wounded heart. That motel had become a museum to his suffering. Every wall, every furniture, every crack in the floor reminded him of his lonely years.

And there it was, among all that darkness and gloom, a pink package wrapped in a pink bow. An object that clashed with everything around it, but even a gift that was supposed to bring joy, only filled Gi-hun with regret. For the days he had lost, for the broken promises, broken trust he might never get back. He took the box in his hands, caressing the smooth surface with his thumbs.

“Ga-yeong asked me to bring her this… the gift I bought for her that year I was supposed to go to Los Angeles… Sometimes, I still wonder if I took the right decision. I couldn’t let other people suffer like I did, but… I made my daughter suffer. I’m a horrible dad. A father should put his child before the whole world, and I didn’t.”

From behind, In-ho wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his cheek against Gi-hun’s tear-stained one. His silent tears hurt, more than his loud and lively ones did.

“My prince… my love…” his voice cracked, as he kissed his tears away. “I meant it when I told you I wanted you to be happy. I really wanted you to get on that plane and be your daughter. But that’s just not who you are, Seong Gi-hun. You can’t just turn the other way when you see injustice. That doesn’t make you a bad father, nor a bad person. You’re human. And I know that you know Ga-yeong understands. Do you think she’d rather have a coward as a father?”

“I think she’d have preferred having a father all these years, instead of none. Coward or not.”

“You can’t undo the past. You can only make it up to her.”

“I will do my best. The problem is… I always did try my best. And it was never enough.”

In-ho unwrapped his arms from around him, grabbing him by the shoulders and turning him around to look into his eyes. Gi-hun didn’t. He kept staring at the package, but that wouldn’t stop In-ho from giving him a piece of his mind.

“Stop beating yourself up like this, Gi-hun! There were circumstances out of your control. Everything’s different now,” he said, drying the silent tears that kept flowing from his doe eyes.

“I’m so scared, In-ho. Ga-yeong is thirteen, going on fourteen. Kids change so fast at that age… And I’ve changed a lot too. I’m afraid we won’t be father and daughter anymore, but two strangers.”

In-ho clicked his tongue, as he took his face into his hands and brought their foreheads together. “Don’t cross your bridges before you come to them, Gi-hun.”

In-ho was right. But he couldn’t stop being afraid. Ga-yeong had a life over there, and she might have even wanted him in it, but was he going to be able to fit it? Would he and her stepdad clash like they always did? Would he and Eun-ji have been able to be friendly with each other, for her sake?

He supposed they were all answers he wouldn’t get until they arrived in Los Angeles.

“It’s late to drive back home now. Do you think we should sleep here?” In-ho asked.

“No… I only came to take what I needed. I’m not fond of this place, and I wouldn’t mind never seeing it again. We should go to a real hotel.”

“I know a nice one, l’ll make a reservation then,” In-ho said, taking out his phone, “You sure there’s nothing else you need to take from here?”

“Not right now. I just wanna leave, now.”

In-ho took his hand while the other was busy making the hotel’s number, and together, they walked out of that place that was making Gi-hun almost gasp for air. He wanted to come back there with the sun, not in the dark of the night. He wanted to come back with In-ho, and take his last belonings before leaving that place forever. He’d probably sell it, or burn it to the ground. He didn’t care.

Gi-hun was about to leave that loveless love motel, to step into a life that would be full of laughter and affection.

*

Gi-hun might not have thrived in luxury, but he couldn’t disdain the five-star hotel In-ho had chosen for the night. The sight of Seoul was marvelous, and the room service was exactly what he needed. He loved cooking, but he was too tired that night.

Before they checked in, they went shopping for pajamas and some clothes for the day after. The toiletries and everything else they needed were provided by the hotel.

Gi-hun didn’t know when he had stopped feeling guilty for using his blood money. He didn’t even check the price tags on the stuff he had bought, and while it brought him tremendous shame, it somehow also felt liberating.

Survivor’s guilt was probably never going to leave him, but punishing himself was not going to bring back all the people who died in the games.

After they were done eating dinner, they showered together, washing each other’s hair and tenderly lathering each other’s bodies up with soap. After they had dried their bodies and their hair, they didn’t even put on their new pajamas but slithered directly under the soft blankets, both lying on their sides, facing each other.

In-ho started leaving a trail of kisses on Gi-hun's naked shoulder, slowly moving to his collarbone, then tracing a path of kisses on his neck. The man giggled, only stopping when In-ho reached his lips. Both of their lips were red, plump, and damp from the shower.

“Do you mind if we just cuddle and talk for tonight?” Gi-hun asked, when they separated.

“You don’t wanna make love…?” In-ho asked, surprised at the request. Gi-hun gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I think I’m still kinda sore…”

“Ah… I didn’t wanna admit it, but I am too.”

They stared into each other’s eyes in silence for a brief second, before bursting into laughter.

“We’re getting old, In-ho.”

“Yeah, we are…” From mirthful, In-ho’s eyes suddenly turned sad, as he gazed into Gi-hun’s eyes. “I wish I had met you ten years ago,” he said in a breathy voice, his tone was between dreamy and regretful.

“So we could have sex without getting tired?”

In-ho laughed again, this time, his mirth lived shortly.

“No, so you could… I think…”

Gi-hun watched in awe as In-ho’s eyes filled up with tears. Being honest with his feelings was something extremely hard for In-ho, unlike Gi-hun, who wore his heart on his sleeve. But he was trying so hard, and Gi-hun felt like he was witnessing the opening of a treasure that was meant for him and him alone. He tenderly caressed his cheek until his lover had gathered up enough courage to vocalize what he was feeling.

“If I had met you back then, I’m sure you could have stopped me. From becoming a monster.”

In-ho’s voice was filled with so much pain, Gi-hun’s heart clenched. Anyone would have said Hwang In-ho was a monster, but they didn’t know him like he did. From the outside, he appeared cold, even cruel. But it was all an armour he had built around himself, in order not to feel a thing. Because on the inside, he felt a hurricane of feelings at all times, so violent and rapid that it could have crushed mountains.

This man wasn’t a monster. He felt regret. He felt shame for his actions and thoughts. He even felt love, he just needed to be guided on how to use that love.

“You’re not that person anymore, In-ho.”

In-ho took Gi-hun’s hand, slowly turning his head around so that he could kiss his palm, closing his eyes.

“I wish I had never been,” He said into his hand, “I wish I were someone worthy of your love.”

“I think you put me on a pedestal way too much. I did things I regret, too. I used to steal money from my mother to bet on horses. I even stole from my wife when we were still married.”

“The worst thing you ever did still doesn’t compare to what I did.”

“It’s not a competition, In-ho. And the point is, I’m not the angel you think I am.”

“You’re my angel, Seong Gi-hun. You saved me from myself. You’re my everything, Gi-hun. You’re my angel, my sun, my prince, my songbird. My love.”

“You have like an arsenal of nicknames for me. But I have none for you.”

“Maybe you should start thinking of one, then. Or I’ll start thinking you don’t love me enough.”

“Well… how about… Mr. Sunshine?”

From grinning, In-ho’s face turned into a frown. “Wait… is it because I look like Lee Byung-hun?”

“Kinda…?”

“Oh fuck you.”

In-ho turned to lie on his other side, showing his back to him. Gi-hun couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his sudden grumpiness. In-ho didn’t protest, though, when Gi-hun wrapped his arms around his waist, spooning him.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t be a grouchy pants now. Why did you get offended? He’s hot!”

“Hotter than me?”

Gi-hun had to hold himself back from laughing. He sounded so miserable and fragile, his eyebrows furrowing and his eyes bright like a kicked puppy.

“No, not hotter than you,” he reassured him. In-ho smiled, but tried to hide it, stubbornly keeping his grudge. But he couldn’t help it when Gi-hun started leaving soft kisses on his neck and shoulder.

“Seriously, though. Why did you get so worked up? I get told I look like Lee Jung-jae all the time, and I don’t get mad.”

“You’re prettier than Lee Jung-jae.”

Gi-hun laughed softly. “C’mon, just tell me. Do you not like Lee Byung-hun?”

“He’s an asshole. He cheated on his wife,” he said, with a pout. Gi-hun buried his face between In-ho’s shoulder blades, shaking with laughter he was trying to suppress. “Don’t laugh! I would never cheat on you. Just like I never cheated on Yu-jin.”

Gi-hun couldn’t help it. This man had a list of crimes that was longer than Lee Byung-hun’s filmography, yet he was worried about being compared to a cheater?

“Don’t worry. I know you wouldn’t, Mr. Loverman.”

“Huh. That’s a lot better.”

“Mr. Loverman? You like that?”

“Yeah.”

They remained embraced, in the spooning position, listening to the rhythm of their breathing, which was almost lulling them to sleep. Here and there, Gi-hun would leave a few kisses either on In-ho’s nape, or on his shoulders, or his cheek, to which In-ho would respond by caressing his arms, which were wrapped tightly around his waist.

“In-ho?” He softly called him to his attention.

“Yes?”

“I was thinking… we talked so much in the Hanok, but I don’t really know much about you… like, when is your birthday?”

“My birthday? February second.”

“February second…? But we missed it! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t celebrate.”

“I would have liked to know. I would have baked you a cake.”

In-ho tried turning around, and Gi-hun loosened his grip around his waist just enough for him to be able to turn around, now facing him with a big grin on his face.

“You would have?”

“Yeah.”

“We could always celebrate late.”

“What kind of cake would you like?”

“I don’t have a sweet tooth, but… I guess I like velvet cake the best.”

“Velvet? That’s American, right? I might have to look the recipe up.”

“I’d love anything you make for me.”

In-ho looked at him with soft, tender eyes, blinking slowly, as if he didn’t want to close his eyes and take him away from his sight. He caressed his cheek, brushing every small thread of hair away from that face that was so beloved to him.

Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe they were together, lying side by side on a soft mattress, having pillow talks with their voices that barely whispered. There was no need to be loud, for only the two of them were the recipients of those sweet messages exchanged beneath the night sky.

There was no more need for yelling, for not only their bodies but also their hearts were close now.

“In-ho… there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

He did a slight nod of his head, to let him know he was all ears.

“Will you help me learn English?”

“Of course.”

“Ga-yeong hasn’t forgotten Korean, but I hate to think I can’t speak the language my daughter uses in her daily life.”

“Don’t worry. It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. I’ll teach you.”

The rest of the night was spent like this. Asking each other small things, but that felt big to them.

In-ho… what’s your favorite movie?

Gi-hun, what’s your favorite season?

In-ho, what’s your favorite song?

Gi-hun, what’s your favorite color?

It was that night that they learned In-ho’s favorite movie was the Matrix – although Gi-hun has guessed it – Gi-hun’s favorite season was spring, In-ho’s favorite song was Fly me to the Moon by Frank Sinatra, although, “Dance Me to the End of Love by Leonard Cohen shares the spot on the podium,” he said. Gi-hun’s favorite color was green, but, “Apple green, not boring green!”

“You haven’t told me your favorite color.”

“Would you laugh if I told you?”

Gi-hun grinned slightly. “Maybe.”

“It’s pink.”

“Pink?”

“But not like bubblegum pink, a softer pink. Like the cherry blossoms.”

Gi-hun snuggled up on the pillow, giggling softly, trying his best to keep his eyes open, but Morpheus was dragging him to the realm of dreams, and most of the time it was a useless battle against him.

“Cherry blossoms… I love cherry blossoms…”

“They’re gonna bloom soon.”

“Yeah… soon…”

In-ho wasn’t that sleepy, but now that Gi-hun was falling deep into slumber, all he wanted was to cuddle up and sleep too. He slightly pulled up the blanket to cover Gi-hun’s naked shoulder, not before laying a kiss on the soft skin.

“Will you kiss me… under the cherry tree, In-ho… ?” He asked, his eyes already closed.

“I sure will.”

*

Well rested and full of motivation, the next morning, the couple went to look for apartments in Seoul. They only saw a few, yet Gi-hun had fallen in love with an apartment in Seorae Village. It was a modern apartment, with a rooftop area, white furniture, and parquet of a light colored wood. It reminded him of Jun-hee’s house, but it was smaller. It had two bathrooms and three bedrooms, and although Gi-hun wasn’t sure if they were ever going to have visitors, he preferred being prepared.

“Are you sure you don’t want to look for other homes first?” In-ho said, hugging him from behind as Gi-hun was admiring the view from the wall window.

“This one’s perfect. It just needs a little color, maybe… we can turn one of the bedrooms into an art studio, what do you think?”

“And what about the gym?”

“What do you need a gym for? We’re in Seoul! There’s one like twenty minutes from here.”

“I need my privacy to exercise.”

“Then do it in the living room. There’s enough space, and once you close the curtains, nobody’s going to look at you. Except for me.”

“Oh, you better. Who do you think I keep myself in shape for?”

Gi-hun punched him lightly on the shoulder, rolling his eyes as they both laughed.

“So, it’s decided then? You want this one?”

“Yes. And I wanna buy it with my own money.”

In-ho couldn’t believe his ears. He looked up at him wide-eyed, thinking he must have heard him wrong. Gi-hun didn’t have money other than those meagre motel earnings and… the money he won in the games. That blood money he hated to touch or even call his own.

“Your prize money?”

Gi-hun looked at him and nodded, earnestly. They had already talked about it on numerous occasions, even that first day in the games. You haven’t killed those people, In-ho had told him as Young-il, but he had meant it. It wasn’t his fault things went like they went. He had the luck of winning, for once in his life, but Gi-hun had been so stubborn most of the time.

Now had come a long way. From living like a homeless man because of his guilt, to using his money to buy a house. Guilt was never truly going to leave him. Just like he was never going to forget those faces, those people whose last moments he witnessed.

But punishing himself wasn’t going to bring them back. Depriving himself of happiness, of a home, of everything, wasn’t going to help anybody.

In-ho was glad Gi-hun finally understood that.

He hugged him from behind, as they admired the view from their soon-to-be second home.

“I will never truly forgive myself for what happened, but… I wanna try to be happy, In-ho.”

“I know. We will be very happy, Gi-hun. I’ll do everything it takes.”

Chapter Text

Jun-hee had never been at Jun-ho’s house before. He had given her his address months ago, when he had started investigating into Gi-hun’s disappearance, telling her to come to him if she needed anything. Or to tell him if she had any news.

There hadn’t been a reason for her to go until now, but Jun-ho and Gi-hun had left in such a hurry the day before, she didn’t have time to tell him there was no need for him to search for Young-il anymore. They knew he was okay now. Maybe Gi-hun had told him already, but she still wanted to thank Jun-ho in person. She had even baked some cookies for him, to thank him for his hard work.

When the girl knocked on the door, an old woman opened it.

“Hello. Is Jun-ho home?”

“No, he’s out. Who are you?”

“Kim Jun-hee.”

“Oh! You’re Jun-hee! Come in, dear, I’ll make you some tea while you wait for Jun-ho.”

Park Mal-soon was a sweet old lady. She made her sit comfortably on the sofa, brewed her some tea while she chattered about her sons, going on and on about her youngest, Jun-ho, and her oldest, In-ho, who used to be a police officer.

“Jun-ho never told me he had a brother.”

“They had fallen apart for a while, there. You see, my poor In-ho lost his wife and unborn child to a horrible sickness, he fell into a depression and was never the same after that.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry…”

“He lost contact with both of us for a while there… but some months ago he finally called his brother and came to visit us. We were so happy.”

“I’m glad things turned out this way. Is In-ho doing better now?”

“He looked a lot better last time we saw him. He looked happier,” Mal-soon said, a smile in the corner of her lips, “I suspect there’s someone new in his life, but he hasn’t told us anything yet. He’s always been reserved like that.”

“I’d like to meet him. Does he look like Jun-ho a lot?”

“Judge for youself,” the old woman said, pointing to a photograph that pictured all three of them, the day In-ho got a promotion at work.

He looked familiar. Awfully so. And not only for the family resemblance with Jun-ho. No. Jun-hee knew those features, because she had seen them up close. She had heard his voice, with her own ears.

“Are you okay, dear? Your eyes are misty.”

“I’m okay. It’s just allergies,” she said, taking out a handkerchief from her pocket to dry her nose.

“Mom, I’m home.”

Jun-hee froze as she heard that voice. She barely took heed of Mrs. Park squeaking with delight as she welcomed back her son and informed him of her visit.

When she found herself face to face with Jun-ho, she suddenly felt calm. Like ice. A block of cold, hard ice. Jun-ho was the opposite. His heart and chest were filling up with fire, his eyes shaking with fear.

Between them, on the wall, there was the picture. The murder weapon. The one that had killed any trust she had in him.

“Jun-hee, What are you doing here?”

“Is this the way of receiving a guest?!” His mother slapped him on the head, “I raised you better than this!”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Park. I shouldn’t have come unannounced.”

“No, I told you that you could come anytime you wanted,” Jun-ho said, almost as if he was admitting this was a slip-up. He should have known better than to welcome her into a house full of his brother’s pictures, although if he had to be honest, he was giving her his address just to be nice. He had never expected her to actually show up in their home.

“Your mom was just telling me about your brother, In-ho,” she said, with a forced smile, as she turned to look at the picture.

“I’ll leave you two alone. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about,” Mrs. Park said.

The silence between them was heavy. It stretched even after Mal-soon left the two of them alone. Neither of them knew what to say. Neither of them knew where to start. Jun-ho should have known that sooner of later, his ballad of lies was going to make him trip and fall.

“Jun-hee, I can explain…”

The palm of her hand colliding with the side of his face resonated louder than any excuse.

“YOU’RE A LIAR! A LIAR!”

“Jun-hee, calm down-”

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!”

Jun-hee started banging her fists on his chest, one blow after the other. Despite being so petite, she was stronger than Jun-ho had imagined, but he let her beat him. He deserved it, after all. To protect his brother he had lied, and while he felt he was being punished for both of them, he was okay with taking In-ho’s part too, for the time being.

“All these months! All these months I came to you crying, begging you to find Young-il, and you knew where he was all this time!”

“I’m sorry…”

“Oh, wait. Not Young-il. In-ho. Hwang In-ho.”

As the silence filled the room, Jun-hee started putting all the pieces together. She remembered the guard, the one who told her to play dead if she was eliminated in the next game. He remembered Young-il… No, In-ho, how he had made the guards escort her to his quarters and helped her give birth. But he also remembered how he made those people in the golden masks watch… she would never be able to forget their preying eyes on her. Despite the masks, their gaze was the scariest thing she had ever seen. Something that still ailed her nightmares.

“I always thought he killed the man in the black mask and pretended to be him to help us. But I was wrong. He was the man in the mask, wasn’t he?”

Jun-ho nodded silently.

“Who was it, then? The man they showed on the news?”

“One of his subordinates… I put In-ho’s clothes on his dead body, so that he could get away...”

Jun-hee scoffed. “Get away with all his crimes. My kudos, detective. What a genius plan. So now your brother is out there living his best life, while all the people he killed are lying underground. My deepest compliments, detective, really.”

“You’re right to be mad at me, Jun-hee. You’re even more right to be mad at my brother. But believe me, I’ve tried to convince him to tell the truth, I’ve really tried.”

Jun-hee didn’t have siblings, so she could only imagine what could bring somebody to act this way for the sake of his brother. Even so, she couldn’t understand. Even if they were flesh and blood, how could he be on the side of someone like that? A criminal who acted atrociously against humanity itself? Even murderers and thieves have more dignity than someone like him, who just orchestrates behind the scenes as people kill each other.

She felt her energies abandoning her, as she let her weight fall on the chair. “The man who protected me… the man who let me into his team, gave me his food… he’s the one who threw us all into that hell.”

Jun-ho didn’t know what to say. He just stood there silently, looking at the floor while tears spilled from his eyes. Jun-hee’s eyes were too tired, even to cry. She had become a statue of alabaster, whose tears spilled but on the inside.

“Young-mi is dead because of him. Jung-bae is dead because of him. All of us almost died because of him. My baby could have died!”

“For what matters, I don’t think my brother would have ever let you or your baby die. He would have found a solution to get you out.”

“I know. But that doesn’t absolve him.”

How could Jun-hee ever have it in her to forgive him? She might have come to forgive Jun-ho, but how could she forgive his brother? It didn’t matter he helped her. She didn’t even care if he was sorry, he could have shoved his guilt up his ass for all she cared. Even if he burned the games to the ground, it didn’t erase everything she and the others had to go through. All the death they had to see. The smell of blood, the screams, the fear… it was something that would never leave her. Nor the people who lived it with her.

It was a part of them, forever. Even the therapist told her that her trauma was a part of her now, she couldn’t erase it, just learn how to live with it.

“Gi-hun told me Young-il was with his wife and child. That’s what I came here to tell you, that you didn’t need to look for him anymore. Did he know too? Did he lie too?”

“Don’t be mad at him. Gi-hun found out while my brother was keeping him in his quarters, after the rebellion. This was a great shock for him too. He just told you a white lie for your sake.”

“I want to talk to both of them. Face to face. Can you arrange that?”

“With my brother and Gi-hun?”

“Yes. Both of them.”

“I’m not sure Gi-hun will want to stay in the same room with him. But I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good. If you do that, I might think of forgiving you.”

Jun-ho wasn’t doing this for her forgiveness. He knew he didn’t deserve that. He was doing it because he owed this to her; if it was closure she needed and wanted, he would have made sure she got it. Now, if only he knew how to get Gi-hun into a room together with the man he hated the most in the world… And his brother, who was in love with the man who hated him the most.

He had gotten himself into a real mess.

*

Gi-hun had signed the contract right away. In-ho had strongly advised him to use a straw buyer instead, but he had insisted on using his own name and signing that very same morning. In-ho had long learned it was a useless battle against his stubbornness, yet he couldn’t stop being worried. Using his real name might mean he could be tracked down. The seller had recognized him as the Lost Hero, and had assured them he was going to be discreet, but In-ho didn’t trust him fully.

They had come back to the hotel to have lunch in their suite, when Gi-hun received a call.

“Who is it?” In-ho asked, when he saw the look of surprise on Gi-hun’s face. He couldn’t help feeling his heart skip a beat. It was probably just Jun-hee or someone else from his friends, but he knew fear was never going to leave him as long as their situation lasted. It was a small price to pay for love, but one he had to nonetheless.

“It’s your brother,” Gi-hun said, making In-ho’s heart sink in his stomach. Jun-ho? What did Jun-ho want with him now?

“Hello?”

“Hey, Gi-hun. Listen…I’m gonna go straight to the point. Jun-hee found out about In-ho.”

“What do you mean she found out?!”

“She came to my home this morning, I wasn’t home, my mom was… she saw a picture of In-ho with our mom and me, and mom told her all about it.”

“Shit… what do we tell her now?” Gi-hun shot a furtive glance at In-ho while he asked Jun-ho that. But In-ho didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him. He was looking at his own phone, his face in a tense grimace.

“I had to tell her the truth. She’s crushed, and furious at the same time, and she wants to talk with In-ho.”

“She wants to talk to him?”

“Yeah… I’m sorry to be asking this of you man, but I think all four of us should get in a room and just talk. Are you cool with that?”

Both men were dancing a ballad of lies. Neither of them knowing the truth the other was hiding. But there was a more pressing matter that worried Gi-hun; In-ho’s expression was becoming darker by the second, like a squall in the middle of a sunny day.

“Uh… yeah, I guess.”

“Are you sure…? You’re okay with being in the same room with In-ho?”

“Yes, it’s okay.”

“So you won’t try to kill him, or yell at him?”

“Jun-ho, I’m not doing anything. You had a good idea, we should be able to talk like adults.”

“Thank you. I’ll call my brother so we can arrange a meeting. I’ll let you know when and where. Later, Gi-hun.”

“Bye Jun-ho.”

When he hung up the phone, Gi-hun felt relieved but anguished at the same time. He felt he had just jumped over an obstacle, but there was an even bigger one if front of him. And then another, waiting right after.

He needed to tell In-ho.

Gi-hun knew they couldn’t have kept up lying and hiding. Not from In-ho’s brother, not from Jun-hee and the others either. They had to tell them the truth. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it needed to be done.

“Uhm… In-ho?”

“Ah, not right now, Jun-ho!” In-ho rejected the incoming call that was obscuring the view of what he was seeing on his phone. Gi-hun didn’t hear Jun-ho’s name over the sound of his thumping heart. He walked up to In-ho, who was pacing back and forth furiosly in front of the wall window. Gi-hun started fidgeting with his hands, unsure on how to tell him of his little slip up with Jun-hee.

“In-ho? Your brother said...”

“We have bigger problems to think about, Gi-hun. Look,” he showed him his phone, that showed a page full of high-sounding headlines in colorful fonts, coupled with pictures of Gi-hun himself, his new hat on his head, walking on the street trying to avoid anyone’s gaze.

Seong Gi-hun spotted in Seoul

The Lost Hero seen taking a stroll in the Capital

LOST HERO FOUND!

Lost Hero from the Game Island found alive

Seong Gihun: in Seoul all along?

“Ouch…”

Gi-hun couldn’t say he was surprised. He tried avoiding people, but he couldn’t exactly turn himself invisible. He knew people had seen him, they whispered and pointed when he walked into that shop to buy the hat. Which apparently only brought more attention, since it compared in all the pictures they took of him.

“You told me you were careful! Is this being careful, Gi-hun!? Do you think a stupid baseball hat is enough to hide your face?!”

“In-ho, I’ve always told you, this was bound to happen sooner or later!”

“So you just walk around showing your face like that!? You could’ve at least worn a face mask!”

“For how long, In-ho!? For how long do you want me to hide my face? I won’t run away. This is a problem we have to face! We can’t stay in our golden cage and pretend everything out there doesn’t exist!”

“I’m just trying to protect you! Can’t you see that, Gi-hun!?”

“No, you’re just trying to keep me locked in a cage! Like a songbird, right!?”

Gi-hun regrets those words as soon as they leave his mouth. They stun In-ho into complete silence. The look of hurt in his eyes… it was something that would stay imprinted in his heart. Just like those words would stay imprinted in In-ho’s.

Guilt colored the rim of his eyes a bright red color. He couldn’t blame Gi-hun for thinking that. For still being afraid he’d lock him in a cage again. It was his own fault. In-ho’s fault. Gi-hun’s distressed eyes as he tried to leave would haunt him more than anything he’d ever witnessed in life. Back then, In-ho thought it was him he wanted to run away from. But it wasn’t, not truly. It was the feeling of being caged, the lack of personal freedom he wanted to run away from, not In-ho himself; as soon as he let him go, as soon as he loosened his tight grip, Gi-hun came back to him. Like a swallow, he came back home. Freedom had been the key to Gi-hun’s heart.

But it wasn’t his freedom he was attacking here.

He did not want to take that away from him. It was his safety he was worried about, because freedom means nothing when you’re dead.

“You. Dismantled. A worldwide. Criminal. Organization.” In-ho enunciated each word through gritted teeth. “There are people out there who will want you DEAD! Do you understand that!?”

No, Gi-hun did not understand. Following the revolts after the games were disclosed to the world, many VIPs had met unsightly ends, lynched by the crowds. It scared them so much, some turned themselves to the police because they felt safer in prison.

“The VIPs are rotting in jail, In-ho. The ones who aren’t dead.”

“So what!? You think jail will stop them!? You think only VIPs are the problem here?!”

It wasn’t just the VIPs. The ultra wealthy were the target of the people’s hate too, and it was a fire that started with a sparkle named Seong Gi-hun.

Yet the man didn’t seem the slightly bit worried about all that. And he was the one who kept up with the news, more than In-ho ever did. How could he be so fearless?

“You’re just being paranoid right now.”

In-ho pressed his lips into a hard line. He wasn’t sure if he was being paranoid, but he was sure as hell frustrated. He couldn’t say Gi-hun was in the wrong, but it was always better to be safe rather than sorry. Yet he couldn’t seem to make Gi-hun understand that. He was so damn reckless, and sometimes even nauseatingly stubborn. As much as it fascinated him, that stubborned was a characteristic he almost despised sometimes, in both Yu-jin and Gi-hun.

He gave his back to him, as he let out a frustrated puff and run his hand through his hair. He stopped in front of the wall window, contemplating the view outside while Gi-hun let his weight fall on the soft, white armchair in the center of the room.

Silence reigned over them for a time neither of them could say.

“Do you still wanna live with me in Seoul?”

It was Gi-hun the first to break the silence, in a small, bummed out voice.

“If I had to be honest, rather not.”

“But we just bought our home!”

In-ho took a deep breath, then walked up to Gi-hun, kneeling down in front of him. Gi-hun didn’t want to look at him at first, then In-ho took his hand in both his and he had no choice but to look into his bright, kicked puppy eyes.

“Gi-hun, my prince, listen to me. I still wanna live with you in Seoul. But we need to be careful and you need to listen to me, alright?”

“Alright…”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this matter… About your security. Now that we’ll move to the city, I was thinking of hiring bodyguards.”

Gi-hun raised one eyebrow. “Bodyguards?”

Just as he had anticipated, Gi-hun didn’t like that. He couldn’t blame him; the uneasy feeling of having someone following you around, watching every step you take was someone nobody wanted. But it was the only thing that made In-ho feel safe.

“You won’t even realize they’re there! I swear, Gi-hun.”

“That only makes it creepier. I don’t wanna be watched, In-ho.”

“You’re famous worldwide now, Gi-hun. Everybody knows your face.”

“So what, In-ho? I’m not the only famous person in the world. There will be a new k-pop idol in two months and they’ll forget everything about the island and me.”

“Gi-hun… You don’t realize it, do you? Fame isn’t always a good thing. Haven’t you ever heard of John Lennon, or Christina Grimmie? They were killed by their own fans.”

“In-ho, you can’t live in constant fear of that. We could die in an earthquake, or in a car accident. Hell, a vase of flowers could fall on my head while walking down the streets. You don’t stop living because of that, In-ho. You can’t live in constant paranoia. That’s not living.”

He was right. In-ho knew he was right. But his heart could never rest until he was sure he took all the precautions he could possibly take to keep Gi-hun safe.

“Gi-hun… Please, just let me do this one thing for you. Let me keep you safe.”

Gi-hun's lips pressed into a hard line. In-ho was totally paranoid, but he knew it came from a place of concern, of worry for his safety. His overprotectiveness did weird things to him. He felt an euphoric warmth spread inside his chest… and other places.

“Alright, alright… hire some bodyguards if it makes you feel more safe.”

In-ho’s relieved smile only amplified that feeling.

“Thank you, Gi-hun.”

In-ho kissed the back of Gi-hun’s hand, then laid his cheek on top of it. Warm, relieved tears soon fell on his hand.

“How was everything more simple when I was broke in Ssangmun-dong…” Gi-hun huffed.

“I know. Things were a lot simpler for me too when I had a normal life. But this is what happened to us. The games happened to us. Loss, the sudden wealth… but what’s gone is gone. We need to move forward. Do you know what gives me the strength to go forward?”

“What?” Gi-hun asked, curious. In-ho looked up at him, his eyes dewy and the corner of his lip curved into an almost mischevious smile.

“You.”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened.

“Having you by my side makes me feel like everything’s going to be okay.”

In-ho’s smile was contagious. Gi-hun got closer, taking his face into his hands, bringing their faces so close together their noses brushed against each other. “You know you’re a sappy little shit, right?” He spoke softly, and In-ho giggled until Gi-hun brought his mouth on his.

His tongue explored the silky walls of his mouth, still tasting like expensive wine. On the way to the bed, they started loosing their garments one by one, almost In-ho almost tripped on a shirt before they hit the soft mattress, both naked, still exploring the warm wetness of each other’s mouth. When they separated for air, Gi-hun rested his chin on his shoulder, while In-ho ran his hands up and down his back, his hands stopping at his hip dips, resting comfortably as if they had been made for his hands. Gi-hun started leaving a trail of kisses on his shoulder and then the whole length of his arm. When he reached the back of his hand, he moved to a kneeling position in front of In-ho, right between his legs.

“Gi-hun…?” He asked, confused and flustered.

“You’re too tense… Let me show you how to relax…”

In-ho gulped audibly. Had the room temperature suddenly risen? Gi-hun’s sultry voice, and his constant eye contact while he left a trail of kisses on his thigh was making sweat run down his spine. He took his yearning cock in his hand, teasing the tip with his thumb.

“Gi-hun! Ah… please…”

“Please what?” He asked, with counterfeit innocence, before he placed his tongue on his ball and started licking teasingly.

“Ah… just…” In-ho closed his eyes, rolling his head back as Gi-hun took his ball into his mouth and started sucking. He breathed heavily, two drops of sweat descending down his temple when Gi-hun let go of his balls to place his tongue on the base of his cock, slowly licking until the tip.

“Please…!”

“Please what? I can’t hear you.”

“Please just suck me off already…!”

Gi-hun chuckled mischievously, before wrapping his already pink lips around the tip of his cock. In-ho could barely keep the eye contact when he started sucking, swallowing him whole.

In-ho’s hand gripped Gi-hun’s hair, hoping he wasn’t hurting him, but he couldn’t help it. He needed something to grab on; he had never received head so intense, so mind-blowing as he was now. Gi-hun never once broke the eye contact, he made sucking dick look effortless. Even when In-ho came into his mouth, he wasn’t caught unprepared; he swallowed until the last drop, letting go of his still aching dick with a pop.

He blew him so hard, In-ho felt like a part of his brain was gone. There was no logic, just lust. And now Gi-hun was resting his cheek against In-ho’s thigh, looking up at him with the eyes of a siren, as the corner of his cum stained mouth curled into a mischievous grin.

Ten minutes later, Gi-hun was lying on his stomach, In-ho straddling his thighs as he entered him from behind, the smooth, constant movement of his hip thrusts slowly building up his orgasm.

“Ah…! In-ho! AH!”

“You’re such a screamer. You’re lucky the walls of this hotel are soundproof.”

“And you’re such a – AH! Yapper! AAH!”

Gi-hun was close to his release. In-ho could feel it. As mesmerizing as his nape was, all glistening with sweat, In-ho wanted to see his face. He wanted to see him coming undone.

“Faster!” The man beneath him begged, but instead of picking up the pace, In-ho pulled out, making Gi-hun gasp. “What on earth are you doing!?”

In-ho grabbed him by the waist, maneuvering him on his back, so he could see his face as he fucked him stupid. He grabbed his ankles, pushing them behind his ears, then pushed himself back in, pounding without mercy on his sweet spot, making Gi-hun yell out in pleasure. His eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Sing for me, songbird~”

Gi-hun didn’t sing. He screamed out In-ho’s name, as he released his seed in the air. A thin line of cum ended up on his own neck, adorning it like a necklace of iridescent pearls.

In-ho collapsed on top of him. When he rolled off, Gi-hun looked like he was about to pass out. Breathing heavily, staring at the ceiling, his eyelids heavy. A few tears had rolled on the sides of his face. In-ho placed a gentle kiss on his temple, taking that tear into his mouth.

Over time, the man would develop a fascination with the taste of Gi-hun’s tears. He would come to notice with experience, that they had a different taste depending on his emotions. Sour when he was sad, sweet when he was happy. But the taste that fascinated him the most, was the one they had when he cried from over stimulation; they were sweet, but at the same time, slightly salty.

He took some tissues from the bedside table, to wipe the cum on Gi-hun’s neck and stomach, then pulled the covers over the both of them.

Gi-hun still hadn’t said a word, he lied on his back, breathing heavily. The only sign of responsiveness he gave, was when In-ho pulled his face closer and he nuzzled against him.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t you dare do that to me ever again, okay?” Gi-hun said as soon as he caught his breath.

“Do what?”

“Pull out as I’m about to come.”

“Sorry. I just wanted to see your face.”

“Shut up asshole.”

This time, it was Gi-hun’s turn to give In-ho his back as the man spooned him from behind.

Caught up in the rapture of their love, first by their heated discussion and then the even more heated make-up sex, Gi-hun had completely forgotten about Jun-ho’s call. Even In-ho had forgot the one he hadn’t picked up. His phone, forgotten on the table and on silent mode, was still blowing up with Jun-ho’s calls.

In-ho and Gi-hun, lied blissfully unaware in each others arms.

*

After a post-coital nap, Gi-hun woke up to In-ho’s chest serving as his pillow. Even in sleep, they were always searching for each other, holding onto each other. How this man had become his anchor, Gi-hun still didn’t know. And he didn’t care about finding out either.

In-ho was taking a drag out of a cigar, offering it to Gi-hun when he saw he was awake. He only took a few drags out of it, since he was trying to quit, but one cigar after sex couldn’t hurt.

“We need to buy furniture for the new home… can we go out this afternoon? Please?”

“We can order online.”

“But I need to see something with my own eyes before buying it! It’s not clothes, it’s furniture, In-ho. Pictures don’t show how big the stuff actually is. I need to touch it with my own hands!”

“Alright. But we need to wear face masks and be careful, okay?”

“You’re gonna wear a face mask too?”

“Of course I’ll have to. If they take pictures of you while I’m with you, how do we explain it to Jun-hee and the others?”

“Yeah… you’re right.”

The mention of Jun-hee suddenly made Gi-hun remember of what he and Jun-ho had talked about. Memories started flooding back like an overflowing river. He cursed his damned horny mind for having forgotten, giving priority to his dick.

“There’s a store who’s owner I know… we’ll shop there,” In-ho said, unaware of the tempest in Gi-hun’s mind. “He knows how to be discreet.”

“Friend of yours?”

“I have dirt on him. He’ll know to keep his mouth shut.”

“You sound like a mafia boss when you talk like this…”

“I actually know this from when I was in the police… He did me a favor, so I stayed quiet until now…”

“I bet you have a lot of stories to tell.”

“I bet you do too. We’ll have all the time in the world to tell each other stories…”

Gi-hun grinned widely, as he stared up at In-ho with bright, enamoured eyes. “I almost like pillow talk better than sex.”

In-ho grinned as well, his hand going through Gi-hun’s hair, gently massaging into his scalp. “Do you, now?”

“Yes, I do.”

He needed to talk to him. But he didn’t want to ruin that blissful moment. Once they had washed off the aroma of sex, were dressed, ready and calm, Gi-hun would have told him everything.

Chapter Text

In-ho and Gi-hun had spent a nice, quiet afternoon shopping for fornitures for their new home. They were the only clients, since he had called the owner beforehand, who had closed the shop to the general public to receive them.

Gi-hun chose the tables, chairs and sofas, while In-ho chose the statues, the paintings and the plants. They chose the carpets, tableware, and bed sets together.

In-ho was amused when Gi-hun tried to negotiate the price of certain items with the seller, he had to step in and remind him, by whispering in his ear, that they didn’t have to worry about money anymore. Gi-hun tried to shake off his embarrassment with a nervous giggle. “Sorry, old habits die hard…”

He still couldn’t believe he owned a beautiful apartment in Seoul. He owned a motel, but he had never felt it as his own. Just like he had never felt that money as his own, and probably never would. Still, they were both happy with the shopping. Now their new home was going to feel more their own, and less like something from a catalogue.

Gi-hun had procrastinated this talk for way too long. He didn’t want to break their idyll during those sweet moments in the hotel and around Seoul, but the longer he waited, the worse it was gonna be.

“Why did you stop here?” In-ho asked, when Gi-hun parked the car in an empty parking lot. The Seoul tower was in the background, and numerous trees surrounded the area making it quite secluded and romantic, but something from Gi-hun’s face told him he didn’t stop there to kiss and make out.

“In-ho, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“I take it from your tone it’s something serious.”

“Remember when your brother called me, yesterday?”

“Yes?”

“Well… Jun-hee went to visit him when he wasn’t home. Your mom was there and, well… she told him about you. And showed her your picture.”

In-ho smiled at first, thinking he was joking. His smile faded as he kept looking into Gi-hun’s eyes, searching for confirmations but only finding an earnest sorrow. In-ho shook his head, still staring into Gi-hun’s eyes with his own that were filling up with tears.

“No.”

“In-ho…”

“No, no she… she can’t know.”

“I’m sorry, In-ho.”

The man finally looked away from Gi-hun, squeezing his eyes shut as tears started falling. When she closed his eyes, he could just see Jun-hee’s disappointed expression. Then her anger, her silent resentment. He tried with all his might to remember her smiling face, the adoration she had for him when he used to be her saviour.

“She’s gonna hate me. They’re all gonna hate me. I just… I wanted to be a good memory for them.”

“I know. But certain lies are too big to outrun, In-ho,” Gi-hun said, taking his hand in his own and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “So what if they hate you? You have me. And you will always have me.”

In-ho brought Gi-hun’s hand to his mouth, leaving a small kiss before rubbing his cheek adoringly on the back of his hand. He loved and adored this man. He couldn’t stand the thought of being apart from him. “What if they hate you too for being with me? Will you still stay with me?”

“I made my choice already, In-ho. I chose you.”

When Gi-hun said things like that, it almost made him feel like he was in a dream. One he’d soon wake up from, with Gi-hun actually hating him and wanting to kill him. In-ho had to touch him, he had to feel his skin, his scent, his voice, to feel grounded and rest assured Gi-hun was actually there with him. Wanting him. Loving him.

“Jun-hee told Jun-ho she wants to talk to us. To both of us, at once.”

“To both of us?”

“Yes. I think we owe this to her.”

“We sure do...”

“If you’re okay with it, once we’re in the hotel I’ll call Jun-ho and tell him to arrange a meeting. You should call him too.”

“Yeah…”

In-ho checked his phone; he had put it in silent mode, since he wanted to spend the day concentrated on Gi-hun and Gi-hun only, on their new city nest they were going to build together. But now, there were more than fifty missed calls from his brother. In-ho wanted to bang his head against a wall, but he could only bang the back of his head against the headrest, which was way too soft for what he deserved.

Gi-hun couldn’t help taking a peek at his phone. He saw Jun-ho’s calls, which only further confirmed his suspects.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you… Since when did you get back in touch with your brother?”

In-ho’s eyes, which had been closed contemplating what to do, suddenly shot open. He never really told Gi-hun he went back in contact with his brother, did he? He never even told him he went to visit him.

“Since… since shortly after we left the island. I took his number from your phone.”

If he had to be fair, In-ho thought Gi-hun remembered that. It had been that night, the one when Gi-hun got drunk and found him in his office, while he had just finished his phone conversation with Jun-ho. In-ho didn’t know for how long he had been listening, but he was sure he remembered that night, as much as he tried to deny it.

That night, when he caressed his cheek for the first time. That night, when he told him he wished he hadn’t killed Young-il. Back then it had hurt, but over time, In-ho started treasuring that moment. It only showed that deep down, Gi-hun had always loved him. Because he was Young-il. He had always been Young-il.

In-ho didn't believe Gi-hun when he said he didn’t remember that night. But his disappointed eyes told a different story. Was he not lying, then?

“So while you were keeping me locked in, while you took my phone away… You were keeping in touch with your brother. That’s where you went every time you left me alone, right? It wasn’t just for groceries, you went to see your brother.”

“Gi-hun, I know. I’m so sorry.”

His hands curled tightly around the wheel, as he exhaled slowly from his flared up nostrils. “You’re a selfish prick, In-ho. I was crying almost every day because I missed my daughter and everybody else, you wouldn’t even let me call them. All the while you were here, spending quality time with your brother.” Gi-hun slammed his fist on the wheel. “Fuck, I should’ve punched him when I had the chance…”

In-ho would never blame Gi-hun for his rage. He wished he had punched his face instead of the wheel, because he deserved it. Both him and his brother did. He wished he could have taken it all away, Gi-hun's pain, Gi-hun's anger... he wanted to make it better. Even if it took a lifetime. Tentatively, he put a hand on his arm, grazing him with a caress that was so light he could barely feel it.

“Gi-hun, I know… I know I’m an asshole. But I’ve changed, I’ve changed because of you. I changed because I love you.”

Gi-hun slowly turned his head to look into In-ho’s misty eyes. Fuck, how he hated and loved those puppy eyes. His bitter heart somehow sweetened, and from wanting to distance himself and go punch his brother, he suddenly went back to craving In-ho’s kisses and cuddles.

“I know… Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t be petty like that. But sometimes, I just remember how much I suffered those days and… I get bitter. And angry.”

“You have every right to be. I know I made you suffer, I’m not gonna deny that. If I could take it all back, I would. I will spend the rest of my days making it up to you, I swear,” he said, his voice cracking.

With his thumb, Gi-hun brushed away a tear that had escaped In-ho’s eye. Why was he so unable to stay mad at this man? It was illogical. It was insane. Almost obscene. They said the heart doesn’t know reason, and Gi-hun supposed it must be so. He loved this man, he loved him so much and he wanted to tell his love to the world. Even Jun-hee and the others. Even his younger brother. He wanted to tell everyone. Hell, he even wanted to tell Ga-yeong. He was still on the fence about In-ho meeting his daughter, but he was sure Ga-yeong would have been happy if she knew her Dad had a significant other waiting for him back home.

Gi-hun took In-ho’s face in his hands, bringing him close for a kiss. He could taste the salt of his tears, but he could also feel the man’s lips curving into a small smile. They stayed like this after separating, with their foreheads touching, slightly grazing each other’s cheeks with their fingers.

“In-ho… We need to tell them about us,” Gi-hun spoke softly, “Your brother. Jun-hee. We need to tell them about us.”

“Are you sure, Gi-hun?”

“We’ll tell them the truth. The whole truth. No more secrets, okay?”

“I don’t know about this…”

“In-ho. You were a cop. You need to be brave to be a cop, right? Don’t you think it’s time to bring back that courage?”

In-ho laughed softly. He was right. As always, Gi-hun was right. But courage was something that always somehow failed him when it came to his loved ones. He had failed every single one of them; Yu-jin, Jun-ho, and Gi-hun too.

He wasn’t able to protect any of them. Let alone Jun-hee and the others. He didn’t even have the courage to try and stop the VIPs from watching when she was giving birth… he could have tried, but he was too scared of them. Too scared of ending the games, even for the love of Gi-hun. He had let Jun-ho and the others do the dirty work, when he had let them find the island.

“I think you’re braver than me, my prince.”

“Well, I need you to be brave with me right now. Can you try it? For me?”

“I’ll try it…”

Gi-hun smiled widely.

*

Walking hand in hand, they felt like two youngsters in love, giving each other fond smiles on their way to the hotel. They almost bumped into strangers or lamp posts several times, because they were too busy looking into each other’s eyes to pay attention to the road in front of them.

Each ot them lost in one another, they didn’t take heed of the commotion that was going on in front of the hotel. A crowd of people were shouting and pushing each other, literally walking over each other as they tried to get in, promptly held back by the security.

The cameras, the microphones… There was no doubt about it. They were reporters. When they realized it, In-ho and Gi-hun looked at each other, fright making their hearts sink.

“Shit, what do we do?” Gi-hun asked him. In-ho couldn’t understand, he was sure they had done everything right; they had put on their face masks, glasses, he even made Gi-hun wear a light brown wig. And yet, when they came back to the hotel, a hoard of reporters were ready and waiting, like vultures, right outside the hotel doors.

Still hand in hand, In-ho held Gi-hun’s tighter in his, and led him away from there. They walked for a few minutes, then he pulled Gi-hun into an alleyway, shielding him from unwanted eyes. Luckily, no reported seemed to have taken heed of Gi-hun, nor had anyone followed them.

“In-ho? What do we do?”

“Don’t worry, I got this,” he said, taking out his phone. After a short phone conversation, Gi-hun was hunched over, looking up at him like a scared kitten. “I called the director of the hotel. There’s a secret entrance, they’ll make us enter from there.”

Gi-hun held In-ho’s hand tighter than before, as the two followed the path In-ho was instructed via phone. A security guard was waiting for them, leading them to their suite through another passage, which was usually meant for servers.

When they got into the room, the director was there waiting. Mr. Cheon was a classy man, with exquisite manners, probably in his seventies.

“Mr. Seong, I want to offer you my sincerest apologies for what happened. I don’t know which member of the staff leaked the information that you were staying here, but we will investigate it.”

“We might need to find another hotel,” In-ho said, but was almost ignored.

“What about the reporters? Did they leave yet?” Gi-hun asked with urgency in his voice.

“If I may, I think it’s in your best interest to talk to them.”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened with shock, In-ho’s with rage.

“What?”

“What are you saying? Why would he talk to them?”

“If you don’t wish to do so, we will do our best to keep them away, or find you an accommodation in another hotel. But if you want my honest opinion, I think facing the problem upfront it’s the best course of action. I know this must be incredibly hard for you, Mr. Seong, but you’re a world hero now,” He said, putting his hands on Gi-hun’s shoulder. There was something almost paternal in that old man, something Gi-hun hadn’t felt in a long time. “You gave hope to people who were hopeless. The people want to hear your voice, they don’t just want to hear about you from others. They want Seong Gi-hun. They need Seong Gi-hun.”

“He’s right…”

In-ho had no doubt Gi-hun would agree with this. He just wished he could be a little more selfish. But then again, maybe it wasn’t being selfless. Maybe it was just that he wasn’t a coward, like In-ho.

“Gi-hun, you don’t have to do this.”

“No, I do, In-ho. I told you, didn’t I? I can’t keep running away.”

“The hotel has a conference room. I could arrange for you to be interviewed there. The decision is up to you, Mr. Seong.”

Gi-hun pressed his lips into a hard line, then took a deep breath.

“Alright. Alright, let’s do this.”

*

“Are you sure about this, Gi-hun?” In-ho asked him, for the umpteenth time. They were sitting in front of a laptop, gently provided by Mr. Cheon, live streaming the conference room where the journalists were getting ready. Gi-hun was supposed to come down in ten minutes or so, it was too late to back down now, but he had to ask anyway.

Gi-hun sighed deeply.

“I’d rather swim with piranhas,” He said, getting up from his chair and scratching the back of his neck. “But I have to do this. I owe this to the people.”

In-ho walked up to him, taking his face in his hands, boring into his eyes with the intensity of a thousand suns.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

The older man smiled, taking In-ho’s hand and bringing it to his chest. “I’d feel better having you there with me. But we can’t let them see us together before we talk to your brother and the others.”

“I know. But are you sure you can do it on your own?”

“Let me handle it, In-ho. I’ve got this.”

In-ho got on his tiptoes and left a long, encouraging kiss on his lips. “Good luck, my prince.”

*

Gi-hun wasn’t used to this. The crowd surrounding him, the flashes from the cameras which seemed a lot brighter in the night. They were almost blinding him. Journalists shouted their questions, pushing microphones into his face, but he couldn’t distinguish a single word.

“One at a time!” He hears someone shout, he doesn’t know who. But the noise gets quieter after that. He is made to sit behind a white table on a raised platform, with people he doesn’t know beside him. There’s a bottle of water and an empty glass in front of him, his hand slightly trembles as he goes to uncap the bottle.

“If you are ready, we can begin,” he is told after taking a big gulp of water. He nods, marking the start of the interview.

“Mr. Seong Gi-hun, where have you been all this time?”

“In a Hanok in a rural area. I needed to be somewhere peaceful, to recover from what happened. I didn’t think so many people would look for me.”

“You dismantled a worldwide criminal system, and you didn’t think you’d be famous?”

A few people laughed, Gi-hun smiled, but only half-heartedly.

“I wasn’t thinking about that when I was trying to stop the games. I only wanted to stop them… so other people wouldn’t have suffered the way I did.”

“Why haven’t you contacted any of the other survivors? They said you were friends?”

“I wasn’t… in any condition to talk to other people back then. But I went to visit them yesterday.”

“How come did you return to Seoul now? And why stay in a hotel?”

“I returned to visit my friends.”

“Do you live on your own? Do you have a lover? A spouse?”

Gi-hun’s heart skipped a beat at the question. So did In-ho’s, watching all this from their room.

“This is a private matter, and I’d rather keep it to myself.”

“Is it true you’re in this hotel with another person? Is it your lover?”

“As I said, I won’t discuss my private life with the press.”

“They say you have a daughter and an ex-wife, who now live in America. Is that true?”

“Yes, it’s true.”

“Is there anything you want to say to your daughter?”

Gi-hun’s eyes filled up with tears. Somebody pointed him in the direction of a camera, which Gi-hun supposed it was the one he needed to look into if he wanted to send a message to his daughter.

“Ga-yeong, if you are watching… I just want to tell you that I love you, and that I will be there with you soon, baby.”

*

In their sky-blue home, Geum-ja was watching, sitting on the floor, almost glued to the TV. Dae-ho was on the sofa, eyes bright as he saw his friend on TV. Myung-gi was watching while standing on his feet, arms crossed. All he could think of was that he woulnd’t have wanted to be in his situation. Hyun-ju and Yong-sik were sitting on the floor on either side of Geum-ja, looking intently at the screen. Jun-hee, lying on the couch, was the only one disinterested in the whole thing, staring into nothingness instead.

“Don’t you guys think he looked a bit weird when they asked him if he had a lover?” Geum-ja asked.

“He dodged the question,” Myung-gi started, “Most of the time it means yes.”

“Wait, it all makes sense now!” Dae-ho said, “Maybe that’s the reason he was away all this time? He was with someone?”

“You mean they eloped?” Hyun-ju asked, skeptical.

“He could’ve at least let us know,” Yong-sik said, “We were all over here worrying while he was away in a love nest.”

“Maybe it was his lover who didn’t want to be found… so he had no choice but to hide together…” Jun-hee said, more to herself than the others. They heard her anyway, slowly turning their heads towards her.

“Why Jun-hee, you almost sound like you know something,” Geum-ja said.

Jun-hee let out a short exhale from her nostrils, the corner of her lips curving in a small smile. Then, she started getting off the big, velvet sofa. “Nah, just a wild guess. I’m tired, I’m going to bed.”

They exchanged good nights, but something unresolved was still left in the air. Unanswered questions. Missed conversations. Unspoken words. They were all left wondering why Jun-hee was acting weird that night, but they wouldn’t have had to wait long for answers.

*

Hyun-ju couldn’t be satisfied with just that. There was something weird with Jun-hee. Her tone, her barely participating in the conversation… and then dropping that theory on Gi-hun’s hypothetical lover, seemingly out of nowhere.

She needed to talk to her.

When she walked into her room, with feathery steps as to not wake the child, Jun-hee was sitting by the crib, starting at her sleeping daughter with a soft, loving gaze. As if looking at her daughter was the nepenthe for whatever was ailing her troubled soul.

“Are you okay, Jun-hee?” She asked in a whisper, sitting down next to her.

“I’m fine,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. A smile that could never fool Hyun-jun.

“Back there, you talked like you knew something we don’t. Did something happen?”

Jun-hee simply shrugged, but Hyun-ju wasn't going to let the matter drop.

“Jun-hee, I know you. You’ve been weird since you came back from Jun-ho’s home the other day. What happened?”

“I learned something. I will tell all of you when I learn more about it, but not right now. Please don’t ask me more questions about this, Hyun-ju.”

The older woman gave her a tight-lipped smile. She put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Alright… but if you want to talk, you know where to find me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Jun-hee smiled. This time, it was a warm and sincere smile. Hyun-ju got back on her feet, walking softly towards the door, still mindful of the sleeping baby.

“Hyun-ju?” It was just as she had her hand on the doorknob that Jun-hee called her again. Hyun-ju turned around, a small smile and a quick nod to let her know she was listening. “Thank you for always being sincere with me. With all of us. For being someone we can rely on.”

Her kind words were like an arrow through her heart. But as much as her words filled her chest with joy, Hyun-ju still couldn’t help but keep worrying for Jun-hee. What exactly made her say things like that?

*

Back in the hotel room, In-ho was watching the conference on his phone. It was being streamed live all around the world, with people translating what he was saying in real time. People all over the world needed a screen to see him, even him, who was just a few floors away.

In-ho couldn’t be with the man he loved because of his own cowardice. He had trapped himself in his own lie, and by doing so, he had trapped Gi-hun too.

His phone ringing made him jump out of his skin. When his heart started beating again, In-ho picked it up. He didn’t even need to check the number, it could have only been one person.

“Brother! I’ve been trying to call you all day! Where were you!?”

“Jun-ho, I’m really sorry. I had my phone in silent mode, and I didn’t see your calls.”

“You didn’t check your phone all day!? C’mon, brother! I was worried sick!”

“I know. But please, don’t scold this foolish older brother of yours now. I’m really tired.”

“And I’m tired of your shit, In-ho. Jun-hee found out who you are.”

“I know.”

“You- you know? How the hell do you know?”

“I’ll tell you everything when we’re face-to-face.”

There was a brief silence on the other end. Either Jun-ho didn’t believe him, or he was trying his best not to scream at him. But In-ho sounded so tired and defeated, he didn’t want to put more salt on the wound.

“Jun-hee wants to talk to you. And… to Seong Gi-hun too. Are you okay with meeting me with the two of them tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. I’ll let you know the time and place. And In-ho?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you ever dare ghost me again.”

Jun-ho hung up after that, without even saying goodbye.

*

When that hellish meeting with the reporters finally came to an end and Gi-hun’s sweet and tired face disappeared from the screen, In-ho started staring at the door, waiting religiously for that door to open and for his prince to come through it.

When Gi-hun finally came back, he was walking slowly, like he was carrying the weight of a hundred houses on his shoulders.

“Gi-hun? Are you okay?”

“I’m exhausted…” He said, just falling into In-ho’s arms without further explanation. They welcomed him in like castle walls building around him, his left hand cradling his head as Gi-hun buried his face in In-ho’s shoulder.

“Do you want to order something to eat? Or…” He whispered in his ear with a sultry voice, “Do you wanna eat me?”

Both of them laughed softly. Then Gi-hun slowly pulled away from him. “I’d love to, but I’m too tired for everything. I just want to take a shower and go to sleep.”

“You’ve earned a good night’s sleep,” In-ho said, massaging his arms. “Go wash off. I’ll be waiting for you in bed, we’ll cuddle a little before sleeping, how does that sound?”

Gi-hun’s smile was tired, but content.

“Sounds good.”

*

When Gi-hun came out of the shower, In-ho was already changed and waiting for him in bed, his nose stuck in a book. He closed the tome and discarded it on the bedside table, when he saw him. Gi-hun slipped under the soft and warm covers, and without saying a word, he went to lie his head on In-ho’s chest, who had his arms open, ready and waiting for him, wrapping around his frame like wings of a swan.

“I wonder if Ga-yeong saw… but it’s like dawn over there. I need to call her first thing in the morning.”

“Our travel documents will be ready in a week. Now we only have to decide the date.”

“As soon as possible! I want to be in Los Angeles as soon as we can.”

“We will. I promised you, didn’t I? You’ll see your daughter soon, Gi-hun.”

“I can’t wait to see her…” Gi-hun said, his speech slurred as he tried his best to keep his eyes open.

In-ho wanted to prolong their pillow talks as long as he could. But Gi-hun looked too tired to even talk. He started caressing his hair, humming a soft tune to gently accompany him into the realm of dreams. Gi-hun’s eyes closed, like heavy curtains of velvet. Recognizing that song In-ho was humming, he started humming along, until he fell right into sleep.

It was the song they first danced to. Dance me to the end of love. Although it had ended with Gi-hun throwing a bottle on his head and then running away, In-ho couldn’t help still feeling fond of the song. Everything had truly, really began there, after all. That night in the woods. When Gi-hun finally admitted his feelings for him, and let In-ho carry him back to their home. That magical night, when Gi-hun finally let In-ho drench him in the dark ocean of his love.

That’s when the both of them started to slowly go adrift. Being taken by the waves, wherever those waves wanted to bring them. And right now, they were pushing them straight to Los Angeles.

In-ho fell asleep like that, with his back lying against the bed headboard, and Gi-hun curled up on his chest. In the morning, their respective back and neck were sore, but it was still the most restoring sleep they had had in a while.

Chapter Text

Ga-yeong was packing her lunchbox in her bag, her mom pressuring her to hurry or she’d miss the school bus. It seemed like a morning like any other in their suburb of Los Angeles; the sun was bright, the smell of coffe filled the kitchen, the TV was on the news channel, acting as always as background noise in those frantic school mornings. Eun-ji was helping Su-jin put on his backpack, while Hak-kun, Ga-yeong’s stepdad, was reading the news on his iPad while sipping on his cup of coffee like every morning.

“Dad…?”

“Yes, honey?” When Hak-kun raised his gaze to meet his stepdaughter’s, she wasn’t looking at him. Ga-yeong had her eyes wide and lips parted in surprise, staring straight at the TV. The smile quickly faded from his face when he turned around to see what she was staring at.

Seong Gi-hun.

Alive. Healthy and thriving, surrounded by the flashes of the cameras, answering the questions the reporters had for him, talking on the microphones about his traumatic experience and heroic endeavors.

Hak-kun had falsely believed he had finally gotten rid of that man years ago. When he disappeared, shortly before Ga-yeong’s eleventh birthday, he had asked some friends in Korea to go look for him, ask some questions around. Not because he cared, only because Ga-yeong was devastated.

But no matter who they asked, nobody seemed to know what it had been of him.

Seong Gi-hun had vanished, like the earth had swallowed him whole. Not even his closest friend had any idea where he went.

Back then, Hak-kun had almost sighed in relief. It didn’t matter whether that man had gone away voluntarily, or was murdered or killed himself. All he cared about, was that he could finally have Eun-ji and Ga-yeong all to himself, not having to fear of that man returning and taking half of his family away from him.

When the news about that hell on earth, that horror island came out, fear had gripped his heart again; what if Seong Gi-hun came back? Ga-yeong, who was finally starting to forget about her biological father, had started talking about him again, hoping for a call, watching the news day and night. One time, he even caught Eun-ji crying in the kitchen at night, when she thought nobody could hear her. It made it all worse that his own son, his ten-year-old Su-jin, couldn’t stop talking about that accursed island. Couldn’t stop singing the praises of a man whose name was almost forbidden to be spoken in their household, until that day.

Hak-kun had hoped Gi-hun had died. He knew it was a terrible hope to have, but it was just the truth. He wished for his death, and had almost started believing he had actually died as the months passed, putting his fearful heart finally at rest.

Until the news came. Seong Gi-hun spotted in Seoul. Seong Gi-hun making the headlines once again.

Seong Gi-hun always seemed to come back just in time to ruin everything. Over and over again.

“Ga-yeong! Stop dilly-dallying and get… your bag ready…” Eun-ji’s jaw dropped on the floor as her eyes fell on the TV screen.The father of her daughter was speaking to the reporters, trying to keep himself together, but she had seen him crumble far too many times not to recognize when he was screaming on the inside. Her eyes immediately shifted to Ga-yeong, whose eyes were filling up with tears. She walked closer to her daughter, putting her hands on each of her shoulders to slowly pull her closer to her, her hand now going up and down her arm in a comforting manner.

“Hak-kun dear, do you mind taking Su-jin to the school bus?” She asked her husband, who’s jaw was already clenched.

“Ga-yeong has to go to school too.”

“Dear, she can take a day off.”

“Hey, I want to take a day off too!” Su-jin protested.

“Hush!” Ga-yeong urged them to be quiet.

“Ga-yeong,” Gi-hun said on the TV, “If you are watching… I just want to tell you that I love you and that I’ll be there with you soon, baby.”

Hak-kun clicked his tongue. “After years of no contact, the only message he sends is through TV?”

Eun-ji gave him a dirty look. She understood his hostility towards her ex-husband, she had some as well, but she had warned him numerous times before not to say such things in front of Ga-yeong. He might not have kept in touch, but Gi-hun was still her father.

“We’ve actually talked on the phone a couple of times…” Ga-yeong admitted, in a small voice. All eyes slowly turned on her.

“You talked to your father? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She gave her mother an apologetic smile. It’s not like she wanted to keep it from her, from her family, it’s only that she wanted to keep it to herself a little longer. Her treasured secret. After the divorce, her mom and dad did not stay friendly, so she didn’t know what to expect if she told her mother. For the longest time, Ga-yeong believed her mother actually wanted her to forget everything about her dad, like he never existed.

“Big sis! Big sis! Tell him to come here! I have so many questions to ask him!”

“You can’t ask him about the island!”

“Why not?! He’s the lost hero!”

“Su-jin, enough,” Eun-ji nibbed the squabble between sibling in the bud. “It’s off to school with you.”

“But mooom!” He whined.

“Let’s go, Su-jin,” his father told him, dragging the child away despite his protests.

Eun-ji would have dealt with her husband’s tantrums later. But she couldn’t let Ga-yeong go to school after that ground-shaking news. Things were already hard for her with her father missing, and everything just got worse at school when one day, Su-jin naively slipped and told his friends that their family knew Seong Gi-hun personally.

Once everyone found out Ga-yeong was Gi-hun’s daughter, she started getting too much unwanted attention. She figured it was only going to get worse now that Gi-hun had finally decided to come out of his hiding.

Together, they sat on the couch, listening to the interview from the start. Almost two hours of never-ending questions. Ga-yeong was wide-eyed, looking up at her dad like she was a little kid again, seeing her father as the hero he had always been in her eyes. Even for Eun-ji, who still held resentment for the way things had ended between them, couldn’t help but understand why he became a hero of the people. He was pale, clearly exhausted, but he pushed through, smiling politely at the reporters.

That Gi-hun had been away in a rural village didn’t surprise her. Gi-hun tended to isolate himself after a traumatic experience, just like he did when Mal-soon died. She wanted to reach out that time, but her husband's jealous tantrums had kept her from doing so.

She wondered what he did on his own, all those months, why it took him so long to finally get back in touch with Ga-yeong. Eun-ji didn’t know if that was enough to mend the strained relationship between the two of them, but they were still father and daughter.

There was a time she had wished she could have simply deleted him from their lives, but she regretted it so bitterly. Their love had withered like a cut rose, but he was still Ga-yeong's father, and there was nothing in the world that could have severed their bond.

And it didn't matter that her love for him had died long ago, she couldn't deny she still cared. What Gi-hun had gone through on those games... She wouldn't have wished it on her worst enemy.

Eun-ji took advantage of the commercial break to ask her daughter some questions.

“You said you talked to your dad. What did you two talk about?”

“We didn’t talk about the island or where he’s been. He asked me how my life was like here in the states. Last time we talked, he said he’s coming to visit as soon as he has all the documents he needs.”

“Documents? But his passport can’t be expired already, can it?”

“He said he… needs to travel under another name. To avoid nuisances.”

“Mh…”

Eun-ji was skeptical. Knowing that last time, Gi-hun didn’t show up because he was planning to stop a criminal organization, she didn’t dare imagine what kind of trouble he was up to now. She just hoped he wasn’t being reckless for once, and thought of putting his own daughter first this time.

“Next time he calls, I wanna talk with him too.”

“Why wait? We can call him now.”

“Now? But it’s late at night in Korea.”

“It’s okay, Dad stays up late sometimes, we chatted a few times at this hour.”

“After hours of being interviewed, though? I don’t think so, honey.”

Ga-yeong looked a little bummed out, but she waited patiently until a more proper hour to call. Eun-ji was happy she let her stay at home, not only to watch Gi-hun’s interview and avoid her being bothered at school, but also because they had a whole day to themselves, as mother and daughter, like they hadn't had in a long time.

*

Gi-hun and In-ho were mentally preparing to face Jun-ho and Jun-hee. They had agreed upon meeting in one of the rooms at Gi-hun’s pink motel.

In-ho was sitting on one of the white velvety armchairs, his jaw clenched, his fist curling around the armrest. Gi-hun sat on the armchair next to him, taking his tense hand in his. “Hey, don’t be afraid. It’s gonna be alright.”

“What if Jun-ho doesn’t forgive me for lying to him again?”

“He forgave you for being the Frontman," He said, not wanting to bring up the time he shot him. "He’ll forgive you this time, too.”

“I’m afraid this will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Jun-ho’s not forgiving me this time, Gi-hun. I can just feel it.”

In-ho had never seen In-ho this scared. His eyes were red, so tense he forgot to blink.

“He will. He’ll be mad, maybe even for a long time. But eventually, I know he will forgive you. He loves you so much, In-ho.”

In-ho looked up at him, his eyes vulnerable. “Do you really believe he’ll forgive me?”

“Yes. Have I ever been wrong so far?”

Looking into Gi-hun’s bright eyes, In-ho found a strength he never found before. Looking into those hopeful, smiling eyes made him feel like everything was possible. When they looked into each other’s eyes, it was like time stopped. It was only the ringing of Gi-hun’s phone that made the hands of the clock resume their course.

“It’s Ga-yeong,” he said excitedly. In-ho slowly let go of his hand, turning his head away to grant them some privacy. “Ga-yeong? Baby?”

“Dad! You’re on the news!”

“Ah, you saw that already? Sorry... I should’ve called you before, but I was exhausted last night.”

“Mom wants to talk to you.”

“Your mom wants to talk to me…?”

In-ho head turned around to look at her, pupils narrowed, mouth slightly opened.

“Gi-hun?”

“Eun-ji…?”

At the mention of that name, In-ho’s jaw involuntarily clenched. Her voice sounded saccharine, grating on his nerves.

“Gi-hun, I’m… I’m so sorry for everything that happened to you. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“No, I have to. I’m really sorry. Are you okay, Gi-hun? Are you seeing a therapist?”

“No, I’m not. But I’m fine, Eun-ji, really.”

“Seong Gi-hun.” Her tone was stern, but holding a secret gentleness. “Don’t pretend you’re fine. No one can be fine after surviving all that!"

Gi-hun couldn't help but chuckle.

"You laughing?"

The man could practically feel her raising her eyebrows and putting a hand on her hip, even through the phone.

"Sorry. It's just that Ga-yeong told me the same exact thing the first time we talked over the phone. She's her mother's daughter," he said with a nostalgic fondness. One that couldn't help but irk In-ho.

"She's her father's daughter, too. She's stubborn as hell, you know?"

Ga-yeong blushed and looked away shyly. In-ho raised his eyebrows, for once finding himself in agreement with Gi-hun's ex-wife. He pressed his lips in a tight smile, nodding frantically while looking at Gi-hun, who chuckled.

"At least tell me you’re not isolating yourself.”

“Don’t worry Eun-ji. I’m not alone,” he said, turning to smile fondly at In-ho, which put his inexplicably uneasy heart at ease. In-ho felt a warmness spreading in his chest that was almost suffocating him, reaching his eyes that burned with sweet, unshed tears.

“What’s this story Ga-yeong told me about you needing new documents to come here?”

“Ah… yeah. I don’t think we can talk about that over the phone, can we?” He said, looking over at In-ho who strongly agreed with him. “I’ll tell you everything when we’re face to face. I’m coming to Los Angeles in like…” In-ho raised two fingers, mouthing the word week. “Two weeks.”

*

In-ho and Gi-hun were the first to arrive at the motel. Of course, they were the only ones with the keys. Gi-hun looked at the security cameras to wait for Jun-hee and Jun-ho’s arrival, while In-ho sat on the bed, his hands joined in his lap, tapping his foot nervously.

“Here they are,” Gi-hun said, and In-ho’s eyes raised from the floor to look at the screens. Jun-ho was being a gentleman, opening the door for Jun-hee. The young woman didn’t seem to be grateful for that gesture though, although maybe they were too far away to know for sure.

“It’s gonna be okay, In-ho,” Gi-hun said, kneeling down in front of him and putting his hands on his knees. “Take a deep breath, okay? It’s just a talk. A talk between four reasonable adults, okay? Breathe.”

In-ho did as he was told, breathing in and out with him. The breathing exercise seemed to have calmed down his nerves a little, but all that progress was thrown out the window when he heart the voices of Jun-hee and his brother in the corridor, approaching the confrontation room. Gi-hun went to open the door, waiting for them to reach them. When they did, Jun-ho acted like a gentleman as always and let Jun-hee step in first.

“Hi, Jun-hee,” Gi-hun said, but Jun-hee only replied with a half-hearted smile. It wasn’t the Jun-hee who ran to hug him like last time. She was acting coldly towards Jun-ho as well. Gi-hun couldn’t blame her; In-ho’s betrayal had been a hard blow for her. He knew what that felt like.

Speaking of In-ho, he jumped on his feet as soon as he saw her. There was uncertainty on his face. What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to greet her, like nothing happened? Or get on his knees, begging for her forgiveness? He looked into her eyes for an answer, but he saw so much muted rage, he couldn’t keep up the eye contact.

“Ah, brother you’re here already,” Jun-ho said, “You two haven’t killed each other yet, I guess that’s a good start.”

He chuckled, trying to break the tension in the air. But not even his brother, who notoriously had a shitty humour, seemed to have found it funny. Gi-hun simply gave him a tight lipped smile, scratching the back of his head.

Jun-hee scoffed, attracting the attention of all three. “Are you surprised, Jun-ho? Are you really surprised they’re here together?”

Jun-ho looked at her with knitted eyebrows, confused at her sudden outburst, and even more at her words. Gi-hun gulped, sweat running down his temple.

The only one who wasn’t surprised, was In-ho, who kept his gaze on the floor.

It really didn’t surprise In-ho that Jun-hee had already put all the pieces together. She wasn’t the scared, trusting little girl who had believed Young-il to be her saviour. Now finally out of there and safe, she had had more time to think things over.

Jun-hee was smart. She had always been bright and observant. Even in the games, when they were forming the teams for the pentathlon, she immediately sought out Gi-hun. She immediately sought out the man who got most people through the first game, showing her vulnerability to be accepted on their team, the strongest team, the one that protected her even in the next game.

She could have been his daughter. They could have been a wonderful found family. If only he had done things differently… if only.

“You two were together all this time, weren’t you? Since we left that damn island!” She accused, pointing at the two of them.

“Jun-hee…” Gi-hun’s voice was small and frail. His eyebrows trembled, tears threatening to spill. Jun-he’s eyes were tearing up as well, but hers were angry tears. Tears full of the sting of betrayal and rage.

Jun-ho couldn’t help but laugh. That was a joke. His brain couldn’t process it as anything more than a joke. But it was only when he turned around to look at Gi-hun and In-ho, that his heart sank with the weight of the realization. He saw everything, written in capital letters on their faces. He saw it in In-ho’s gaze, fixated on the floor. He saw it in Gi-hun’s eyes, squeezed by a cry he was trying to suppress.

What he saw on their faces was guilt, loud and clear.

“What…? Brother?”

“Jun-hee,” Gi-hun started, but his will faltered, his voice strained, “How did you…?”

“You think I hadn’t noticed? You think we didn’t notice the earning looks and dewy eyes? Please!”

Yearning looks. Dewy eyes. She couldn’t have been talking about his older brother, right? His older brother, and his archnemesis Seong Gi-hun? The man who put a stop to those games?

But Jun-ho wasn’t there during those days. He didn’t see what Jun-hee, Dae-ho and Jung-bae saw. They used to talk about it between themselves, when Gi-hun and who they knew as Young-il were gone; there was definitely something between the two of them. It was insane that some people could find love at first sight in a place as hopeless as that, but it had happened.

“Look, I didn’t care. Even when Gi-hun told us that – very obviously fabricated – story about Young-il… sorry, In-ho’s wife, I was like, okay, I get it. They’re not ready to come out yet. I didn’t blame you, Korea is still a conservative country and with the press on our tail, I get that you wanted to stay hidden.”

Jun-hee, who had managed to keep her cool until then, started furiously pacing back and forth, her hands trembling with unchanneled rage. “I could have accepted that. I could have easily forgiven that. If only this piece of shit wasn’t the FRONTMAN!”

In-ho barely dodged a lamp the furious girl had thrown in his direction. Gi-hun rushed to his side on instinct, checking if he had gotten hurt. That gesture only angered Jun-hee more, who took a nearby vase, with the intention to throw it at the loving couple. Jun-ho promptly snatched the object from her hand.

“Jun-hee calm down!”

“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!” She shoved Jun-ho away, who was trying to hold her back from throwing more stuff at his brother. It wasn’t for In-ho’s sake, he was just afraid she would get hurt. But Jun-hee was a lot stronger than her small frame could let anyone believe.

“Jun-hee, I’m sorry…! I’m so sorry…!” Gi-hun choked out. He hated seeing her so upset, he hated thinking it was his fault. He never wanted to cause her any anguish, he only ever wanted her and the others to be safe and happy.

He wished he had never come back into their lives. He had ruined everything.

“You’re sorry? You made me worry for months, you made us worry for months, thinking you were dead or in harm’s ways, while you were in a love nest with this PIECE OF SHIT!” Jun-hee screamed at the top of her lungs, the words scratching her already sore throat.

Gi-hun put himself in front of In-ho, as if he could shield him from Jun-hee’s harsh words. But In-ho knew he deserved every single insult she threw at him. But seeing him lower his head, crying silently, only made Jun-hee more angry. How dared he cry? How dared he look like a victim?

“He’s not even defending himself! Cowering behind his man like he cowered behind that mask!”

In-ho stepped up from behind Gi-hun, who looked at him with eyes that asked him if he was sure. He nodded, ever so slightly, in a way that only he could understand.

“Jun-hee, I’m not defending myself because there’s nothing to defend. I deserve everything you’ll throw at me. Physically and figuratively.”

The young woman gritted her teeth. To the surprise of everyone, In-ho got on his knees. It wasn’t as desperate as it had been when he kneeled for Gi-hun. He wasn’t gripping at the fabric of her jeans, he wasn’t looking up at him asking for forgiveness; he was looking down, making himself vulnerable, waiting for everything she was about to throw at him.

“Whatever you want to do to me, do it, if it makes you feel better. I can take it.”

“Look at me, Young-il.”

Whether she called him by the wrong name by choice or by mistake, In-ho followed her order. A loud, deafening slapping sound resonated in the room not even one second later.

In-ho felt it in his bones. Even Gi-hun and Jun-ho felt it.

“I was pregnant. I was pregnant in your stupid game! And you didn’t care!”

“I did! I was planning to get you out! Didn’t my guard warn you?”

“You should never have let a pregnant woman participate in the first place! What kind of person are you!?”

“I’m not involved in the recruitment process, my job begins when the games begin!”

“Oh, please! Don’t give me those lame excuses!”

“Jun-hee, I swear… I wasn’t going to abandon you and the baby…”

“Don’t you dare even mention my baby!”

“Jun-hee, if you’re done ripping into my brother, I’d like to have a word with him too.”

“He’s all yours, Jun-ho. I don’t have the strength to keep going, anyway…” Jun-hee said, before she went and slumped on the bed. Her throat hurt from too much screaming, and her body felt emptied out. She felt like her muscles would have given out any minute if she didn’t take a minute to sit down and catch her breath.

“Jun-hee.” Gi-hun put a hand on her shoulder. “Do you want me to get you some water?”

She looked up at him coldly before shaking his hand off. “I want nothing from you.”

Gi-hun pressed his lips in a thin line, eyes shaking with unshed tears. It hurt, but he couldn’t blame her for her rage, for the sense of betrayal that burned in her heart. He knew he had betrayed them all when he chose to accept his feelings for In-ho, when he stopped fighting them. Now he had to accept her eyes full of scorn and coldness.

Jun-ho was helping his brother off the floor, with a firm hand that wasn’t harsh, but wasn’t gentle either. His head was reeling, the entire room spinning around him. He still didn’t want to believe it.

At first, he thought it was all just a belief that belonged to Jun-hee. A thought, an hypothesis, nothing concrete. Nothing that found basis in reality.

It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.

But then he saw the way they looked at each other. He saw the way Gi-hun ran over to his brother when Jun-hee tried throwing that vase at him. He saw the way In-ho leaned into Gi-hun’s touch.

It would have been sweet, yet an enormous amount of rage started building up inside Jun-ho, exploding out of him like lava out of a volcano.

“You lied to me. Again, you lied to me!”

“Jun-ho, I’m sorry. There’s nothing more I can say. But believe me when I say I’m sorry, I truly am.”

“STRAIGHT TO MY FACE! You lied straight to my face, brother! You even had the guts to ask me how my search was going, when you knew exactly where Gi-hun was! All this time!”

Jun-ho’s screams felt like gunshots, a storm of fire striking his heart. But he stood there, and took it, every single blow. Without a wail. Without complaint.

“And you, Gi-hun,” Jun-ho said with a voice full of resentment. That made In-ho abruptly lift his gaze from the floor. “I can’t believe you are in love with him. This is absurd. It’s grotesque!”

In-ho clicked his tongue, his voice now a low growl. “What, does it really surprise you that much that he might love me back?”

“YES!” Jun-hee and Jun-ho cried at the same time.

“Yes, it does!” Jun-ho reiterated. “You ruined his life, you must know that!”

“My life has nothing to do with you, Jun-ho,” Gi-hun said, making Jun-ho almost want to lash out at him too. Gi-hun wasn’t as much as fault as In-ho was in his eyes, but he couldn’t help being mad at him too. Or, rather than being mad at him, he was mad at the fact that he couldn’t understand him. He was absolutely livid about how irrationally Gi-hun was acting.

“You mean to tell me you forgave him? After everything, you forgave him?”

Gi-hun opened his mouth to reply, but Jun-hee’s broken voice came before his. “How could you?! After everything he did to us!?”

It broke his heart to see her like that. He wanted to put his hands on her shoulder, to hug and comfort her, but he knew she would have pushed him away.

“Jun-hee, you don't have to forgive him for what he put you through. Nobody will ever ask you to. But as for what he did to me… it’s no one’s place to forgive him but my own.”

Jun-hee scoffed. “What happened to the hero who couldn’t stand injustice? What happened to the hero who came back to kill the Frontman and stop the games?”

“I am not a hero. I never tried to be a hero, never wanted to be. The one they talk about on TV… that wasn’t me. That was never me. That’s just someone the media and the people constructed! I am just a man. A man!”

Gi-hun would never forget Jun-hee’s eyes after he said that. Those eyes, once full of admiration, were now full of heartbreak. They were the eyes of a child, who just saw the image of her perfect hero crumble piece by piece, right in front of her. She reminded him of Ga-yeong, that day in the rain, when he had just punched her stepfather after his unacceptable proposal.

He had killed both of their heroes. Ga-yeong and Jun-hee’s. And he’d never be able to forgive himself for that.

“You lied. It wasn’t only In-ho, you lied to me too. And to protect him?” Jun-ho was astonished rather than mad. He was still having a hard time making sense of that entire situation. He was starting to believe he was dreaming, but Gi-hun’s contained rage as he took a few steps towards him felt way too real.

“I wasn’t the only one who lied to protect him, was I?”

“He’s my brother! Of course I protected him!”

“He’s someone I care about, too! You better than anyone should understand how I feel!”

“You didn’t even know him before the games! Or did you?”

“No, I did not, but that’s not the point!”

“You cared more about him than you did any of us!” Jun-hee accused him, with tears in her eyes, “You didn’t call even once to let us know you were alive! Not even once!”

“I- I wasn’t in the right mind to – “

“Stop with this lame excuse! You didn’t keep in touch with us because you didn’t care! You only cared about him and completely forgot about the rest of us!”

“I know I was wrong in lying to you, but you didn’t think about letting us know you were alive?! If not me, at least Woo-seok? Or Kim? It was cruel, Gi-hun! I didn’t expect this from you!”

In-ho’s head was reeling, hearing Jun-hee and his brother lash out at Gi-hun, who had no faults at all. He wasn’t even defending himself, against an accusation that was completely false. It was In-ho’s fault, his and his alone. Yet he refused to point his finger. He refused to tell them the truth.

We’ll tell them the truth. The whole truth. No more secrets, okay?

That’s what he said to him the day before. Then why wasn’t he telling them the truth? Why was he taking all the blame?

Jun-hee and Jun-ho’s screams became a sound in the distance, his head felt like a kettle of boiling water, ready to explode.

“I KIDNAPPED HIM!”

His voice echoed, loud as a thunder, making silence befall the entire room.

“He didn’t get in touch with you because I kidnapped him! I took away his phone, I took away his car keys! He was staying with me against his will!”

“What…?” Jun-ho’s voice was barely a whisper. It was all a bad dream, it must have been. He was going to wake up in his bed, nothing of this had ever happened.

“That’s the truth. That’s the whole truth,” In-ho said, finally. He breathed heavily, the weight of the confession that he had just screamed to the winds had taken away his breath, but it was like a boulder had been lifted from his stomach.

“In-ho…” Gi-hun walked up to him, taking his face in his hands and brushing away his numerous tears with his thumbs. The whole scene unfolded to the dismay of Jun-ho, and the disgust of Jun-hee.

Gi-hun couldn’t understand. Why did he confess to that? There was no need for him to confess to that. Gi-hun thought they’d implicitly agree that would have stayed their secret. That the way their relationship started was only for the two of them alone to know.

In-ho brushed away the tears Gi-hun hadn’t even realized he had shed. It was a sweet display of love and care, but one that made the only two spectators turn up their noses.

Jun-ho walked up to them, separating them by putting his hands on his brother’s shoulder and gently dragging him away. In the meantime, Jun-hee pulled at Gi-hun’s sleeve.

“What happened after your minions left him in the woods?” Jun-ho asked him, “What actually happened?”

“It was me. He was still passed out when I got into the car, and drove him away from Seoul. I took him with me.”

Of course. It all made sense. The whole truth had been right in front of his eyes, from the very start. Occam’s razor. Jun-ho had once again believed in his brother so blindly, he forgot the very basics of his own damn job. He could blame no one but himself.

“Is this true? ” Jun-hee asked to Gi-hun, now holding his arms with both hands, pushing him even further away, almost as a form of protection for the older man. Like she wanted to keep him away from the big bad wolf. “Did he keep you away against your will?

“Only at first. Then I decided to stay. Out of my own free will.”

“You mean you actually fell in love with him? After this monster held you captive?”

Gi-hun nodded silently, and Jun-hee’s eyes widened in shock.

“I know it’s not easy to understand,” In-ho said, unable to look at anyone’s eyes. “We’re two broken men who found love in each other. I don’t think it’s something anyone outside the two of us can understand.”

Jun-ho went to throw a punch at the wall, making the other three jump. “You’re right, I can’t understand it. I really can’t.”

“Tell me one thing, Gi-hun. Do you really love him?” Jun-hee asked him, but this time there wasn’t hatred or anger in her voice. “Even knowing who he is? Even knowing what he’s done?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

Jun-hee’s eyes were different now. There wasn’t scorn, or despise. There was only a genuine wish to understand. A genuine concern, even. Gi-hun was confused when she took his hand in both of hers. “Gi-hun. Come live with us. With all of us. Don’t you miss Dae-ho, Hyun-ju and the others? Don’t you wanna see Min-yeong grow up?”

Had Jun-hee asked him that a few weeks ago, he wouldn't have hesitated. But everything was different now. He had come to accept his feelings now. He wasn't able to leave In-ho anymore.

“Jun-hee, I…”

“There’s always room for you. I know it must have been hard, but we’ll get you help. Like we’re all getting help.”

“Jun-hee, I’m not… I’m not sick. I don’t need help.”

“I know it’s hard. We all reacted to grief differently. My therapist said that people have different ways of coping with trauma. This must be yours. You don’t love him, Gi-hun. It’s just your coping mechanism.”

In-ho’s heart was in his throat. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t even breathe. This was a moment he saw over and over in his nightmares. This was exactly why he was afraid of Gi-hun meeting Jun-hee and the others again. What the girl was offering him, was the forbidden fruit. Like the apple that Adam and Eve ate in the garden of Eden, what Jun-hee and Jun-ho were offering him was the fruit of knowledge. And once he had tasted it, his eyes would have opened to the truth.

In-ho was a monster. There was no salvaging him. There was no salvaging their love either.

“No, Jun-hee. I love him, I truly do.”

In-ho knew Gi-hun loved him. But was love truly enough?

Jun-hee’s eyes turned cold again. Unreadable. “Now you have to choose, Gi-hun.”

“Choose?”

“It’s either us or him.”

In-ho lowered his head, defeated. That was it. There was no way Gi-hun was going to chose him again, not after Jun-hee and Jun-ho had put him in front of the truth again. Not after they had yelled the truth again. He was a monster, one who ruined countless lives, including Gi-hun’s own.

“Gi-hun, no matter what you choose right now,” Jun-ho spoke to him softly, so that Gi-hun alone could hear him. “If you shall need anything, call me.”

In-ho couldn’t tell how much time had passed, it could have been seconds like it could’ve been years, when a warm hand intertwined its fingers with In-ho’s own, pulling him away.

“Let’s go, In-ho.”

He raised his hand, unable to say a word, while staring at Gi-hun’s flustered and tear-stricken face as he led him away from that motel room.

“How could you!? How could you choose him!? I trusted you…! I trusted both of you...!” Jun-hee yelled after him, after the couple who walked away hand in hand. Sinking on the floor, Jun-ho’s arms wrapped around her were her only consolation.

In-ho saw Gi-hun biting his lips, to try and restrain himself from crying.

*

Night had fallen when In-ho and Gi-hun found a small secluded place in a park. They were now sitting on a bench, neither of them saying a word. Gi-hun just slowly went to rest his head on In-ho’s lap, his hand resting placidly on his thigh. In-ho’s knuckles gently grazed his cheek, before his hand traveled to his hair. He couldn’t wait for it to get longer, long enough for him to be able to brush his gentle and fluffy curls.

“I hope Jun-hee will be alright,” Gi-hun said in a weak voice.

“She will. She’s a strong girl.”

Only the sounds of the crickets and other night creatures filled the silence between them, but couldn’t write over Gi-hun’s head, which was bustling with thoughts.

“Why did you tell them you kidnapped me?”

“It’s the truth. Isn’t it?”

“There was no need for you to tell them that.”

“I couldn’t stand it. They were yelling at you like it was your fault. I couldn’t stand them hating you because of me.”

“Now they think you’ve got me brainwashed or something. They treated me like a kid who doesn’t know any better.”

“Gi-hun… are you sure you don’t want to accept Jun-hee’s offer?”

The man removed himself from In-ho’s lap, raising to a sitting position to look into his eyes.

“In-ho… I chose you. I want to stay with you,” He said, wearing a smile as he caressed In-ho’s cheek. “If you keep doubting my decision like this, I’ll start to think you want to push me away.”

In-ho frowned, his eyes filling with fearful tears as he took the hand Gi-hun had placed on his cheek, caressing it and pressing it even more against his own skin. He squeezed his eyes, savoring the feel of his soft palm on his rough skin, his tears falling on Gi-hun’s wrist.

“Maybe I do. Maybe I want you to run away before I hurt you again.”

Gi-hun closed his eyes as he lightly shook his head, smiling. “You won’t hurt me again.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Because I know you love me.”

Gi-hun’s eyes were full of honey. But In-ho’s eyes were full of rue. “I loved you even when I kept you prisoner. I loved you even when I was hurting you, every single day.”

“But now you've learned how to love.”

In-ho let out a soft, wholehearted laugh.

“I did. All thanks to you.”

He turned his head to kiss Gi-hun’s palm. Then the two remained there, in that park, just looking into each other’s eyes for a moment that felt eternal.

*

“How are you feeling?” In-ho asked him, once they were back in the hotel, when Gi-hun changed into his pajamas and let his body fall on the mattress.

“Weird. I feel like I was broken into a million pieces, but… I also feel so relieved now that the whole truth is out.”

“Me too. Although… I hate that I broke Jun-hee’s heart. And what’s even worse is that now she hates you too, all because of me. I’m so sorry, Gi-hun, you’re the last person who deserves this.”

Gi-hun turned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “Jun-hee doesn’t hate me. Or you. She’s just angry. And yeah, she has every right to be… I think we should just let things calm down, wait for everything and everyone to cool off… That’s the only thing we can do right now.”

From his sitting position, In-ho went to lean on his side, propping himself on his elbow just like Gi-hun, facing him. He brushed away a strand of hair that was getting in his eye, watching with soft fondness as his lips curved into a loving smile. “Never in a million years… I thought you’d actually choose me. I’ve always taken for granted you’d leave me one day… I still think you could.”

“This again?” Gi-hun was slightly exasperated, but he giggled. “How could I ever leave you when I need you as much as you need me?”

It all still felt like a dream to In-ho. To have Gi-hun there, in his arms, in his bed, in his life… there was nothing else he needed. He didn’t care if Jun-hee and the others hated him, he didn’t even care if his brother never wanted to see him again. He just couldn’t stand the thought of Gi-hun being shut out of their lives. He didn’t deserve it.

“It’s just you and me against the world now,” He said, almost as if he could read his thoughts. “Soon we’ll be in Los Angeles.”

“They call it the city of dreams…”

“Really? Wasn’t it the city of angels?”

“Yes, Los Angeles literally means the angels… but they also call it the city of dreams.”

“Like they call Paris the city of love?”

“Yeah.”

They kept up the small talk for another while, before slipping under the covers to try and get some sleep. There wasn’t exactly anywhere they needed to be in the morning, but the day had left them exhausted. They cuddled up, Gi-hun snuggled on his chest, a pile of soft pillows behind In-ho’s back this time, to support his neck and back.

“In-ho, let’s go back. To the Hanok.”

His eyebrows raised slightly, in surprise. “You wanna go back?”

“I need a few days off. It’s gonna be a week before they deliver our furniture to the new apartment, right? We can go back, pack our stuff, and chill a little until we come back to Seoul. Sounds good?”

In-ho’s smile went from ear to ear, every single teeth in his mouth showing.

“Sounds perfect.”

Chapter Text

The day Jun-hee came back from the encounter with Jun-ho, Gi-hun and In-ho, she had returned home exhausted. She felt like she had just pushed a boulder uphill, completely worn out both physically and mentally.

Jun-ho had accompanied her back home, and while she walked up the stairs without saying a word, lifting her legs like they were attached to metal weights, she didn’t reply to any inquiry of the family that lived with her.

“Just leave her alone for now,” Jun-ho had told all of them. “She’s had quite a harrowing day.”

“Jun-ho, can you tell us what happened?” Hyun-ju asked, worried sick.

“It’s better if we sit down. It’s a long story.”

Jun-ho told them everything. With a heavy heart, he had to start by telling them how Jun-hee had found out Young-il was actually his brother, Hwang In-ho, and how he was the one behind the games.

“I can’t believe this. He seemed such a gentleman! And you, young man! How could you keep this from us?! From all of us?!”

“You could have told Gi-hun.” Dae-ho’s eyes were red with unshed, angry tears. “You should have told Gi-hun! Our rebellion wouldn’t have failed if we knew there was a traitor among us!”

“What would you have done in my place!? In-ho’s my brother!”

Dae-ho gritted his teeth, charging at Jun-ho like a ram gone berserk. Hyun-ju was barely able to put herself between them and stop him in time, before he could put his hands on the former cop.

“FUCK YOU AND YOUR BROTHER, MAN!”

“Dae-ho, calm down!”

“Pull yourself together, young man!”

Both Geum-ja and Hyun-ju berated him, but if there was someone whose Jun-ho’s betrayal stung the most, it was him. Back on the island, when all hope seemed lost, when the rebellion ended with the annihilation of his entire squad, his mentor was dead and his other mentor missing, the arrival of Jun-ho and his squad was like manna from heaven. They had all seemed like saviours to him, especially Jun-ho. Dae-ho had found a good person in him, someone he could look up to and rely on, just like Gi-hun, who had all the merit for sending him and his squad to them.

To think that a good part of that bloodshed could be avoided, if only Jun-ho had told Gi-hun the whole truth… it was something Dae-ho just couldn’t swallow.

“Jung-bae is dead because of you!” He accused, breaking down, his anger turned to a sorrow so intense, everyone crumbled as he cried in Hyun-ju’s arms.

Jun-hee, who had been alerted by the commotion, was now standing in the middle of the staircase, watching everything unfold before her eyes.

All this chaos, and Jun-ho hadn’t even told them about the worst part. And he didn’t look like he was about to do it, not that day at least. Eventually, the burden would have fallen on her shoulders.

How could she ever be ready to tell them the rest of the story? That Gi-hun was in love with the man who caused them so much pain?

There was only one person she knew she would be able to confide in.

And Jun-hee did it, much later that day. Hyun-ju was in the kitchen when Jun-hee came down that night, when everyone else was asleep.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” She older woman asked, with a tired smile. Jun-hee nodded, and they drank in silence.

“Hyun-ju?”

“Yes?”

“There is something Jun-ho hasn’t told you. It’s about Gi-hun.”

Hyun-ju got slightly scared when she heard those words. Her first thought was that Gi-hun could have been one of those masked men, like the Os had theorized back then. She would have hated to find out another ally was actually a foe, but it wouldn’t have surprised her. Not as much as the truth did, anyway.

It was the last thing she had expected. But after the initial shock, she started rationalizing everything.

“I’ve read about this before. It’s a coping mechanism.”

“What do you mean?”

“They call it Stockholm syndrome. It's something that happens to victims of kidnapping; they start to develop feelings for their captor, as a way to protect their mind from what’s happening. They start to believe the captor actually cares about them. They believe that if they start loving them in return, they won’t be harmed.”

Jun-hee took a deep breath as she started processing all that information. She thought of Gi-hun and In-ho, of how they actually looked like a couple in love. She had felt so betrayed, she never thought it could have been something like this instead. If Hyun-ju was right, then she had been unfair with Gi-hun.

“We need to take him away from there.”

“It won’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Gi-hun is an adult. The police won’t intervene if he says he’s there on his own free will.”

“Fuck the police! Let’s just get in there and haul him out!”

“We can’t. Gi-hun isn’t In-ho’s captive right now, Jun-hee. He’s captive in his own mind.”

“So what do you suggest we do?”

“I’m afraid there isn’t much we can do. We need to let Gi-hun know he can count on us, that if he wants to escape, he has a safe place to go.”

“I was unfair with him yesterday. I shouldn’t have asked him to choose.”

“You have nothing to blame yourself for, Jun-hee.”

Jun-hee still wasn’t sure if she was right or wrong. She was unsure of her own feelings as a whole. But she gladly took Hyun-ju’s comforting words, just like she took her hugs and her caresses.

*

At the first rays of dawn, Gi-hun woke In-ho up with a kiss. They didn’t hurry, but didn’t linger too much either as they washed, changed, and packed their stuff. Neither of them was too hungry, so they only stopped on the way home to buy something from a service station.

In-ho bought two sweet rolls and two bottles of chocolate milk to eat in the car. The rolls were cheap, nothing like the fancy hotel foods they had been used to in the past few days, but eating together still tasted sweet.

“I was thinking… shouldn’t we also stop for groceries? I hope the things we had back home didn’t go bad,” Gi-hun said.

“We weren’t gone for that long…"

“Okay, but if we end up having nothing to eat but instant ramyeon, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

In-ho chuckled. “Alright. We can stop on the way to buy something, if you want.”

“Thank you.”

The road ahead was long, but In-ho was glad he didn’t have to drive anymore. Gi-hun was more than happy to take the lead, since he loved cars and he loved driving.

It was the first time they drove to the Hanok together. When In-ho first brought him with him, Gi-hun had been passed out. But now, there was a willingness from both parties to reach their home; Gi-hun was driving, and In-ho was instructing him on the road to take.

It took a few hours, but then the characteristic roof of the Hanok came into view, surrounded by the high walls that once felt like a prison, but that now felt like protection.

As Gi-hun climbed out of the car, the sight of the Hanok gave him feelings he never thought he’d feel before.

He had missed it. He had actually missed it. As much as he needed air, as much as he had needed a new scenery, the Hanok was still somewhat a place that had become his home. He had spent a lot of dreadful moments there, full of fear, full of anguish. The feelings of being trapped, of having no future ahead of him, it was something he’d never forget. But he couldn’t forget the happy moments he lived with In-ho either. The way he took care of him, their long talks by the soft, warm evening light. Their art sessions and their lovemaking… it almost outweighed all the bad.

It was all still there, like blood on the scene of a crime; you can never truly wash it away. But you need a special light to see it, one that Gi-hun didn’t always bring with him.

As In-ho brought in the grocery bags, the first room Gi-hun checked was the kitchen; A few vegetables had gone bad, but there was more than enough food to cook a nice little meal. It looked like In-ho was right; they weren’t at risk of starvation even if they didn’t stop for groceries. But he wasn’t going to tell him that.

“I missed cooking together,” In-ho said, as he entered the kitchen and left the bags on the counter.

“Me too.”

Having everything at the snap of your fingers was nice, but staying in the kitchen, cooking with your loved one wasn’t much different than dancing together to a love song, or watching a romantic movie. It was even better; carefully preparing the food, making sure the other was well fed… it was the highest form of love and care.

They cooked mostly in silence, only exchanging a few words when one of them needed to be passed something. Their shoulders touched, their hands brushed from time to time, sometimes they would hum. And in that kitchen, they were free to just be. There were no reporters asking questions, no loved ones asking explanations. No orders. No duties. Just the sounds of the kettle, of kitchenware clashing, of the rain outside the window, or one another’s soft breathing.

Inexplicably, that moment of calm made In-ho’s eyes fill up with tears. He was cutting sweet potatoes, not onions, and his chest started feeling tight. A sniff alerted Gi-hun, who put down the rice he was about to put in the cooker.

“In-ho? Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

The man’s only answer was a sequence of small sobs.

“In-ho?!”

Alarmed, Gi-hun went to him, took his face in his hands, “Hey, look at me. What’s wrong? Is it because of what happened with Jun-hee and your brother?”

“It’s just… It’s just that…”

“Hey… c’mon, calm yourself down.”

In-ho pulled him into a hug, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Gi-hun said nothing, he only encapsuled him tightly into his arms, his hand cradling his neck, while his other rested between his shoulder blades, brushing gentle strokes over In-ho’s heart. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, but he clearly needed this. Maybe they both needed this.

In-ho raised his head, resting his chin on Gi-hun’s shoulder. He remembered reading somewhere once, that a hug is just another way of hiding your face. And maybe, that’s what he wanted to do too. He had shown Gi-hun his vulnerabilities before, but that day, he somehow felt particularly insecure.

“Just being here with you... It makes me so happy. And I know I don’t deserve any of it, and I’m scared one day they’ll bring you away from me!” He confessed, his voice broken.

“Who would ever bring me away from you?” Gi-hun tried to reassure him, trying to hold back a chuckle.

“I don’t deserve you. I didn’t deserve Yu-jin either. One day you’ll get away too.”

“I’m not getting away.”

Gi-hun felt a sting in his chest hearing In-ho talk like that. In-ho was a sinner, not a saint, a perpetrator but he was also a victim. They didn’t want to understand it, but Gi-hun did. In-ho was just another victim of the games, they had ruined his life. Oh Il-nam’s games ruined the lives of everyone they touched, one way or the other. In-ho was a survivor, one that had let himself be consumed by disillusionment. Gi-hun had let rage and revenge consume him. Each and every one of them was broken in some way. But they all deserved to go forward with their lives. All of them, including In-ho.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m staying with you. In this Hanok, in Seoul, in Los Angeles… we’ll always be together.”

In-ho wasn’t the only one who deserved to go forward. Gi-hun himself wanted to leave his survivor’s guilt behind. He deserved to be happy too. And he had happened to find happiness in Hwang In-ho.

“C’mon. Let’s finish up with cooking,” Gi-hun said, pulling away from the hug and touching his forehead with In-ho’s. “I’m sure you’ll feel better with some food in your stomach.”

In-ho smiled and gave him a small nod.

*

Both men were lying on the carpet, observing the rain fall on the windows and in their garden. Gi-hun was laying down with several pillows behind his neck and shoulders, while In-ho was using his stomach as one. Gi-hun played idly with In-ho’s hair, as the latter hummed a cozy tune.

Gi-hun recognized that tune. His eyes fell on the record player. It was cold, that night, when they danced to the music before the storm came in both their hearts. Before he launched himself out in the cold, trying to escape what he could never escape.

“Is that Dance me to the End of Love?”

“Yeah…”

“Do you mind putting the music on?”

“Why? Last time we danced to this song, you broke a bottle of soju on my head.”

“Sorry…I promise it won’t happen again.”

In-ho got up from his sitting position, slowly raising himself on his feet as his joints awakened from their letargy they had gotten used to.

“Alright, I’ll put it on. But only if you promise to dance with me.”

Gi-hun looked up at him with sultry eyes, the corner of his lip slowly curving into a malicious grin. Taking it as a yes, In-ho went to put the disc in the record player. Soft music started filling the air, as he went back to Gi-hun to offer him his hand. The man took it, his eyes boring into In-ho’s, never leaving him. Once they were in the center of them room, In-ho’s hands laying softly on his hips, while Gi-hun’s were on his shoulder.

“In-ho,” he whispered tenderly, “I want to put the past behind us.”

In-ho smiled as he nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving Gi-hun’s.

Oh, let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

As they danced, In-ho’s sensations never changed from the first time they ever danced to that song. Gi-hun was a butterfly caught in his web. And sooner or later, he would either free himself or someone else was going to disentangle him from In-ho’s web.

If it wasn’t Jun-hee, it was going to be Ga-yeong. If it wasn’t Ga-yeong, it was going to be Gi-hun himself. In-ho didn’t know who, he didn’t know when or how, but sooner or later, something or someone was going to take Gi-hun away from him.

He knew he would have died the day he saw him fly away. His dearest songbird. His beloved Prince. His treasured one.

As In-ho tortured himself thinking about the future, Gi-hun only wanted to relish the present moment. To stay in the present, right there with In-ho in his arms.

“I love you, In-ho,” he said, so spontaneously it caught In-ho by surprise. It was like a blue butterfly had just posed on his shoulder. Unexpected and excitingly beautiful.

“I love you too.”

They moved slowly, In-ho’s cheek pressed tenderly to Gi-hun’s cheek. He whispered sweet nothings in his ear, thinking somehow that, just like a magic spell, every sweet word he whispered in his ear would prolong the time he had left with him.

*

“How can I be so tired when we did nothing all day?” Gi-hun said later that night, when they slipped together under the covers. They were both in In-ho’s room, sleeping in the same bed. They hadn’t even talked about the new sleeping dispositions now that they were together. It just came naturally to them to walk to In-ho’s room. It was the place they made love for the first time, the place where all the misunderstandings melted away, as their hearts and bodies fused in a perfect harmony.

“Well, I wouldn’t call a three hour long car ride nothing,” In-ho said, cuddling up to Gi-hun, snuggling on his chest like a bird in his nest.

“I used to be a chauffeur. Driving for three hours is nothing, believe me.”

In-ho started rubbing soothing circles on Gi-hun’s chest as the latter wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“Well… I guess being emotionally charged is tiring too.”

“Yeah… I wonder if I should call Jun-hee tomorrow, to see how she’s doing. If she doesn’t hang up on me…”

“I don’t think she’ll stay mad at you for long. I don’t think anyone can.”

“Tell that to my ex-wife.”

They both laughed, then their laughter slowly turned into deep sighs.

“I should call Jun-ho too,” In-ho said, full on dreading that moment, as if they were back at square one, when they had just barely escaped the island.

“We really fucked up big time. We got everyone mad at us.”

“You didn’t do anything. It was all my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“You don’t have to lie just to make me feel better. We both know I’m the cause of everything.”

Gi-hun went quiet after that. He didn’t know what else to say, but he hoped his caresses on In-ho’s cheek, the kisses he left on his forehead and the hand going up and down his back were enough to tell him he didn’t blame him for anything. That he had his love and forgiveness and that he would always have it. Even if he had the whole world against him.

*

In-ho and Gi-hun had just finished having lunch that day, when Gi-hun received a call.

Jun-hee’s name on the screen was something they both dreaded and anticipated at the same time.

“I have to tidy up upstairs,” In-ho said. They both knew it was just an excuse, since it was Jun-hee who was calling. He just wanted to give him some privacy. Gi-hun was glad for it. Jun-hee was surely going to say some things about In-ho that wouldn't have been pleasant for him to hear. Gi-hun didn't want him to listen, and In-ho didn't want to deprive him of the chance of talking to her.

“Jun-hee? How are you?”

“I’m fine…Gi-hun?”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for being mad at you the other day! I was just so upset. My whole world got turned upside down. Again. I didn’t know where to stand, I’m still just so confused.”

“Jun-hee, don’t cry, it’s okay. You have every reason to be upset. Even if you wanna tell me to get lost, it’s fine.”

“I didn’t tell the others about you and Young… you and In-ho. I only talked about it with Hyun-ju.”

“Ah… Jun-hee, as I told you before, you don’t have to forgive In-ho. But believe me, he’s not the monster he used to be. I think everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Young-mi, Jung-bae, and the others didn’t have a second chance.”

“I wish I could change that. I wish we could have them here with us. But we can’t change the past Jun-hee, no matter how much we beat ourselves over it. All we can do is live.”

“It’s what we’re trying to do.”

“Yeah…”

Just living sounded like a simple task. But it wasn’t, when you survived something no one was meant to survive. The guilt was always there, prolonging your days, making normal actions feel longer. Then came relief: of being able to eat, of simply being able to breathe. But the guilt of surviving was always there, the memory of those who didn’t always stung.

It was something only survivors could understand. Even if Gi-hun and Jun-hee didn’t speak a single word of that, the silence between them spoke a thousand words. Their hearts were close, even if they were cities apart.

“Gi-hun, I must reiterate what I said the other day. Please come to live with us. He’s not a good person! He’ll hurt you! Please, please get away from him.”

“Jun-hee… Thank you for caring so much about me. But… In-ho is not the person you think he is. He’s changed.”

“Changed? Gi-hun. I’m thirty years younger than you, and even I know that men like that don’t change. You can’t change him. You can’t fix him. Just get away before it’s too late!”

“But I love him.”

From the other end, silence. Then Jun-hee let out an audible sigh.

“This man admitted he kidnapped you…”

“I know. But he never hurt me. He never forced me to do anything. Actually, he took care of me. When we left the island, I fell sick with a pretty bad fever, I couldn’t move from the bed for days. He took good care of me.”

Jun-hee didn’t doubt Gi-hun’s words. But whatever In-ho did for him to make him fall in love, it couldn’t replace or erase hard facts.

“Gi-hun. He kept you prisoner.”

“It was like that in the beginning, but… I know it’s not easy to understand, but believe me when I say choose to stay with him out of my own free will.”

“Is there anything I can say or do that will make you change your mind?”

“I’m sorry. My stubbornness was always a burden to everyone who ever cared about me.”

“Your stubbornness is what saved us all, though. I wish you’d care the same way about yourself.”

“You really don’t have to worry about me! I can take care of myself. If In-ho doesn’t treat me right, believe me I can get right back at him. I mean, just ask Dae-ho! he touched my muscles. He knows how strong I’ve gotten!”

“I believe it,” she said, giggling. For the first time since the conversation started, the tension was finally somewhat alleviated. “Please, let’s keep in touch, even if you want to stay there. To me, to all of us, you’re still part of this family, even if you’re not here with us.”

“You guys are like a family to me, too. I love you, Jun-hee. You’re like a daughter to me. And Min-yeong is like a granddaughter.”

“She misses you. When will you come to visit again?”

“As soon as I can. Maybe I’ll come before we leave for Los Angeles.”

“Gi-hun… I don’t know what it means to have a father, but I think you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to one. And I felt like that with Jung-bae, too. And… I used to feel like that with Young-il, too. That’s why I can’t forgive him. It hurts too much to know what he did. That Jung-bae isn’t with us because of him. How can you stand it? He was your best friend.”

Gi-hun was at a loss for words. Jung-bae didn’t even come to visit him in his dreams anymore. Neither did any of his friends. Perhaps he didn’t deserve them anymore. He had made a choice when he chose to stay with In-ho. And it looked like he was paying the price now, by having everyone else he cared about taking their distance from him.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” Jun-hee said after a prolonged silence.

“I hated myself for loving In-ho, knowing what he did. I tried to run away from him so many times, but then I realized it was my feelings I was trying to run away from. I’ve decided to face them instead.”

“And do you think it was worth it?”

“I don’t know. I think a part of me will always hate myself for allowing myself to love him. But I don’t regret being with him,” Gi-hun confessed.

“It costs me, but I respect your decision, Gi-hun,” She said, not because her heart was fully in it, but because she didn’t have any other choice. “We’re all looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Me too.”

After Jun-hee hung up, Gi-hun remained seated there. Breathing, simply existing, watching the leaves on the trees oscillate in the wind. He felt like one of those trees, unmoving, anchored to the ground. For a while, he wanted to stay just like that. Without thoughts, without worrying.

Then his eyes fell on the screen of his phone, which had a picture of himself and Ga-yeong as a homescreen.

He hadn’t called his daughter at all the day before. With everything that had happened, he had forgotten.

“Dad!”

“Hi, baby. I’m sorry I didn’t call yesterday. We drove back home from Seoul, and it completely slipped my mind.”

Gi-hun had expected Ga-yeong to either berate him, or tell him not to worry. He hadn’t anticipated what his daughter said next.

“We?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but he felt like a fish out of water, trying to breathe and failing. He felt everything inside him going ablaze. He couldn’t believe he had slipped up so badly.

“Ah, I-I mean I. I drove back home. I live in a rural village now,” he said, trying to change the topic, hoping Ga-yeong would believe him, but her little stifled chuckle told him a different story.

“Okay, Dad,” she said, and Gi-hun could just sense her malicious smile in her words.

Ga-yeong didn’t question him further, and the conversation went on as normal. She told him about school, about small squabbles with her stepbrother, of her friends. Gi-hun didn’t have much to tell her. She couldn’t tell him about his own friends and the chaos that went down with them the past days, couldn’t tell her about In-ho either. So he just told her about his preparations for the trip and about how he couldn’t wait to see her.

Then, as they were about to end the call, Ga-yeong told him something that almost made him reveal his romantic little secret.

“Dad, if there’s something you want to tell me, you know you can, right?”

But it wasn’t the time for her to know about In-ho yet.

“Of course I know, Ga-yeong. But believe me, now that all that stuff about the games is behind me, I lead a pretty boring life. And I’m grateful for it.”

That was all he was finding himself wishing for those days. A life without drama, a life without problems. Just a boring life, spent in the tranquility of their home with In-ho, drawing, cooking, and reading together. Filling their days by visiting Ga-yeong and Min-yeong. That was the perfect life he wanted.

*

“In-ho?” Gi-hun called as he walked up the stairs.

“I’m here, my songbird.”

In-ho’s voice came from his bedroom. There was something different in his voice. Each syllable was enounced more slowly than usual, not slurred but controlled. When Gi-hun arrived in front of his door, a small section was open, revealing In-ho’s face. His lips were curved in a grin, one he had seen many times before. In-ho was planning something. Something that evoked a weird feeling of anticipation in Gi-hun.

“What’s with that face?” He said, not being able to refrain a smirk himself.

“Come,” In-ho said, his voice almost a whisper. He took three steps backwards, opening the door fully to allow Gi-hun in.

In-ho had his black robe around his body.

“You put on the pajama already? It’s noon.”

In-ho looked up at him with sultry eyes, Gi-hun’s face going ablaze as he got on his tiptoes to bring his mouth to his ear. “I don’t have anything underneath,” he whispered, “And just so you know… I prepped myself while I was waiting for you.”

“Wait… you wanna bottom?”

Gi-hun was surprised. They never really talked much about what they preferred during sex, and could count on the fingers of one hand the times they made love so far. Until then, they had let their bodies talk. They had followed their instincts. And this time, their instinct was telling them to reverse the roles they had so far.

In-ho took a step back, taking Gi-hun’s hand, and he walked with him, until In-ho reached the bed and let himself fall on his back. Gi-hun looked down at him with hungry eyes as the man untied his robe, revealing his sculpted body. Gi-hun took his sweater off, without moving his eyes away.

As Gi-hun climbed on top of him, both their skins exuded warmth, stemming from the fire of passion and love. In-ho let out a languid, long sigh as Gi-hun buried himself into him, his walls yielding like a hot knife sinking into butter. He could feel his hot breath on his neck and ear, whispering to tell him it was okay to move.

Despite the cold of the winter had not yet thawed into spring, a summer heat enveloped them as he pumped into him. Every movement controlled, every hip thrust hitting the sweet spot that made In-ho sing. Gi-hun left a trail of kisses on his neck. In-ho loved the feeling of his supple lips on his heated skin.

In-ho wrapped his arms around Gi-hun’s neck as he rocked gently into him, their breaths blending into one. His thrusts were infused with ardor and a disciplined control, the perfect halfway between roughness and care. His sultry eyes were staring into In-ho’s dewy ones, not closing, not looking away even for an instant. In-ho knew he could trust him, with his body, with his life, with his entire being.

Everything about Gi-hun was warm, soft and gentle. Everything In-ho wasn’t. His warm touch thawed his cold hands, his lovesome tongue melted his pragmatic one. He had taught him how to love, he had taught him how to feel again.

Gi-hun doesn’t ask him anything as he strokes away the tears that have escaped In-ho’s eyes. In-ho still couldn’t believe he was there with him, making sweet love to him, loving him, accepting him whole.

Their desire of being together burned strongly, stronger than hate, stronger than revenge and self-loathing, of social conventions and even morals and ethics.

Their desire to be together had beaten everything else.

Every kiss sealed their intertwined fates more tightly, their lives woven together in a beautiful, dark and white cloth, creating fascinating shades of gray.