Chapter Text
Pain surged through Gi-hun's skull like a thunderclap, sharp and relentless, as he slumped against the cold, filthy tiles of the restroom floor. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest heaving with each desperate inhale. The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth as it trickled from his nose and stained his lips and chin. He tried to lift a trembling hand to his face, but winced when his fingers brushed the swelling flesh.
It wasn't broken—at least, he hoped it wasn't—but the pain was enough to make his head spin.
Above him, the three loan sharks loomed like executioners. The leader crouched, bringing his face so close that Gi-hun could smell the cheap cigarette smoke clinging to his breath. A slow, mocking smile curled the man's lips as he reached out, fingers threading into Gi-hun's disheveled hair. The gesture was gentle, almost soothing—until, without warning, he yanked hard and forced Gi-hun's head forward with a brutal snap.
"You have one more fucking month, and that's it," the man growled, his voice low and edged with warning. Gi-hun's breath hitched, his scalp stinging under the cruel grip. "If you don't pay up by then, you're a dead man."
With that, he shoved Gi-hun back against the urinal and let him crumple onto the floor like a discarded rag. The other two men chuckled darkly, their footsteps echoing in the empty restroom as they turned toward the exit. Just before stepping out, their leader paused and glanced over his shoulder. His eyes glinted with something unreadable. Amusement, maybe, or something far crueler.
"Go to The Empyrean and earn some fucking money there," he muttered.
Gi-hun only blinked, disoriented, his thoughts sluggish from the blow to his head. "The Empyrean?" he croaked with a hoarse voice. “How the hell am I supposed to get in there?"
Suddenly, a small, rectangular object flew toward him, making him instinctively reach out and snatch it just before it hit the dirty floor. Slowly, he turned it over, his breath catching as he took in the design.
Matte black. Gold lettering. The letters VIP glistened under the dim restroom light, accompanied by an engraving of a snake eating its own tail—the ouroboros, an ancient symbol of infinity.
It was sleek, elegant, and more valuable than anything Gi-hun had ever held in his life.
"I want seventy percent of everything you win," the loan shark continued, his tone flat. "If you win, that is."
A pause.
"And if you lose that card, you owe me ten times what you already do."
With that final warning, they disappeared, leaving only the sound of the dripping faucet and the dull throb of pain in Gi-hun's skull.
He exhaled shakily as his grip tightened around the card.
This was it. His last chance.
If he didn't find a way to make money with that, there wouldn't be another month for him.
—
The subway ride was suffocating. Even though the late hour meant the train was half-empty, Gi-hun felt the weight of his own thoughts pressing down on him. His fingers never left the VIP card, gripping it so tightly that the edges threatened to leave indents in his skin.
The black and gold design seemed almost surreal in his hands, a stark contrast to the tattered wallet he kept tucked in his pocket.
Sixty-seven dollars. That was all he had left.
The realization sent a wave of nausea through him. Could he even afford to gamble at a place like The Empyrean?
The very name was spoken with hushed reverence among gamblers. It was a temple of excess and fortune, where only the elite were permitted to play. It was the kind of place where men wagered millions in a single night, where money flowed like water and lives were ruined with a single bad hand.
And now, he was walking straight into it.
The moment he stepped out of the station, the city around him changed. The air smelled cleaner, crisper, carrying the faint scent of expensive cologne and luxury cars. Towering buildings lined the streets, their glass facades reflecting the glow of the neon signs below. People walked with purpose, dressed in tailored suits and silk dresses, their laughter soft and effortless, like they had never known hunger a day in their lives.
Then, at the end of the street, he saw it.
The Empyrean.
The building was a block of sleek black glass, stretching high into the night sky with its golden emblem shining under the city lights. Everything about it exuded power. A place where the rich came to play, and the desperate came to lose.
Gi-hun swallowed hard as he felt his pulse hammering against his ribs. He forced himself up the steps, straightening his back, trying to ignore how out of place he looked in his worn-out jacket and scuffed shoes. Two security guards flanked the entrance, their sharp gazes raking over him with barely concealed skepticism.
"Entry is for members on—," one of them began dismissively, but before he could finish, Gi-hun pulled the black card from his pocket and held it up.
The guard hesitated. His expression shifted from suspicion to mild surprise as he took the card, turning it over in his hands, inspecting every inch as if expecting to find a flaw. After a long pause, he finally nodded and handed it back.
"Welcome to The Empyrean," he muttered as he stepped aside.
Although relief flooded Gi-hun's chest, he didn't let it show. He simply nodded and slipped inside before they could change their minds.
The moment he crossed the threshold, he felt like he had stepped into another world.
Black and gold stretched as far as the eye could see, marble floors polished to perfection, golden chandeliers casting warm light across the huge space. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and whiskey, the hum of conversation blending seamlessly with the distant clatter of poker chips and spinning roulette wheels.
Everywhere he looked, there was wealth. Men and women draped in silk and diamonds, sipping expensive liquor, their laughter light and effortless.
"Excuse me, sir. How can I assist you tonight?" A voice suddenly interrupted his daze.
Gi-hun turned, finding himself face-to-face with a woman dressed in a sleek white blouse tucked neatly into a fitted black skirt, a gold name tag pinned to her chest. Cho Hyun-ju. Her smile was professional, but her gaze was sharp, assessing him with quiet curiosity.
"I... I'd like to play."
Hyun-ju's smile never wavered. "Of course, sir. Please follow me."
She walked with effortless grace, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor as she guided Gi-hun deeper into the casino. The further they went, the more surreal it became. Everything was pristine and untouchable. The scent of money clung to the air like expensive cologne, mixing with the soft, rhythmic hum of jazz playing in the background.
When they entered the main gambling hall, Gi-hun felt his breath hitch.
The room stretched endlessly, lined with rows of gleaming poker tables, roulette wheels, and private booths where men in tailored suits whispered over hands of baccarat. Servers drifted between tables, trays balanced in their hands as they offered crystal glasses filled with whiskey older than his entire life.
The people here didn’t just gamble—they owned the game. Their movements were slow and deliberate, like they had nothing to fear, like money was just another game piece they could afford to lose.
Gi-hun felt a cold sweat gathering at the nape of his neck. He didn’t belong here.
He shoved his hands into his pockets to stop them from shaking.
When the woman looked at him expectantly, Gi-hun mumbled, “Roulette, please.”
Hyun-ju nodded before she finally stopped near a polished table, where a young woman stood waiting. Her black dress was simple but elegant, her dark eyes sharp as they flicked toward him. The way she studied him made him feel like she could see straight through him.
“Sir, this is Kang Sae-byeok,” Hyun-ju introduced her. “She will be assisting you with the game.”
“Right. Uh… thanks.”
Hyun-ju gave a polite nod before she disappeared back into the crowd and left him standing there, feeling exposed under the golden lights.
Sae-byeok tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “First time?”
“Is it that obvious?”
Her lips quirked up—not quite a smile, but something close. “A little.”
She leaned against the roulette table, arms crossed as she studied Gi-hun. “It’s simple,” she told him. “You place a bet on a number, a color, or a section of numbers. If the ball lands where you bet, you win. If not, you lose. Betting on red or black pays 1:1, meaning you double your money if you win. Inside bets, like picking a specific number, pay more, but they’re riskier.”
Gi-hun hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the last of his money—sixty-seven dollars. It looked pitiful against the polished wood of the table, surrounded by stacks of chips worth more than he had ever seen in his life.
Sae-byeok didn’t react. She simply exchanged the bills for a small stack of chips and placed them in front of him. “Minimum bet is fifty dollars.”
Fifty. Jesus.
That was almost everything he had left.
His fingers tightened around the chips. If he lost this, he wouldn’t even have enough for the subway home. His mind screamed at him to turn around, to walk away before it was too late, but he didn’t. Because if he knew anything, it was that desperation made men do stupid things.
And right now, he was desperate.
“Alright,” he muttered. “Let’s do this.”
He hesitated for only a second before pushing a $50 chip forward and placing it confidently on red.
The female dealer gave a short nod, and she spun the wheel.
Gi-hun watched, heart pounding. The ball danced along the edges, clicking against the metal pockets as it slowed. For a second, he thought it might betray him, veering dangerously close to black—
But then it landed.
Red.
His breath caught.
The dealer pushed a $100 chip toward him. He won. He actually won.
Something inside him cracked open. A rush of adrenaline, a surge of something electric. This was it—the feeling he had been chasing for years.
“Beginner’s luck.” Sae-byeok muttered as she raised an eyebrow, but Gi-hun ignored her. He felt good. Confident.
He gripped the $100 chip between his fingers, rolling it between his thumb and index. Then, before doubt could creep in, he slammed it down on black.
The dealer spun the wheel again. The golden light shimmered against the polished metal as the ball flickered between red and black, teasing, tempting, until it landed.
Black.
Instantly, a victorious grin spread across Gi-hun’s face as the dealer slid him four 50$ chips. His hands trembled slightly as he picked them up, feeling their weight. He had just turned $50 into $200 in two rounds.
“Don’t get cocky.”
Gi-hun barely heard her. The hunger was setting in now—the same hunger that had burned through his pockets for years, the one that whispered: Keep going. One more. Just one more.
This time, he didn’t hesitate.
He shoved the a 50$ chip forward. “Red.”
The dealer spun the wheel again, and Gi-hun felt his pulse hammering against his ribs. He barely breathed as the ball bounced against the pockets—
It landed on black.
Gi-hun’s smile abruptly faltered.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. But it was fine. One loss meant nothing. He still had some left.
His hands moved quicker this time, grabbing a $50 chip and placing it on black.
The wheel spun.
Red.
Another loss.
A flicker of panic crept up his spine, but he shoved it down. He still had money. He could turn this around.
Another bet. Another loss.
Again.
Loss.
His hands tightened into fists, sweat slicking his palms. His entire stack had dwindled to almost nothing. How? How had he gone from winning so easily to losing everything in seconds?
It wasn’t possible.
It wasn’t fair.
His stomach churned as he looked down at what remained of his chips—only $17 left out of the $67 he started with. His chest rose and fell sharply, frustration bubbling beneath his skin.
“This is bullshit,” he snapped, glaring at the table. “How the hell does it turn like that?”
Sae-byeok remained impassive. “You lost. It happens.”
Gi-hun’s head snapped toward her. “No, it doesn’t just ‘happen.’ This place is rigged, isn’t it?!”
A few nearby gamblers turned their heads, but Gi-hun barely noticed. His blood was boiling. He had been winning—winning—and now? Gone. Like it had been taken from him.
His voice rose. “I want my fifty dollars back. I shouldn’t have lost that fast!”
“Lower your voice,” Sae-Byeok muttered as she narrowed her eyes.
“This place is a scam! There’s no way in hell I—”
A heavy hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder, causing Gi-hun to stiffen.
Two security guards had appeared beside him, dressed in sleek black suits, their expressions unreadable. The grip on his shoulder tightened as one of them spoke.
“Sir, please step away from the table.”
Gi-hun yanked himself free, turning to glare at them. “I’m not going anywhere. I lost my money, I have a right to—”
The second guard didn’t wait for him to finish. He grabbed Gi-hun’s arm and twisted it behind his back just enough to make him stumble.
A bolt of pain shot up his shoulder. “Hey—what the hell?!”
“Sir,” the first guard repeated, voice sharp, “step away.”
The room felt smaller now. The golden chandeliers and walls blurred at the edges of his vision. His heart pounded furiously against his ribs as he fought against their grip, thrashing, shoving, trying to break free.
“Let go!” he spat. “This is bullshit! Give me back my damn—”
“That’s enough.”
The voice was smooth. Authoritative. And cold.
Everything around them seemed to pause.
The security guards stiffened immediately, releasing Gi-hun without hesitation. He stumbled forward, nearly falling to his knees, before catching himself.
He looked up.
A man stood before them, dressed in a sleek, perfectly tailored black suit, his hands tucked neatly into his pockets. His features were sharp—too sharp, too controlled.
The moment he stepped forward, the air in the room shifted. The energy changed as if the entire casino itself was holding its breath.
Gi-hun had no idea who he was.
But he knew power when he saw it.
The man’s gaze was unreadable as he looked at Gi-hun, then at the guards. His voice, when he spoke again, was calm, but laced with something dangerous.
“Is there a problem?”
The tension hung thick in the air.
Gi-hun, still breathless from the struggle, rubbed at his arm where the security guard had twisted it. His pulse pounded in his ears, his frustration flaring as he turned toward the man in the sleek black suit.
“This place is rigged,” he spat, voice laced with bitterness. “You rob people blind!”
The man barely reacted. His expression remained composed, his dark eyes calm.
“These are the rules,” he replied smoothly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “You gamble, you take a risk. You lost. That’s how it works.”
“Yeah? And what happens when the house decides who wins and loses?”
The man didn’t answer. Instead, he let his gaze drift, slowly and deliberately, from Gi-hun’s face down to his scuffed, dirty shoes.
It was subtle. Quiet. But it sent a shiver down Gi-hun’s spine.
That stare.
It wasn’t just looking—it was assessing. Calculating. Like he was peeling Gi-hun apart, layer by layer, without saying a single word.
Gi-hun felt something unfamiliar coil in his chest. Not quite fear. Not quite anger. Something else.
He straightened his back as he tried to shake off the discomfort. “What, you think you’re better than me?” he sneered. “Because you wear a fancy suit and behave like you own this place?”
Sae-byeok sucked in a sharp breath.
It was almost imperceptible, but Gi-hun caught it. Her lips parted slightly, her ever-neutral face betraying the faintest hint of shock.
That was the most emotion she had shown all evening.
The realization hit him all at once.
Who the hell is this guy?
For the first time since entering this damn casino, a flicker of doubt crept into Gi-hun’s mind.
The man, however, just stared at him.
Then, he chuckled. Low and amused, almost entertained.
“Why don’t you come with me, then?” he asked.