Chapter Text
The whiskey tasted worse than usual.
Inho didn’t pay much attention to it. He downed the glass as his eyes were glued to the big screen in front of him. Gihun was going to kill the Player 100, that asshole. He pressed the blade, the same one Inho used to eliminate his competition, to the man’s throat. Right, Inho thought to himself, just do it, and you and the baby will be safe.
He remembered the rush and desperation he had felt himself as he killed all the remaining finalists with the knife Oh Ilnam had given him. How the blood had splashed on his face, how he could taste the metal in the air, and…
Gihun backed up and turned toward his bed.
Inho swore. What the fuck was he doing? Didn’t he understand that this was his last chance of survival? That tomorrow everyone would target him, and he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. Stubborn, stubborn idiot, why couldn’t he abandon his precious morals at least once, to save himself, to save that baby, to—
The glass burst in his hand. Inho shuddered, pulled out of his stream of thoughts.
Gihun returned to his bed and leaned in to the baby, probably murmuring something soothing to her.
Inho dropped the shards of glass on the floor, not bothered by the mess.
Fuck.
He squeezed his hands into the fists, suddenly aware they were shaking. Seong Gihun was going to die, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He watched as Gihun half-sat on his bed and closed his eyes, the knife still clutched in his hand. Gihun was going to die tomorrow and Inho would have to watch it.
He exhaled shakily, feeling panic spread through his body.
Why couldn’t he kill those assholes, just like Inho did back in his games? Why did he have to complicate everything?
Inho walked to his armchair and stood next to it aimlessly. The mask on the table stared back at him. Gihun had said nothing to his reveal, barely even reacted. Inho didn’t know what exactly he had expected when he ordered the guard to bring Gihun over. Yelling? Fighting? Gihun trying to kill him?
And he had done nothing. Hadn't even said a word.
Maybe Seong Gihun had finally broken.
Surprisingly, the thought didn’t bring him satisfaction. Instead, Inho felt almost disappointed. He shook his head. Tomorrow everything would end, and Gihun would never bother him again.
He glanced at his watch. The last game would begin in less than four hours, and there was no chance he would be able to catch some sleep before then.
He looked at the screen again. Gihun still sat in the same position, now gazing in the distance, not focusing on anybody. Inho’s chest tightened. He couldn’t do anything. He wouldn’t. Would he?
He had been working for these Games for almost a decade now. As the guard at the beginning, then promoted to Frontman by Ilnam himself. He had seen everything. The death, blood, alliances and betrayals. Every year, he made sure VIPs were satisfied with the Games, he made them exciting to watch, always bringing something new. The players were just expendable material for him, necessary casualties. The horses.
He had never broken the rules. No one had ever caught his eye, everybody was equal for him.
And yet here he was calling his supposed enemy to his office at midnight and giving him a weapon, an unfair privilege that defied every principle of equality.
And Gihun couldn’t even bring himself to use it.
Please, get up and kill them - there’s still time, he caught himself thinking, his gaze still fixated on the small curled-up figure on the screen.
As if hearing Inho’s prayers, Gihun looked straight into the camera and slipped the knife into his blazer pocket.
So this was it. His final decision.
Inho took a deep breath and reached for the whiskey. He opened the bottle and brought it to his lips, ready to take a generous sip.
And suddenly faltered.
Slowly, he put the bottle back on the table and raised his hand, which was still shaking a little. As if in slow motion, he removed the glove and touched his cheek. It was hot and…wet? Inho gasped silently. Was he…crying?
Still holding his cheek, he moved into the bathroom toward the mirror.
He looked a mess. Red-rimmed eyes, trembling lips. He was actually crying. And there was blood on his hand. Inho stared at it blankly. He might have cut it, when the glass burst. He hadn't even feel the pain.
He didn’t feel like himself.
He raised his eyes to the mirror again and jerked away so rapidly he almost fell.
Junho was looking at him.
“Hyung, why?”
No, no, enough. Inho screwed his eyes shut, fighting the urge to cover his ears as well. It wasn’t real-no, it was just another one of his episodes.
Junho’s voice still rang in his ears. Hyung, why?
Suddenly, the disgust, similar to the one he felt three years ago, surged through him. His chest felt so tight, as if something heavy was put on it. He couldn’t breathe. He leaned heavily on the sink, refusing to meet his reflection.
He felt as if he was reliving that moment right now. He felt the weight of the gun in his hand — it was shaking just like he was shaking now. The salty breeze on his face as he took off the mask. The sharp pain in his injured shoulder. Junho’s shocked and exhausted face right in front of him.
Hyung, why?
A phantom recoil from the shot went through his body, and Inho stumbled. The panic was still pulsating in his body when he dared to look in the mirror again.
He froze.
This time it was Gihun who was staring back at him. He didn’t look at him with hatred or disgust, his gaze surprisingly soft. Inho made a step closer, hypnotized by those eyes. He raised his hand slowly and almost put it on the mirror, on Gihun’s shoulder, but hesitated.
It wasn’t real, was it?
Gihun in the mirror smiled and said, “Youngil, why?”
With a scream, Inho hit the mirror.
He didn’t know how much time had passed until he came back to his senses. He found himself on the bathroom floor, surrounded by shattered glass and drops of blood. His hand had stopped bleeding, the pain dulled, leaving only an unpleasant pulsation in his knuckles.
Inho made a decision.
He got up slowly, swaying a little.
Maybe it was the most foolish decision in his life. It crossed all of his beliefs, he had carefully crafted for a decade. To protect himself. To give his life a purpose.
Those Games gave his life meaning.
But he just couldn’t let Seong Gihun die.
He went out of the bathroom and looked at the screen again, gathering his thoughts together. Gihun was dozing off, his head hanging lower and lower. The baby was sleeping peacefully next to him.
Inho averted his gaze and went straight to the archives. First of all, he needed to make sure Seong Gihun had never existed on this island. It was easy enough to collect all his files, as their placements were engraved in his memory. The first catalogue, the second one, the winners' list…
Next was the folder with the materials he had gathered over the last three years. He opened it to a random page. It was a photo of Gihun in his car, drinking water and looking at many phone screens at the same time. He caressed it with his fingers slowly. Oh, how better it would’ve been, if he had just boarded that plane and abandoned his ideas of bringing the Games down.
And now Inho was standing with a pile of documents in his hands, ready to risk his life. Not risk, he corrected himself. Put an end to it. There was no way he would survive this escapade.
He slammed the folder shut and threw it into the dumpster, beside the rest of the files. A lighter clicked, and Inho set the documents on fire, erasing Seong Gihun’s existence from the Squid Archives.
It was just as easy to delete all the files from the island’s server. He felt something similar to remorse, as he deleted the folder with all the photos his workers had taken over the years.
He put the fire out and looked at his watch.
Two hours before the final game. He needed to hurry.
The problem was that he didn’t have an exact plan. He couldn’t pull Gihun out of the Games, walk him through the front door and wave goodbye. This place had cameras everywhere, he had made sure that every inch was covered when he helped design the facility. The only place that didn’t have constant monitoring were his office and the VIPs rooms.
Inho bit his lip, thinking. It was too dangerous to try sneaking Gihun out through the VIPs' quarters, as they were likely still awake and drinking. It left the only option — his office. Inho glanced at the facade that concealed the hidden way out of the island. It was a tough route, with a long steep ladder. And the baby…
Inho sighed. It was the only way. They would come up with something.
He reached for the walkie-talkie to order the guard to bring Gihun again, but paused before pressing the button. It would be too suspicious to order the same thing to the same guard. Besides, Gihun could play stubborn again and refuse to follow him. No, Inho had to do it himself.
He opened the closet and pulled out the Square Guard uniform. He hadn’t worn it since his promotion five years ago, when Ilnam decided to finally step down and let Inho run the Games. He remembered the uniform being extremely uncomfortable and stuffy, and he hoped he would never wear it again.
He quickly changed and glanced at his watch again. An hour and a half before the final game. They were running out of time.
He put the mask with the square on it on and secured the Frontman’s one in his pocket. He took a deep breath before exiting the office and heading towards the players’ dorm. His heart raced with adrenaline as he made his way through the colourful halls. The bullet holes left from the rebellion made them even creepier, straight out of horror movies.
The way didn’t take long and in fifteen minutes Inho reached the room. The triangle guards standing in front of the metal door turned to him and snapped to attention when they saw the square on his mask. There was no sign of their commander, which was strange but in favour of his operation.
“Open the side door,” Inho said, his voice distorted by the modulator.
The guards exchanged looks, surprised by the command.
“Frontman’s orders,” Inho added, and it seemed to convince them.
The guard turned the key, and the door opened with a quiet creak. Inho nodded and stepped inside, immediately heading to Gihun. He wasn’t asleep and watched him, confused, with an anger and hidden fear in his eyes.
“Player 456,” Inho said as he stopped beside his bed. His eyes flickered towards the baby, who was still peacefully asleep, not knowing that her life was in mortal danger. “Frontman wants to see you again.”
Gihun’s gaze hardened as he frowned and put his hand on the baby’s bed protectively. Inho’s heart sank at the sight of it, and he bit his lip under the mask.
He expected Gihun to comply like the first time, but the man croaked instead, “Why? I have nothing to say to him.”
Sometimes that man was so stubborn Inho couldn’t believe himself.
The player on the other side of the room shifted in his bed and made a noise in his sleep.
Inho tensed. They were really running out of time, and he needed Gihun to follow him immediately. He cleared his throat, turned the modulator off, and whispered, “Gihun-ssi. I need you to follow me.”
Gihun backed up, pressing himself against the headboard. His eyes widened in shock. He breathed out, “Are you—?”
Inho nodded.
“It’s me, you’re right. And I need you and the baby to follow me right now.”
“Why would I trust you?” Gihun hissed, frowning again. “It’s one of your mind games, you’re fucking with me. Leave the baby out of it!”
The other player shifted again, and Inho whispered, desperation in his voice. They needed to head out immediately!
“Gihun-ssi! Please, follow me. I’m going to get you and the baby out of this island.”
Gihun still didn’t look convinced, so Inho exhaled softly, “Gihun-ah.”
The informal speech tasted tender on his tongue, and it surely took a toll on Gihun. He gasped and wanted to say something, but Inho interrupted him, “Please, trust me. Only once. I can’t let you and the baby die here.”
There were tears in his eyes again, and Inho blinked to get rid of them.
Gihun didn’t reply, but he got up slowly and picked the baby up, his eyes glued to Inho.
“If you try to play with me again, this time I’ll kill you, I swear,” he said quietly as they headed toward the exit. Inho nodded.
The guards outside were stunned to see Gihun again. This time their commander, another Square Guard, was with them. He stood in front of Inho and raised his hand to stop him.
“Wait! What’s going on?” He glanced at Gihun holding the baby and then back at Inho.
“Frontman’s orders,” Inho repeated, praying for the guard to buy it. “He wants to see Player 456.”
“Again?” Even with the modulator, Inho could hear the guard’s surprised tone. “He saw him just an hour ago.”
Inho grimaced under the mask. They were wasting precious time.
“It was an order from the Captain. It’s not like he explained anything,” he said, trying to sound friendly.
The guard looked at Gihun again and suddenly chuckled, “Fuck, he’s really obsessed with you, huh, Player 456?”
Inho shuddered and took a step forward to protect Gihun from the guard’s mocking tone.
“I need to carry out the order,” he said firmly. “Let us pass.”
He swore the guard rolled his eyes under the mask.
“Okay, go ahead,” he said finally and stepped aside.
Inho let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He nodded to the guard and waved a hand, signalling Gihun to follow him. He glanced at his watch. Fifty-five minutes before the final game. They passed through the halls in silence, Inho focused on appearing on as few cameras as possible. He was sure the staff in the control room started questioning the Frontman's behaviour, and he hoped nobody would dare to disobey his orders. The Officer, his second-in-command, probably was too preoccupied with his little organ trafficking business to care -and for once, Inho was happy about it.
The baby was surprisingly silent too, deep in her sleep. Probably hungry and confused.
“Almost there,” he said as he pressed the button in the elevator and pulled the Frontman’s mask out of his pocket for an identity check. He noticed how Gihun shuddered at the sight of it but didn’t comment.
They stepped into the office, and Inho immediately rushed to the hidden route.
“Come here,” he said and opened the little door. “You need—”
He looked back, confused, at where Gihun was. The man stood near the chair, and stared at the shattered glass and bloodstains in front of him with horror in his eyes. Inho frowned. He had already forgotten about the mess his breakdown left in the room.
“Gihun-ssi!” he snapped his fingers. “I need you to focus, we really have no time.”
His voice seemed to pull Gihun out of his stupor. He nodded and squatted down beside Inho slowly, careful not to wake the baby up.
“There’s a route outside,” he explained. Gihun looked over his shoulder and hummed at the sight of the void below them. “I’ll show you and the baby the way, and you can escape on the speedboat, I’ll give you the keys. Do you understand?”
He turned, and their eyes met. Inho was glad his face was hidden behind the mask and Gihun couldn’t see how wrecked and vulnerable he must have looked now. He examined Gihun’s face briefly. He looked extremely thin and exhausted, with deep shadows under his eyes and large bruises on his cheekbone. Inho knew he hadn’t eat anything throughout the Games and barely touched the dinner the previous evening. He hoped Gihun would be able to make it through his plan.
And he was silent. Almost completely, a striking contrast to Gihun who was quick to argue with Inho — with Youngil — and express his opinion.
Gihun nodded, still keeping his mouth closed.
“And—” Inho hesitated briefly, but decided to proceed. “There’ll be a boat in the meantime. I believe you could meet each other. I’m sure they’ll help you and the baby.”
The mention of the boat finally drew a reaction from Gihun. He raised his eyebrows and muttered, “You know about the boat?”
The surprise on his face made Inho chuckle. Of course he knew about the boat his little brother and his henchmen were using to try to take down the Games. He was the Frontman, after all.
“Yes,” he admitted. “And I know they’re close.”
He got up and took the mask off, finally taking a deep breath. Gihun shuddered again at the sight of his face and hugged the baby tighter as if afraid for her safety. It irked something deep inside Inho - the sight of a once stoic and determined man curled up on the floor, visibly afraid of him.
He raised his hands.
“I’m not going to hurt you or the baby, I promise,” he said in the softest tone possible.
Gihun’s eyes flickered up to meet his own, as if assessing, examining whether he was sincere. It was a complete opposite of how Gihun looked at him — at Youngil — before.
Finally, he nodded and took his jacket off to fasten the baby to himself.
“Look,” Inho said before he could think it through. “I could carry the baby down.”
“No!” Gihun exclaimed. “No.”
Inho narrowed his eyes.
“Gihun-ssi, it’s a very long ladder down. Your hands are trembling,” Gihun squeezed his jacket, trying to hide it. “What if you fall with the baby? Or drop it?”
“Her,” Gihun said quietly. “It’s a girl.”
The baby chose this moment to wake up and start crying. Her little face reddened and scrunched, tears falling down her cheeks. Gihun averted his gaze instantly and started rocking her from side to side.
Inho just stood there, mesmerised by the sight before him. Gihun looked so gentle and vulnerable right now he couldn’t believe he had been ready to let him die a few hours before.
He heard a noise from the elevator. It seemed someone was coming to his office. The Officer? Only he had access to Inho’s quarters.
He shook his head. It didn’t matter at that moment.
“I’ll hand her back to you as soon as we reach the bottom of the ladder. It’s for her safety.”
Gihun hesitated. Inho could see it in his eyes, in his brows knitted together. The noise echoed again, this time closer. It sounded like someone was fighting. And then came a gunshot.
“Gihun, now!” Inho growled, and this time, Gihun handed the baby over to him. They fastened the jacket around Inho’s shoulders with both pairs of their hands, and he was the first to enter the passage.
“Careful, it may be slippery,” he warned Gihun, as they began their descent. “And close the door.” There was a chance they would manage to go unnoticed.
The VIPs might have woken up already and headed to the final game arena. Finalists were about to be brought there too. His absence must’ve been noticed already, and the Officer must’ve been looking for him. Maybe it was him heading to his office? But why were there gunshots? He looked up, monitoring Gihun. He climbed steadily, glancing at the baby from time to time. His hands still trembled, but he seemed to handle it.
They reached about halfway down the ladder, when a loud crash cut through the silence, and someone’s head appeared at the top of the ladder. Inho almost slipped from the step, as he jerked his head back to look. The baby stirred in her sling and cooed quietly, and he had to shush her. They couldn’t allow themselves to blow their cover. The figure above didn’t seem to notice them, as he backed up immediately. And was it a pink hood of the guards uniform?
Inho frowned. He had been absent for mere minutes, and it was already a burning mess up there.
The rest of the descent was calm. Inho reached the ground and jumped down, holding the baby with one hand. He offered the other one to Gihun, but he ignored it and instead demanded, “Give her to me.”
Inho complied. She made a happy noise, when Gihun picked her up and pressed to his chest.
“Over here,” he said and turned to the left. There was a small, almost invisible door in the wall. No one would ever notice it, if they didn’t know where to look. The guards, those organ traffickers, dived outside the building, but Inho wasn’t going to do the same. Several years ago, shortly after becoming a Frontman, he had ordered to build a secret passage just for him to use.
And now that decision came in handy.
He brought the Frontman’s mask to the scanner, and the door opened with a click.
The passage was narrow and low-ceilinged, so Gihun had to hunch down almost in half. The baby didn’t like this move and started bawling, her cries echoing from the stone walls.
“Try to calm her,” Inho said. “We need to be quiet now.”
He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes before the players would be woken up.
Gihun whispered something to the baby, and she seemed to relax in his arms. He was surprisingly good with children.
They got to the end of the tunnel, and he signaled for Gihun to stop at the exit. There was an ocean in front of them, and Inho knew that in a couple of meters there was a pier with the speedboat saved in case he needed to evacuate.
“Wait here, I’ll check the perimeter,” he said, and Gihun nodded, still silent.
The morning was quite chilly, and he shivered as the salty wind ruffled his hair. There wasn't anybody on the coast, as the majority of the guards were involved in the last-minute preparations for the final game. Inho spotted his speedboat and signaled Gihun to follow him.
His heart swelled with muted delight. No way they made it all this way without anyone paying attention to them or the Frontman's absence.
He boarded the boat and held out his hand for Gihun to grab, but the man ignored him again. Inho pursed his lips but didn’t say anything, putting the starting key into the lock instead.
“You start the engine by turning the key,” he instructed. “Then you—”
“Hey!” someone shouted. “The fuck are you doing?”
Inho spun around rapidly. Three guards approached them from the right, the square and two triangles. They had most likely just started their morning shift. Inho cursed himself inwardly. He had misstepped, too preoccupied with Gihun, and completely forgot about the outer perimeter patrol’s schedule.
“And what do we do now?” Gihun suddenly broke the silence, his tone borderline mockery.
Inho shot him a warning gaze.
“Leave it to me,” he mouthed and turned back to the guards.
They approached them and now stood next to the boat, headed by the Square. Inho jumped to the ground and quickly assessed them. Two guns for the Triangles and most likely a revolver for the Square.
“What the fuck are you doing?” the Square repeated, and the Triangles pointed their guns toward him and Gihun. Inho tensed. Three against one, and all he had was a revolver stored in his pants pocket. If he pulled it out quickly enough, he would have enough bullets to shoot them all.
“And why are you without the mask? And with the Player— Players?” He pointed at Gihun and the baby, who stood in the same place. Gihun hugged her tightly, protecting her from the gun.
Inho suppressed a desire to curse out loud. Of course, he forgot his mask, and now everyone could see his face. Mistake after mistake.
“Frontman’s orders,” he tried, knowing well they wouldn’t buy it this time.
“Frontman’s orders?” The Square echoed. “No way he would order something like that.”
A Triangle cocked the gun and pointed it at Inho’s forehead.
“Boss,” he dragged out slowly, “isn’t it Player 001? I think I recognise his face—”
This was the only sign Inho needed.
“On the ground!” he yelled at Gihun and pushed the Square forward. He stumbled back, leaning on the Triangles, and it gave Inho a much-needed second. He pulled the revolver out of his pocket and fired without hesitation.
One of the Triangles fell to the ground, a hole in his forehead. The baby started crying.
“Shoot them!” the Square ordered, as he tried to rise to his feet. But Inho was faster. He leaped forward and slammed into the Triangle, making him lose hold of his gun. He twisted his hand, until his fingers lost their strength and the gun dropped to the ground. The guard thrashed under him, not wanting to give up easily, making it almost impossible to shoot him.
“Youngil!” Gihun screamed behind him, and Inho spun around. The Square had finally recovered and boarded the boat, and now his revolver was pointed at Gihun and the baby. Inho grabbed Triangle by the neck and pressed his weapon to his temple. The Square seemed to falter, but Inho knew it wouldn’t stop him for long, the guards usually didn’t care about each other. His mind raced, coming up with options.
“Put the gun down!” he yelled, just to buy some time to think.
“No,” the guard responded. “The Players must be delivered to the gaming hall—”
Inho shot the revolver out of his hand. The guard wailed, falling to the ground, as the blood gushed from the wound. The Triangle twisted in his hold, but it was no use. Inho shot him without hesitation and pushed the body away. He then rushed to the boat and pulled the trigger, killing the Square.
The silence fell over the coast, interrupted only by the baby’s cries. Inho lowered the revolver slowly, panting and breathless. He then gazed back at Gihun, who sat on the deck, his back pressed to the wall, and panted. Apparently he managed to pull out the knife Inho gifted to him a few hours ago and still held it in front of him. There was fresh blood on his face, most likely from the Square’s wounds.
Inho boarded the boat again and pushed the body overboard. The gunshots were definitely heard by other patrols, and now every second was priceless.
“Gihun,” he said firmly. “Focus on my words. You turn the key to start the engine. Here’s the steering wheel - it works almost like driving a car, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Head north, there is the map and route to Seoul in the navigation system. Do you understand?”
Gihun looked absolutely out of it.
He was about to repeat again when Gihun uttered quietly, “Youngil, come with me.”
Inho froze, completely stunned by his offer.
“What?” he breathed out, dumbfounded.
“Come with me, please. Let’s escape together,” Gihun repeated, just as quiet as before, and looked him in the eyes.
Inho met his gaze and was absorbed by the emotions swirling in those deep brown eyes. There was no hatred in them, no anger Inho could have expected. Instead, Gihun looked at him with sorrow and… hope? Almost like Gihun he had seen in the mirror earlier.
Inho coughed, his heart pounding painfully in his throa
“I— I can’t— The final game—”
Gihun shook his head weakly.
“Do you really think you can go back as if nothing has happened? They’ll kill you.”
They will kill me. Inho tasted the words on his tongue. It’s not like he feared death. For the last ten years, he had felt as if he had been operating on the borrowed time anyway. He didn’t fear death, he was indifferent to it. And he had never even considered the possibility of leaving this island. It was his fate, his life's purpose. And if he was to die today, so be it.
“They won’t,” he assured Gihun and got up. “I need to return, I—”
Gihun grabbed his wrist.
“Youngil, please, I can’t do it alone. The baby, she’s—” his voice grew weaker with each word. By the end of the sentence, his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the floor, unconscious.
“Gihun!” Inho screamed and dropped to his knees next to him. He pressed his fingers to his neck and listened. The pulse was weak but steady. Gihun most likely fainted from exhaustion and malnourishment. He was really too weak to handle the boat and reach Junho by himself.
Inho ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t just give up, when he was so close to saving Gihun and the baby from this island. But he couldn’t leave either. They would search for him, and his presence would put Gihun in danger, and—
Suddenly his mind became as still as the water.
Hadn’t he already put Gihun in extreme danger? And leaving him now like that would only increase it.
So he had no other choice.
He had to leave the island.
Inho stood up once again and turned the key. The engine buzzed to life, and he placed his hands on the steering wheel.
So that was it. How his career as the Frontman had ended.
He steered the boat north and glanced at Gihun again. He looked almost peaceful, if Inho could tune out the blood on his face and the purple bruises. The baby whined quietly, searching for comfort she couldn’t receive.
Suddenly he chuckled and then laughed out loud.
Who would have thought? He would never have.
He focused on the water ahead. Somewhere nearby, Junho was searching for the island - this time destined to find it.
He glanced at his watch. The final game had begun.