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When the elevator doors slide open, Seong Gi-hun feels like his life is nearing its end.
It’s a strange feeling. It makes his body feel light like he’s floating, his senses suffocated yet overstimulating. Like life flashing before your eyes. One would argue he’s felt it for years now. But now as he sees the Front Man waiting for him at the end of the hallway, his body is anxiously screaming, ‘run’.
But Gi-hun doesn’t run. He steps out of the elevator, and as the doors close behind him, he feels a jolt, a jump one’s body does to wake them up from their dream.
He slowly walks along the hallway, the black textured walls painted in yellow light, the two chandeliers guiding him to the room that felt lifeless, like a simple display of items never to be used, only admired. There is a wooden chair in front of a more comfortable, almost royal-like cushioned chair where the masked man is seated. The difference in their chairs is nothing more but an insult.
When he speaks, his voice makes Gi-hun feel oddly cold.
“Have a seat. This could take a while.”
Gi-hun slowly circles around the chair before he slowly sits down, never taking his eyes off the Front Man. Despite everything, Gi-hun refused to back down nor show weakness.
Despite everything, he still had faith in people.
That is why he was ready to talk this all out.
“I have a proposition for you.”
The Front Man sets down a knife onto the round table between them. It’s decorated like an emblem, a heirloom passed from one man to another. Gi-hun stares down at it and scoffs at the given proposition; Killing them all so he’d win the games again.
It was a tempting offer, perhaps the only way to save the life of an innocent child. But it would go against everything Gi-hun had fought for. It would go against the very reason he was here now. It would mean that everything had amounted to nothing.
“Do not be so stubborn”, the Front Man interrupted his thoughts. “You know that they will try to kill you and the child.”
“I will talk to them”, Gi-hun says quietly, his eyes still looking at the knife. It was calling to him, but its voice was distant like an echo.
“They will not listen”, the Front Man said.
“I’ll make them.”
A heavy sigh echoed through the mask. “I’ve never been able to change your mind on anything.”
Gi-hun furrowed his brows. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, staring at the man before him. “The games are supposed to be fair. Equal. Doesn’t this defeat the purpose?”
A short silence breaks the mystery between them. Gi-hun waits patiently for an answer, for a moment feeling confident for being able to push the other into a corner of a dilemma. But when the Front Man speaks again, Gi-hun feels like he’s back in the limo, dirty and blindfolded, and not knowing whether he was dead or lost.
“You are much more important.”
Gi-hun swallowed. And for the first time since he’d entered this floor, he no longer had any control. “Who are you .. ?”
The Front Man pulls down the hood of his suit and then grabs onto his mask. There’s small hesitation before he finally lowers the mask and eventually abandons it to the floor. A familiar pair of eyes slowly looks up, holding the same intriguing secrecy within them. Gi-hun’s blood runs cold as he realizes who it is. Suddenly he remembered all those times their eyes had met before, how that look he couldn’t read made him feel so many things.
Now he understood what those eyes were after.
“Oh Young-il”, Gi-hun quietly gasps out his name.
“My real name is Hwang In-ho”, he corrects. “Are you happy to see me?”
Gi-hun breaks. His hand reaches for the knife and pulls off the guard. He stands up so quickly that his chair gets knocked over. The hand holding the blade is shaking. Gi-hun’s whole body is trembling as he hisses through his teeth and fights back the tears.
His mind is running wild, putting puzzle pieces together that only create a distorted image of the truth. He thinks of all the people he has lost, the trail of blood that follows his desperate search for goodness. But more than anything he thinks of all the moments he has shared with Young-il --- No, with In-ho. Everything they had said to each other, the shared looks, the teamwork, that one strange moment in the men’s bathroom where the other man had laid his hand on Gi-hun’s shoulder and said something slightly suggestive, only to change its meaning the moment Gi-hun rejected him, not out of disgust but simple shyness.
All that was now matterless.
His heart aches from this betrayal.
In-ho’s eyes stay glued on the man, completely ignoring the knife he had once used himself. His only focus, his only mission, is the very man holding the blade.
“Do you want to kill me?” In-ho asks calmly. He lifts his chin up slightly, a dare. “Go ahead. It’s just you and me here.”
Gi-hun finds it impossible to move. He can barely hear anything. His heart’s rhythm is pulsating through his veins. Questions fill up his head. The urge for revenge makes him sweat. The realization he had not saved anyone made his eyes water.
In-ho waits for him patiently. “There’s no one here to stop you”, he says.
Those words make something click inside Gi-hun’s head. He leaps on top of the table, then over it until he’s on top of In-ho. Gi-hun’s position is slightly awkward with one leg on the side of the couch while the other is still on the floor, but it doesn’t stop him from pushing on. He presses the blade underneath In-ho’s chin and stares into his eyes.
But he didn’t have the strength to pierce the skin.
Gi-hun’s hand begins shaking more violently. He hisses through his teeth and fights back the tears but he can’t make himself move. The hunger to kill was still there, stronger than ever before, but everything else in his body was yelling against it.
Suddenly Gi-hun stopped breathing. He stares at the man behind it all, the man who he could blame for everything that had gone wrong, and despite everything, all Gi-hun sees is another life worth saving.
He slowly draws the blade away.
In-ho’s eyes relax. “This is why I find you so fascinating”, he confesses. “So much hope and love inside you. Even when the world is against you, you still believe in good.”
Gi-hun lowers his head, and without realizing, he has kicked himself up to fully straddle the man, his legs on both sides of his. “Do you not have … even a drop of pity for us?” he breathes out.
In-ho hesitates with his answer. “For some, perhaps”, he says. The tone of his words is still so callous that it’s impossible to tell whether this was yet another lie. “But I am not as optimistic about them as you are.”
Gi-hun looks up. “But you are?” he releases a painful chuckle. “The way you worked with us during the games, how you encouraged us, believed in us … I’ve seen your smile. It was genuine.”
At first, In-ho gives no reaction. There’s a small twitch in his eyes like he’s fighting back his own emotions, and when he inhales deeply and exhales, the air comes out shaky.
“Despite everything, you still have such faith in me?” In-ho asks. His mouth curves into a smile.
Like an excited puppy, Gi-hun smiles, too, and his body gently jumps up. “Yes. Yes, I do”, he says as one hand moves to caress In-ho’s face, while the other stays by his shoulder, only two fingers still holding the knife. “I know there is good in you.”
Now for the first time tonight, In-ho’s hands are on him. One of them rises up Gi-hun’s thigh. The other touches the hand on his cheek, and as something changes in In-ho’s eyes, he presses his face harder against the palm. In-ho closes his eyes and focuses on the warmth.
Gi-hun strokes his thumb against his cheekbone. "There is good in you. I know it. I've seen it", he whispers.
In-ho smiles. “You are wrong”, he says quietly. Gi-hun’s shaking his head, but before he can reply, In-ho has lifted his head and leaned in closer. In response, Gi-hun leaned away, his eyes watching with questions. In-ho doesn’t wait for him to speak. His hand grabs the other by the collar of his jacket and pulls him down to meet his lips. The contact is messy and rough. Their teeth knock against each other uncomfortably and Gi-hun yelps into his mouth, but In-ho instead releases a satisfied hum, like he’s been waiting for this, like he loves how it feels despite the roughness.
Finally, Gi-hun finds the strength to push him away. He’s panting as he looks down at the other, questions filling his mind again. In-ho stares back up at him, his eyes now wild.
“Gi-hun”, In-ho says. The name gets stuck in his throat and comes out quiet and hoarse, like a desperate plea echoing up from a hole. His mouth hangs open, and Gi-hun licks his lips.
With a whispered curse, Gi-hun leans down and kisses him, properly this time. Their lips find the right place to rest, their noses no longer poking each other, their tongues no longer getting caught between the teeth. Gi-hun furrows his brows together and gasps into his mouth. He tries his best to keep his focus while hopefully distracting the man underneath him - One hand is caressing the side of In-ho’s face, the other holding onto the knife firmly.
In-ho moans into the kiss, the kind of sound neither of them expected him to make. To silence himself, In-ho kisses him harder and pushes his tongue inside the other's mouth. As a response, Gi-hun rocks his hips forward.
“Kill them”, In-ho says before kissing him again, hard enough to bruise, lovingly enough to make one blush. “For me.”
He’s coursing Gi-hun into another deadly game, into a false sense of a promise that everything would turn out fine.
“I – I can’t”, Gi-hun says before gasping for air. He tilts his head to the side and In-ho takes it as an invitation to bury his teeth into his neck. The groan Gi-hun releases stirs the man on. It takes a moment for Gi-hun to realize that there are two hands now opening his pants and tucking his shirt up to reveal more of him.
“I know”, In-ho sucks on his skin hard enough for it to hurt. “But you will.”
A button flies open. A fly is pulled down. And then, a pair of fingers slide underneath the waistband.
Gi-hun gasps violently. “I can’t!” he shouts and strikes his hand down with a forceful swing. He hits something and feels it sink in, but Gi-hun doesn’t realize the extent of what has happened until he finally dares to look.
His shaking fingers are still holding onto the knife that now was buried in In-ho’s shoulder. The already dark fabric of his jacket was turning darker, the man’s face gasping and red. Gi-hun stares with wide eyes and tries to catch air into his lungs.
“I – I’m sorry, I didn’t –”, he gasps in panic and releases his grib. He hisses as he inspects the damage, but it’s impossible to tell how deep the blade had gone. His hand gently lays itself by the blade, catching blood onto his skin.
“Gi-hun”, In-ho says, completely calm. Gi-hun can barely hear it, so In-ho calls to him again, and again, but when he gets no response, his hands continue their journey inside his pants. Only when his fingers had wrapped around his cock and pulled it out did Gi-hun finally wake up.
“O-oh”, he mumbled as he looked down. He’s already hard and In-ho hasn’t even moved his hand. No wonder - It was his left hand around his cock, and it was his left shoulder that had the blade.
“Won’t you try? For me?” In-ho asks with pleading eyes, hiding both innocence and wickedness behind the iris. His hand slowly strokes up towards the head. The contact is dry yet it still makes Gi-hun tremble.
“Imagine the things we could do together”, In-ho says as he brings his hand up to his own face, licks it seductively before spitting on it and returning it to Gi-hun’s cock. He gives one stroke and Gi-hun moans.
He tries to close his legs, but In-ho spreads his own, forcing Gi-hun to fall deeper into his lap. His hands grab onto the back of the couch, but it barely brings any support. When In-ho’s hand finds a slow but steady rhythm, it becomes nearly impossible to stay still.
Gi-hun closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. His arms are fully extended and straight, leaving space between their bodies. His hips keep jerking back and forth, both escaping the touch and leaning into it. When In-ho’s thumb slides over his frenulum, Gi-hun hisses and his body jolts.
In-ho leans in closer, grimacing at the pain flowing down his arm but ignoring it for the sake of the other man’s pleasure. He wraps his other arm around Gi-hun, presses his hand against his lower back and pulls him in.
“We can rid this world of heartless bastards”, In-ho says with a smile. “We can pick and choose the trash to eliminate.”
Gi-hun can’t bring himself to answer. The hand on his cock is now stroking faster, but it’s a delicious mixture of just enough to bring one close to the edge but never allowing one to cross. It makes Gi-hun feel high. His eyes can barely stay open, his mouth can barely stay closed. Without his permission his hips have started bucking into the hand, fucking the hole the fingers create.
In-ho pulls him down until he collapses on top of him. He presses his mouth back against Gi-hun’s neck and sucks on the skin before sinking his teeth in. Gi-hun yelps but finds no escape, no support, no nothing. Everything that had kept him composed until now had evaporated.
“Do you feel powerless right now?” In-ho asked in between kisses, his mouth wetting the other man’s neck until it would be covered in marks that would tell everyone that he was his. In-ho’s hand squeezed harder, making the other release a pathetic sound that made his own body tremble. In-ho smiled against his skin. “Or is it empowering to surrender?”
His words are like tar that suck Gi-hun deeper, and the more he resists the more he sinks in. His cock twitches against the palm and Gi-hun rocks harder, simultaneously bucking his hips forward and rolling his bottom down in a desperate attempt to grind against In-ho. He feels like he’s going to explode, sweat making his suit stick to his skin uncomfortably, the sound of the fabric so violent something might soon rip. But just as Gi-hun felt like he was near his goal, In-ho’s hand stops. Gi-hun screams with his mouth closed.
In-ho’s teeth nibble at his throat, bruising it, marking the man as his belonging. When he pulls back, he moves his other hand to cup Gi-hun’s cheek. He holds his head up until Gi-hun finds the strength to look him in the eyes.
“Look at me”, In-ho said as his hand continued moving, focusing on the head, teasing it, spreading the pre-cum. “Beg for it.”
“Shit”, Gi-hun cursed, his moist bottom lip shaking. He gasped for air, his eyes rolling back to his head, and after blinking rapidly, he gathered his strength to keep his eyes on In-ho. “P-please.”
That was enough. In-ho watches him while his hand strokes him, fast and ruthless and noisy. It only takes a few seconds for Gi-hun to come. His hips rise up as he stains the other man’s clothes, his mouth hanging open as he releases sounds more beautiful than an orchestra. When In-ho’s hand doesn’t stop, Gi-hun begins convulsing, his body rocking and legs shaking. He moans In-ho’s name multiple times until his voice breaks, and only when his hand finds the blade’s handle and he twists it, does In-ho finally stop his stroking.
Gi-hun collapses on top of him, breathless and broken. He falls nearly limp, and In-ho holds him, caresses him while ignoring his own wound that would become fatal the longer he ignores it.
“Now go”, In-ho urges him, pushing Gi-hun to straighten himself. “End the game. Tonight. Join me. Be mine.”
Gi-hun’s eyes blink lazily. “I can’t”, he whispers. “I can’t.”
Gi-hun collapses again, burying his face against the uninjured shoulder. He breathes heavily until he violently gasps, then sobs. He begins pleading, but his words become a quiet mess that is impossible to comprehend. In-ho listens and understands the message.
The large screen behind their shared chair turns on after a moment or so. Its light hits Gi-hun and he opens his eyes. He looks at the screen, at first not having enough care to watch, but when he recognizes the room, he slowly pushes himself back up to sit and watch.
The screen shows the room where they sleep. Everyone was in their beds, sleeping quietly. Two pink guards were walking towards Gi-hun’s empty bed and the small cot next to it. One of the guards gently picks up the baby and carries it away. The other one is pouring something onto the bed and the cot, something wet and darkly colored, and then places an object onto the floor. When both of the guards have left the room, the lights turn on and the rest of the players wake up with annoying groans.
Then, an announcement is heard.
“Player 456, eliminated. Player 222, eliminated.”
Gi-hun’s eyes widen. He watches the screen in shock where the rest of the players investigate the scene and turn on each other, questioning what had happened, who had done it, who had foiled their plans for the next game. Their shouting is the last thing Gi-hun hears before the screen turns off.
“Do you see it now, Gi-hun?” In-ho asks. His hand grabs onto the knife and pulls it out with a single pained grunt before he points the sharp end of the blade underneath Gi-hun’s chin.
In-ho smirks. “I’d do anything for you.”
He then turns the knife around so that the handle is pointed at Gi-hun, and after careful consideration, Gi-hun slowly takes the knife.