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He gives the baby to Jun-ho after six months.
The winnings are transferred to a bank account in his name too. He can’t bear to look at the child, knowing that this is what he died for. He finds himself going through the motions every single day - mechanical and stiff like a robot programmed to serve. The baby slowly grows, but she’s changing too. He realizes that she cries more often, especially when he’s around. When he looks into her eyes, he wonders if his own unborn child could have looked like this too.
The apartment feels lonelier when he’s the only occupant. Every counter and tabletop that once held diapers and baby clothes now hold bottles of alcohol. He drinks to numb the pain at first, pouring a cup more every single night. Then it becomes another bottle. An extra one after that. He takes to walking to the rooftop of his apartment building, swinging dangerously close to the ledge. After a moment’s thought, he often sits down right there, staring down at the dizzying height. People on the street chatter on, going off to nightclubs and bars, unaware that his whole life has stopped right there. His legs dangle back and forth. He wonders how fast the pain would be if he just scoots forward and lets himself go. A sudden thought strikes his mind. No, that wouldn’t be any good. What if he’s paralyzed, but alive? He can’t have that.
And that’s when the hallucinations begin.
He swears that he hears Gi-hun’s voice in his nightmares. His laughter and that tone of voice haunts his daytime too. Sometimes, when he’s in a crowd, he spots a head of hair that looks remarkably similar to his. At nights when he feels no shame, when the alcohol’s running through his veins, he takes out the green tracksuit. Upon his first whiff, he realizes that the jacket doesn’t contain much of a smell. Then, his hands rest upon Gi-hun’s blood soaked shirt. The scent’s still there, even after all these months. He’s pent-up and desperate, especially with his mind not working right. With a single kidney inside his body, he’s surprised how long he’s lasted now. A part of him wishes he took a chance and forced himself off the edge of the rooftop. He places the jacket back into the box, covering his face with the white shirt.
“Gi-hun,” he moans.
He allows the scent to envelop every aspect of his thoughts. Then, against his better judgement, his cock stirs at the very thought of the skin that once touched this fabric. His trembling hands seek out the hem of his pants as he strokes himself a few times. But it’s not enough. He tugs his pants all the way down and wraps the damned shirt around his length, jerking himself off and imagining that Gi-hun’s down there, cheerful and smiling, his lips pleasuring him with a sultry gaze. He doesn’t last very long as he spills his release into his hand with a tired grunt. Then, a wave of disgust hits him without warning. At least the shirt isn’t too soiled, so he can keep it for another time. He places it on the tabletop, struggling to catch his breath.
He rarely leaves his apartment these days. When he feels hunger, he eats whatever he can find in his fridge. He can’t bring himself to order groceries. Anything that he eats feels like sawdust in his mouth, devoid of taste or smell. The hallucinations only grow in intensity. He swears that Gi-hun’s just in the other room, laughing and trying to find something to cook. He begins to leave his apartment at nights, because that’s when his mind gets worse and worse. He takes to wandering the streets, bottle in hand and muttering to himself. He’s aware that he hasn’t showered in over a week. Passerbys give him a wide berth, staying away from this insane and deranged man. In-ho’s aware of how dangerous this can be, especially when he travels off to seedier, more sinister streets and alleyways. At some point, he realizes that he doesn’t care. They can rob him, take all his money, or beat him to death (or worse). Why does any of it matter? Any instincts of self-preservation vanished when he witnessed Gi-hun fall off that tower, forever in a place out of reach.
Then, one night, during his nighttime wanderings, he spots a cop trailing him.
Memories of the past flood his mind without warning. All those nights he worked hard, studying up to be a detective and rise up in the ranks. What was it all for? Nothing. Life feels like a series of staircases, leading up to higher and higher towers, but only for him to find locked doors at every turn.
The cop treats him with kindness and respect, both of which he doesn’t deserve.
“Sir,” he calls out. “You can’t drink here. You’ll have to go back down the other street. There’s a bar over there.”
In-ho fixates his gaze on this complete stranger, wondering how it would feel if he smashed the bottle of whiskey up on his head. His hand twitches, poised to hurt him, but he stops. No, Jun-ho would probably receive the news and try to speak with him. And he doesn’t want to see him ever again. He will never understand what he’s been through.
When he goes back to his apartment, In-ho drops the bottle of whiskey on the ground. The glass shatters, exploding into sharp shards all across the linoleum tiles. Expensive liquor seeps into the floor, millions of won wasted right there beside his feet.
Then, he hears a voice.
“Aish, why did you do that? I’ll have to clean it up now.”
In-ho looks up, his heart pounding. Gi-hun’s laying in his bed, naked as the day he was born. A playful grin spreads on his face as he beckons him forth, more dangerous than a seductive siren on the shores of the ocean. He shuts his eyes and then reopens them. Nope, he’s still there.
“Come back to bed, babe. I can make it worth your while.”
“You’re not real,” he frowns, shaking his head. “Get out. Get out!”
In-ho throws a pillow at the hallucination. In response, he catches it and laughs, his voice ringing out in the din. Normally, if he tries to ignore it, he eventually goes away. But he’s probably drunk too much this evening. He sinks into bed, his arms shaking. Gi-hun places his hands on his back, running them up and down as he rests his chin on his shoulder. His light, soft voice shatters any semblance of remaining sanity left on his soul. A cry shudders out of him as tears pour down his cheeks. Gi-hun wipes them away without a second thought.
“Just rest, I’ve got you.”
“You’re not real,” In-ho repeats. “You’re…”
A sad smile appears on his face, “You should’ve saved me then. This could’ve been real.”
“I tried,” he gasps out. “I really did. I gave you the knife and…”
His voice trails off, while the memories blur in his mind. The alcohol’s forced his thoughts into a complete daze, but he can’t bring himself to care anymore. Gi-hun kisses his cheek and maneuvers him onto the bed. Once he’s laying down, his fingers unbuckle his pants and take out his soft length. He raises an eyebrow and chuckles, stroking him to hardness.
“You’ve drunk too much tonight, honey,” he whispers in a sultry voice. “Think you’ll be able to get it up? Don’t worry, I’m here for this. I’m here for you. Just tell me what you want.”
He fails to answer him. His warm, soft mouth envelops the tip and moans, sending soft vibrations all across his body. He grips his messy hair, pressing him closer to his cock. Gi-hun’s so good at this. He allows himself to disappear into this fantasy, ignoring reality for the sake of his own mental clarity. This could have been his future and his life. If only he wasn’t such a coward. If he had just saved him, this could have been his happy ending forever in this lifetime.
Gi-hun lifts his head, licking his lips. “You taste so good, honey. You’re the best.”
In-ho shakes his head, closing his eyes. “More. More, please.”
“You didn’t save me,” he points out. “You should’ve done more. You should have stopped the games for me.”
“I’m sorry,” he begs. “I’m really sorry. I’ll…I’ll…”
His words fail him. Suddenly, Gi-hun sits up and without warning, sharp convulsions spread across his body. Blood drips from his stomach, right in the spot of his death wound after falling off the tower. He gasps out another word, but In-ho can’t hear it. He lunges, trying to grab him and save him this time, but his hands pass through empty air.
“No!” he screams. “No, please. Don’t leave me!”
Gi-hun collapses to the floor, choking out his last breaths before he dies in front of his eyes again, his eyes locked in a glassy stare. In-ho feels like he’s living in a nightmare all over again. He pinches himself once, then twice. Nope, this is real. He’s breathing too hard, his mind dazed from all the alcohol and passes out right there in bed.
When he wakes up, he’s still unbearably hard. Sunlight filters out through the dark curtains. And Gi-hun’s gone.
The hallucinations don’t stop. He’s always there in his bed. He tries sleeping on the living room couch again, but he follows him there. He’s always happy, smiling without a care in the world. It’s so different to see him in this state, before the games ruined him and made him a shell of his former self. It gets worse at night. He tries screaming at the hallucinations, begging him to take his life. Then, he tries ignoring them. They only get worse and worse as the weeks bleed into months. He drinks himself into a stupor, hoping to pass out instead of staying awake and seeing Gi-hun all over again. When he wakes, he dashes to the toilet to empty out the contents of his stomach. The hangovers only get worse when he doesn’t see a hallucination. His head pounds in misery, so he takes aspirin each morning. He’s seriously considering buying a gun to end it all one night. Or maybe he can just order someone on the street to shoot his brains out.
And then, he receives an encrypted email.
We apologize for the delay. We’re pleased to offer you another position as the head of the American games. Please respond within 24 hours. Failure to comply will result in consequences.
That’s all inside the message. Brief, simple and to the point. He frowns, noting all the attachments with details and logistics for his plane ride to the States. No, he’s not doing this again. He types out a reply, turning down the offer. Then, he receives a phone call late one night. The hallucinations of Gi-hun haven’t arrived yet. In his lonely heart, he almost wants him to appear again, even if he dies once more in his arms. He’ll gladly take that chance again to see his face.
“Hello?” he croaks out.
“Hwang In-ho,” a deep voice says. “Our request was not an offer. It is a demand. Rescind your resignation or we will come over. We are aware of your brother, his partner, and the baby too. We’ve kept an eye on them these days. Make the right decision.”
The voice clicks off. Shock and horror wash over his body like a bucket of ice water. His hands tremble in dazed fury as he clutches his phone before throwing it across the room. The glass shatters on the balcony door, cracks emerging like spiderwebs. He screams into a pillow, wishing for an end to all this. He can’t let Jun-ho or the baby pay for the price of all his mistakes. These people - whoever they are - hold all the cards and the power.
He was a fool to forget about the games that existed all over the world. But he can’t be a hero. He’s not like Gi-hun, who risked his life for years to bring an end to the ones in Korea. Who, despite his reckless behavior, managed to bring some form of change into this world. Someone who never lost sight of the goodness in people.
He showers the next morning, forcing himself into sobriety. He dresses in a clean suit as he tries to rejoin society once more, even if inside, his body is warped and tattered like a desolate landscape. He sends that e-mail and books a plane ticket in first class, trying to remember how to be a normal person again. They say it’s like riding a bike, muscle memory guiding your hands. But after years of staying on that island, he doesn’t know if anything can be normal again.
Before he leaves, he decides to check up on Jun-ho and the baby. He doesn’t even need to hack into the security cameras outside his brother’s apartment building. After sending a few emails, the company sends him the files within an hour. He takes great caution as he follows him to the park, while Jun-ho’s pushing a stroller. He keeps his distance and hides behind a tall tree. The baby’s grown taller now. She’s playing with a little toy in her hands, biting on the top. Then, another man emerges from the distance. In-ho racks his brain and remembers him as one of the mercenaries on the boat. Jun-ho’s face lights up and he pulls him into a tight embrace before kissing him, melting into his protective touch.
In-ho blinks, taking a step back. Oh. That’s who he is. A strange sensation of jealousy rears its head inside his heart like a vile serpent. If his big brother instincts still remained, he would have gone over to this mercenary and demanded answers. Possibly, he could have invited him to dinner and warned him to keep his little brother safe or asked him about his intentions with their relationship. But that man doesn’t exist anymore. He died in the explosion that rocked the island, charring it to pieces. Now, all that’s left is a dry shell.
He sighs, turning away from the happy little family. When he looks down at his hands, blood stains taint the edges of his fingers. No wonder he kept his distance from them. Yet another hallucination to plague his mind.
He packs his bags, aware that he’ll never set foot in this apartment again. He’s also saying goodbye to Gi-hun, in a sense. He’ll never repeat this trip once more. Besides, hallucinations don’t really exist in crowded areas. He’ll never gaze into his eyes again, wondering what his life could have been like in another universe.
A sudden thought strikes his mind, his brain slowly making the connections. Gi-hun has a daughter living there, doesn’t he? He grabs the black and pink box, carefully putting the jacket inside along with a debit card full of his old winnings. When he visited that pink motel all those months ago, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking when he broke the locks. He couldn’t bear to stand in those rooms very long, remembering that Gi-hun used to walk these hallways, plotting to defeat him. Even his scent lingered on some of the surfaces. Gunshots marks and old bullet cases litter the ground and walls. His heart ached when he saw all the messes of old food cartons and cigarettes, wondering how he lived in such a state.
You did this to him. It’s all your fault. You deserve every ounce of misery. You’ll never ever see him again.
The plane ride passes by without any disruptions. He feels like a prisoner heading to the executioner’s axe, trapped in this system that won’t let him leave. He hates the maze of the streets in Los Angeles. The weather’s both dry and humid at the same time. Nothing makes sense in this place. He looks up Ga-yeong’s address, wondering how he’ll word this situation.
When she opens the door, the memories return in full force, reality crashing down like a tidal wave.
“Mr. Seong has passed away. He left these to you, Ga-yeong,” he hears himself saying.
His words don’t make sense, even to his own ears. He feels like he’s drowning in an ocean, weights and chains tied to his legs. How could he be saying them? Tears cling to his eyes as her face falls, taking the box from his hands. He wishes he never decided to come here. She looks so much like Gi-hun, especially those soft doe eyes. It’s just like the baby all over again. He can’t bear to spend a second more in her presence.
He sits back down in the car and witnesses another poor soul lost to the system. Why are they playing ddakji here? The woman stares at him like a treacherous snake, aware of his presence. Does she know who he is?
“Where to next, sir?” his driver asks in a good natured tone.
“Take me to the ocean,” he replies in English, his hands shaking. “Please.”
Night falls when he’s dropped off at the shores of the nearest beach, his driver promising to return within the hour. He tips him generously and tells him not to return, that he’ll find his way back to the hotel on his own. He leaves without another question, counting out the bills with an excited expression. As always, money wins out in the end. He wishes that this system would cease to exist. His fingers twitch, desperate for the taste of whiskey once more, but he needs his mind clear if he’s going to do this.
Once he’s alone, In-ho allows himself to collapse.
He takes off his shoes, feeling the sands beneath his toes. The beach is deserted at this late hour. He spots a bonfire in the distance and signs of litter from other visitors in the daytime, like a chip bag or a broken umbrella. Right in front of his eyes, the ocean gushes like violent creatures, tides shifting back and forth beneath his feet. He allows the sounds and cold sea air to envelop him like a warm embrace. The note sits like a heavy weight in his coat pocket as he shrugs it off, placing it on the ground.
“You’re making a decision.”
He turns, spotting Gi-hun sitting on the sands and sporting a grin as he pats the spot next to him. In-ho collapses at his side as a small smile grows on his face.
“You met my daughter, didn’t you?”
He nodded, “She looks just like you.”
“Is she doing ok?”
“Of course,” he replies.
It’s a blatant lie, but this hallucination doesn’t question it. He rests his head on In-ho’s shoulder, sighing deeply as they both stare into the infinite abyss, dark sea waves churning across the oceans. No words are spoken between them, but the silence grows heavy in the air. Gi-hun reaches for his hand, his warm touch sending sparks across his body, as he finally breaks the silence.
“Maybe I’ll be reincarnated as someone nice in the next life,” he muses, turning to him. “I hope I’m richer.”
He raises an eyebrow, “Seriously?”
“Yeah! What about you?”
He shrugs, “Definitely something bad. Like a sea slug or something.”
Gi-hun laughs, “Oh, honey. I’ll find you then, even if we’re both little worms digging around in the dirt.”
“You truly mean that?”
“Always,” he whispers, drawing him in for a kiss.
In comparison to all their other kisses in his apartment, In-ho loves his one best. It’s slow and soft, languid like they don’t have a care in the world. He buries his hand in his soft hair, pulling him in closer and wishing he could stay in this moment forever. Despite the late hour and the public space, he feels like they’re sitting in a world of their own on this little beach. His heart is a fractured vase, slowly healing from the miseries of the past few months. Peace falls upon his darkened soul.
Then, he stands up and musters up the courage to leave Gi-hun. He reaches for his hand as he rises to his feet, tugging him back to the sand.
“In-ho,” he begs, his eyes flooding with tears. “Don’t leave me just yet.”
“I’ll find you,” he promises him. “In the next life. I will, I know it.”
“I think I love you,” he grins. “Do you love me?”
“Yes…yes, I do.”
His throat closes up in grief as he takes a step closer to the ocean. And then another one. The sea feels like a dangerous behemoth, ready to swallow him in a moment’s notice. But he’s not afraid anymore. The note sits there in his coat pocket, far away from any tidal waves that could send it out to sea. Maybe it’ll make it back to Jun-ho a few months later. Maybe he’ll know why he chose this ending for himself. Instead of the type of ending that the VIPs would have given him.
But until then, he’ll have to deal with the grief of losing his big brother all over again. A breath catches into his throat as the memories surge through his head without warning. Holding his little brother in his arms for the first time. Graduating top of his class at the academy. Marrying his wife and then losing her within the span of a few years. His own games, blood soaked shirts and tear stained faces on dirt encrusted floors. The heavy mask that clouded his vision and blocked off any emotions that threatened to rise up to the surface.
And finally, Gi-hun. Every moment in the games. That night where they both stayed up as he told him the fabricated truth about his past. Playing those mini-games with him and feeling his ankle brushed up against his own. The mingle room frenzy as he stared at him. The rebellion, where he gave him the last of his ammunition. Watching him take care of that baby like a proud, perfect parent. The future they could have had lingers out of reach like the pulsing moonlight shining down upon the sea. And then…nothing.
A cry escapes his lips as he takes another step into the ocean. The waves churn beneath his knees this time, beckoning him forth like a seductive siren of the sea. He figures that he’ll just need another few steps until the ocean swallows him into nothingness. Returning back to the water was never his initial plans. No, he contemplated other ways of ending it over the past few months. But this way, he’ll understand that he’s also staging a little rebellion of his own. That the higher-ups here in America can’t force him to be a part of their games anymore. He only hopes that they leave Jun-ho alone and don’t make any attempts to punish him for his own decisions.
Water rushes into his lungs at top speed as he tries to take another breath. His head’s dangerously close to sinking below the waves right now. He gladly accepts it, forcing himself to comply with that siren’s song deep beneath the ocean. His limbs flail as he chokes out, breathing in the briny sea as his eyes roll back in his head. He forces himself not to resist, closing his eyes and allowing death to take him into its waiting arms.
He hopes Gi-hun is right. That they’ll be reunited in the next life, no matter what they’re reincarnated as. He doesn’t care what type of karma he has anymore. His soul will seek his own out like two magnets connecting from a far off distance. He won’t be out of reach. He can touch him again.
When the authorities find his body the next morning, he has a smile on his face.