LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 17: Chapter 17
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They slowly got over to their beds as the time counted down. The anticipation was thick, pressing against them like an invisible weight. Every second dragged, stretching unbearably, making the atmosphere feel suffocating. Fear, adrenaline, and grim determination mixed in the air, settling into the marrow of their bones.
5.
A sharp inhale. Rae-a's fingers twitched at her sides, her nails digging into her palm. The feeling of the cold metal bed frame against her back was grounding, but it did nothing to ease the tension coiling in her gut.
4.
She turned her head slightly, eyes scanning the dimly lit room. Shadows flickered across tense faces, some staring blankly at the ceiling, others whispering silent prayers. She swallowed hard. They were all waiting, bracing themselves for what was to come.
3.
Her breathing evened out—not calm, just controlled. She had to be ready. She could not afford fear, not now. The weight of what was about to happen pressed down on her chest, but she forced it aside. The Frontman was out there. The end of these games was within reach. But only if they made it through the night.
2.
Rae-a slowly slid her hands under the mattress, feeling the cool steel of the weapon hidden there. A makeshift blade—small, but enough. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She tightened her grip, steadying herself.
1.
Lights out.
Darkness swallowed them whole. A single moment of silence, so thick and heavy it was deafening. Then—
Showtime.
Rae-a, along with the others, shifted carefully, slipping out from the beds as if the floor beneath them were made of glass. The air felt electrified, every breath controlled, every movement deliberate. One wrong sound, one misstep, and it all came crashing down.
She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, mentally preparing. The chaos was coming. Blood, betrayal, survival—she knew what she was about to witness. But this time, it was not just about the initial battle. Tonight, they were here for something bigger. Tonight, they aimed to end the games for good.
To find the Frontman. To bring him down and tear apart the empire he had built from the suffering of others. Every move they made tonight had to be calculated, precise. There was no room for hesitation, no room for mistakes. The walls around them felt like they were closing in, the weight of what they were about to do pressing down on them like an unforgiving vice. But Rae-a refused to let doubt creep in.
Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the blade. This was it. Every moment of pain, every life lost, every scream that had echoed in these walls—it all led to this night. They would strike, they would fight, and they would make sure that no one else ever had to endure this nightmare again.
For all those who had died. For all those still trapped. For herself.
Suddenly, what sounded like at least fifty feet slammed against the ground in unison, stampeding forward like a herd of wild beasts. The O's were launching their attack.
A woman's scream ripped through the air, high-pitched and gurgling as a blade carved through her flesh. The sound of tearing sinew and the wet, visceral squelch of metal sinking into bodies filled the room. The scent of copper thickened, invading every breath, metallic and nauseating. The building lights flickered violently, creating a disorienting, stuttering effect—bodies lurching mid-motion, frozen for split seconds before jolting forward again. It distorted reality, making the slaughter feel eerily slow, like a nightmare stretching into eternity. Shadows twisted against the walls, elongating and warping in grotesque, nightmarish shapes as the emergency lights cast erratic bursts of red over the carnage unfolding.
Screams erupted from every direction, a chorus of agony and desperation. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, fear, and freshly spilled blood. The shattering of glass punctuated the chaos, followed by the sickening crunch of bodies hitting the cold floor, unmoving. This wasn't a fight—it was a one-sided massacre.
Underneath the bunks, the X side fighters remained hidden, pressed against the ground like prey as death unfolded above them. Rae-a's breath was slow, controlled, but her entire body vibrated with the effort of staying still. Her jaw tightened, rage seeping into her vision like ink spilling through water.
Shoes pounded against the floor, sprinting in all directions, slipping in the pools of blood forming between bodies. The copper tang was thick on her tongue, and the heat of bodies too close, too frantic, made the air suffocating. Through the gaps in the bunks, she saw boots stomping down on lifeless limbs, the brutal efficiency of killers who had given themselves over to madness.
She looked to her friends, each of them frozen in place, faces pale, their terror threatening to betray their silence.
Her gaze locked onto Young-il.
He didn't blink, didn't breathe—just stared at her, unflinching, as if memorizing every detail of her face. The flickering light cast fractured shadows across his features, making him look almost unreal, frozen in a moment that stretched between them like a thin, fragile thread. His dark eyes gleamed in the chaos, intense and unreadable, as if he was silently trying to etch this image of her into his memory, knowing it might be the last time. Blood spatters in erratic bursts, the coppery scent thick in the air, but neither of them moved. The screams continued around them, a crescendo of horror, but between them, there was only silence—heavy, suffocating, and laced with something neither of them could name.
Rae-a's heart slammed against her ribcage as the blood-curdling scream echoed through the small, dimly lit room. It cut through the air like a knife, sharp and jagged. Dae-ho's voice—strangled, desperate—pierced her senses, sending a jolt of cold panic racing through her limbs. Her eyes snapped toward the sound, finding Dae-ho's form half-hidden under the bunk, his legs kicking in a frantic, futile attempt to break free from the vice-like grip of a huge, burly man.
Rae-a's breath caught in her throat. The moment her feet hit the floor, the world felt like it was closing in around her. Her mind flooded with urgency, with the need to do something, anything, to stop this from spiraling out of control. Her body moved on instinct, but every step felt like it was dragging her deeper into a nightmare.
"Dae-ho!" she shouted, her voice hoarse with panic. But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
The burly man pulled Dae-ho by his arms, dragging him across the floor like a ragdoll, each scrape of his body against the rough concrete a sickening sound that made Rae-a's stomach churn. She watched as Dae-ho's arms flailed helplessly, his eyes wide with terror, his mouth opening to scream again, but his voice was nothing more than a desperate rasp. Her mind raced, processing, analyzing—What do I do? What can I do?
Every option she considered fell apart. If she charged in, she'd be outmatched. The thought of losing him—the thought of losing anyone else—made her chest tighten, but there was no room for hesitation. She had to think. Her muscles tensed, her fingers curling into fists as the seconds ticked by, each one dragging her closer to the edge.
She took a breath. One steady, deep breath, pushing back the rising tide of panic threatening to drown her. She threw herself from the bunk and directly into the line of fire, swiftly jumping between bodies as she ripped the X off of her jacket to conceal her side.
The burly man stopped in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder, locking onto Rae-a, who came running in. His smirk was slow, calculating, as though he was savoring the moment. "Didn't think you'd be stupid enough to come rushing in, girl," he sneered, dragging Dae-ho's body closer to him. "But I knew you'd come. Always playing the hero, aren't you?"
The words hung in the air, twisting into something suffocating. Always playing the hero.
That's something Young-il would say to her. The thought stirred something in her—disgust, perhaps—because hearing it from this man, Player 217, made her skin crawl. It was vile. She felt the weight of it like a slap, how casually he used the words to mock her. To her, those words would always belong to Young-il, even if he had never meant them as an insult.
Rae-a's stomach tightened, but she didn't let the words distract her. Every muscle in her body was taut, coiled, and ready to act. But she couldn't afford to rush in blindly—not now, not with the stakes this high.
The burly man released his grip on Dae-ho, letting the young man collapse onto the floor with a groan. Rae-a's eyes flickered to Dae-ho's terrified face, his body twitching with the shock of the pain. But there was no time to check on him. No time for hesitation.
Before Rae-a could make her next move, the air thickened with the presence of more figures. From the shadows of the room, four more men stepped forward, each one larger than the last. Their collective weight seemed to press down on Rae-a like a suffocating cloud. She counted them quickly, her mind calculating her options with the same cold precision that had kept her alive through every twisted game so far.
For a split second, Rae-a's mind froze, unable to process her next move. The four men around her tightened their circle, eyes narrowing, and she knew—she was running out of time. The odds were too stacked against her—too many of them, and not enough space to maneuver.
"Get up, you pathetic fool," the burly man growled at Dae-ho, kicking his side, sending him sprawling to the floor with a sickening thud. Dae-ho gasped, his breath ragged and shallow, his hands shaking as he tried to push himself up.
Rae-a could see it—the fear in his eyes, the trembling of his limbs. She couldn't save him like this. She had to think.
She took another steadying breath, even as her pulse thrummed in her ears. Options. Think through the options. She couldn't take them all down, not like this, not with her surrounded.
In a split second, her mind raced through the plans she'd learned over the years—strategies and tactics that had once saved her life and those around her. She knew she couldn't afford to rush into this—and the world around her went quiet. A moment of clarity amidst the chaos. It was a delicate dance now, one of negotiation, subtlety, and timing.
Rae-a dragged in a slow breath, forcing her body to still, forcing the erratic pounding of her heart to settle even as her skin prickled under their gazes. She flicked her eyes lazily across the men, as if none of them posed a real threat, as if she wasn't calculating every possible escape route in her mind. The panic had dulled into something sharper now, something more controlled. These types of men thrived off fear, and she refused to give them what they wanted.
"Let him go," she said, her voice smooth but edged with something cold. "I'll go with you. Whatever you want me to do."
A silence stretched between them, thick with something vile, the weight of their stares pressing down like an unspoken claim. Their gazes dragged over her, lingering in places that made her stomach twist, but she didn't flinch. She kept her expression schooled into something unreadable, only allowing the faintest curl of her lip in disgust. The burly man in front—217—tilted his head, considering her offer, and the smirk that spread across his face made her fingers twitch with the urge to drive a fist straight through his throat.
"You can have me," Rae-a added, her voice just a touch louder, her words dripping with the same subtle challenge she knew would get under his skin. "But you won't get anything if you keep him here. Let him go, and you'll get what you want without any trouble. But if you keep him, things get... complicated."
The burly man scoffed, the sound deep and mocking. "You think you can just talk your way out of this, little girl?" he spat. His eyes darted to the others, a silent command, and the tension thickened, an invisible rope pulling tighter, pulling Rae-a deeper into a trap she'd barely begun to untangle.
But Rae-a held her ground. Her gaze flicked to Dae-ho for a fraction of a second—just enough time to make sure he understood. She was here to buy him time. She pressed the message into her stare, into the way her shoulders tensed with the weight of what was coming next.
Run. Hide. Don't wait. Just go.
She hoped he understood. The last thing she wanted was for him to hesitate, to think he could help her. He couldn't.
Dae-ho didn't hesitate. He stumbled upright and sprinted into the darkness, his footsteps sharp against the concrete before vanishing into the distant echoes of the dorm. Rae-a didn't turn to watch, didn't track his movement, because her focus remained locked onto the men still in front of her. They hadn't moved. They were waiting, watching, as if giving her the illusion of choice. The silence stretched too long, tension thickening the air, suffocating in its weight.
Dae-ho, consumed by fear, dashed toward the nearest bunk, scrambling beneath it for cover. He curled into the shadows, his heart racing, every instinct telling him to stay hidden. He hoped, more than anything, that Rae-a could find a way out of this. He knew he'd been used as bait, a pawn to get to her, but despite it all, he genuinely hoped she'd make it through. She had risked her life for them more than enough.
They expected her to step forward. To surrender.
Instead, she shifted.
A slight adjustment of her feet, the smallest flex of her hands at her sides, a movement subtle enough that most wouldn't recognize it for what it was. But these men weren't stupid. They didn't trust easy compliance, and in the split second that their eyes narrowed, suspicion flashing across their faces, Rae-a moved.
She turned sharply and ran.
The response was instant—an explosion of shouts, the scrape of boots against concrete as the men scrambled to react.
"Shit—get her!"
"Where the hell—?"
A hand swiped at her shoulder, barely missing as she weaved through the bunks, moving with the kind of efficiency that only came from knowing every inch of the space. The dormitory was chaos, a labyrinth of metal and shadow, but Rae-a had spent enough nights watching, studying, memorizing every blind spot and escape route. She pushed forward, breath controlled despite the burn in her muscles, despite the stampede of footsteps rapidly closing in behind her. The carnage still raged around her, flashes of light cutting through the gloom, the sharp sounds of screams and the echo of bodies hitting the ground.
She could hear their frustrated swearing, the sharp crack of someone's knuckles snapping in a futile attempt to release the anger building inside them. It was the kind of sound that made her lips twitch into the faintest smile—because it meant they weren't expecting her to be this fast. Or this smart. She was already several moves ahead of them, and they still hadn't realized.
Her goal was razor-sharp and unyielding: to get them as far away from her group as possible, to drag their attention solely onto her. She needed to create enough distance so that they wouldn't even think about going after anyone else. If they decided to take another, more vulnerable person, it could be too late. They'd have to focus on her, and only her. She'd already learned the hard way what happened when they didn't.
She wasn't about to make that mistake again. Not when she was far enough from her friends that they no longer had the leverage they thought they had. The game had shifted. There was no one left they could threaten, no more people they could use as bait to force her into submission.
She was in control now.
And they'd made a grave error in underestimating exactly who they were dealing with.
A sharp turn—she barely ducked beneath a bunk, hands pressing to the floor as she slid, pivoting the second she was through. There was no time to look back, but she heard the impact of bodies colliding behind her, the harsh curses as two of them nearly tripped over each other trying to follow. Her lips almost twitched into something amused, but she didn't waste time reveling in their failure.
Then, just as suddenly as she started, she stopped.
Rae-a planted her feet firmly against the cold, hard floor, her chest rising and falling in steady, controlled breaths, every muscle coiled and prepared for the next move. She remained still, her body rigid, as if she was waiting for the very ground beneath her to shift. Her gaze didn't waver from the approaching men, but her mind was already calculating, her every thought laser-focused on the escape she was about to create.
The men hesitated for just a fraction of a second—an imperceptible pause in their pursuit, a momentary crack in their confidence before they started moving in. Their footsteps slowed, became more deliberate, as if they were savoring their victory. Each step they took was a silent promise that they thought they'd won. Their confidence grew with every inch they closed, as if the gap between them and her would mean their dominance.
"That was stupid," one of them sneered, his grin wide and predatory, his eyes glinting as he stepped forward. He licked his lips slowly, like someone about to savor their prey, his gaze crawling over her with a sickening intensity. His words dripped with disdain, but there was something else in the way he spoke, something far more dangerous.
They thought she was out of options.
They thought they'd backed her into a corner, that there was nowhere for her to go. They were so sure that they'd cut off every path, every escape route, that they couldn't even imagine she had something else in mind.
Rae-a, however, saw it all differently. The world around her seemed to narrow, the noise of the men's footsteps fading into the background, and the air itself growing still. She turned slowly, her head tilting just slightly as she faced them head-on. Her expression was blank, impassive, as if she was completely detached from the situation. Her eyes locked onto them with a chilling calm, and it was clear in that moment—she wasn't afraid. She wasn't trapped. She wasn't a victim in this game.
She flicked her gaze around the space in a slow, careful sweep, her mind running through calculations at an alarming speed. Under the bed. Through the railing. Over the bunks. Left. Right. Every exit was burned into her mind, every possible route measured in terms of time, risk, and distance. If they lunged, she already knew where she'd go before they could touch her.
The men only saw a girl trapped.
She saw a game that had just begun.
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The men closed in on her, the air thick with their laughter and taunts, as they formed a tight half ring around her. Their voices grew louder, harsher with every step they took, their jeering unrelenting. They mocked her for thinking she could run, for believing she could escape. Each insult cut like a knife, but Rae-a didn't flinch, didn't even blink. She stood perfectly still, her body coiled like a predator waiting to strike. Her gaze remained unwavering, cold, and unflinching as she raised her hands slowly to her face, in defence, fingers brushing the edges of her features as if she was in complete control.
Her stance shifted, lowering just a fraction, muscles tightening beneath the surface, ready to spring at the slightest provocation. She didn't need to look around to know her friends were far out of reach, hidden in the shadows, and now—she was utterly alone. She was the target.
But there was no fear in her eyes, no sign of weakness. The men thought they had her cornered, trapped. They thought they had broken her. But Rae-a was far from finished.
Player 217, the largest and most imposing, stepped forward, his presence suffocating as he towered over her. His eyes gleamed with a mix of satisfaction and cruelty, and the others fell in line behind him, each one licking their lips like dogs eyeing a kill. They thought they had won.
"You really thought you could run?" One of them sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "You were never going to get away."
Another man chuckled darkly, leaning in closer, his words coming out in a low growl. "You think anyone's coming to save you? They're long gone."
But then it was Player 217's voice that broke through the air, cold and chilling. "Did you enjoy playing freedom, sweetheart?" His words were slow, deliberate, almost mocking, as he inched closer to her, his frame imposing as his shadow loomed over her. "Your dad is waiting for you back home, you know. And you owe him far more than you could ever get from these games."
The moment those words hit her ears, the world around her seemed to freeze, as if time itself had decided to hold its breath. Rae-a's breath caught in her throat, her pulse suddenly thudding painfully in her ears. Her body stiffened, her chest tightening as the words sank in, and her eyes flickered in a moment of pure shock. Her father.
The realization was like a cold wave crashing over her, sharp and suffocating. The fear, the chill of it, wasn't the cold air in the dorm. It was something darker, deeper—a pure unbridled fear she had buried for as long as she'd been running. The fear of the one person who had always controlled her life, her every move. The one who had shaped her into who she was.
The Phantom.
They knew.
She had always known deep down that the money was never for her to give back to her father—for there would be no sum big enough to pay him for her freedom. Her father had always planned for her to come back to him. She was never meant to leave. If she didn't fall in line, if she didn't comply, she would die. She had always been a pawn, a piece in his game.
Now standing here in front of her, were the very people who worked for him. They were on his side. They knew everything about her. Everything.
The walls closed in, the sound of her breath—shallow and strained—echoing in her ears. She could feel the weight of their eyes on her, the men surrounding her, taunting her, waiting for her to crumble.
And yet, she didn't.
Instead, a cold, icy wave of anger washed over her. The fear? Gone. In its place was a burning need to survive. To end this, right now. Because if she didn't, if they walked away alive, it was over. They'd kill her or worse; her father would find her. And the life she'd worked so hard to escape would drag her back into its suffocating grip. If she made it there alive to begin with.
Her father's name, his presence, loomed like a shadow, a dark threat on the horizon. He'd always been there, always watching, controlling. His grip had never loosened. Not even now, in this place, in this game.
Rae-a felt her heart race in her chest, not with fear, but with the unmistakable thrill of danger. She was backed into a corner—yes—but she knew something they didn't. They underestimated her. They thought she was just a girl. They thought they'd broken her.
This wasn't just about the game anymore. It was personal.
She wasn't just fighting for survival.
She was fighting to keep herself hidden, to protect the secret that had always been her biggest weakness. The largest threat.
Her life, the truth about who she was, was never hers to control. But now there were people here who knew. People who could take everything from her and expose her—her freedom, her identity, her life.
The cold fear of being discovered cut deeper than any physical wound. And she knew what she had to do. She had to kill them. All of them.
Because if they walked away alive, if they left this room with even a shred of knowledge about her whereabouts, it was over. She wouldn't survive. Her life would be a death sentence. And if he couldn't find her, then her friends would be next.
But Rae-a had always known too much. Knew the way they operated their system. She'd always been one step ahead. And now, the tables were at risk of turning against her.
She looked at Player 217, her eyes narrowing, her gaze colder than ice. The fear was gone, replaced by something darker, more dangerous.
As Player 217 stepped closer, his sneer deepened, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he studied Rae-a with growing interest. "So, this is Phantom?" he said with a mocking drawl, the name slipping from his lips like a threat. "I expected someone more... impressive for the kind of reputation you'd built."
The word Phantom cut through the air like a blade, a reminder of the life she had desperately tried to leave behind. Rae-a's body tensed, her jaw clenching as the name echoed in her mind, solidifying the truth. He knew. He truly knew exactly who she was.
She knew what she had to do.
She'd kill them all. Every last one of them.
Rae-a's body ached, every muscle protesting, but she ignored the warning signals. The adrenaline coursed through her veins, thick and suffocating, as each breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. She couldn't stop now—not when her life hung in the balance. Not when every second counted. Each movement, each calculated step, had been a desperate fight for survival. She'd been cornered before, but this time she wouldn't let them win. Not then. Not when she'd come that far.
The first man fell quickly, his throat slashed open by the jagged edge of the glass she'd been chiseling earlier. He hadn't even had a chance to scream; blood filled his lungs, and his life was extinguished in an instant. His body crumpled to the floor, a lifeless heap. Rae-a hadn't looked back. She kept her gaze fixed forward, eyes scanning for the next threat. There had been no time to savor the victory, no time for hesitation.
The second man had already been upon her. His speed had caught her off guard, his fist crashing into her jaw with a brutal uppercut. The force of the blow had snapped her head back, and for a moment, everything went blurry. Her vision had wavered, her body had stumbled backward. She had tasted blood in her mouth, bitter and metallic, but there had been no time to dwell on it. She forced herself to focus, ignoring the pain that exploded through her skull.
Her legs had threatened to buckle beneath her as she crashed to the floor, but she hadn't allowed herself to stay down. She scrambled to her feet, each movement sluggish, her muscles stiff with fatigue. The man loomed over her, his labored breathing a low growl in her ear as he took another step forward.
Rae-a had known she couldn't let him get the upper hand.
In the brief second he had been distracted by his own victory, Rae-a had found her chance. Her hand had flailed around, seeking anything to defend herself. The shard of glass was nowhere to be found, lost in the chaos of the earlier fight. But there had been something else. Something sharp. She had wrapped her fingers around the fork, the handle slick with blood, and with a scream of effort, she had driven the tines upward.
The man had tried to block it, but it had been too late. The fork had sank deep into his chest with a sickening crunch, and he had staggered back, eyes wide with shock. Blood had spilled from the wound, hot and thick, and Rae-a hadn't hesitated. She twisted the fork, grinding it into the bone, feeling it bend under the pressure. He had gasped, clutching at the wound, but Rae-a hadn't given him the satisfaction of watching him die slowly. She had yanked the fork free, and he had crumpled to the ground, his life draining away.
But before she could catch her breath, before she could savor even a moment of relief, the next threat had already been upon her. Another man, more dangerous, more deliberate. This time it had been Player 217.
He had been on her before she could react. Her wrist had been seized in a vise-like grip, his fingers digging into her skin, crushing her bones. Pain had shot through her arm like a bolt of lightning, but Rae-a hadn't screamed. She couldn't afford to. She twisted her body, trying to break free, but his hold had been unrelenting.
He had slammed her against the wall with brutal force, the impact knocking the wind from her lungs. She had staggered, vision spinning, and before she could recover, his fist had been in her face, smashing into her already bruised jaw. The second blow had sent her head snapping back, a sickening crunch echoing in her skull. Her legs had given out beneath her, and she had sunk to her knees, fighting to keep from losing consciousness. Blood had trickled from her mouth, mixing with the sweat that beaded on her brow.
The man had grinned down at her, a cruel mockery of victory painted on his face as he raised his hand to strike again.
"You really think you're special?" he had sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "Did you think you could just—"
His words had cut off as Rae-a's gaze had sharpened. Despite the haze of pain clouding her thoughts, despite the weakness threatening to overtake her, she had looked up at him with icy fury.
"Don't worry," she had spat, her voice low but venomous. "Kang Chul-soo will join you soon."
The words had come out like a curse, an ultimatum, a promise to her father. She hadn't waited for a response. She hadn't even given him time to comprehend. With everything she had left, she had driven the fork upward, straight into his throat. The sickening sound of metal tearing through flesh had filled her ears as he had gurgled, his hands grasping at her in a desperate attempt to pull her away.
But Rae-a hadn't stopped. She hadn't pulled the fork out. She had kept it lodged in his windpipe, twisting, grinding, until his struggles slowed, until his body had finally gone limp.
He had crashed to the floor, but Rae-a hadn't looked back. She was already moving. Every part of her body had screamed in protest, but there had been no time to stop. She couldn't afford to rest. The fourth man—he was still alive. Still coming for her.
His massive form had loomed over her, strength and size working in his favor. He had grabbed her wrist, forcing her to drop the shard of glass she'd been clutching. His other hand had wrapped around her throat, lifting her off the ground with terrifying ease. She had gasped, her air cut off as his grip tightened, the pressure making her skull feel like it was going to implode. She had kicked and thrashed, but it had been like fighting against a wall. The world had grown darker as her vision narrowed, her limbs growing heavier.
But Rae-a wouldn't have let that be her end. She couldn't. Not like that.
Her fingers had scrambled for anything—anything at all. Think, think! She needed something. Anything.
A flash. A shadow. The sound of something crashing against the floor.
He had suddenly been ripped off her, his grip loosening as Rae-a had dropped to her knees, gasping for air, her chest heaving. She had looked up, still reeling from the suffocating grip he'd had on her. She was nearly blind from the pain, but the blurry figure in front of her had been unmistakable.
Young-il.
He was on the man, attacking with brutal precision, his movements fast and ruthless. There was no hesitation in him now, no sign of mercy. He attacked with a fury that was almost animalistic, using his full weight to slam into the larger man. His hands were a blur as he struck, slamming fists into his chest, face unreadable, cold as stone.
Rae-a watched, still on the ground, as Young-il ripped into the man with unrelenting efficiency, each blow landing harder than the last. She didn't know how long it lasted—whether it was seconds or minutes—but when it ended, it ended with a sickening crack.
The fourth man fell to the ground, his eyes wide, his breath rattling in his throat. Young-il stood over him, not even breaking a sweat. He had killed him in seconds, without a second thought. The man's body twitched once, then went still.
Rae-a's hands shook, her breath still unsteady, as she slowly pushed herself to her feet. She was covered in blood, her body screaming in pain, but she didn't care. Not now.
The chaos around them escalated with every passing second. Screams tore through the air, followed by the crash of glass, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. Rae-a's pulse was a thunderous roar in her ears as she lunged toward the final man, who began to flee, intent on finishing what she'd started. Her blood was a fever, the adrenaline burning through her like wildfire.
But then, just as she was about to make her move, strong arms wrapped around her, yanking her backward with an unforgiving force. Her body slammed against him, the air crushed from her lungs as she tried to fight against the hold. She struggled, twisting and thrashing, but his grip was unrelenting, as if he was determined to make her stop. It didn't matter how hard she fought—how much she twisted, how much she kicked. He wasn't letting her go.
The world around them was still burning, lights flashing, bodies still moving in the haze of violence, but all Rae-a could focus on was her struggle to break free. "Let go!" she snarled, kicking at him, her muscles trembling from the effort. The frustration clawed at her chest, the need to finish what she had started clouding her thoughts. But Young-il didn't relent. He didn't speak, didn't try to explain himself. His face was set in grim determination as he dragged her away from the carnage with his body pressing her back against him.
She could hear the battle escalating, the sound of bodies colliding with the walls, the screams of people being slaughtered, the crash of shattered glass. She didn't care. All she wanted was the man she'd been chasing, the one who knew her secret, the one who could expose her. She wasn't going to let that happen.
But the closer they got to the bed, the more forceful Young-il's movements became. He dragged her beneath the bunk with urgency, as if time itself was running out. The space beneath the bed was small, suffocating, but Rae-a didn't care. She fought him, kicking and thrashing, her heart screaming to finish what she started. But Young-il, in his desperation, shoved her down to the floor. He didn't give her a chance to push back, didn't give her any space to think. His body caged hers, and she could feel the heat of him, the rapid thrum of his pulse, as he pinned her to the cold ground. His weight pressed down on her, his hand flat against her back as if he was trying to keep her from shattering into a thousand pieces.
She heard the muffled sounds of the battle intensifying, the screams becoming more frantic as she was pulled further into the depths of the space beneath the bunk. She could feel his heartbeat as he forced her down, keeping her on the cold floor with a brutal urgency. Rae-a's breath came in ragged gasps as she fought against him, but her body was already sore, bruised, drained from the relentless physical battle she'd been in. Her head ached from vicious uppercuts to her jaw.
Young-il, breathing hard, whispered through gritted teeth, his words carrying a mix of fury and desperation. "Are you crazy?" His voice was hoarse, laced with a panic she hadn't heard before. "Why the hell are you going after him?"
"I'm not letting him get away!" Rae-a growled, her voice low and dangerous. She didn't need to explain herself. Didn't need to tell him that the man knew where she was from. That information, if it got out, could endanger her, her friends—put Young-il in danger too. She wasn't going to let that happen. She wasn't going to let that man leave with the knowledge of where she came from.
She tried to push herself up, to crawl back out, but Young-il was on her, his body hovering over her, his hand pressing firmly on her as he pinned her to the floor beneath the bed. He didn't speak a word, his mouth set in a line of quiet desperation, his grip tightening with each of her frantic attempts to get away.
Why was she being like this?
The room felt smaller now. The fighting outside was deafening, louder and more violent as bodies collided, shouts filled the air, and glass shattered. Rae-a's skin prickled with the anxiety of being caught in the middle of it all. The walls felt like they were closing in on her, her body pinned beneath him as if they were the last two people left in a world gone mad. Her hands twisted, trying to push against his, to break free, but he was too strong. The desperation in his eyes only fueled her rage.
Her breath came faster, heavier, and she clawed at his arms, still trying to escape. The bedframe above them rattled from the force of the violence outside, the thud of a body hitting the floor, beside them, shaking the very ground beneath them.
"Stop it, Rae-a!" he growled, his voice strained with frustration and something darker—something raw that she couldn't quite place. His face was close, his breath ragged as his eyes burned with a desperate intensity she couldn't ignore.
The sounds outside grew louder, more frantic. The glass shattered, the screaming grew to a fever pitch, and Rae-a's own desperation matched the chaos outside. The air around them felt electric with tension, the silence between their shouts thick, suffocating. She pushed against him, her skin slick with sweat, her heart racing faster than ever. She needed to find that man.
"I won't let you go." His voice was low now, like a threat, but there was something underneath it. Something broken, something that made Rae-a falter, if only for a split second.
She wasn't going to stop. She couldn't. But in that second of hesitation, Young-il did the only thing he could think of to make her listen.
His lips crashed against hers, urgent and desperate.
Her breath caught in her throat as his lips pressed against hers. The kiss was fierce, hard, a rush of heat that stole her breath. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tender. It was raw—a kiss that burned with the same intensity as the battle outside.
The warmth of his body pressed against hers, the electricity between them a surge that ran through her veins, shocking her into silence. His large hand tangled in the back of her hair, pulling her closer, as if he could melt into her, as if his touch could make her understand. Make her listen.
Rae-a didn't know how to react. She was too stunned, too lost in the sudden rush of sensations to process what was happening. The shock reverberated through her, a mix of confusion and disbelief, and yet, even in her surprise, her lips found themselves moving against his, hesitant at first, and then more sure. She kissed him back.
The world outside might as well have been a distant memory, a faded shadow, because all Rae-a could feel in that moment was the pulse of his heart against hers, the warmth of his body surrounding her, the desperate force of his lips, his fingers curling into her hair.
When he finally pulled back, it was as if he was gasping for air, as if the act itself had drained the very life out of him. His forehead pressed to hers, his eyes burning with an intensity she couldn't look away from. His voice was barely a whisper, raw with something she couldn't name.
"Stay," he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper, rough with raw emotion. "Please, Rae-a. I don't want you to die. I—" His words faltered, as if the weight of what he was saying hit him harder than he expected. He had said it—he had let it slip, and now the raw truth hung between them like a fragile thread.
Rae-a was frozen. Her eyes were wide, her breath shallow as she stared up at him. She hadn't expected this. Not this.
For a long, agonizing moment, the only sound was their ragged breaths, the echoes of chaos outside, and the unbearable weight of what he had just said. And then, almost imperceptibly, she whispered, "I can't…" Her voice cracked, the words jagged, torn between two realities. She couldn't stop. She couldn't give up this fight, not when she knew what was at stake.
That man knew who she was. She and everyone around her were in more danger than ever because of her. Not even with the way his hands trembled as they held her, his face etched with a quiet desperation.
Young-il let out a slow breath, his hand slipping from her wrist to gently cup her face. "Please," he said, almost pleading. "Stay. I can't lose you."
Young-il couldn't understand why she was so desperate to kill that man. Why she would risk everything, risk her life, just to silence him. He didn't get it. He couldn't. But all he knew was that he couldn't lose her. Not like this.
Rae-a's breath hitched. She wanted to fight. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted—something irrevocable.
For the first time in forever, Rae-a didn't know what to do.
But she stayed. Fixed next to him, trying to think of her next plan. Next move. He wouldn't life. She would make sure of it.
Young-il's chest tightened with the weight of guilt, a crushing sensation he couldn't shake. He knew the reality of tonight, the bitter truth that sat like a stone in his stomach. This was the last night they would ever be together. The last time he would hold her, the last time he would keep her safe. He had already made his choice. Tonight, he would fake his death. He would leave her, just as he had always planned—his mission always coming first. The mission that had been set in motion the moment Gi-hun entered this game. The mission that never took into account any variables—especially not her.
He never planned for this—never planned to feel what he did for Rae-a. He had never expected to feel the weight of guilt for being the man he was, for having a mission that couldn't allow room for anything else, not even her.
He kissed her selfishly, knowing it was the only way to keep her safe—knowing it would shatter her when she thought he was dead. He tried to tell himself that it was only for her, that it was necessary for her survival, but deep down, he knew that wasn't true. The moment his lips touched hers, he realized it was for him too.
He could only hope she would soon forget him and find her own peace. But for now he had two missions. Faking his death and reinstating his position as the frontman, and ensuring Rae-a gets through this alive.