The Light That Binds Us-Hwang Inho

The air inside the dormitory was thick with blood, sweat, and fear. The flickering overhead lights cast erratic shadows against the walls, distorting the massacre unraveling around them.

Rae-a and Young-il locked eyes through the chaos, their gazes unflinching, unyielding. The distant sounds of screams, bones breaking, and flesh being torn apart dulled against the single unspoken understanding between them—there wasn't much time left. The guards would arrive soon, their boots pounding against the concrete, their weapons raised. And that was when the real fight would begin.

The plan was simple: take the guards' guns and turn the tables. But simplicity didn't equate to ease.

A deafening bang sounded as the lights fully stabilized, no longer flickering, but blaring with a harsh, sterile glow. The moment the illumination returned, the dormitory was exposed in its full horror. Corpses were sprawled across the ground, some with limbs severed, some crushed beneath overturned bunks, others slumped against walls with their insides spilled onto the floor like grotesque murals of death. The air was thick with the iron stench of blood, so potent that it seemed to coat Rae-a's tongue. Every inhale tasted of violence, of death.

A slow, rhythmic drip echoed beside them, a soft, almost delicate sound amidst the carnage. Rae-a knew without looking—a body above them, bleeding out, its lifeblood pooling onto the cold floor. A fresh corpse, still warm. It would not be the last.

Then, the main doors burst open.

The guards stormed in, a wave of pink-clad enforcers wielding machine guns. Their presence was immediate, oppressive. Without hesitation, they raised their weapons to the ceiling and fired, the deafening barrage of bullets instantly silencing the room. The last remnants of the melee died out, players frozen in terror as the guards asserted their dominance.

And yet, amidst the chaos, something else moved.

Beneath the bunks, figures slithered forward like shadows. The players who had hidden themselves, feigning death, crept silently along the blood-soaked floor, inching closer to their targets. Rae-a's fingers tensed, her pulse steady despite the chaos. The guards moved methodically, one by one, scanning bodies and beeping their necks to classify them as dead. The moment the scanner pressed against her skin, she acted.

A single fluid motion—her hand lashed out, seizing the guard's wrist, twisting with brutal efficiency. A sickening crack filled the air, followed by his startled, choking gasp. In the same heartbeat, she wrenched his gun free and fired point-blank into his face. The shot rang out, blood and bone splattering across the concrete floor.

And then—chaos.

Gunfire erupted from all sides. Her allies, those who had been waiting, those who had gambled their lives on this plan, struck. Muzzles flashed as stolen weapons roared, tearing through the guards in a hailstorm of bullets. The room became a war zone, bodies dropping, bullets ricocheting off metal bed frames.

Rae-a dove for cover behind an overturned bunk, her breathing sharp, precise. The force of the attack was relentless, but they had momentum on their side. She pivoted out just long enough to fire into the fray, her shots precise, her targets falling one after the other. The guards, though better armed, were caught off guard—panicked, unprepared for retaliation.

Somewhere to her right, Rae-a caught sight of Hyun-ju crouched low behind an overturned bed frame, her small frame braced as she fired. But her stance was off—too exposed. Her right side was completely unguarded.

Rae-a didn't think, she moved.

Pivoting sharply, she raised her gun, eyes locking onto the approaching guard who had already taken aim at Hyun-ju's blind spot. But just as she stepped forward, another movement in the chaos caught her attention—a second guard, barely a few feet away, his rifle trained directly at her head.

A sharp inhale.

Time constricted. She saw the finger on the trigger tense. The dark barrel of the gun was a void, a tunnel with only one exit.

Then—

A gunshot, deafening even amidst the cacophony.

But it wasn't hers.

The guard jerked violently, his weapon firing off uselessly into the ceiling as his body crumpled. Rae-a barely had time to process before her gaze snapped to the source.

Young-il.

He stood a few paces away, gun still raised, smoke curling from the muzzle. His stance was effortless, casual even, as if he hadn't just saved her life without a second thought.

Rae-a's breath hitched, her chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion.

Their eyes locked across the battlefield—his dark, sharp with calculation, yet glinting with something dangerously unreadable. That same damn smirk tugged at his lips, the infuriatingly cocky expression she'd come to recognize, to expect. As if he had known, without a doubt, that he'd be the one to keep her alive.

Something burned beneath her ribs.

Rae-a swallowed hard and forced a small, sharp smile in return. A silent acknowledgment.

Young-il's smirk widened. And then—

He winked.

The moment shattered as another burst of gunfire tore through the air, yanking them back into the brutal reality.

No time for hesitation.

Rae-a gritted her teeth, fingers curling tighter around the trigger. And then, the battle raged on.

In a fluid, deadly motion, she turned and fired again. Then again. One after the other, guards fell in a clean, relentless line. The sharp, percussive cracks of gunfire echoed through the air, each shot precise, each body dropping without so much as a wasted bullet.

The room stilled.

Even amidst the carnage, amidst the bodies and blood, there was something deeply unsettling about watching a single person take down a row of trained guards with such efficiency.

Rae-a barely registered the heavy silence behind her, the way her group—Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Jun-hee, even Hyun-ju—stood frozen, watching her with a mixture of awe and something that edged toward horror. A silent, collective thought ran through their heads.

Thank god she's on our side.

The air was thick with the lingering scent of gunpowder, the flickering lights casting eerie shadows over the bodies that now littered the ground. And then—

A crackle from the intercom.

The distorted, mechanical voice cut through the silence, issuing orders that sent a ripple of movement through the remaining guards.

"Fall back. Retreat immediately."

Rae-a narrowed her eyes as the men in pink hesitated only a fraction before breaking away, scrambling for the exit in a desperate attempt to escape. The massive steel doors at the far end of the room began to close. Some of the guards made it through.

As the doors to the room slammed shut, one of the guards, was caught off guard. He hadn't made it through the exit in time. The heavy doors closed with a loud, final thud behind him, trapping him with the players. The tension in the room grew as Gi-hun, without hesitation, moved to the front, his voice loud and commanding.

"Raise your hands! Take off your mask!"

The guard, hesitant and visibly nervous, complied. As the mask came off, a collective gasp filled the room. The face behind the mask was not what they had expected. He was just a child, no older than twenty-two at most, his youthful features looking out of place in the grim, violent world of the game. His eyes, wide and full of fear, met theirs, but it wasn't the defiance they had anticipated. It was a lost look, one that mirrored their own confusion and helplessness.

Rae-a's gaze moved over him quickly, a deep understanding flickering in her mind. These games—this twisted spectacle—hadn't only destroyed the lives of the players. It had broken the very fabric of morality in ways she hadn't fully comprehended. The guards, those faceless enforcers of the Frontman's rule, weren't mindless, cold machines—they were human too. Just like the players, they had been shaped by this cruel system. They were a product of the same world that had been twisted by the games. The morality that had once been clear to her now seemed blurred. This child, standing before them, was proof that the corruption wasn't confined to the players. It was a cycle, one that perpetuated itself through every level of this twisted hierarchy.

A bad taste settled in her mouth, like something bitter and sour that she couldn't shake off. She cleared her throat, the action almost mechanical as she tried to push the unsettling thoughts aside. Her eyes swept across the room, landing on the others—Gi-hun, who was still giving orders, his voice tense with authority; the others, who stood in stunned silence, their faces a mixture of disbelief and fear.

Young-il's eyes followed Rae-a, his gaze intense, observing her with an unsettling clarity. She stood there, still as ever, but he could almost see the thousands of thoughts running through her mind. Her expression was unreadable, but he could sense the turmoil beneath it. He couldn't help but notice the signs of what she had just endured. The dark bruise on her jaw, stark against her pale skin, was a reminder of the brutality she had faced—and survived. Blood, now slightly dried, trickled from her eyebrow and lip, the remnants of the violence she had been thrust into. And then there were the hand marks around her neck, faint but unmistakable, evidence of the desperate attempt someone had made to choke the life out of her.

It hit him harder than he expected, the sight of her battered and broken in ways he hadn't allowed himself to fully acknowledge. His hand twitched at his side, an involuntary motion as he fought to collect himself. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: a deep, unsettling need to do something. To step forward, to make sure she was okay, even though he knew he couldn't afford to care. But the impulse was there, and it rattled him, the weight of it pressing down on him harder than any of the violence around them.

Young-il's gaze never wavered from her, his thoughts spinning in a relentless whirlwind. Part of him—an uncomfortable part that he couldn't quite push away—was desperate to know what was going on inside her head. What was she thinking, standing there, coldly assessing the guard, the child who had just removed his mask in front of them all? He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Rae-a than met the eye, that beneath the cool, collected exterior, there was a mind calculating, processing every detail of the mess they were in, surely fine tuned to a world like this. He truly wanted to know what she made of it all, how she saw the world they were trapped in. 

But then, another part of him recoiled. The thought of diving into her mind—of unraveling the mystery that was Rae-a—scared him. He didn't want to know, not really. Because once he did, he wouldn't be able to ignore it. If he understood her too much, if he saw her too clearly, it would change everything. He'd lose the distance he so desperately needed to maintain, the safe space between them that allowed him to function without feeling the weight of her presence. She was unpredictable in a way that drew him in and repelled him at the same time.

Rae-a's eyes scanned the room, her gaze sharp, sweeping over the chaos as if she were searching for a specific piece of the puzzle. And then, her focus locked onto him. Bingo. There, in the far corner of the bunk room, crouching behind the bunk beds, was the man who had been on her father's side—the one who had tried to escape when the situation had turned chaotic. He thought he had gotten away, but Rae-a was already a step ahead.

Without hesitation, her hand moved with the practiced ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before. She lifted the gun with cold precision, her finger never wavering from the trigger. From a distance, her aim was perfect. The crack of the gunshot split the silence in the room like a lightning bolt, and in an instant, the man's head exploded in a crimson spray.

The thud of his lifeless body hitting the floor followed, a grim punctuation to the sound of the shot that reverberated through the room. The air seemed to still for a moment, hanging in the aftermath of the violence. The group—Gi-hun, Jungbae, Dae-ho, Jun-hee, and even Hyun-ju—stared at Rae-a in stunned silence. There was no time for hesitation, no time to process what had just happened. All they knew was that Rae-a had just killed someone in cold blood. And they had no idea why.

Her expression remained impassive, as if it were no more than a passing thought to her. She didn't explain herself. She didn't need to. Instead, she simply raised her hand in a casual, almost nonchalant gesture. "Sorry, my hand slipped," she stated, shrugging as though she were apologizing for a minor accident, not for taking a life.

The group looked at her, disbelief written all over their faces. They were shocked, rattled by the brutal efficiency with which she had just executed the man. It wasn't just the action—it was the casualness, the complete absence of any hesitation. It felt... off. Dangerous. And yet, in the back of their minds, they all knew the truth. Rae-a was an asset.

Gi-hun, still grappling with the weight of what had just happened, was the first to break the silence. "You can't just kill someone like that, Rae-a," he scolded, his voice tense, trying to keep his cool despite the surge of anger and fear bubbling up inside him. "If you kill another player, you lose the right to a gun. You understand?"

There was a flicker of concern in his eyes, mixed with frustration. He didn't want to go down that road—she was too valuable to the group, and they needed her skills. In a place like this, where survival was everything, losing someone like Rae-a could be disastrous. Her abilities with a gun alone were a huge advantage. But even so, Gi-hun couldn't let her take things too far. The line had to be drawn somewhere.

Rae-a didn't flinch at his reprimand. She raised her hand in salute, her response as detached as ever. She wasn't going to explain herself. She wasn't going to apologize for what she had done.

Gi-hun glared at her for a moment, frustration still etched across his face, but he eventually turned away. There was no use arguing with her. At least not right now. He had bigger things to focus on. His voice was firm as he addressed the guard, the one they'd captured earlier, still standing at the center of the room.

"Lead us to the Frontman's control room," Gi-hun demanded, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Young-il, standing in the background, had been watching the entire exchange. His eyes narrowed as he processed what had just occurred. Rae-a's cold execution of the man, her complete lack of remorse or hesitation—it was nothing short of chilling.

He had known from the beginning that Rae-a was dangerous, but this—it was different. She wasn't just a survivor. She was capable of far more than he had given her credit for. The way she had shot the man, so effortlessly, with such deadly precision, made him realize just how much he had underestimated her. Her skill with a gun rivaled his own. And that, he thought, made her even more dangerous than he had first imagined.

But there was also a certain sense of relief that washed over him. As much as he tried to suppress it, the truth was that Rae-a was no longer someone he needed to protect. She could hold her own. And when the time came for him to change into the Frontman, when they would have to infiltrate the heart of the game, he didn't have to worry about her survival. She could handle herself up until then.

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The room hummed with a quiet, unsettling energy as Rae-a moved about, her every step purposeful. She carried herself with a casual ease that could only come from years of experience. The butt of the gun rested lazily over her shoulder, as if it belonged there, as if she had been born holding it. Her movements were fluid, a natural extension of who she was, and it was clear to everyone in the room that Rae-a was more than comfortable with a weapon. It wasn't just familiarity—there was a mastery in how she moved, how she handled the gun, how she surveyed the room with a predator's focus.

The others didn't question it, though. They were too stunned by the events unfolding around them, too preoccupied with the sight of the dead guards and the chaos that still lingered in the air. Rae-a's eyes flickered over the fallen bodies, methodically collecting spare magazines and radios. She was quick, precise, as if she had done this countless times before.

Hyun-ju, watching Rae-a's actions, caught on to what she was doing. He shot her a glance, his voice low but firm. "246," he ordered, "Do the same."

Rae-a didn't acknowledge him directly. She kept moving, her attention fixed on the task at hand. Her fingers brushed over the radio in her hand, twisting it in a way that showed how deeply focused she was on it. Her brow furrowed slightly as she made note of the channel it was on. This wasn't just a radio. It was a tool, a key to understanding how the guards communicated, and Rae-a knew that the channel she had just found was likely the one they had been using.

Her mind raced. This could be the channel the Frontman is using too. She made a mental note of the channel, feeling the weight of its potential. It might be worth keeping a spare radio on another channel, just in case.

Young-il, ever observant, noticed Rae-a's deep concentration as she fiddled with the radio. His eyes narrowed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She had already figured it out, hadn't she? She'd noticed the channel the guards were using. Clever girl. 

Meanwhile, the others were already switching their radios to Channel 7, the one they'd been assigned to for communication.

He made his way toward her, moving with a quiet, deliberate grace as he picked through the pockets of the other fallen guards. He was close enough now to see the way Rae-a's fingers lingered on the radio, how her thoughts seemed to drift with it. Their eyes met, and for a long moment, there was nothing but the unspoken exchange between them. His gaze was steady, unreadable, but Rae-a felt the familiar tightening in her chest. There was something about the way he looked at her—something about the way he carried himself with a weapon in his hand—that struck her to her core.

It was as if he belonged with it, as if it was part of who he was. She could almost feel the urge to tell him. To share the secret of her identity with him, despite the danger it posed to him. She had a nagging feeling—one that she couldn't quite shake—that he would accept her for who she truly was. That he wouldn't turn his back on her.

But that thought was fleeting, just a whisper in the back of her mind. She quickly squashed it. No, she told herself. He doesn't need to be caught up in my mess. The lie she had been living, the game she had been forced to play, had already cost her enough. There was no reason to drag him into it. Not knowing the truth might even be the one thing that saves him.

Rae-a quickly forced the thought out of her head, her gaze shifting as she caught Hyun-ju's eye across the room. They exchanged a subtle nod. Without a word, they both knew what needed to be done.

Rae-a raised her gun, aligning the sights with one of the cameras that monitored the room. Hyun-ju did the same. They fired in unison, the sharp crack of the shots breaking the tense silence, sending sparks flying from the shattered lenses of the cameras. The room fell into an even heavier quiet, the oppressive sense of surveillance lifted for a moment.

Rae-a moved to the last camera. She hesitated for just a second, her eyes locking with the unblinking lens as if she were sending a message to whoever was watching. She smirked, a mockingly playful wave of her hand directed at the camera, as if to taunt the guards or the Frontman himself. Then, with one last flick of her wrist, she pulled the trigger, the camera exploding in a shower of sparks and metal.

Young-il, observing from his position, couldn't help but smirk as he watched the scene unfold. If only she knew, he thought to himself. If only she knew the Frontman was right here in the room with her, watching her every move. But he didn't say a word. He just let the amusement settle in the back of his mind.

Gi-hun, watching the interaction, was visibly confused. His brow furrowed, and he stepped forward, shaking his head. "Why did you do that?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern and confusion.

Rae-a glanced over at him, her smirk still lingering. "I'm sure he's watching," she said nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She paused, then added, her tone more serious, "There will be more guards coming. We need to get going soon."

The group seemed to take a moment to process her words. Rae-a's confidence, her calmness in the face of such danger, was unsettling to them; even Young-il who was vaguely aware of her background. But she wasn't wrong. There was no time to waste. The game wasn't over yet. And Rae-a, with her cold precision and her sharp mind, was ready for whatever came next.

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The room was tense as the group gathered, preparing for what was coming next. Rae-a observed them carefully, her eyes flicking over each person's posture as they adjusted to the reality of their newfound weapons. Her gaze lingered longest on Hyun-ju, Gi-hun, Dae-ho, Jungbae, and the marine pair, each of them exuding a sense of confidence and competence that came from experience. Hyun-ju's calm focus, Dae-ho's and Jungbae's military backgrounds, the way Gi-hun had steadily embraced this fight—Rae-a could understand their ease with firearms. She, too, had been trained in her own way, and the familiarity of holding a weapon felt second nature.

Her mind briefly wandered, remembering her past when, as Phantom, she had used these very skills—not just for intimidation, but as a tool to maintain control over those she needed to manipulate. It was the same cold, calculated approach she relied on now, though the stakes had become far higher.

But then her thoughts shifted, and she realized something. Young-il stood a bit apart from the others, his posture not as stiff as some, yet his confidence with the gun was undeniable. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about the way he held himself that didn't quite match his story. She thought about his earlier actions—the way he had efficiently taken down the guard aiming for her, his shot as clean and precise as someone who'd been through far more than his fair share of gunfights. It wasn't just competency; it was expertise, the kind that rivaled a seasoned soldier or even a war veteran.

She couldn't help but wonder: How could someone like him be so skilled with weapons? The more she thought about it, the more she realized just how little she knew about him. This realization brought an uncomfortable churn in her stomach. She had always prided herself on being observant, yet Young-il remained an enigma. There was a creeping unease, a bad feeling that she couldn't shake, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it.

Clearing her throat, Rae-a snapped herself out of her thoughts, determined to focus.

Hyun-ju, always the leader, stepped to the front of the group and began explaining how to handle the guns, efficiently switching their settings to conserve ammunition. Rae-a had already adjusted hers the moment she got it, and as she smiled at Hyun-ju's practical instructions, she couldn't help but admire her leadership. The woman had an aura of authority, the kind that came with both experience and a genuine care for her team.

When Hyun-ju asked if anyone had questions, Rae-a raised her hand. She had one, and she was about to answer it in a way that would definitely get a reaction.

Pulling a .22 Glock from the back of her trousers, she began flipping it into the air and catching it with casual ease. Her fingers danced across the gun's surface as she spun it around, performing tricks that surprised everyone in the room. The group froze, eyes wide with shock, especially Young-il, who stood there watching with a faint trace of disbelief and caution. His mind was racing, realizing just how much he needed to keep Rae-a in the dark about his true identity. He had no idea she could be this skilled.

Just who was she in the underground?

"Can I keep this as a backup?" Rae-a asked, her tone casual, as if it were a simple request, though she knew it was a small show of dominance—another silent flex of her skill. She had found the gun in one of the fallen guards' back pockets, and after a moment of hesitation, the group reluctantly agreed. It was her find, after all.

Rae-a slid the Glock back into her trousers with ease, but not before locking eyes with Young-il. Her heart skipped a beat. She silently hoped that he would be okay, but a nagging doubt lingered. Even the most experienced could fall in this game, and she wasn't sure she could bear it if something happened to him—or anyone else in the group. The thought of losing them all pushed her to a new level of determination. She would fight for their safety, even if it meant risking everything. She didn't have much left to return to in the world outside the games, but these people… they were still worth saving.

Gi-hun grabbed the guard by the collar, dragging him forward as the rest of the group began to shuffle toward the corridor. The air was tense, everyone knowing that their next moves were crucial if they were to make it out of the this alive. Rae-a watched them, her sharp gaze scanning the space before it settled on Myung-gi and Jun-hee.

She turned to them, offering a quiet but meaningful warning. "Stay safe," she said, her voice low but with an edge that suggested she truly meant it. Myung-gi and Jun-hee exchanged quick glances before nodding at her in silent acknowledgment. There was no mistaking that Rae-a had just become one of the most valuable—and dangerous—players in their group. Or perhaps she always was.

Rae-a's eyes flicked toward the fallen guards once more, and without hesitation, she swiped another radio from one of them. She moved quickly, slipping it into her pocket as if it were nothing. It was a subtle motion, one that seemed insignificant amidst the chaos, but Rae-a's mind was already calculating the next steps.

What no one seemed to notice was the subtle glint in Young-il's eyes. He had been watching her from the periphery, eyes narrowed as he took in her actions. It didn't take him long to piece together why she had grabbed the radio. Rae-a was sharp—far sharper than most of the others. She wasn't just scavenging for weapons or supplies; she was methodically collecting information.

His gaze locked onto her with a new, more calculating edge. She's using the same channel as the guards, he realized. He could already feel the tension building in his chest, a tightening sensation he hadn't expected to feel. Rae-a was far too clever for her own good. Her instincts were on another level, and he could see it clearly now—she was a threat. A massive one.

There was something disarming about how casually she had taken the radio, and it wasn't just her smooth movements—it was the way she didn't even look at it after pocketing it, as if it were just another tool to use, another piece of the puzzle. She'd been calm and efficient, her underground skills clearly shining in this environment. But Young-il knew that wasn't just it—Rae-a was calculating, moving with purpose, and now he understood just how dangerous that could be for him.

He let out a soft exhale, trying to shake off the tension in his chest. As much as he wanted to keep his distance from her—wanted to keep his identity safe—he also couldn't deny the fact that he was going to have to be very careful about it. He needed to stay ahead of her instincts, keep the mystery of who he truly was intact. There was too much at stake now. The game wasn't just about survival anymore—it was about keeping the secrets buried, even if Rae-a's sharpness would make that task increasingly difficult.

And so, as she moved on with the group, her focus shifting to the next goal, Young-il made a silent vow to himself: He would have to outsmart her at every turn. Because if he didn't, it wouldn't just be his identity at risk—it could cost everything.

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The group walked down the corridor in tense silence, the weight of the situation pressing on their shoulders. Rae-a's eyes were narrowed, every muscle in her body coiled with anticipation. Her grip on the gun was steady, her posture ready for anything. She could almost feel the danger hanging in the air, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling as she scanned the brightly lit walls around them. The childlike patterns and bright splashes of pastel color that adorned the hallway were jarring against the grim reality of the situation. It was like a cruel, twisted mockery of innocence, completely at odds with the deadly danger they were about to face.

The sound of their footsteps echoed faintly as they moved forward, the squeak of shoes against the shiny floor adding to the eerie quiet. The corridors seemed endless, their light too bright, almost uncomfortable, making Rae-a squint as they walked through the overly cheerful space. It felt like they were moving through a dream—one that was about to take a dark turn.

The order they walked in was precise. The captured guard, his hands bound tightly, walked at the front, followed by Gi-hun, Jungbae, Dae-ho, and Rae-a, with Young-il walking directly behind her. The others who had offered to join them trailed behind, and Hyun-ju, ever vigilant, guarded the back, watching for any potential sneak attacks. Rae-a's eyes flicked over her shoulder to Hyun-ju, and the two made silent eye contact, a brief but reassuring acknowledgment of each other's awareness.

Then, Young-il moved closer to Rae-a, his presence subtle but undeniable. She felt the heat of his body behind her, his breath brushing the nape of her neck as he leaned in. His voice was low and commanding, barely a whisper in her ear. "Stay close to me," he murmured, his words laced with something she couldn't quite place.

Rae-a's jaw tightened, irritation sparking in her chest. She turned her head just slightly, shooting him a glare over her shoulder. "It should be you staying close to me," she replied sharply, her tone making it clear she wasn't someone to be ordered around, especially not with a gun in hand. "I'm not someone you want to mess with when I'm armed." She shot him a cheeky grin, though beneath the surface, she was aware that her words weren't entirely a joke. She would protect those who mattered to her, no question.

Young-il's face remained stoic, his jaw taut as he processed her words. He didn't find humor in the exchange, but Rae-a noticed how his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary. In that moment, she saw something flicker in his eyes—something like concern, though he did his best to hide it. His instincts told him that Rae-a was not someone who could be easily controlled, and it was clear to him that she would risk her life for her friends tonight, even for him. The thought left him wondering how far she was willing to go, and more importantly, how he could keep her from doing something reckless.

Before either of them could say anything further, the radio buzzed in Rae-a's pocket, the sharp crackle of static cutting through the silence. "In the left corridor."

Her heart raced as the words registered, her body tensing in preparation for what was coming. No sooner had the message finished, a deafening flurry of gunshots rang out from the left, their velocity fast and furious, directed straight at the group. Rae-a's instincts kicked in immediately. She ducked for cover, pulling herself behind a wall just as bullets whizzed past. The others followed suit, scrambling to find anything that could shield them from the onslaught.

The shots echoed through the room, the loud crack of gunfire reverberating off the walls. Rae-a barely registered Young-il's movement as he pressed her closer to the wall, his hand on her midsection, his forearms tense as he forces her into the safety of cover. She immediately flicked his hand off with a sharp motion, irritation flashing in her eyes despite the butterflies that swarmed in her stomach, her focus back on the chaos unfolding in front of them.

She didn't have time for distractions. 

The guards were above them, perched on higher levels, pouring shots down with an almost mechanical precision. Rae-a's eyes flicked between the positions of the shooters as her gun snapped up into position. Her movements were fluid and practiced, her body flowing like water as she moved from one position to the next, her shots hitting their targets with deadly accuracy. One by one, the guards dropped from their positions, their bodies falling from various stories above onto the cold, unforgiving floor. The sound of their bodies hitting the pastel-colored floor was sickening, their blood staining the otherwise sterile environment a stark, dark red. It was a grotesque contrast, the blood against the bright colors, but Rae-a couldn't afford to think about that now.

The others were firing back, but Rae-a's focus never wavered. She moved with a cold efficiency, making sure the shots counted. And then, her gaze swept over her friends. Everyone seemed okay, but her eyes froze when she spotted Dae-ho.

He was standing just a few feet away, his body trembling violently, his hands shaking as he gripped his gun. His face was pale, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead. Rae-a's gut clenched. She knew what was happening. They haunted her in her younger years too.

Without a second thought, Rae-a moved toward him, her own weapon momentarily lowered as she placed a steady hand on his shoulder, turning him to face her. She stared into his wide, frantic eyes, her expression softening just enough for him to know that she understood. "Hey," she said softly, but her voice was firm, cutting through his panicked haze. "You need to snap out of it."

He didn't respond immediately, his breath coming in short, erratic gasps. Rae-a's eyes darkened as she shook him lightly. "Do you need to go back?" she asked, her voice low and insistent.

Dae-ho shook his head, his body still trembling as he tried to regain control. Rae-a nodded once, acknowledging his response, though it was clear to her that he was still far from okay. She gave him a moment to breathe, watching his eyes regain some semblance of focus before turning her attention back to the situation at hand.

"We need to move," she shouted hoarsely, her voice strained from the intensity of the night's events. "We can't stay here. There are always going to be more guards. We can't shoot them all." She turned and began to crouch-run forward, her eyes scanning the corridor ahead. Her muscles screamed at her to slow down, but there was no time for that. She had to keep moving.

Young-il, irritated by her recklessness, followed shortly after, his movements just as fluid and purposeful as her own. Together, they pressed ahead, putting some distance between themselves and the others. Rae-a was aware of Dae-ho and Jungbae following behind, but she didn't stop to check on them. She couldn't afford to—there was too much at stake.

She shot a glance at Young-il as they moved forward, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. His expression was unreadable, but Rae-a had the distinct feeling that, like her, he was fully aware of the weight of everything that was happening. There was no going back now.

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The faint buzz of static broke the silence, followed by a clipped, urgent voice crackling through the radio. Rae-a's lips curled into a slight smirk as she pulled the radio from her pocket, eyes flickering to Gi-hun. With a quick flick of her wrist, she flipped the switch, the frequency crackling to life. The guards were using this channel.

Gi-hun's eyes widened as he looked at her, a grin spreading across his face at the realisation. "Nice catch," he said, admiration in his voice. "Quick thinking."

Rae-a didn't acknowledge the praise, her gaze already scanning their surroundings. But from the corner of her eye, she could feel Young-il's gaze on her. His jaw was clenched, his eyes narrowed, the slightest flicker of jealousy hidden behind his usual stoic expression. He didn't like the way she and Gi-hun had been working so seamlessly together, the way they understood each other without words. It felt like a silent bond forming between them, one that Young-il couldn't touch, couldn't control.

Rae-a's eyes met his briefly, and she raised an eyebrow as if daring him to say something. Young-il stared intensely at her, his gaze flickering down to her lips, before meeting her eyes again. Her heart jumped as she found her eyes looking down at his too. 

But the moment passed, and Young-il quickly turned his attention back to the task at hand, the brief flicker of emotion buried once more beneath the surface.

Gi-hun's voice cut through the tension. "Move out! We need to get going."

Rae-a's lips twitched into a small, fleeting smile. Gi-hun always knew how to shake off the pressure and push everyone forward. She was grateful for that.

The group began moving forward, the heavy, tense atmosphere thick in the air. As they walked, Gi-hun turned back to the captured guard, his voice rising. "Are we close to the entrance?"

The guard hesitated for a moment before answering, his voice thin and strained. "It's beyond the door... you'll have to get through it first."

The group quickened their pace, eager to reach the end, but then the guard made an unexpected move. His hands slowly reached up toward his face.

Rae-a's instincts kicked in immediately. Without a second thought, her gun was in her hand, aimed straight at the guard's forehead. "What are you doing?" she demanded, her voice low but sharp.

The guard froze, his hand hovering just inches from his mask. His face twisted with an expression Rae-a couldn't quite read—fear, realization, or something more sinister. "The masks... are needed to get through the door," he stammered, voice faltering.

Rae-a didn't buy it. Her finger tightened on the trigger, the pressure building as her eyes bored into the guard's face. She could feel something was off. The tension in the air was too thick, too wrong. Something was happening, something she wasn't seeing.

And then she saw it. The guard's eyes widened, and his body froze completely, his pupils darting to the side, past her, like he was seeing something—someone—just beyond her. Rae-a's heart skipped a beat. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Her body tensed, preparing for whatever was coming, but before she could act, the guard's body jerked violently forward, a single shot ringing out and splitting the air. Blood sprayed from the back of his head, and the guard crumpled to the floor in a heap.

Rae-a's heart pounded in her chest as the group scrambled into action. They dove behind the nearest column for cover, instinctively spreading out to form a defensive perimeter.

Gunshots echoed from across the balcony, and the sound of bullets slamming into the walls around them filled the space. Rae-a's eyes were already trained on the guards above them. They had the high ground, but they were vulnerable, too.

Two shots. She fired quickly, her shots finding their targets with deadly accuracy. The first guard fell, crashing down onto the floor below, his body twisting awkwardly as he hit the cold, pastel-colored tiles.

Cover.

She ducked behind the column, feeling the whoosh of air as bullets passed mere inches from her. Her breath was steady, calculated, her mind sharp as a blade. She glanced over at Young-il, who was firing with precision, his movements smooth despite the chaos. He caught her gaze for just a moment, and she gave a slight nod, acknowledging the danger they were in.

One shot.

Another guard dropped, his body falling with a sickening thud. Rae-a scanned the area, her grip on the gun tight, her mind working quickly, calculating her next move. The guards weren't going to stop, and they didn't have much time before their ammo ran out.

Cover.

She pulled back again, eyes flicking to Gi-hun, then back to Young-il.

"We don't have enough ammo for this," Rae-a muttered, her voice tense but controlled. "We're just playing distraction now."

Young-il's eyes flickered to her, a momentary understanding passing between them. His jaw clenched, and he nodded, his own frustration clear. "I agree," he said, his voice low, almost too quiet against the backdrop of gunfire.

Rae-a glanced at him again, her gaze softer than usual. For a moment, their shared silence spoke volumes—the unspoken recognition that they were both walking a fine line, balancing between survival and something more. She wasn't sure what to make of it, but it was there, undeniable in the air between them.

As they reloaded quickly, Gi-hun's voice cut through the tension once again. "We need to make a move. We can't keep this up forever."

Rae-a clenched her fists, frustration growing inside her. They couldn't keep fighting like this. They were too exposed, and time was running out.

"Gi-hun, this isn't working," she said, her voice rising. "We need to keep pushing forward, not stay stuck here playing target practice."

The air grew thick with tension as Gi-hun, his face set in determination, turned to the group, making a quick decision. "I'm going ahead with Jung-bae," he announced firmly, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the others. "We're going to find the Frontman and end this. Everyone else should stay here and cover us."

For a moment, the weight of his words hung in the air like a challenge, but there was a pause before anyone responded. The silence felt heavy, as if everyone knew that the mission ahead would come with its own set of dangers.

Young-il's eyes widened slightly, and he froze for a moment, taking in what Gi-hun was suggesting. He opened his mouth, ready to object, but instead, he exhaled sharply, his hands balled into fists. His thoughts raced, the decision weighing on him more than he cared to admit. He needed to find a way to get to the control room before him. After a beat, he finally nodded in reluctant agreement, though his expression remained conflicted.

Rae-a, however, had a different reaction. Her gaze locked onto Gi-hun, her jaw tightening. "No," she said firmly, her voice laced with a defiant edge. "I'm coming with you."

The words hit the air with an almost explosive force, and the group seemed to freeze for a split second. Young-il's body stiffened, his posture instantly rigid, and his eyes locked onto Rae-a's like an animal tracking its prey. "No you're not," he firmly stated, his voice low but intense. "It's too dangerous."

He moved toward her, his hand grabbing her arm to stop her from going any further. But Rae-a didn't flinch. She didn't even hesitate. Her eyes met his with a fierce intensity, and she glared up at him, unblinking. "I'm not staying behind," she shot back, her words sharp and uncompromising.

Young-il's grip faltered as she stared him down, and for a moment, a crack appeared in his resolve. His hand hovered on her arm, but he couldn't force himself to pull her back. He clenched his jaw, frustration creeping into his expression as he struggled to keep control over the situation. He was used to commanding obedience, used to being the one in control. But with Rae-a, it was different. She was never one to follow orders without question.

"Rae-a, this isn't just about you," Young-il urged, his voice thick with concern and frustration now, the usual coldness replaced with something more genuine. "It's too dangerous. You're too valuable to risk for this."

Her eyes softened just a touch, but her resolve never wavered. "I am not staying here, to be cover," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness.

A flicker of irritation passed over Young-il's face, his brows furrowing as he tried again. "It's not just about being brave, Rae-a. It's about survival."

But Rae-a wasn't listening. Instead, she gave a small, mocking grin, and added with a sly smirk, "Someone has to keep an eye on those two overly optimistic people," she gestured toward Gi-hun and Jungbae, who were standing by the door, ready to move. "They need a realist to keep them grounded."

Gi-hun and Jungbae both exchanged dry looks at the remark, deadpanning in unison. Rae-a's smirk widened, though there was no humor in her eyes. She was dead serious.

Young-il's frustration boiled over, and his grip tightened on her arm once more, his tone becoming more insistent. "This isn't a joke, Rae-a. I can't let you go."

Rae-a's eyes flashed with the same fire she always had when things got tough. She jerked her arm free from his grasp, her voice sharp. "You can't control what I do."

The words hung between them like a challenge. Young-il's gaze hardened, and the frustration simmered beneath the surface. He knew she was right—he couldn't control her. But that didn't make it any easier to accept. The irony of her words didn't escape him; she was the one who always resisted being controlled, but it was as if he had been trying to control her this whole time. It was something he didn't want to face, but the truth was undeniable. He never had control over her.

His hand fell to his side, fingers twitching as if trying to grasp hold of some kind of authority that would make her stay. But it was useless. She was already moving toward the door, swiping the guards mask as she made her way up to Jungbae and Gi-hun.

Rae-a turned back to look at him, her face softer than before, just for a second. There was something fragile in her gaze as she met his eyes, a brief flicker of something unspoken.

"Stay safe," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of it settled over him like a blanket of concern.

Young-il's breath caught in his throat, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to still. He nodded, the motion slow and deliberate, but it felt like the heaviest thing he'd ever done. He watched her turn away, her figure disappearing into the darkness as she joined Gi-hun and Jungbae.

The silence that followed was deafening. Young-il stood motionless, staring after her, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He wanted to stop her, wanted to pull her back and keep her safe, but he knew she would never let him. And somewhere deep down, he knew it wasn't just her safety that concerned him—

He exhaled slowly, trying to force the turbulent thoughts from his mind, but they refused to be ignored. He turned away, supporting the other players by shooting, trying to forget the fact that that could very well be the last time he saw her—as Young-il.

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