The Light That Binds Us-Hwang Inho

Rae-a sat on the cold floor beside Gi-hun, her arms crossed as she kept her voice low. The distant hum of players murmuring around them provided enough cover for their conversation, but she still kept her tone measured.

"I need to make him notice me."

Gi-hun exhaled through his nose, his brows furrowing. "And by 'him,' you mean—"

"The Frontman." Her fingers curled slightly against her arm. "I'm running out of time, and staying in the shadows won't get me anywhere. If I want to get close, I need to do something that forces his attention on me."

Gi-hun gave her a wary glance. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that?"

She hesitated for only a second. "I do exactly what he told me not to do. I play hero."

His expression darkened, the tension in his jaw visible, knowing that it may be the only way to get his attention. "That's a dangerous move, Rae-a."

Rae-a already knew that. But danger was necessary. If she wanted to get near him, if she wanted answers, then risk was unavoidable.

"I am a dangerous woman, Gi-hun."

Rae-a turned away from Gi-hun, staring off into the distance of mingling participants. "Dangerous gets attention," she muttered. "If I make enough of a scene, he won't be able to ignore me. He already gave me that warning."

Across the room, a figure leaned against the wall, arms folded lazily—but his gaze was anything but. Young-il's eyes flicked toward them, unreadable, his posture deceptively relaxed. He couldn't hear their conversation, but he was watching. He was well aware that the discussion must have involved something to do with the Frontman. Him.

He couldn't help but tighten his jaw, wondering what little scheme they were conjuring up. And Young-il believed that it was not going to make him very happy.

"Players, please get ready for your next game."

The uneasy murmurs among the crowd quieted. The tension settled over them all like a thick fog. Triangle and square-masked guards filed in, herding the participants toward the door. The sharp clicks of their boots against the floor sent a wave of unease through the players. Rae-a inhaled deeply, steadying herself. This was it.

Young-il jogged over to her, his expression neutral but his movements deliberate. He needed to keep up his facade, to play his part. "Let's go," he murmured, his voice unreadable.

Despite the tension in the air, he made a casual remark—something light, almost teasing. "Try not to break any hearts in there," he muttered. "Including mine." Rae-a didn't react immediately, but a flicker of amusement tugged at the corner of her lips before she suppressed it. She refused to admit he had that effect on her.

The echo of footsteps filled the dimly lit corridor, blending with the low murmur of distant conversations. Rae-a walked in measured silence, her mind already working through the events of the last game. The tension in her muscles hadn't fully eased, and the weight of unspoken thoughts pressed against her ribs.

Beside her, Young-il strolled as if they were on a casual evening walk, hands stuffed in his pockets, his demeanor infuriatingly relaxed. He tilted his head toward her, his voice slipping into the space between them like a stray thread pulling at fabric.

"Bet I can guess your next move."

Rae-a didn't slow, didn't waver. She merely cast him a sidelong glance. "Doubt it."

Young-il's smirk sharpened, his eyes gleaming with something that wasn't quite arrogance—but close. "You're going to pretend none of this rattled you, walk three steps behind everyone else, and then find a quiet corner to analyze the next game."

Rae-a kept her expression neutral, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. She had long since mastered the art of keeping people at a distance, of concealing her thoughts behind a steady gaze.

But Young-il wasn't most people.

"And now," he continued, voice rich with amusement, "because I said that, you're debating whether to do something different just to prove me wrong."

A slow breath slipped through Rae-a's nose. Her silence was calculated, but she knew it didn't matter. He was right.

Damn him.

She shifted her gaze, finally meeting his eyes. "You really think you're clever, don't you?"

Young-il pressed a hand to his chest in an exaggerated display of humility. "Oh, no. I know I'm clever."

Rae-a fought the urge to roll her eyes, unwilling to give him the reaction he wanted. Instead, without a word, she adjusted her stride, purposefully closing the gap between herself and the rest of the group. If he thought he had her figured out, she'd make sure to be just unpredictable enough to throw him off.

Young-il watched her, his amusement only deepening. She could feel his gaze on her, the weight of it pressing against her like an unseen force. And then, just when she thought he might finally let it go, he let out a quiet chuckle, low and knowing.

"Knew it."

Rae-a's fingers twitched at her side. This time, she did roll her eyes.

Young-il just grinned.

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The heavy metallic doors slid open, and Rae-a stepped inside, her eyes immediately drawn to the strange scene in front of her. A massive carousel, surrounded by a spinning platform, filled the large room. Brightly colored doors rotated around the circumference, each door periodically flashing open before being swallowed by the next one.

"Today's game is 'Mingle,'" the intercom announced, its voice flat and impersonal.

A low murmur spread across the players, the buzz of anxious whispers rising with every second. Rae-a, however, barely noticed the noise. Her mind was already focused, already strategizing. She could feel the familiar weight of adrenaline settling in her chest, the sharp edge of her thoughts sharpening. She wasn't interested in the chaos this game would bring—no, she needed to use this, to make her move.

This game, the intercom explained, was simple: participants had to group up into the number of people that the intercom stated. Then, they would need to run into a room before the timer ran out. The catch, however, was that those who didn't make it in time would pay the price, a price Rae-a had seen before, and would likely see again soon.

She glanced over at the group she'd instinctively gravitated toward: Gi-hun, Young-il, Jun-hee, Dae-ho, and Jungbae. They seemed like a solid group, strong enough to last, if they kept their wits about them.

"We stick together," Gi-hun murmured, his eyes scanning the carousel, sizing up the potential danger. "Whatever happens, we stay with each other."

Young-il, as always, was more pragmatic. He didn't trust the system or anyone in it. "Do what works. Do not get separated," he ordered in his usual sharp tone, eyes flicking between them, ensuring no one got too comfortable. It was as if a switch was flipped, it was no time for games and jokes now.

Rae-a felt Young-il's gaze land on her, and she met his eyes, her expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of concern in them, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same intense, calculating gaze.

He grabbed her arm with a grip that almost felt possessive, pulling her slightly closer as if to emphasize the urgency in his voice. "Do what I say. No heroics, like yesterday. Got it?"

Rae-a furrowed her brow, irritation blooming in her chest. She wasn't a child. She didn't need to be told what to do. "I can take care of myself, Young-il," she said, her voice steady, though the frustration simmered underneath.

He didn't acknowledge her words. Instead, his eyes remained locked onto her, a wordless warning.

The carousel's music began, slow and rhythmic, filling the air with a sense of foreboding. Rae-a shifted her weight on the spinning platform, her gaze drifting toward the flickering doors. The music had a strange, eerie quality to it—round and round, and soon, they would all be caught in its cycle. Rae-a's mind ticked, her senses sharpening. This was ominous. The type of ominous that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It was clear that people would die here. That was the purpose of this game.

The carousel slowed, and then it stopped. Rae-a's thoughts cut off abruptly as the numbers flashed above their heads, and the timer started its countdown.

"Ten!" the voice from above echoed, and the platform jolted, throwing a few off balance. Rae-a caught herself easily, but the chaos had begun.

The lights flickered on and off, the tension in the air palpable as panic swept through the crowd. Players scrambled in all directions, each trying to find enough people to form a group of ten. Rae-a, however, wasn't wasting time. Her instincts kicked in. She'd already analyzed the situation, calculating the quickest way to get into a room before the door slammed shut.

Without so much as a glance at her group, Rae-a turned on her heel and sprinted into the crowd. Young-il's voice barely registered in her mind as he shouted something behind her, his frustration palpable. He hated when she acted impulsively like this. He had warned her. But Rae-a didn't need his protection—not now, not in this game.

She ran straight into Hyun-ju's group, a mix of faces she barely knew but recognized enough to trust for the time being. 

"Hyun-ju!" she called, grabbing the woman by the arm. "Get your group, we're going."

Together, they bolted toward the nearest door, the sound of footsteps and shouts filling the room. Rae-a glanced briefly to see Young-il, still standing with the others, his eyes narrowing as he watched her, his irritation plain and posture stiff with frustration.

They barely made it. The door clicked shut just as the timer ran out, sealing them inside the room. Rae-a allowed herself a brief breath, but the relief was short-lived. From across the room, she could see Young-il glaring at her, his eyes sharp with irritation. He wasn't impressed—she could feel his judgment from here.

"You're going to put yourself in danger every time, aren't you?" he muttered under his breath, though Rae-a couldn't hear his words. She didn't need to. His body language said it all. He was annoyed, but his concern was unmistakable.

Rae-a didn't answer him. Instead, she turned her focus toward the door, watching through the small gap between it and the floor as players outside were cut down, one by one, for failing to make it in time. She could hear the gunfire from behind the door—sharp, final. Each shot sent a shiver down her spine, but she forced herself not to flinch. The Frontman didn't care about their survival. This was nothing more than a game to him.

She didn't want to think about it, but she couldn't help herself. How much longer would this continue? What did they all do to deserve this? For a few sick moments of entertainment? Rae-a clenched her fists, pushing the thoughts down. She couldn't afford to lose focus. Not yet.

The door finally clicked open again, and the players filed back into the main room. The carousel spun once more, its hum filling the room with a familiar, unsettling rhythm. The music started again, its round-and-round melody grating against Rae-a's nerves. The tension in the air was palpable, and her heart matched the rhythm, pounding harder with each passing second.

Young-il's form moved into her peripheral vision, so close you could feel the heat radiating off of him, and Rae-a didn't need to look at him to know that he was closely observing her. His hand brushed her arm, almost possessive, as if he couldn't bear to let her out of his sight. Rae-a glanced at him, brow furrowing. His eyes were narrowed, calculating. 

The music built to a crescendo, growing louder and more disorienting, until the platform came to a sudden, jolting stop. Rae-a braced herself, steadying her feet as the number above their heads flashed.

"Five!"

The panic in the air surged again, and Rae-a felt her pulse race as the doors began to swing open, each room offering a temporary safety. She turned to the group, eyes scanning the chaos. She was about to move forward when Young-il stepped in, giving the group a pointed look.

"You guys go together! I will find someone. Don't get separated," he commanded firmly, his voice colder than before. Without waiting for anyone's reply, he began pushing his way through the crowd, his steps purposeful, his back straight.

Rae-a and her group ran, but she couldn't shake the strange feeling that had begun to gnaw at her. Young-il had made his point, but there was something different in his gaze—something almost… protective. As if he actually cared about what happened to her or anyone else. She scoffed inwardly. Not possible.

But the moment of contemplation passed as quickly as it came, and Rae-a's focus snapped back to the game. The group rushed toward the next door, chaos all around them.

It was in that madness that Rae-a noticed Jun-hee, the pregnant woman, stumbling. Rae-a's breath caught in her throat as she saw Jun-hee trip, her body hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Jun-hee gasped, clutching onto her belly as she tried regaining her footing.

Without hesitation, Rae-a sprinted forward, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't think about it. Didn't question it. She reached Jun-hee, her hands strong as she helped her to her feet, steadying the older woman with quick movements. The door was so close. Rae-a's mind didn't falter as she pulled Jun-hee forward, her back stiff with urgency. They made it to the door just in time, the lock clicking behind them as the sounds of the others' screams faded into the background.

From across the room, Young-il was watching. His gaze was intense, his eyes never leaving her as he stood among the other players, a distant figure in the growing chaos. His expression was unreadable, but a thousand thoughts ran through his head. He'd seen her again. He'd seen her playing hero. Exactly what she wasn't supposed to be doing.

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Rae-a's team regrouped on the platform, the hum of tension filling the air as the soft whirring of the spinning mechanism began again. Young-il trailed behind her, his presence a constant, and for a fleeting moment, Rae-a felt a small sense of relief that he was still there, still safe. She couldn't deny it, even if she tried.

"You're still here," she said, her voice low but carrying a hint of something—something that wasn't easily dismissed. She quickly masked it, but Young-il caught it.

Rae-a quickly turned away, her expression neutral. It's not like it matters, she thought. He's just another player. She pushed the thought aside, but she couldn't stop the lingering feeling that something about him was important in ways she couldn't yet figure out.

Young-il, on the other hand, didn't have the same sense of relief. He was annoyed, irritated, despite himself. The way she kept playing the hero, risking her own life for people she barely knew—It will get her in a lot of trouble, he thought, the frustration prickling at his mind as he watches her do the absolute opposite that she promised the Frontman. Himself. But still, he couldn't stop himself from being...a little worried.

The platform jolted slightly, and the deafening music began once more. The anticipation made Rae-a's chest tighten. She swallowed, her eyes scanning the other players.

Suddenly, the platform halted, and the voice came over the intercom. "Three."

The sound of people scrambling, desperate to make their next move, filled the air. Rae-a's eyes snapped to her team—Jun-hee was already on the move, darting toward the edge of the platform, and Rae-a followed instinctively. They had to split into groups, and it wasn't a choice. She would stick close to Young-il and Jun-hee.

Before she could act further, Young-il was suddenly there—no warning, no time to even react. His hand gripped her wrist, pulling her toward him. 

"Stay close," Young-il muttered, his grip tightening ever so slightly, though his words were clipped, his face unreadable.

Rae-a froze, caught off guard for just a second. A tiny shock of warmth ran through her at the sudden proximity. Her heart fluttered, and a small swarm of butterflies stirred in her chest. But then, her mind took over, and she pushed the feeling aside, feeling a slight pang of disgust for the weakness that momentarily gripped her. She mentally scolded herself for the brief lapse, her face hardening as she looked away from him.

Before she could respond, a figure collided with her, forceful enough to make her stumble. Rae-a's breath hitched as the world spun for a second. In that moment, her hand was wrenched away from Young-il's, and she found herself shoved against a man—a much larger man—who had managed to pin her down in the chaos of people rushing to form groups. He smirked down at her, his weight heavy on her chest, and his breath reeked of sweat and arrogance.

"You think you can save people and keep that money from going up?" he sneered, his voice low and menacing. "Then you're a liability. Ridding you of the game...that's the most effective way."

Rae-a's pulse pounded in her ears. Her first instinct was to push back, to fight him off. She thrashed under him, but his grip only tightened, his hands pushing down harder against her chest. Panic flooded her mind. No. I won't be trapped like this. Her body reacted instinctively, thrashing even harder, trying to get away. But the weight of the man was too much. She could feel her strength draining, her energy slipping away with each failed struggle.

Get off me, she thought desperately, but the words couldn't escape her mouth.

Her movements became frantic, her vision blurring, when—whoosh. The pressure was suddenly gone. Rae-a gasped as the man was tossed off of her, his body crashing into the floor with a thud. She could barely register what happened before Young-il was there, his hands immediately grabbing her as he pulled her to her feet.

"Rae-a," Young-il's voice was sharp, filled with barely-contained anger. He didn't even give her a chance to regain her balance. He grabbed her hand and yanked her toward a door, dragging her with an efficiency that only barely masked the fury in his eyes. Jun-hee stood anxiously at the door, her face pale with distress. She opened it just in time for them to slip inside, the door slamming shut behind them with a metallic clang.

Rae-a was breathing heavily, the adrenaline rushing through her system as she stumbled into the room. Her body was still trembling, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She could feel Young-il's presence beside her, close, his anger palpable, his body still tense as he stood there, sweat dripping from his forehead. She could hear him breathing hard, could feel his fury rolling off of him. It was almost like an electric charge in the air.

"See?" Young-il's voice was low, just shy of a growl, but still cutting through the silence. "This is why helping people can backfire on you."

Rae-a couldn't look at him. Her body still shook, the aftermath of the panic and the close call making her mind scatter. She didn't respond, too focused on regaining control. Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to stop her body from trembling. Focus, she told herself. Focus. Breathe.

Her legs felt weak. She nearly died. The thought hit her like a wave. She'd never felt so vulnerable, so powerless in her life. The man had had power over her. A man. Her mind recoiled at the thought. In the real world, she had always been able to protect herself—always. But that moment...that weight on top of her...that was the first time in a very long time that she had felt someone else's control over her, and it felt like a deep wound to her pride.

Her breath hitched again, but she clenched her fists harder, forcing herself to stop the trembling. She wouldn't show it. She couldn't. She wasn't weak. But for the first time, the fear clung to her, something she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years. And it made her hate the way her body was reacting, the vulnerability she'd been forced to acknowledge.

Young-il, still standing beside her, felt something he didn't want to feel. He wasn't used to this—seeing her like this. He had always known her as someone who kept her control, who never showed weakness, who had the sharp edge of someone who had learned how to survive on their own terms. And now? He could see it in the way she trembled, in the way her hands clenched and unclenched, the way her breath came in shaky bursts. It frustrated him. He hated it, hated seeing her like this—so...human.

But under the anger and irritation, there was something else. Something that gnawed at him, even as he told himself he should stay detached. That brief flicker of worry when she was in danger. That small, irritating relief when he saw her safe. Young-il shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts. He didn't have time for this. But something deeper, darker, lodged itself in his chest—a quiet, almost buried concern for her, one he couldn't shake, no matter how hard he tried.

Silently, the group made their way back to their exact spot on the platform, the stillness of the moment settling over them like a heavy blanket. Rae-a, lost in her own thoughts, walked with her gaze fixed ahead. Her mind was reeling from the close call with the man who had pinned her down. She could still feel the weight of him, the pressure against her chest, the way her body had been rendered powerless in that instant. It unsettled her in a way she didn't want to admit.

Beside her, Young-il walked with a sharp, focused gait, his expression unreadable. Rae-a couldn't tell what he was thinking, but something about the tense set of his jaw made her uneasy. He was probably still angry about her risking her life again. She didn't even know why he cared so much.

As they reached their spot, Gi-hun, Dae-ho, and Jungbae rushed over, frantically asking what had happened. Jun-hee, her face pale and still shaken, immediately began giving them the details, her voice hurried as she recounted the events. Rae-a stood quietly, the weight of the situation heavy in her chest. She couldn't bring herself to speak.

The platform began to spin again, its whirring sound filling the air as the familiar, uncomfortable anticipation set in. Rae-a's chest tightened. She barely registered Gi-hun's question as he asked, "What number do you think will be called next?"

Without hesitation, Young-il spoke, his voice sharp and immediate. "Two."

Rae-a's eyes flickered toward him, momentarily pulled from her thoughts. She hadn't expected such a quick answer from him. His certainty about it felt...too immediate, and she found herself frowning, wondering what he knew that she didn't.

"Why two?" Gi-hun asked, his voice puzzled.

Young-il didn't hesitate. "There are still too many people left. If it's two, the number of rooms won't be enough. The players will be halved."

The words hit Rae-a like a punch to the gut. She blinked, her thoughts scrambling to catch up. Halved? The weight of that revelation settled over her. If the numbers were halved, there would be less room, fewer opportunities. And more people would be eliminated faster. Fewer rooms... fewer chances to survive. The implications were immediate and terrifying.

Her thoughts raced as she processed the consequences of Young-il's prediction. If it was true, it meant the stakes were even higher than she had imagined. Every decision, every move counts more now, she realized.

She glanced at Young-il, but he had already turned away, as if he didn't expect any response from her. The speed of his answer, the way he spoke with such certainty, had unsettled her more than she wanted to admit. He was always calculating, always two steps ahead. It made Rae-a feel exposed in a way she wasn't used to.

"Two."

The moment the announcement blared over the intercom, the chaos erupted.

It was as though a switch had been flipped—pandemonium unleashed. Players shoved and fought to get ahead, the sound of frantic footsteps and panicked shouts filling the air. Bodies collided, desperate and frantic, everyone scrambling for any chance of survival.

Rae-a barely had time to process the announcement before Young-il surged into action, his form quickly swallowed by the frantic crowd. He didn't even glance back as he pushed Rae-a into the arms of Dae-ho. His voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the chaos.

"Don't waste time!"

He didn't look back.

She understood why.

It wasn't abandonment—it was strategy. He had left her behind, but not without a plan. Dae-ho stood beside her, steady and dependable, a clear unspoken message in Young-il's absence, as he gave her a very pointed look before he left.

Stay put. 

Stay safe.

But then she saw her.

A girl—small, trembling, her face pale and frantic as she scanned the crowd, her eyes wide with panic. She was alone, completely isolated. Her body was stiff, as though caught in a trap, and Rae-a could see the desperation clawing at her.

The crowd rushed past the girl without a second glance. No one stopped. No one spared her a thought.

The girl's voice barely rose above the chaos, a shaky whisper that Rae-a could hardly make out at first.

"Please—please, I don't have anyone—!"

It cut through Rae-a like a knife. The plea was raw, desperate, and it pulled at something deep inside her, a feeling she hadn't expected. She reminded her exactly of the little girl she was too late to save. She looked at Dae-ho, but he made no move.

Without thinking, without hesitation, Rae-a's body moved before her brain could catch up. Her fists clenched, fingers digging into her palms as she shoved the girl toward Dae-ho. Her voice was firm, decisive, as she pushed the girl toward safety.

"Take her!" Rae-a ordered.

Then, with no time to waste, Rae-a turned and ran. Her legs were already in motion before she could second-guess herself. The adrenaline surged in her veins, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn't sure where she was going—only that she needed to move, to act, to get away from the mess that was swallowing everyone whole.

She could hear the chaos around her, the frantic shouts, the desperate scramble for space, the lights blaring on and off. There was only the rush of her heartbeat, the pounding of her footsteps, and the cold determination driving her forward as she frantically searched for someone in need of a pair.

A crushing force slammed into Rae-a, knocking the air from her lungs in an instant.

Before she could even process the impact, a strong arm wrapped tight around her waist, locking her in place with the force of a steel vice. Her body went rigid, the shock of it all leaving her breathless.

The world spun as her feet left the ground, her body jerked backward with a violent force. She was lifted with ease, like she weighed nothing at all, her stomach lurching as her breath came in shallow gasps. A sharp jolt rattled through her entire frame as she was tossed over someone's shoulder, helpless and unceremonious, like a ragdoll.

And then came the voice.

Sharp. Furious.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

Her chest seized at the sound—she didn't need to look to know who it was. She knew the fury in that voice, the anger that echoed through her entire body, even without the words.

Young-il.

His grip was unrelenting, like he was trying to keep her tethered to him, as though she might break free at any second. His hand crushed her waist, and the intensity of his hold sent an uncomfortable surge of panic through her chest.

He was dragging her now, shoving through the throngs of players, pushing them aside with raw power, the chaos of the crowd parting for him like waves before a storm. Rae-a kicked, twisted, and shoved at his back, her fists pounding against him in a desperate attempt to break free.

"Put me down!" she snarled, her voice hoarse, breath ragged.

But Young-il didn't slow. He didn't even flinch. His body was tense, his muscles coiled with fury, and he dragged her through the chaos with an iron will.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" His voice boomed, loud enough to shake the very walls. The words rattled her, sharp and accusatory. "I left you with Dae-ho so you'd be safe—and you ran off?!"

Her heart pounded, her head dizzy from the force of his anger, but she couldn't stop herself from trying to explain. They stumbled into a room, the distant blare of the countdown still echoing in the background.

The moment her feet hit the ground, Rae-a wrenched herself free from his hold, her chest heaving with each frantic breath. She shoved him back, the heat of the moment fueling her actions.

"That girl—" she gasped, still trying to catch her breath, her words coming out strained. "She would've died!"

Young-il's expression twisted, a dark shadow crossing his features, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. The anger in him flared higher, if that was even possible.

"And you wouldn't?!" His voice cut through the air, raw and unforgiving, disbelief lacing every syllable. "You think you're invincible, Rae-a?"

He closed the distance between them, his chest rising and falling with every harsh breath he took, his hands clenching at his sides as if he were barely holding himself back from exploding.

"You're playing hero in a fucking death game, Rae-a!" His voice lowered, growing even more dangerous. "You think that's smart?"

Rae-a's hands curled into fists at her sides, the sting of frustration and anger simmering under her skin.

"I couldn't just—" she began, but her words felt weak, pointless, in the face of his rage.

"You could have died!" His voice ripped through her like a knife, the intensity of his words making her stumble back a step. The anger was so raw, so vicious, she could feel it in her bones.

"For what?" he spat, his eyes burning with frustration. "A stranger? Someone who wouldn't have done the same for you?"

Rae-a's jaw clenched, the weight of his words sinking in. She wanted to scream, to shout that she had done the right thing, but the truth was—his anger wasn't entirely unwarranted. She had taken a risk, one that had almost cost her everything, all for a person who wasn't even part of her team. The realization hit her harder than she expected, leaving her silent in the face of his fury.

She had done it for the girl, but she hadn't thought through the consequences. And now, standing before Young-il, she couldn't ignore the hard truth—he was right. But she needed to be saved.

A noise.

Sharp. Small. The kind of sound that sliced through the tension in the room.

Rae-a's head snapped to the side instinctively.

A man stood there, eyes darting between them in wild panic, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. He wasn't part of any group, wasn't supposed to be there.

Three people.

The rules were clear.

A choice had to be made.

For a heartbeat, the man hesitated—his body taut, unsure. His eyes flicked back and forth between Rae-a, Young-il, and the door behind them. His muscles tensed, coiling like a spring, ready to launch himself into action.

But Young-il was faster.

A blur of motion, and then the sound of bodies colliding with violent force. Rae-a stumbled back, the impact so sudden it knocked her off balance. Young-il slammed into the man, sending them both crashing to the floor with an earth-shaking thud.

The struggle was brutal, fast, and unforgiving.

Limbs twisted. Fists struck with bone-crushing force, the sickening sound of punches landing ringing in her ears. The man kicked, trying to break free, but Young-il was relentless, his movements fluid and precise.

Rae-a watched, frozen for a split second, as the two of them fought—an overwhelming force in motion.

She should move. She should—

But before she could even think, Young-il was already on top of the man. A knee drove into the man's chest with enough force to knock the wind from him, and then Young-il's arms locked tight around his throat.

The man thrashed, his body jerking, desperate to break free, but Young-il didn't stop. He didn't flinch, didn't hesitate for a single moment. His jaw was clenched, his arms straining with the effort of keeping the pressure on, each squeeze of his arms tightening around the man's throat, cutting off air with chilling precision.

The man's struggle grew weaker, his kicks slowing until they stopped altogether. 

Snap.

Silence.

Rae-a's breath came slow, shallow, but not because of the death. No, she had seen death before. She had seen people die in the games—she had even participated in it herself. But this...

It wasn't the death that made her heart race.

It was Young-il.

His face was... calm. Unbothered. Steady.

There was no emotion in his expression—no guilt, no remorse. Just a cold, unwavering composure that unsettled her more than the death itself.

He looked like he'd just swatted a fly, like this was nothing to him. The casualness with which he had killed, the ease with which he had taken a life—it was like he had done it a thousand times before, and it was just another task to be done.

Rae-a stood there, her heart hammering in her chest, her body frozen. She couldn't look away from him. Her mind was spinning, trying to process everything that had just happened. She felt something shift inside of her—a deep, uncomfortable shift.

And then, Young-il's dark eyes flicked up, locking onto hers.

It wasn't just the man's death he noticed. It was the way she was looking at him.

The way she was looking at him now.

He couldn't ignore it.

She was afraid of him.

The quiet realization hit him like a blow. She didn't have to say it. Her eyes betrayed everything. For the first time, in the middle of the chaos, the shouting, and the bloodshed, Young-il saw fear in her gaze.

He stilled. He did not want this. His grip on the man's limp body loosened, the weight of his hands slipping away, as though the realization made him question his next move. Slowly, he raised his hands in surrender, as if trying to distance himself from the raw tension that had just built between them.

His voice was softer now, trying to comfort her, though it was still laced with that same cold certainty.

"We would have all died if I didn't do it."

No apology.

No regret.

Just a statement of fact.

He paused, searching her face for any sign of comprehension, any sign that she understood the logic, the reasoning behind his actions.

But there was no reassurance in her expression. No understanding.

The countdown hit zero.

The doors sealed with a heavy clang, cutting off any further discussion, any chance for a resolution.

Rae-a stood there, her heart hammering in her chest, her chest tight, the cold feeling inside her now creeping further, suffocating. She couldn't escape it, couldn't ignore it. She couldn't look at him the same way anymore.

Maybe he was right. Maybe his actions had been the only thing that kept them alive.

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