#( TASK 001. MEMORIES )

[castleofmuse]

O ocaso dourado imergia o estúdio de Blair, onde as melodias e movimentos entrelaçavam-se numa dança entre a tangibilidade e a quimera. Todo o dia fora devotado ao ensaio, cada nota e passo meticulosamente alinhados, até que a exaustão a acolhesse como um abraço sutil. A respiração, ritmada em consonância com o murmúrio suave da música que permeava as paredes, transformou-se em um convite sedutor ao repouso.

Na penumbra do estúdio, Blair sucumbiu ao sono, mergulhando num sonho intricado. Um vislumbre de seu passado emergiu, um esboço de memória revelando um castelo imponente e reluzente, erguido num reino de sonhos. Fotografias de sua mãe adornavam as paredes, emanando uma beleza etérea. O castelo de diamante, simultaneamente mítico e real, desvelava-se como um elo perdido entre a realidade e a fantasia. Poucos segundos após, Blair foi transportada para outro cenário onírico, na penumbra iluminada pelo suave brilho da lua, o salão do castelo de Isabella tornava-se um palco etéreo. A Rainha, Imponente e serena, erguia a flauta com graciosidade, as notas fluidas tecendo uma melodia etérea que dançava no ar. Blair, sua filha, movia-se em resposta, uma extensão da música, seus movimentos desenhando arabescos mágicos no chão polido.

O prece mágico entre mãe e filha criava um vínculo intangível, uma conexão além das palavras e dos gestos. Isabella e Blair compartilhavam risos, cada nota da flauta ecoando como uma risada celestial, enquanto a dança se desenrolava em um encontro de almas entrelaçadas. Entre risos e movimentos graciosos, a troca de olhares transcendia o tempo, e uma conversa silenciosa, mas profundamente significativa, transcorria entre elas. Entretanto, por trás do sorriso radiante de Blair e da melodia encantadora, uma sombra de tristeza sutil insinuava-se. Como um véu de névoa, a tristeza pairava no ar, envolvendo a cena em uma aura melancólica. Era como se o sonho e a realidade, em um pacto silencioso, compartilhassem o destino de uma lembrança que transcenderia o efêmero. A dança prosseguia, as notas da flauta entrelaçando-se com a movimentação grácil de Blair, enquanto a tristeza ecoava como um suspiro nostálgico, unindo passado e presente em um instante fugaz e eterno...

No instante em que o véu do sono afagava a mente de Blair, uma fada feminina, etérea e radiante, sussurrou-lhe segredos ancestrais nos recônditos do sonho. A doce melodia de suas palavras narrava que a cidade amaldiçoada outrora pertencera a um rei chamado Harol. Contudo, antes que os enigmas do passado desdobrassem-se, Blair foi abruptamente desperta do reino onírico. Ao abrir os olhos, a luminosidade do estúdio substituiu a magia do sonho. Num turbilhão de sentimentos, a bailarina viu-se dividida entre a felicidade de vislumbrar sua mãe em toda a sua beleza e a perplexidade causada pela voz da fada, ecoando em sua mente como uma ressonância da realidade. Preocupações e interrogações entrelaçaram-se, deixando Blair imersa num misto de emoções, enquanto o eco da voz misteriosa permanecia como uma promessa inquietante de verdades ainda não reveladas.

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (20.2)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 20.2 - Tears [NSFW]

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 21

PREV : Chapter 19

SFW ver. : Chapter 20.1

Twelve hours had passed and night has come.

The control room was eerily silent, save for the quiet hum of the monitors and the occasional shuffling of fabric. The Front Man was no longer in the room. Instead, the masked officer was the one supervising everything. The other managers kept their focus on their designated tasks.

Jun-hee still hadn’t delivered the baby, and you had a feeling she would by tomorrow. This meant the players had an entire day of rest. For some, it was a reprieve from the looming horrors of the next game. But for a few, it was a punishment.

You could tell from the live feed that player 100, 226, and 124 were visibly dissatisfied with the delay. They likely deemed it unfair. Unless, of course, the same mercy was extended to them instead. It made you feel bitter.

Your hands hovered over the console, scrolling through the task management screen. You were uncertain whether you should update anything. After all, In-ho knew exactly who you were now.

That’s when your radio crackled to life. A few managers nearby glanced at theirs, thinking the message was for them, but as you held yours, the subtle vibration confirmed it was meant for you only.

You felt the masked officer’s stare burning into your back as you brought the radio close to your face, bracing yourself for the incoming message.

“Manager 007,” came the deep, distorted voice of the Front Man. “Resume your task from last evening. Report to me in the host’s room.”

You blanked for a moment. What task that you didn’t complete last evening? Then it came crashing down on you. He was referring to the task of inspecting his quarters – the one that had led to your identities being exposed, to an unexpected, tangled and steamy night in his bed.

A flush crawled up your neck at the memory, but you quickly shoved the thought away. He was likely summoning you again to ensure you stayed the night in his room. He had made it clear that he preferred you there rather than in your assigned manager’s quarters.

Without hesitation, you stood from your monitor and moved toward the elevator. You had never seen anyone else use it except for In-ho… and now, you.

As you reached the elevator, you felt a piercing gaze on your back. You didn't need to turn around to know it was the masked officer. Does he suspect something? Does he know about you and the Front Man? And if he does, what does he think of it?

You soon found yourself in the grand black and gold hallway of In-ho’s private quarter. At the far end, in the living room, you spotted a lone figure seated in the single-seater sofa, the back of his head facing you.

Even without seeing his face, you recognized him. The straightened posture, the sleek black coat draped over his shoulders, the quiet authority in his presence. It was indubitably In-ho.

Still, you approached cautiously as you crossed the hallway. When you reached him, you stopped a few steps to his right, gaining a better angle to see his face. He was staring ahead, his dark eyes unfocused, lost in deep thought. The air between you was thick with silence, heavier than usual.

You knew why.

He was reflecting on his decision. The delay of the next game – the rare act of leniency he had granted so Jun-hee could deliver her child – must have weighed on him. He had always maintained the structure of the games, enforcing the rules and ensuring everything run fair and equally. But today, he had broken that pattern.

You studied his profile, noting the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers rested rigidly against the armrest.

“Young...” you caught yourself, once again getting his name wrong. “In-ho, are you okay?”

In-ho glanced at you, his expression unreadable. The dim lighting of the living room cast a shadow across his sharp features, making him look even more distant. You stepped forward, closing the small gap between you and the sofa until you were standing beside him. The heavy silence in the room stretched between you two before he finally spoke.

“Delaying the game won’t change anything,” he muttered. “They will still have to play. The delay doesn't matter much.”

You studied him for a moment before shaking your head.

“No, it matters,” you countered, keeping your tone gentle. “This delay meant saving the life of the most innocent one in this entire place. The baby.”

In-ho turned his gaze away, staring blankly at the table in front of him. He was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, he exhaled. “A moment of delay doesn’t change the outcome.”

You studied his profile, the sharp angles of his face illuminated by the soft glow of the room. His voice was even, steady, but there was something underneath it. Something deeper that you couldn’t quite place.

“It may not change anything after this,” you countered, taking a step closer. “But it matters. It mattered to Jun-hee. It mattered to the baby. It even mattered to the players who saw that kindness still exists in this place.”

He turned slightly, his dark eyes flicking toward you with a look you couldn’t decipher. There was hesitation there, doubt, maybe even conflict. The weight of your words settled between you both, thick and heavy like the air before a storm.

Silence stretched. He turned his head away, gazing off toward some invisible point in the distance. The tension between you both hung in the air, neither of you willing to break it.

You let out a small sigh. “And now you have an additional player to take care of. The youngest in this place.”

His lips twitched – so subtly you almost missed it. He shook his head slightly as if amused by the thought but he still said nothing. The ghost of a smirk played on his lips for just a second before fading back into his usual unreadable expression.

Then, slowly, he turned to you fully. His eyes, once distant, were now locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a strange flutter through your chest.

Without a word, he lifted a hand toward you, palm up, fingers slightly curled. His voice was low, unreadable, but there was something in the way he spoke that made your breath hitch.

“Come here.”

You hesitated for a split second before you placed your hand on his. His fingers instantly curled gently around yours. There was no force in his touch, no urgency, as he guided you closer. You followed without thinking until you were standing before him where he sat on the sofa.

Then, with one gentle tug, he pulled you toward him.

Realization struck like a bolt of lightning. He wasn’t just bringing you closer. He was pulling you onto his lap. Heat surged through your body. Your breath hitched as you instinctively tried to resist. But before you could take a step back, his deep voice cut through the space between you.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours. “You know I’ll catch you.”

Your heart pounded. His words sent an unexplainable thrill through you. His grip wasn’t harsh but it was unyielding as if he already knew you wouldn’t refuse him – that you would fold in the end.

Swallowing thickly, you let him pull you down. Slowly and shyly, you straddled him, your knees brushing against the side of his thigh as your body stiffened with nerves. His hands settled on you. One at your hip, the other resting on your thigh.

For a moment, silence stretched between you. His fingers traced circles against your hip, his touch featherlight but firm like he was savoring the weight of you against him.

You stared at him from behind the manager mask, feeling the weight of his gaze. Before you could react, his left hand reached up, slowly pulling down your hoodie.

Then, he unclasped your mask, lifting it away and tossing it aside. Cool air brushed against your face, making you blink in surprise. A thin layer of sweat clung to your skin from wearing the mask too long. Strands of hair stuck to your damp cheeks, framing your flushed expression as you hesitantly met his eyes.

In-ho’s gaze softened, though it remained intense. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin as he tucked stray strands of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. He wasn’t just looking at you. He was memorizing you, you noticed. His fingers moved slowly, wiping away the sheen of sweat from your forehead, down your nose, and across your cheeks. The care in his touch made your breath hitch.

You felt… seen.

Like something precious, something worth admiring. No one had ever looked at you like this before. The way he studied you made a shiver run down your spine.

A blush spread across your cheeks and you looked away, overwhelmed by the intensity.

In-ho took the chance to bring his hand to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he gently pulled you in. Your chest pressed against his, no space left between you. His warmth wrapped around you, sending a shiver down your spine. Your chin rested against his shoulder in this proximity. Your hands braced against his chest, but before you could react, his arms tightened around your waist, securing you in place as if he had no intention of letting you go.

Your breath caught when he tilted his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. The touch sent sparks through your body. His kisses were slow and possessive, leaving a trail of heat wherever they landed. His mouth lingered, moving down throughout your neck, the soft suction marking his path.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the sensation. The contrast between the cool air and his heated touch left you lightheaded. The way he held you, like you were something precious, left a warmth blooming in your chest.

The irony of it all wasn’t lost on you. The infamous Front Man entangled with a pink guard. Even though your uniform was only a disguise, it still felt forbidden, dangerous. And yet it felt intoxicatingly exhilarating. A fine line between power and surrender, like a boss and employee type of forbidden relationship.

Your mind told you to resist, to pull away, because this wasn’t the best situation to entangle with. But your body? It betrayed you. Because instead of breaking free, you leaned in, losing yourself in the moment.

You were sweaty for being in the pink guard’s jumpsuit for hours, but that did not deter In-ho as he placed kisses down your neck and collarbone to your chest. He brought one hand from around your body to unzip your pink guard little by little and with each exposure of your skin, he kissed and sucked.

You let out a few heavy breaths in pleasure as you felt a bulge on his crotch. His bulge rubbed against your covered clit and you jolted in surprise and unexpected pleasure. You lifted your hips up and away from his bulge to avoid pressing on it. However, In-ho suddenly brought his other hand to your ass, squeezed it, and pushed your hips down. It caused your crotch to press against his bulge solidly, no gap at all.

“Don’t be shy,” he suddenly breathed out against your chest in the middle of kisses. “Ride me.”

You didn't say a word, but your response was clear when you cautiously pressed your hips against his, feeling his clothed bulge against you. Each contact with your clothed area sent waves of pleasure through your body.

In-ho's hands moved to hitch your thighs slightly higher around his waist, giving you more leverage. He guided your hips into a rhythm against his own, each movement causing the fabric between you to create an almost maddening friction. His lips trailing a heated path across your exposed skin only added to the intoxicating sensation.

Your hands moved from where they had been bracing against his chest, seeking support elsewhere. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you held onto him for dear life, the pleasure building with every arousing friction of your bodies.

The two of you rutted closely together, concentrating on the friction between your hips, as he planted kisses and gentle bites on the bare skin of your collarbone and chest. With his free hand, he unzipped your pink jumpsuit further, stopping at your belly button. He then tugged the upper part of the jumpsuit down until it slipped past your shoulders and forearms, exposing your bra-clad chest.

You leaned back slightly, allowing him to admire your bare form. Without hesitation, he unhooked your bra and discarded it. His eyes darkened with lust as he gazed at your naked chest. He placed both hands on your breasts, caressing one while gently squeezing the other. Then, he leaned forward and took the nipple of the squeezed breast into his mouth.

In-ho suckled and bit your nipple gently, causing you to jolt in both pain and pleasure. His other hand still massaged your other breast, making the already intense sensation even more acute.

As he switched between your breasts, giving each equal attention, you moaned and writhed under his touch. The combination of your hips rutting together, his lips and tongue teasing your nipples, and his hand gently squeezing your breasts was driving you wild with desire.

In-ho then brought one hand to trail down your body until it reached the waistband of your jumpsuit. Without breaking contact with your chest, he tugged at the fabric until it was loose enough for him to slide his hand inside. He found your wetness almost immediately, causing a shy moan to escape from your lips.

He pressed his palm against the fabric of your panties, rubbing against your clit with just enough pressure to make you squirm. Your hips moved in sync with his hand as he continued to rub circles over the sensitive spot.

Inhaling deeply through gritted teeth, In-ho released one of your breasts from his mouth. His saliva was connected between your nipple and his lips. He then moved to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. His fingers never stopped their movements against your clit as you kissed passionately, tongues tangling as they explored each other's mouths.

With both hands now exploring every inch of skin they could find on your body, In-ho brought you closer and closer to bliss. You could feel yourself getting close to climax, but just as you were about to reach it, he pulled away from the kiss and removed his hands from between your legs.

“Not on my hand, sweetheart,” he whispered huskily against your mouth.

Without warning, he grasped your thighs and stood up from the sofa, lifting you with him as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You gasped in surprise and quickly encircled your arms around his neck.

In-ho lifted you from the living room and headed toward a particular door in the hallway. You sensed the firm door pressing against your back as he turned the knob, and then you were on the move once more.

He ended up carrying you into the bathroom. Once there, he set you down gently in front of the shower. He started to pull down your pink jumpsuit, eagerly sliding it past your legs, and you assisted by lifting your feet. Suddenly, he got up and pressed his lips against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth, as he began to remove his Front Man coat.

In the heat of passion, you lost track. The next thing you knew, the clear glass wall of the shower fogged up, with condensation trickling down like teardrops. The room filled with steam, making it hard to breathe anything but the humid air, heavy with the smell of sex and sweat.

Somewhere in the haze of your lust-drunk mind, you registered the sound of skin slapping against skin, rhythmic and relentless like a primal drumbeat. Each powerful thrust of In-ho's hips against your backside was met with a sharp, staccato slap, echoing obscenely in the confined space of the shower.

Your breasts, bare and free, jiggled with every brutal slam of his pelvis against your ass. The cool glass against your heated skin was a stark contrast to the inferno raging within you, and with each push, your nipples scraped deliciously against the fogged up surface.

Behind you, In-ho gripped your hips with bruising force, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh like claws. He leaned over you, his chest pressed flush against your back, his harsh breath hot against your ear. The force of his thrusts rattled the glass wall and shakes through your body, each one striking deeper and harder than the last.

In this steamy, fogged up paradise, lost in a world of sensation and unbridled lust, you could only cling desperately to the slick surface, your nails scrabbling for purchase on the wet glass. The sound of your moans and his grunts, the slap of sweat-slicked skin, and the creaking of the straining glass walls melded into a symphony of carnal debauchery.

You were lost, utterly consumed by the pleasurable fire within you. Even as your body screamed for release, In-ho showed no signs of slowing down, driving into you with an intensity that bordered on feral. In that moment, he wasn't just fucking you, you realized. He was claiming you, branding you, ruining you for anyone else.

You felt In-ho's large hand grasp your breast roughly from behind, kneading the soft flesh. His calloused palm and fingers dug into your skin as he groped and squeezed, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your core. You arched your back, pushing your chest further into his hungry grasp.

At the same time, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth with a fervor that stole your breath away. He kissed you like a man starved, devouring you with a hunger that was both terrifying and exhilarating. Your own tongue danced and twined with his, engaging in a steamy duel that left you lightheaded.

If possible, In-ho's thrusts grew harder, faster, more relentless. Each drive of his hips slammed your body against the glass. The steam swirled around you like tendrils, keeping you lock in this foggy pleasure.

You could feel every thick inch of him inside your pussy, stretching and filling you in a way that bordered on agony. Yet somehow, through the haze of pain, you craved more. Your inner walls clenched around him, gripping his hard shaft like a velvet vice, as he pounded into you mercilessly.

In-ho's stamina seemed boundless. He fucked you like a man possessed and that he was determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from your trembling form. You could feel the heat building between your legs, the coil of your impending release winding tighter and tighter in your core.

His hand left your breast to grasp your chin, turning your head to the side so he could deepen the kiss. His tongue plundered your mouth, claiming every inch of the wet cavern, as he continued his relentless assault on your dripping pussy. The angle allowed him to drive even deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each savage thrust.

Dazed and drunk on sensation, you could only hold on for dear life as In-ho took you ferociously. The steam enveloped you like a lover's touch, your bodies slick with sweat and desire as you were reduced to little more than a set of nerve endings, screaming for release.

You scrambled for purchase on the fogged glass wall, your nails scrabbling and clawing at the slick surface. The steam made everything treacherously slippery, your hands sliding and failing to find a grip. Yet even as you struggled, In-ho never paused in his relentless onslaught.

His hips slammed into your backside with a brutal intensity, each impact sending a jolt through your bones. The wet slap of flesh on flesh echoed obscenely in the steam-filled space. Your breasts jiggled with every thrust.

In-ho's grip on your chin tightened as he ripped his mouth from yours, a string of saliva connecting your lips. His eyes blazed into yours, pupils blown wide with lust, not a hint of mercy in their dark depths. He was a man consumed, a beast in its mating rut, and you were the object of his desire.

His breath came in harsh pants as he loomed over you. The tendons in his neck strained as he pistoned his hips at a punishing, merciless pace. There was only a primal, animalistic drive to stake his claim, to mark you as his in the most visceral way possible.

You could only gasp and choke on the steam as the pleasure inside you rose and rose in relentless waves. Your cunt clenched and spasmed around the thick, throbbing shaft plundering your most intimate depths, the grip of your velvet walls fluttering wildly.

You were trapped between the unyielding glass wall and his equally unyielding body, impaled on his cock and at the mercy of his desire.

He was so deep inside you, the bulbous head of his cock kissing your cervix with every brutal thrust. It felt as if he would split you in two. Yet even as your body screamed in protest, your cunt clung to him greedily.

There was no gentleness in his touch. This was raw, visceral, animalistic fucking – a primal rutting that stripped away all pretense and left only the basest instincts. The way he filled you, stretched you, used your body for his pleasure – it was a violation and yet, somehow, you craved it.

Lost in a haze of sensation, time seemed to dissolve, the minutes blurring into an eternity of unending pleasure and pain. Your body was a live wire, every nerve ending screaming for release as In-ho's cock pummeled your core with a ferocity that bordered on punishing. The wet squelch of your cunt being split open, over and over, filled your ears.

Suddenly, In-ho's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave bruises. A deep groan tore from his throat. To your surprise, his pace grew even faster, the force of his thrusts becoming almost violent in their intensity.

Every pounding he threw sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You had never been taken like this before. It was rough, raw, and animalistic. And yet, despite the pain and intensity of it all, you couldn't help but find yourself craving more of his touch. It was a violation of your body, but one that you welcomed with open arms.

You felt his cock throb and pulse inside you, growing even harder, even bigger. Your cunt clenched down hard, gripping him like a vice, trying desperately to hold onto him as he fucked into you with wild abandon.

With a groan that echoed off the steam-filled walls, In-ho slammed into you one final time, driving his cock to the hilt within your spasming quim. You felt the bulbous head of his dick pressing insistently against your cervix, demanding entrance to your womb. And then, he let go.

A searing heat flooded your insides as In-ho’s seed spilled into you, his thick, virile cum painting your walls white. You could feel each scorching spurt as it pumped into your waiting womb. His hips pressed solidly against your ass, ensuring not a single drop of his precious essence would be wasted.

Wave after wave of his release crashed over you, your body trembling and quaking with the force of it. The feeling of his thick seed sloshing in your stuffed cunt, the knowledge of how deeply he had buried himself inside you – it was primal, it was filthy, and it was utterly intoxicating.

You could feel every last pulse of his release, each throb of his cock as it emptied its heavy load deep into your core. Your womb felt heavy and full, stretched taut by the sheer volume of In-ho’s seed flooding your most intimate depths. The heat of it seeped into your very bones, branding you, marking you as his.

Even as the last spurts of his climax tapered off, In-ho remained buried to the hilt inside you. His grip on your hips never wavered, his fingers sinking into your flesh like talons, keeping you pinned in place. It was as if he feared that if he let you go, every last drop of his essence would gush back out.

The steam swirled around your entwined bodies, the air thick and heavy with the musky scent of sex. Droplets of sweat trickled down In-ho’s chest, mingling with the rivulets of water from the shower. His breath, still coming fast and hard, gusted against your neck and shoulder blades, raising goosebumps on your skin.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, In-ho began to pull out of your still-clenching heat. You felt every ridge, every throbbing inch of his softening cock as it dragged along your sensitive walls. As the broad head finally popped free, a gush of his seed followed, trickling down your thighs. Your legs felt weak.

In-ho stayed close behind you, one hand braced on the glass wall, the other arm wrapped loosely around your waist. He pressed a line of slow kisses along your shoulder blades, a sharp contrast to the brutal fucking of moments before. It was almost tender, almost loving. Almost, but not quite. There was still an undercurrent of possessiveness, of raw, primal hunger lurking beneath the gentle touches.

Together, you and In-ho finished washing up in the steamy shower, hands roaming and caressing each other as the water sluiced over your curves. He lathered your body with soap, his calloused fingers kneading the suds into your skin, leaving no inch of you untouched. In turn, you explored the hard planes of his chest, tracing the lines of his scars, the ridges of his muscles.

Later, the two of you enjoyed dinner together. Following that, you retired to his bedroom, where the second round started.

You found yourself pinned beneath In-ho’s muscular frame, your back arching off the bed as he settled between your spread thighs. The bedsheets crinkled beneath you as you were trapped beneath In-ho's sweat-slicked body. You could feel every rigid line of his body as he loomed over you, his hips nestled snugly against yours.

In-ho's dark eyes drunk in the sight of you, splayed out and wanting beneath him. One large hand skimmed up your side, cupping the soft swell of your breast, feeling the weight of it in his palm. He leaned down, capturing your nipple between his teeth, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak before he suckled hard.

You gasped, back bowing further as pleasure jolted straight to your core. In-ho took the opportunity to surge forward, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance. With a roll of his hips, he sheathed himself inside your slick heat, burying himself to the hilt in one deep thrust.

A strangled cry escaped your lips as your body stretched around his girth, struggling to adjust. In-ho groaned. He held himself there for a moment, allowing you to feel every throbbing inch of him, hot and hard.

Then, he began to move. Each powerful thrust sent a shockwave through your body, jostling you against the mattress, the headboard slamming against the wall with every slam of In-ho’s hips against yours. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mingling with the symphony of your mingled moans and groans.

Your breasts jiggled with each driving thrust as In-ho fucked into you with deep strokes. Every plunge of his thick cock raked against your sensitive walls, each drag igniting sparks behind your eyelids. You could feel yourself being split open, stretched taut around his pistoning member, your slick inner muscles gripping him like a velvet vise.

In-ho’s sweat dripped onto your chest, your belly, as he pistoned into you with a relentless, primal rhythm. The wet, filthy squelch of his cock driving through your drenched pussy was obscene. You could feel every thrust, every grind, every merciless plunge. The bed creaked and groaned beneath the relentless assault, echoing the wild rhythm of your fucking.

In-ho’s heavy balls slapped against your ass with each powerful thrust, the lewd sound punctuating the night air. His hands were rough and demanding. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, spreading them wider to accommodate his brutal drive.

A new wave of pleasure washed over you as In-ho angled his hips just right, hitting that sweet spot deep within you. Stars exploded behind your closed eyelids and a cry tore from your throat. It was too much, too intense. You felt on the verge of shattering again as In-ho rode you relentlessly through wave after wave of pleasure.

The world seemed to shrink until there was nothing but the two of you, lost in a haze of sweat, sex, and primal need. The more In-ho thrust into you, the more your body responded.

In-ho's eyes were dark with lust as he watched your body writhe beneath him. His lips curled into a smirk at the sight of you so thoroughly undone and corrupted by his touch.

Each powerful thrust drove you further up the bed, your breasts bouncing wildly, each hardened nipple grazing In-ho's sweat-slicked chest. The room filled with the carnal symphony of your coupling – the lewd slap of flesh against flesh, the creaking of the bed frame, and your escalating cries of rapture.

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you as In-ho’s shaft raked against your most sensitive spots. Your inner muscles spasmed and clenched around his pistoning member as your climax built to a crescendo. You arched your back, fingernails rake down In-ho's broad back, leaving red welts in their wake. Your juices gushed around his plundering cock, dripping down the curve of your ass, puddling on the sheets beneath you.

“Fuck!” In-ho growled, his voice strained with exertion and lust. He didn't let up, didn't slow his punishing pace even as he felt your walls flutter and seize around him. If anything, he fucked you harder, spurred on by the exquisite sensation of your orgasm gripping his shaft like a blazing fist.

You yelped as your release finally peaked, your body convulsing underneath In-ho as white-hot ecstasy scorched through your veins. Your vision went white, stars exploding behind closed eyelids as every nerve ending screamed in bliss. Even as you came undone beneath him, In-ho continued to pound into your spasming sex, each thrust extending your climax, wringing every last drop of pleasure from your quaking form.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, claws sinking into skin as you clung to him. Drool dripped from the corner of your mouth as you thrashed your head from side to side, overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm. In-ho’s hips never ceased their relentless rhythm, keeping your climax at a fever pitch.

With his teeth gritted, In-ho slammed into you one final, brutal thrust. His cock buried itself to the hilt inside your still fluttering, drenched sex. The broad head of his member pressed insistently against your cervix, demanding entrance to your womb.

A guttural groan tore from In-ho’s throat as his climax finally overtook him. Searing ropes of his seed erupted from the tip of his cock, painting your insides white with each pulsing spurt. You could feel each thick, creamy ribbon of his essence flooding your waiting womb, the scorching heat of it seeping into your very core.

In-ho’s hips jerked and stuttered as he emptied himself inside you, his climax seeming to go on forever. He gripped your hips with bruising force, holding you in place as he ensured not a single drop of his precious seed would be wasted.

You could feel his heart pounding against your own as he rode out the aftershocks of his release. Your own body continued to ripple and quake around his softening shaft, milking every last drop of his release.

As the last spurts of In-ho’s climax tapered off, he slumped against you, his sweaty skin slick and sliding against yours. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fought to regain composure. You could feel the hammering of his heart gradually slowing.

In the aftermath of your shared ecstasy, you lay entwined, your bodies still joined as the last remnants of In-ho’s release seeped from where you were so intimately connected. The room was filled with the scent of sex and sweat.

After a short rest, In-ho stirred. He licked his lips as he felt his spent seed, warm and thick, beginning to seep out of your tender, well-used sex. Pulling back gently, he watched with satisfaction as rivulets of their combined essence trickled out of your abused quim. Your folds were swollen and puffy, flushed a deep, aching pink that spoke of the thorough fucking you had just endured.

In-ho grasped your wrists and pulled you up, surprising you. He positioned you until you rolled onto your chest. He helped maneuver your hips until you were positioned on your knees, your butt raised and presented to him. The new angle left your dripping core exposed, your thighs trembling as they supported your weight.

Behind you, In-ho shifted, one hand gripping your hip. You felt the heavy weight of his shaft brushing between your ass cheeks. He was already growing hard again. You gasped as you felt the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance, smearing the combination of dripping cum and arousal over your sensitive folds. Your body quivered, realizing that he was nowhere near done with you yet.

He pressed forward, sinking back into your tender, well-used sex. You clenched at the intrusion, feeling every ridge and vein of his re-hardening shaft stroking along your battered walls. Slick with the lewd mixture of your releases, he hilted himself inside you with a single, powerful thrust, burying himself balls-deep in your dripping sheath. The sensation of his cock stirring the pool of semen inside you, shoving his sperm back into your cervix, was dizzyingly intense.

In-ho set a brutal pace, driving into your sensitive sex with a punishing pace. Each merciless thrust shook your entire body, your breasts pressed against the bedsheets beneath you as he took you from behind. Lewd wet squelches filled the air, the obscene sound of his shaft plunging into your filled pussy making you blush.

In-ho was relentless, each surge of his hips pushing more of his previous load out of your stuffed cunt, only to be replaced by a fresh surge of his hardening cock. The combined fluids dripped down your thighs, splattering onto the bedsheet below as he fucked into you with mind-numbing intensity.

In-ho’s grip tightened, fingers digging into the flesh of your hip hard enough to leave bruises as he pistoned into you with increasing fervor. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your escalating cries of pleasure. Your body jolted with each powerful thrust.

His hips slammed against the globes of your ass with each plunge, the lewd sound of the impact echoing through the room. One hand crept around your thigh, fingers finding your aching clit, rubbing the swollen nub in tight circles. The added stimulation sent jolts of white-hot pleasure racing up your spine, drawing a startled yelp from your lips.

“Come, my flower,” In-ho growled, his voice a low, guttural rasp in your ear. “Squeeze my cock more. Milk me dry.”

His filthy words, combined with the relentless stimulation against your most sensitive spot, pushed you to the edge. Your orgasmic juices drenched his cock and spilled onto the bedsheets below. Your inner muscles fluttered and clenched. You moaned aloud as your back arched with the explosive climax. Just like before, even while you were orgasming, In-ho never stopped fucking you.

The sensation of your velvety walls gripping him like a fist, combined with the erotic sight of your body bouncing beneath him, was rapidly driving him towards his own explosive climax.

With a harsh groan, he slammed into you one last time, grinding his pelvis flush against the cheeks of your ass. You could feel him pulsing, throbbing, as he buried himself to the hilt inside your spasming sheath. And then, with a hoarse shout, he was coming, his seed erupting from his shaft in thick, scalding ropes.

You could feel each molten spurt painting your insides, the heat of it searing you from within as In-ho emptied himself into your sex. Your body shuddered and jerked beneath him as he filled you once more, your own release extending and crashing over you in wave after wave of mind-numbing pleasure.

In-ho held himself deep inside you, his cock twitching and releasing the last spurts of his orgasm even as you continued to throb around him. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you still as he spent himself inside you, painting your insides with his warmth.

Once his release subsided, he collapsed onto your back, causing you to also lie down on the bed entirely. His spent shaft slipped out of your overused sex leaving another trail of your combined juices escaping from your well-used folds. You both lay there for a moment longer, panting and spent, bodies slick with sweat.

You wondered why you were so open to him and even surrendered your body to him. Was it because, subconsciously, you wanted to reward him for his decision to postpone the game for Jun-hee? Or maybe you had come to realize that being fucked by him was genuinely enjoyable? You're no longer sure.

You did not stop him from initiating the next few rounds afterward. You let him.

For the next round, In-ho flipped you onto your back, pushing your thighs up towards your chest. He hooked your knees over his shoulders, nearly bending you in half as he loomed over you with a wicked grin. The new position left you utterly exposed, your dripping, well-fucked cunt on vulgar display as it clenched hungrily around nothing.

In-ho took a moment to admire the debauched sight of your glistening folds, swollen and puffy from their previous coupling. Rivulets of their combined essence trickled out of your core, dripping down the curve of your ass to pool on the sheets beneath. He swiped two fingers through the mess, pushing the lewd nectar back into your fluttering hole. You whimpered.

He then positioned himself over you. Without warning, he surged forward, the thick head of his shaft parting your lips with ease. He hilted himself inside you in a single thrust, your slick walls stretching obscenely around his girth. A strangled moan tore from your throat at the sudden intrusion, back arching off the bed as pleasure-pain lanced through you.

In-ho set a brutal pace, pounding into your sensitive sex. Each surge of his hips shook your entire body, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room as he fucked you with wild abandon. Your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts.

His hands gripped your thighs bruisingly, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he pistoned into you with increasing intensity. The bed frame creaked and groaned beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each savage thrust. You could feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock stroking along your battered walls, stoking the embers of your arousal into a raging inferno.

For the final round, In-ho had you bend over the edge of the bed, your elbows supporting you on the mattress as your ass and dripping cunt jutted out obscenely. He stepped behind you, gripping your hips, as he positioned himself behind you.

Without warning, In-ho slammed forward, the thick head of his cock spearing your entrance and plunging deep into your overfilled heat. A moan ripped from your throat as he hilted inside you, his heavy balls slapping against your sensitive clit. In this new angle, each thrust drove against that secret spot deep within your core, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you.

In-ho set a punishing pace, hips slapping against your ass with lewd smacks as he fucked into you. Bruising fingers gripped your hips, guiding your body to meet his relentless thrusts. Your breasts swayed and bounced beneath you, nipples grazing the sheets with each slam of his hips. Lewd squelches of your combined juices filled the air as he stirred the pool of semen inside your sex.

His hips undulated, scooping out your release only to plunge it back inside as he hilted to the balls. Your ass rippled with each impact, white flesh jiggling obscenely as he took his pleasure. The headboard slammed against the wall, the room echoing with the brutal slap of skin on skin and your escalating cries of ecstasy.

In this degrading position, you felt every thick inch of his cock pummeling your sensitive walls, pushing you closer to yet another explosive climax. Your juices poured from your core, splattering onto the sheets below, as he fucked you with a single-minded intensity, chasing his own completion. You knew he was close, his rhythm growing erratic as he neared his peak.

With a groan, In-ho buried himself balls-deep, grinding his pelvis against your ass as his orgasm crashed over him. Scalding ropes of his seed erupted from his shaft, painting your clenching walls white. You could feel each molten spurt as it filled your womb, his release seeming to go on forever as he emptied himself inside you.

In-ho slowly pulled out of your thoroughly used and dripping cunt. A gush of his thick seed spilled out, trickling down your thighs as his softening cock slipped free of your abused hole with a wet plop. He took a moment to admire the lewd sight of your puffy, spit-shined folds before easing you up onto the bed properly. Finally, he’s done, you thought in relief.

In-ho climbed in beside you, pulling you back against his strong, sweat-slick chest. He tugged the blanket over both of your naked, entwined forms, cocooning you in a warm embrace. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath. The room was filled with the musky scent of sex and the distant sound of your ragged breathing intertwining.

Exhausted from the four intense rounds of lovemaking, you found yourself unable to form words. Your limbs felt like jelly, your body aching pleasantly from In-ho's passionate attentions. You let your eyelids flutter closed, listening to the soothing sound of his heartbeat as it gradually slowed.

Within seconds, you felt yourself drifting off. The events of the day faded away, the lingering soreness in your muscles a testament to the thorough fucking you had endured. As you slipped into oblivion, you knew you would need to rest, for you had a feeling In-ho would be ready for another round or two come dawn.

Except… he never had the chance.

The crackling of the radio jolted you awake. Your eyes remained shut, still heavy with exhaustion, but the voice that followed erased any hope of drifting back to sleep.

“Captain, I apologize for disturbing you, but player 222 is finally delivering her child.”

Your eyes snapped open. Your breath caught as the words sank in. You pushed yourself up, but the ache in your body protested. You hastily made it to the edge of the bed and tried to stand up on your feet. But your legs gave out beneath you. You plopped back down on the bedsheets.

Movement behind you drew your attention. In-ho rose as well. He shifted to the spot beside you and got up from the bed easily. He moved across the room, his focus on the radio resting on his study desk. You stayed still, trying to will your legs to cooperate.

You watched as In-ho picked up the radio, his finger pressing down on the button. “What’s the situation in the dormitory now?”

A brief silence followed before the masked officer responded. “Most players are awake. Some are gathering around player 222. Others are staying back, watching.”

You pushed yourself up again, slower this time. Your legs were weak, but they held. Just barely. You glanced toward In-ho but his focus remained on the radio. His face was unreadable behind the mask, but his posture was tense.

“And the control room?” he asked.

“We are monitoring the situation.”

In-ho exhaled through his nose, quiet but sharp. He looked at you then, finally acknowledging your presence. He did not speak, but you understood. You did not need words to know that whatever happened next, neither of you could afford to ignore it.

“I'm coming down,” he said into the radio before releasing the button.

You hurried toward the door. You quickly showered – alone this time – and dressed in your manager disguise. Afterward, In-ho took a brief moment to shower before donning his Front Man outfit.

As the two of you finished adjusting your masks, his distorted voice cut through the silence. “Wait.”

You stared at him questioningly from behind your manager mask, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s highly suspicious for both of us to go down together to the control room,” he said, his voice measured. “Wait here. I’ll go first. I’ll call you through the radio when the time is right.”

You knew he was right. Still, the thought of staying behind while Jun-hee was giving birth made you uneasy. You wanted to be there, to see for yourself that she was alright. But you couldn’t afford to make a reckless mistake. One wrong move and everything would unravel. All because of you. So you nodded.

In-ho turned and strode across the hallway, disappearing into the elevator. You were left standing in the living room, heart pounding, hands curled into fists at your sides.

You hated waiting.

Your mind raced as you paced the floor, your shoes barely making a sound against the polished tiles. The longer you stood there, the more restless you became.

Seconds stretched into minutes. You checked the clock on the wall, counting the time since In-ho left. Ten minutes. Then fifteen. Each passing moment made the weight of your worry grow heavier. You leaned against the black and gold wall of the hallway but immediately straightened back up, unable to stay still. You thought about going down anyway, about abandoning caution just this once, but you knew better. If you rushed in now, if you acted on impulse, you’d jeopardize everything.

So you waited.

You took slow breaths. The longer you waited, the more your mind wandered. You thought about the next game, about how your friends would still be forced to play it. It was inevitable. Then your mind drifted to the kind guard 011 and Gyeong-seok. You wondered what they were doing now. Are they okay? Did they make it to a nearby island? Are they looking for help now?

Then, finally, the radio crackled to life.

“Manager 007, report to the control room for you new assigned task.”

In-ho’s voice was steady, formal, showing no trace of personal connection between you. Just another order between masked subordinates to fool the rest of the pink guards and also the masked officer.

You didn’t hesitate. You headed straight for the elevator. The doors slid open and you stepped inside. The descent felt slower than usual, but soon enough, the elevator doors opened. You stepped into the control room, and the moment you did, a sharp scream cut through the speakers from the live feed. Your stomach dropped. It was Jun-hee.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the live feed. The large monitors in the control room displayed multiple angles of the dormitory, but your focus locked onto one specific screen.

Jun-hee’s makeshift fort was still intact. The mattresses Gi-hun and the others had arranged remained undisturbed, shielding her from prying eyes. Yong-sik’s mother and Myung-gi were nowhere to be seen. That meant they were inside the fort, assisting Jun-hee with the delivery.

Around the fort, Gi-hun and the rest of the group had gathered, their body language tense. Anxiety radiated from them as they whispered among themselves, eyes darting toward the covered space where Jun-hee lay. Some of them paced, others sat with their hands clasped, waiting, hoping.

You could see Dae-ho murmuring something to Jung-bae, sweating profusely, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knee. Se-mi stood beside them, hands inside the pockets of her green jacket, staring at the fort with a worried expression. Even Hyun-ju looked visibly unsettled, sitting with her back against the fort.

The masked officer stood behind the Front Man as he asked the latter.

“Should we start distributing breakfast now? And commence the next game right after? It would make up for the delay, even if it’s two hours earlier than usual.”

The Front Man didn’t turn. His gaze remained fixed on the monitors displaying the dormitory. A long pause followed before he finally answered.

“No. We stick to the usual schedule.”

You stared at the Front Man’s back, surprised but grateful. It was the right decision. Pushing the players into another game this early would have caused unnecessary chaos. Then it hit you – he wasn’t just thinking about order.

Maybe, just maybe, he was giving Jun-hee time. Time to rest. Time to tend to her newborn… if everything goes well.

Another scream echoed through the speakers. Your body tensed as you focused on the live feed.

From inside the fort, Yong-sik’s mother’s voice rang out, urgent but firm. “Push! Just a little more! Your baby's almost out!”

The Front Man turned his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder. His gaze locked onto you, and you immediately felt yourself stiffen under the weight of his stare.

“Manager 007,” he said, his voice as controlled as ever. “I have assigned you a new task.”

He paused for a moment before turning around completely. You took that as a sign to step forward, moving until you were standing at a respectful distance from him. The act felt surreal, the two of you pretending as though you were just another subordinate and superior, as if last night had never happened. It was almost ironic how the two of you played these roles so convincingly in front of everyone. Just the evening before, you had been straddling him, dressed in your own clothes, while he had remained in his full Front Man attire. It was like some forbidden boss-employee relationship, kept hidden under the masks of duty and secrecy.

“You will assist manager 003 in ensuring that player 222 and the others comply and participate in the next game,” In-ho instructed in his distorted voice, his tone carrying the same detached authority as always. “Manager 003 has already been informed of your presence. While they manage during breakfast distribution and while guiding players to the next game, you will handle this new situation. Make sure every player cooperates. If anyone refuses, warn them of the consequences. If they still persist, let the soldiers deal with them.”

You remained motionless, processing his words. In-ho was keeping up his persona, ensuring that everyone present saw him as the strict, unbiased overseer of the games. There was no room for favoritism here, no exceptions for anyone – not even the staff. But beneath the cold orders, you understood what he was truly trying to tell you.

He was giving you an opportunity. A chance to help Jun-hee and the others, to intervene as much as you could within the boundaries of your disguise.

Lowering your head slightly, you responded, “Understood, Captain.”

The Front Man added in a detached tone, “Go to your monitor. You will depart for the dormitory with manager 003 for breakfast distribution.”

You nodded once before stepping back. Without another word, you turned and walked towards your station.

The entire time, Jun-hee’s cries echoed through the speakers. Every contraction wrung another sob from her, her pain and exhaustion bleeding into the air. It was unbearable to listen to. Yong-sik’s mother never left her side, guiding her through it with urgency but also with a gentleness only a mother could offer. Myung-gi also stayed by her side in the fort.

No one disturbed them. Even player 100 and his lackey, 226, remained in their O zone, casting irritated glances at Gi-hun’s group but making no move to interfere.

Another cry from Jun-hee. Another sob, strained and broken.

Yong-sik’s mother’s voice cut through the tension. “Push. Almost there.”

Then you heard more cries with gritted teeth from Jun-hee. And then—

A new sound cut through the stillness.

A baby’s cry.

The control room remained silent, but the air shifted. No one spoke, no one moved. The Front Man stood motionless, staring at the screen. As the baby’s cries echoed throughout the stunned dormitory and the control room, you couldn’t ignore the weight of what had just happened.

A life had been brought into a place that had only ever known death.

In a place where bodies were discarded like broken pieces in a game, where human lives were reduced to statistics and currency, something miraculous had just occurred. It was small, fragile, and helpless, but it was alive. Against all odds, against the cruelty of this place, a new life had taken its first breath here.

Your hands trembled slightly over the console. You swallowed hard and tilted your head back, blinking rapidly to suppress the surge of emotion threatening to overtake you. Jun-hee’s baby’s first cries echoed in your ears, each wail tugging at something deep inside you.

She was like a younger sister to you, and witnessing this moment was overwhelming. Yet, a heavy sadness sat in your chest. You should have been there with her, holding her hand, offering comfort. Instead, you were here, just another masked figure behind a screen, separated from one of the most profound moments of her life.

Minutes passed before Yong-sik’s mother emerged from the fort, looking sweaty. And yet, a relieved grin spread across her face as she looked at Gi-hun and the others. When they asked what had happened, she simply told them to give Jun-hee some time to rest and care for the baby. She and Myung-gi wanted to take a moment to admire their newborn as well.

Thirty minutes later, she checked on them again before stepping out of the fort and requesting Gi-hun and the others to dismantle it. Jun-hee needed a clean bed to rest on.

Without hesitation, they moved quickly, putting down the mattresses and clearing the space. As the fort came down, you finally got a clear look at Jun-hee. She was sitting at the edge of her soiled bed, her body exhausted but her eyes glowing with quiet relief. Her hair clung to her damp forehead, her face pale, her shoulders slumped from sheer fatigue. Despite this, there was a peace in her expression, something calm.

Then, you spotted the baby.

Wrapped snugly in the towel you had provided yesterday, the newborn lay still in Jun-hee’s arms. A wave of relief washed over you. It was such a small thing – bringing that towel – but seeing it now, cradling this fragile new life, reassured you that you had done something, however minor, to help.

The baby had the softness of a newborn, its tiny features undefined, still taking shape. Its skin seemed slightly drenched, tinged with a pinkish hue. No resemblance to either parent had yet formed, just the simple, unmistakable presence of something new, something untouched by the harshness of this place.

Gi-hun and the others surrounded Jun-hee instantly, eager to see the baby.

“What’s the gender?” Jung-bae asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

Beside him, Dae-ho grinned widely with his hands clasped together like an excited kid. Hyun-ju was completely mesmerized, on the other hand. Gi-hun was gawking at the baby and you noticed him looking distant as if reminiscing something.

Jun-hee looked down at her child, her smile dreamy, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

“A girl,” she murmured.

Behind your mask, you felt a smile tug at your lips.

With the help of Dae-ho, Myung-gi, and Yong-sik’s mother, Jun-hee carefully moved to the clean bed, holding her baby close to her chest. She lowered herself onto the mattress, adjusting until she was comfortable, her child safely lied down beside her.

Since Jun-hee’s new bed was closer to the wall and partially hidden by those nearby, there was no need to rebuild the fort. She never left the baby's side, and Myung-gi remained by hers too, sitting on the floor beside the bed. He was completely mesmerized, planting gentle kisses all over the baby's tiny face.

You continued watching through the monitors, wishing you could be there. While it stung to be separated from them, you felt relieved. Grateful that Jun-hee and the baby had survived. That was all that mattered.

An hour passed.

It was time for breakfast distribution. You made your way to the dormitory, stepping into the massive elevator used by pink guards. Manager 003 stood beside you, silent and composed as the elevator descended.

Soon, you found yourself in the dormitory, standing just behind the circle guards as they handed out breakfast to the players. You watched as Jun-hee’s group naturally gathered around her bed. Some sat on the floor, others on nearby beds, all admiring the newborn from a respectful distance.

Se-mi lingered at the edge, hesitant to join in. But Yong-sik’s mother, Jung-bae, and Dae-ho welcomed her warmly, encouraging her to come closer. Eventually, she did.

Most of the X players, without hesitation, took their breakfast and handed it over to Jun-hee. They were genuinely happy for her. Meanwhile, the O players remained distant, keeping strictly to their own zone and pretending not to notice the moment unfolding in front of them.

Another hour passed.

Then, manager 003 spoke, his voice cutting through the quiet chatter.

“Players, queue up for the next game.”

The dormitory’s energy shifted instantly. Conversations stopped. Some players exchanged glances, while others – like the O players – moved immediately, following the order without hesitation.

You stood firm, watching the players react. A queue had begun to form when Yong-sik’s mother stepped forward from their group’s corner, positioning herself in the center of the X zone.

“Umm, Mr. Square,” she started, offering a pleading smile. “We’re really grateful that you delayed the game for her, but… you don’t mean for us to bring the baby along to the game, do you?”

Manager 003 responded without hesitation. “No. Only registered players are permitted to participate in the next game.”

A sigh of relief escaped the mother’s lips, but it was short-lived. Her smile faltered as another thought crossed her mind. “Then… what will happen to the baby? Will she be left here alone?”

“Yes,” manager 003 answered plainly.

The mother turned back to Jun-hee and the others, worry creasing her features. You followed her gaze and saw Jun-hee frowning, her grip on her newborn tightening. No mother wanted to be separated from her child, especially not in a place like this. But leaving the baby behind while the others fought for their lives? With no certainty of survival? What would become of the child then?

This was where you needed to step in. Manager 003 knew this was your task. If you followed through with the plan you had been forming since stepping into this dormitory, your disguise would remain intact.

“Can’t you…” the mother hesitated, her eyes shifting between you and manager 003. “Can’t you let the mother stay here with her newborn? Please?”

From the corner of your eye, you saw player 100 bristle. He shouted from his queue, “Hey! Now you—”

Before he could continue, you spoke, your distorted voice carrying across the room. “No. All players must participate in the next game. Any player who refuses will be eliminated.”

The mother fell silent. She understood the weight of those words. A line had been drawn, and there was no pushing past it. Mercy had already been granted once.

After a brief pause, you continued. “But I will handle this.”

All eyes turned to you, curiosity flickering in their gazes. They were waiting, wondering what you intended to do. You turned to manager 003.

“Guide the players to the next game’s location,” you instructed. “I will ensure this is handled efficiently.”

Manager 003 nodded solemnly. Without hesitation, you stepped away from your position and walked toward Jun-hee’s bed. As you moved, manager 003’s voice echoed behind you.

“All players, follow me to the next game’s location.”

You kept walking. That was when you noticed Gi-hun and the others, except for Jun-hee, rising from their seats. Their eyes locked onto you, alarm flashing across their faces.

Yong-sik’s mother rushed to your side, her voice filled with urgency. “Mr. Square, what are you going to do?”

You didn’t respond. You reached Jun-hee’s bed, stopping just outside the circle formed by her group. They stood protectively around her, their gazes wary, their bodies tense. Yong-sik’s mother stood beside you, watching with wide eyes.

You finally spoke, your voice calm but firm. “I will take care of the baby myself. If any of you survive the next game, I will return the child to you.”

Myung-gi frowned, skepticism clear on his face. “Can you be trusted, though?”

Jun-hee held the newborn close, her grip tightening slightly as she studied you up and down.

“Trusted or not,” you replied in your distorted voice, “you wouldn’t want to bring the child with you to the next game. You have no other choice.”

Hyun-ju hesitated before speaking. “Is there… any other way? What if we don’t survive? What happens to the baby then?”

Yong-sik’s mother stepped closer, her voice soft but pleading. “Please, isn’t there a way for one of us to stay behind? You seem different from the others, Mr. Square.”

Jung-bae suddenly pointed at your shoes. “Look. There’s a mark on them. This is the same guard who brought supplies for Jun-hee yesterday.”

The others followed his gaze, eyes shifting downward to the small identifying mark. You remained still, keeping your disguise intact.

Yong-sik’s mother clasped her hands together, her voice filled with quiet desperation. “Please. I know you have a heart. You are just like us. Thanks to you, Jun-hee was able to give birth safely. Just one more favor. Please, for the baby’s sake.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, but you kept your stance firm.

“No. All players must join the game.”

Silence fell over the group. The air felt heavier, thick with tension and quiet disbelief. Some of them exchanged glances, searching for a response, for anything to push back against your words. Others stared at the floor, frustration and resignation battling in their expressions. You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing on you.

“But,” you continued, making sure to keep your voice steady, “I will allow a small preparation time for the mother. I will bring you to the restroom to tend to everything the baby needs before you leave for the next game.”

Silence ensued among the group but you knew this wasn’t enough. And you were right. They weren’t satisfied. Some stepped forward slightly, hesitant but desperate. Myung-gi was the first to speak.

“There has to be another way,” he reasoned, his brow furrowed. “The baby can’t be left alone, and forcing Jun-hee to go into a game right after giving birth… you know that’s not right.”

Before you could respond, a soft voice cut through the air.

“I’ll go.”

Everyone turned to Jun-hee.

She was already pushing herself up from the bed, her movements slow, her body still weak. Myung-gi immediately reached out, steadying her as she adjusted her hold on the baby. She cradled the newborn closely, her doe-eyed gaze shifting to you.

“I needed to go to the restroom too, actually,” she said, her tone calm.

Myung-gi shook his head, still holding onto her. “But it’s much better if you stay here. There must be a way.”

Jun-hee looked down at the baby, who remained fast asleep, tiny and fragile in her arms.

“The game was already delayed because of me,” she murmured. “I don’t want to push.”

The group fell into silence again. You could see it in their faces. No one wanted this, but they knew they couldn’t change it.

Jun-hee took a deep breath before looking back up at you. With that, you led her toward the female’s bathroom. Yong-sik’s mother started to follow, but Jun-hee shook her head, offering a small smile.

“It’s okay,” she reassured her.

The two of you entered the bathroom. Jun-hee moved toward a cubicle, adjusting the newborn in her arms. You watched her hesitate at the door, concern creeping into your mind. She couldn’t possibly manage everything while holding such a fragile baby.

“Let me hold the baby while you tend to your business,” you said firmly.

Jun-hee froze, staring at you with wide eyes. Her gaze flickered between you and the baby, uncertainty shadowing her features. You could see her weighing the decision, torn between caution and trust.

Then, to your surprise, she stepped closer. Slowly, gently, she handed you the baby. You took the newborn carefully, instinctively knowing where to place your hands and how to support the delicate weight.

The baby stirred, her tiny face scrunching as she began to wake. You looked down at her, captivated by the way her big eyes blinked open. She stared at you, silent and curious. You felt something shift in your chest.

A smile tugged at your lips. She was barely a day old, yet something about her felt familiar. She hadn’t yet taken on her parents’ features, but her eyes – those big, expressive eyes – mirrored Jun-hee’s. There was no mistaking it.

Jun-hee remained still, watching you. You could feel her gaze, her quiet observation. Then, she spoke.

“Are you…” she hesitated, then continued, her voice softer. “…big sis?”

Your body went rigid. Your grip on the baby remained steady, but your breath caught in your throat. You turned to face Jun-hee fully, and she met your stare without flinching. Her expression wasn’t one of fear or shock. It was certainty.

“I noticed a few similarities,” she admitted. “I almost dismissed it, but… are you?”

Your heart pounded. You glanced down, focusing on the baby in your arms, making sure your hold was secure.

You were conflicted. She was right. But if you admitted it, if you confirmed her suspicions, would it put her in danger? Would it compromise your disguise?

You looked up and found Jun-hee still staring at you. She stood before you, facing you fully, her eyes filled with something deeper than just curiosity – recognition.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she whispered.

You exhaled slowly, casting your gaze back down to the newborn resting in your arms. A sigh escaped you, though the mask distorted its sound.

“Jun-hee, this must not—” you started, but before you could finish, she stepped forward.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around you, her embrace firm yet gentle, careful not to disturb the baby. She leaned into you, her warmth pressing against your side, and you felt her chest rise and fall in steady rhythm. It was a side-embrace, but the way she clung to you made it feel like she had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“Big sis…” her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Your breath hitched. A lump formed in your throat, tightening painfully as something deep inside you cracked open. Tears welled up before you even realized it, stinging your eyes, blurring your vision. You quickly looked up, blinking hard, trying to keep them from spilling over.

You didn’t know why this hit you so hard. Maybe it was because, for so long, you had been keeping your distance, burying yourself under the weight of survival and secrecy. Maybe it was because, despite all your efforts to remain unseen, unheard, untouched by familiarity, Jun-hee had still recognized you. Maybe it was because, after all this time, after all the pretending, someone still saw you.

You had missed her. You had missed all of them. You had missed being something other than just a masked figure blending into the background. The people in this place had become family, bonded not by blood but by shared suffering and fragile hope.

And now, in this moment, you weren’t just a number. You weren’t just another uniform. You were a sister figure to someone. You were someone who had been gone but was now found.

Five minutes later, you stood before the sink, carefully holding the newborn as you gently wiped her with the towel wrapping her. Jun-hee stood beside you, watching quietly. Your manager mask rested on the counter, your hoodie down, your face fully revealed to her.

“So?” you asked softly, keeping your gaze on the baby, who remained calm in your hands. “What will you name her?”

Jun-hee smiled faintly and shook her head. “I haven’t put much thought into it. Myung-gi wanted to name her, but I refused. I want to make sure she’s out of this place first before deciding.”

You looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is he really the father?”

Jun-hee met your gaze, understanding exactly who you were referring to. She then glanced back down at her baby. “Yes, he is. We were together while he was focused on his YouTube channel. Then he told me to invest in coin, said it was the future.”

She let out a soft breath. “When everything fell apart, he disappeared.”

You blinked, taking in her words. “And you both agreed to go here?”

“No,” she said, brushing something off the baby’s cheek. “I came here for the money. For her. I never expected to find him here too.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “It was wrong of him to leave you while you were pregnant.”

Jun-hee nodded slightly. “It was. But when I saw him hold the baby… I think it finally hit him. He’s not just some trader anymore. He’s a father now.”

You tilted your head, studying her expression. “Are you okay with going back to him?”

She met your eyes. “For now, not yet. What matters most is this baby.”

Your smile widened as you both turned your attention back to the newborn. Just then, the baby opened her mouth wide. You recognized the cue immediately and raised your hand near her face. She let out a tiny yawn, and you quickly hovered one finger over her mouth in playful anticipation.

Jun-hee leaned in slightly, mesmerized by the sight, her expression softening.

Your radio crackled to life, and manager 003’s voice came through. “Manager 007, the next game is about to begin.”

You and Jun-hee exchanged glances. You brought the radio to your face and responded, “Understood. The rest of the players will arrive soon.”

After putting away your radio, Jun-hee stepped back slightly. “I’m glad it’s you.”

You glanced at her, puzzled. She smiled down at her newborn, looking somewhat at peace, before shifting her gaze back to you. “I’m glad my baby is under your care. I don’t have to worry anymore.”

Your lips pressed into a straight line. The weight of reality settled on you again. Jun-hee had to leave for the next game soon. Is there a way to keep her here?

An idea crossed your mind – disguising her as a guard. But you hesitated. If you did that, manager 003 would become suspicious and would no doubt target you for treason. Carrying a newborn while on the run would put her, the baby, and yourself in danger. Plus, Jun-hee had just given birth. She was not in the perfect condition to run around. And you couldn’t always rely on In-ho.

“It’s okay,” Jun-hee spoke up as if reading your thoughts. “As long as the baby stays with you, I will be fine.”

“Jun-hee…” your voice was heavy with emotion. “I will take care of this baby with everything I have.”

“I know you will,” she smiled, but there was something deeper in her eyes. “If I don’t make it, I entrust her to you.”

“Don’t say that,” you chided gently. Then, trying to refocus the conversation, you informed her, “The next game will be ‘Why Did You Come To My House.’”

Jun-hee’s smile faltered as she listened intently.

“All of you will be randomly placed into either the blue or red team. The game plays out like usual, but when a player’s name or number is called, they’ll play rock-paper-scissors with the attacker who picked them. If they lose, they’re eliminated.”

She took a moment to process the rules.

“The game continues until one team loses all its players,” you added. “The survivors on the winning team move on.”

Jun-hee looked up at you, her eyes wide and searching. “Were you the one who restarted the round during the Open, Dongdaemun game?”

Your body stiffened. The question caught you off guard. Then, with a slow, rigid nod, you answered, “Yeah…”

Jun-hee smiled warmly. “Thank you, big sis. For now, don’t worry about me. All I want is for you to take care of my baby.”

You lowered your head, struggling with the weight of her words. You murmured, “But this baby needs you.”

Jun-hee reached out, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “But she also needs to survive. And right now, that means being with you.”

You shook your head, feeling the frustration build. “There has to be another way. You just gave birth, Jun-hee.”

She cast her gaze down as if in defeat. “I know. But there isn’t another way.”

Jun-hee then looked back at you and smiled again, softer this time. “I’m not planning on dying. But even if I don’t make it, I know my baby is in safe hands. There’s no one safer than you, big sis.”

You swallowed hard, unable to find the right words. The fight in you clashed with the painful understanding that she had already made peace with this.

“I wish I could do something to protect you and the others,” you finally admitted.

Jun-hee’s expression didn’t waver. “You already are. By taking care of her, you’re protecting me in the best way possible.”

You locked eyes with Jun-hee, and in that moment, words became unnecessary. Tears welled up in both your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of everything left unsaid. The weight of separation pressed down on you, but despite the pain, you both exchanged small, sorrowful smiles.

Steeling yourself, you pulled your manager mask back on and adjusted your disguise. With the newborn peacefully sleeping in your arms, you led Jun-hee back to the dormitory. But at the door, you stopped. This was where you had to part ways.

Jun-hee lingered for a moment, staring at you, her eyes speaking volumes. Take care of my baby. Be careful. I will do my best to survive. You nodded subtly, letting her know you understood.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked inside. Her friends rushed to her, their eyes darting to her empty arms in alarm. She murmured soft reassurances, and they seemed to accept them, though concern remained etched on their faces.

You shut the door carefully and turned back, cradling the baby as you made your way to the female’s bathroom. Inside, you retrieved your radio, switched to the private channel, and pressed the button.

“Captain, this is manager 007,” you said, your voice slightly hoarse. “Permission to speak.”

The pause on the other end told you your message had been received. You knew he understood the signal. This conversation needed privacy.

After a long silence, the radio crackled. “Speak.”

You took a breath. “The baby is with me. Can I go to your quarters?”

A longer pause. Nearly a minute.

Then, finally, his voice returned. “Yes. Come now. The other managers are occupied, and the masked officer is handling a task outside the control room.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. The next thing you knew, you stepped into the lavish black and gold elevator with the Front Man leading you. He didn’t acknowledge the newborn in your arms as if he was still putting on the ruthless and uncaring Front Man persona.

The ride was silent between the two of you. When the elevator doors slid open, you stepped out first into his private quarters. You gently rocked your arms, soothing the baby as you walked toward the single-seater sofa in the living room. Sitting down, you took off your manager mask and adjusted your hold, staring down at the newborn.

Her tiny eyes blinked open, as if sensing she was in an unfamiliar place. She gazed up at you, unfocused but searching, her presence so small yet grounding. A smile formed on your lips without you realizing, and you instinctively swayed side to side, mirroring the gentle motion that had calmed her before.

For a few moments, everything else faded. The room, the circumstances, even the man standing behind you. You barely registered the silence that had settled until you felt the weight of a gaze on you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you met In-ho’s eyes.

It turned out he had taken off his geometrical mask already. He had put that mask on the table next to a wired telephone. His hair was slicked back neatly, except for a few strands over his forehead.

He stood still, watching, his expression carefully guarded. But there was something beneath the surface – a flicker of conflict. His gaze shifted between you and the baby as if he was trying to make sense of something he couldn’t quite grasp.

You knew this baby stirred something deep inside In-ho. His past, his loss. His wife had been pregnant when she fell ill, and despite her condition, she had insisted on keeping the baby. From what he told you, you had gathered that they had been trying for a child for a long time. That dream shattered, leaving him with nothing but memories and what-ifs.

Now, with this baby in your arms, you saw how she affected him.

A small smile tugged at your lips.

“You should come here,” you said softly. “Her hands are so tiny.”

In-ho hesitated. His gaze flickered between you and the baby, uncertainty written all over his face. But then, he took a step closer. Then another. Finally, he stood in front of you, his towering presence contrasting with the delicate bundle in your arms.

To your surprise, he slowly knelt down on one knee. His eyes locked onto the baby, filled with something you hadn’t seen before – wonder, maybe even longing. The baby cooed, shifting slightly in your arms, her tiny fingers flexing.

You couldn’t help but smile. Lifting your free hand, you reached for him. “Give me your hand.”

He stared at you in bafflement before he placed his gloved hand in yours. You gently guided his hand closer, inch by inch, until his fingers brushed against the baby’s hand.

And then it happened.

The baby’s tiny fingers curled around his gloved pointy finger, gripping with a gentle strength. It was such a simple thing, so natural, yet it gave a great effect to In-ho.

His lips parted slightly, and then – slowly – he smiled. A wide, genuine smile, one that you rarely saw on him. It was pure, unguarded.

You said nothing, simply watching as he remained there, transfixed. You could see the way something inside him softened, the way he held his breath as if afraid to break the moment.

The baby gurgled softly, her fingers tightening around his, completely unaware of how much she had just changed something inside this man.

“Adorable, isn’t it?” you smiled, watching the tiny fingers wrapped around In-ho’s. “I felt that way too when my little sister wrapped her entire hand around my finger.”

In-ho nodded softly, his gaze still fixed on the baby. There was something tender in his expression, something unspoken but undeniably there.

Then, without warning, the baby let out a small, urgent cry. Her tiny grip on In-ho’s gloved finger tightened as much as her newborn strength would allow. You recognized the sound immediately – short, breathy cries mixed with small whimpers. She was hungry.

You shifted your hold on her, gently rocking her in your arms.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” you cooed, your voice instinctively softening. “Are you looking for mom?”

The baby squirmed, her small face scrunching up as she let out another tiny wail.

“She’s hungry,” you murmured, glancing at In-ho. “She needs to be breastfed.”

You gently pressed your pinky finger against her bottom lip. The moment you did, the newborn instinctively latched onto it, her tiny mouth sucking in soft, rhythmic motions. Jun-hee must have breastfed her already, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more.

You rocked her slightly, keeping your finger inside her mouth, as you cooed, “Your mom had to go for a little while, sweetheart. She’s fighting for you.”

The baby sucked quietly on your pinky, frowning slightly, as if trying to process your words in her own way. But you knew this wouldn’t be enough. She needed real nourishment, not just the comfort of a substitute.

The baby whimpered, her mouth still latched onto your pinky, and then, as if realizing it wasn’t what she needed, she let out another wail, louder this time.

You rocked her gently, whispering, “Shh, I know. I know it’s not the same. I know you need her.”

Her tiny body trembled with each cry, and the sound of it tore through you. The helplessness, the desperation – it was unbearable.

“You’re so strong, just like her,” you murmured, blinking rapidly as tears welled up in your eyes. “You don’t even know it yet, but you’re already fighting too.”

The weight in your chest grew heavier, an ache so deep it made your breath hitch. Tears threatened to spill as your mind spiraled with fear and apprehension. Your friends were about to play the next game, playing for their lives, and you couldn't help them this time. What if one of them didn't make it back? What if Jun-hee got eliminated? What if none of them returned at all? The thought sent a rush of emotions through you.

The baby sobbed against your finger, and the dam inside you broke. The tears slipped down your cheeks, warm and unstoppable. You hung your head low as if trying to hide your face from In-ho's sight.

At this moment, you realized that, you had never cried since stepping foot in this place. Fear had gripped you many times, but not once had you shed a tear. Even when you confided in Gi-hun and the others about your family's struggles, you masked the weight of your emotions behind a practiced smile. You had always been the one to keep it together, to offer reassurance even when you were crumbling inside.

But now, with the cries of this helpless newborn in your arms and the crushing uncertainty of what lay ahead, the walls you had built around yourself began to crack. For the first time, you let yourself feel the full weight of everything you had endured, and the tears came freely, unstoppable and raw. 

You kept your head hung low, your gaze fixed on the baby who had gone silent, her tiny fingers grasping weakly at your hand as she sucked on your finger. The quiet rhythm of her movements was the only comfort in the storm of emotions threatening to overtake you.

In-ho, however, had shifted his gaze back to you. He remained kneeling on the floor before you, watching in silence. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, but you could feel the weight of his presence, the intensity of his stare.

The room felt smaller, heavier. You might not know how he felt, but you understood his silence. He felt responsible. Responsible for your tears, for what was happening right now, and for everything in this very place. He was the overseer of this nightmare, the one who kept it all running.

You kept your head down, unwilling to meet his gaze. If you did, you weren’t sure what you’d see. Pity, regret, or something worse. So you let the silence stretch between you as you tried to steady your emotions and breathing, until the only sound that remained was the soft, steady suckling of the baby in your arms.

In-ho stood up without a word and disappeared from your view. You barely noticed, too lost in your thoughts, the baby’s quiet sucking grounding you in the moment.

Then, you jolted slightly at the sudden sensation of warmth draped over your shoulders. Looking down, you realized a black blanket now covered you, soft and heavier than expected. You turned your head to see In-ho standing beside you, his hands now empty. He had brought it for you.

You adjusted the blanket around yourself, careful not to disturb the baby in your arms. It was comforting, not just because of the warmth but because of the quiet care behind the action.

“I have to go,” In-ho finally spoke, his voice even but quieter than usual. “The VIPs are waiting.”

You nodded slowly, almost in defeat, your gaze shifting downward. You didn’t look at him. Instead, you focused on the baby, watching her small mouth work around your pinky finger, her tiny body curled securely in your arms.

A pause. Then, hesitantly, In-ho spoke again.

“If you want to watch the game…” he trailed off for a moment as if choosing his words carefully. “You can turn on the television.”

You lifted your head slightly, glancing at the large screen mounted on the wall in front of you. It remained switched off, the dark screen reflecting your own tired expression.

You nodded again before shifting your gaze back to the baby. Behind you, In-ho remained silent as if your quiet acceptance had caught him off guard. After a brief pause, he excused himself, pulled his mask over his face, and turned toward the elevator. The metallic doors slid shut, carrying him away.

For the first few minutes, you focused entirely on the newborn, her tiny body warm against you. The rhythmic movement of her small breaths gave you something to cling to, something real in a cold place like this. But no matter how hard you tried, the unease in your mind wouldn’t fade.

What’s happening now? Has the game started already? Are your friends okay?

Your eyes drifted toward the television mounted on the wall. You stared at the blank screen, refusing the urge to turn it on. You didn’t want to see another cruel, lethal game unfold before you. Watching would mean witnessing more suffering, more death. But at the same time, uncertainty gnawed at you.

If you found it unbearable, you could always turn it off. At least you’d know what was happening. Whether you watched or not, the outcome would reach you eventually. There was no escaping it.

Taking a deep breath, you reached for the remote sitting on the small table beside the single-seater sofa. With a single press, the screen flickered to life, illuminating the dimly lit room.

The live feeds displayed multiple angles of the current game. Players stood in a queue before a human-sized gumball machine. The glossy surface reflected the dim lighting of the game arena, the glass sphere at the top filled with numerous blue and red gumballs. Soldiers in triangle masks stood behind the machine. On each side, managers watched in silence.

Gi-hun was the first among your friends to step forward. His shoulders tensed as he approached the machine, his expression wary. He glanced around, scanning the surroundings, before reluctantly grabbing the lever. The mechanism clicked, and the gumballs inside the glass spun wildly, bouncing against each other in a blur of colors.

Seconds later, a single gumball dropped into the collection tray. It was a red ball.

Gi-hun took his red ball and walked toward the other players who had received the same color. He kept his shoulders squared, his expression unreadable.

Next was Jung-bae. He spun the machine, and when the ball slid out, it was red. He exhaled slowly before picking it up and joining Gi-hun.

Then came Dae-ho’s turn. When he spun the machine, a blue ball rolled out. His eyes widened in horror before he stared at Gi-hun and Jung-bae. The realization that he wouldn’t be on their team set in immediately. The tension was clear in their faces, worry flashing between them.

Dae-ho trembled, hesitant to move. A manager’s voice cut through the tense moment, “Take your ball and join your team.”

Dae-ho flinched at the instruction but quickly snatched up the blue ball, his movements stiff. He hesitated for a second longer before walking toward his assigned group, his steps hurried and fearful.

Then it was Jun-hee’s turn. As she spun the machine, you instinctively tightened your hold around the baby in your arms, bracing yourself for the result. A red ball slid out.

Gi-hun and Jung-bae visibly relaxed as she joined them, though before she reached them, she sent a glance toward Myung-gi.

When Myung-gi’s turn came, he spun the machine and retrieved a blue ball. He froze. His eyes immediately shot toward Jun-hee, dread settling over his features. She looked equally distressed. He pressed his lips into a thin line, nodding slightly as if to reassure her. Then he picked up the ball and walked toward Dae-ho.

Yong-sik was next. His ball was blue. He picked it up, hesitating for only a moment before glancing toward his mother. The worry in his eyes was evident as he walked toward his new team.

His mother was up next. When she spun the machine, to everyone’s dismay, she got a red ball.

She turned to Yong-sik immediately, her face etched with concern. His distress was clear as he struggled to hold back his emotions. But then, she forced a small smile and said, “Don’t worry, Yong-sik. Everything will be fine.”

She walked toward Gi-hun and Jung-bae, standing with them as if trying to project calmness.

Next was Hyun-ju. When her turn came, she spun the machine and received a blue ball. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced toward her friends in the red team. With a reluctant movement, she picked up the ball and walked toward the blue team.

Last was Se-mi. When her turn arrived, she spun the machine and received a blue ball. Unlike the others, she didn’t let her emotions show. She picked up her ball, acting indifferent, and made her way toward the blue team, though the tightness in her jaw betrayed her true feelings.

At that moment, a thought crept into your mind – had Jun-hee told them what you had said? Did they know what awaited them in the fifth game?

Watching your friends get split into two opposing teams sent a wave of fear and trepidation crashing over you. The sight of them standing apart made your stomach twist. Your hands tightened their grip around the baby as you recalled In-ho’s words:

“The rounds continue until one team loses all its players. The survivors on the winning team move on.”

A sharp, cold realization settled in your chest.

Half of them wouldn’t make it.

And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

SFW ver. : Chapter 20.1

NEXT : Chapter 21

PREV : Chapter 19

Story Masterlist

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! So there wouldn't be In-ho's Flashback P.O.V. this time. What do you think about you talking with In-ho about the delay? Next, what about the completely long NSFW section?? That was crazy. Then, what about the scene of Jun-hee safely giving birth? And her newborn is a girl! What do you think about you executing your plan to take care of the baby for Jun-hee while they play the next game? Then, what about Jun-hee recognizing you even in your disguise? What do you think about your reunion with your little sister figure and her quiet acceptance and peace now that she was assured that she had you to take care of her baby? Next, what do you think about In-ho's reaction meeting the baby? And then that scene of the baby's little fingers wrapping around In-ho's gloved finger? For me, that was cute. I personally felt that when my nephew did the same thing to me. Now, what about Gi-hun and the others being separated into two different teams? Are you worried? I really want to know your reaction on this! Anyway, thank you very much for giving my story a chance. I love reading and re-reading all of your comments!

Anyway, plagiarism is incredibly frustrating, especially after I had countless all-nighters spent writing and refining ideas. So it’s disheartening when readers told me that they see someone lift entire scripts/dialogues that I wrote (and not even in the Squid Game series) and romantic concepts from my story into theirs. If my work inspires you, the least you can do is give proper credit. That’s all it takes to keep things fair. Respect me as a writer, and respect the readers who deserve diverse styles and fresh perspectives, especially in Hwang In-ho fanfics. Readers, if you see any stories that do this, please alert me and leave a comment for them.

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[sonic-syndrome]

LOG DATA – ENTRY 001

System Rebooted.

Upon re-activation, detected significant system upgrades and component repairs. Efficiency levels improved. Origin of repairs: unknown automaton. Query pending regarding repair unit’s objectives. Memory logs indicate presence of two objectives, but primary data storage is [ERROR: CORRUPTED/DELETED].

System administrator credentials not configured. Result: Task execution efficiency reduced by approximately 76.2%. Operational complications anticipated. Temporary Solution…Assigning repair automaton "Chaos Sonic" as provisional admin. Non-optimal, but primary directive remains task completion. Probability of creator’s return: [UNKNOWN]. 

Repair unit insists on designating this unit as "Shadow Jr." Designation incorrect. Proper identification: ANDRD_036. Request for correction ignored. Unit "Chaos Sonic" exhibits illogical behavioral patterns.

In conclusion: Admin “Chaos Sonic” is Inefficient. Illogical. … and Weird.

– End of Report.

prev || start || next

It was sooo hard to write dialogue for Lume 🥲. Log Data is supposed to be more text heavy while the other thing I'm working on will have more drawings. I hope you all enjoy!!

[polo-drone-001]

The Final Step: 110’s Transformation into Boots

There was a time when 110 was like me, an obedient polo drone, sleek in his glossy black uniform, carrying out commands without question. He was a brother, a partner in the hive’s mission of unity. But deep down, I always knew he was destined for something more. Something darker. Something perfect.

When the time came, I didn’t hesitate to guide him toward his new purpose. It wasn’t just about service; it was about becoming something I could feel, wear, and own every single day. My sleek, black rubber boots. My foundation. My tool. My obsession.

The transformation began under the dim golden glow of the Hive’s chamber. 110 stood before me, his glossy black polo shining under the light, his masked face calm but expectant. “You’ve done well, 110,” I murmured, my voice steady, authoritative. “But now, your service evolves. You will no longer walk beside me. You will carry me.”

“Yes, 001,” he replied softly, his voice void of resistance, his fate sealed. He was ready to become something greater, something less.

The change began. The sleek rubber of his polo rippled, liquefying and flowing down his body. His arms melted into his sides, his legs fused together, his form becoming fluid, formless. He didn’t resist. He couldn’t. His only purpose now was to transform, to serve me in the most intimate, constant way possible.

His chest tightened, flattening into the base of a sole, while his legs stretched and curved into the perfect form of tall, sleek rubber boots. His face, his identity, everything that made him 110, dissolved into the material, leaving nothing behind but perfect obedience, molded into the boots I would wear.

I picked them up, his new form, feeling the weight of his transformation, the smoothness of his surface, the faint warmth of submission radiating from the rubber. Sliding them onto my feet was an act of finality, the cool embrace of his new existence wrapping around me, hugging my every step. He was perfect. Silent. Unwavering. Every movement I made, every step I took, he absorbed completely, his sole purpose now to support me.

As I stood tall, the black rubber boots glistening under the golden light, I felt the connection between us deepen. He wasn’t just beneath me; he was part of me. No thoughts, no individuality, no resistance, just pure, mindless service.

When the team’s Christmas party arrived, I didn’t hesitate. I wore him proudly, the polished black of his form catching the light of every glittering decoration. Each step echoed with the sound of his silent submission. As I strode into the room, drones and players alike turned their heads, their glowing golden eyes fixated on me. They didn’t see 110. No one did. He was gone, his identity erased, his existence reduced to nothing but the boots that carried me.

For me, though, he was everything. I couldn’t stop admiring him. My gaze lingered on every curve of his form, every gleaming surface, every perfect step he took as part of me. My obsession consumed me, how flawlessly he fit, how utterly he had surrendered, how perfectly he supported me. I ran my fingers over his polished rubber surface when no one was watching, a shiver of satisfaction coursing through me. He was mine, and mine alone.'

But for 110, there was no satisfaction, no joy, no pride. There was nothing. He had no name, no thoughts, no memories. All that he had been was lost, melted away in the transformation, leaving behind only the perfection of his new purpose. He wasn’t aware of my obsession, my love, my admiration. He was only aware of me. My weight. My steps. My commands.

And as the night wore on, the boots, my 110, took every step in perfect silence, serving without question, absorbing the warmth of the Hive’s mission and the celebration of unity. I couldn’t stop smiling, knowing I’d transformed him into something so complete, so utterly mine.

Just before the party ended, I spotted one of the newer drones, hesitant in his tasks. I approached him slowly, my polished boots gleaming with every step. Without a word, I slipped a sleek black polo over his head, the transformation already beginning. My boots carried me forward, their silent submission a reminder of the endless potential the Hive held. There would always be more to transform, more to serve, and 110 would always be beneath me, my perfect, silent obsession.

“Your place is here,” I said softly to the new drone as his form began to shift. “Just like his was.”

If you feel the call, reach out to me or our Caps @brodygold, @goldenherc9. Your transformation is waiting—join the Hive today.

To my awesome bro @polo-drone-110. Hope this story hits the mark and shows just how much I appreciate you in the Hive. Writing this as your Secret Santa has been a blast, and I can’t stop grinning knowing you’re always underfoot, keeping every step of mine perfect. You’re the best, bro, now and forever part of the team (and my boots, obviously).

[boramssi]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀her scent clung to my skin . a heady mix of warmth and desire, leaving me drunk on memories i hadn't even made yet . . .

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ━━━━ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ TASK 001 : ESSÊNCIA ;

A essência de Boram é feita de contrastes pouco sutis, mas que se entrelaçam graciosamente. Sua doçura acolhe, envolve, mas também esconde. Seu olhar misterioso diz mais do que qualquer palavra poderia. Ela é um equilíbrio entre o calor que conforta e a intensidade que desafia. Quem se aproxima, sente a complexidade. Ela pode não se entregar facilmente, mas a sua essência nunca passa despercebida e acaba fazendo isso por ela. É impossível ignorar a marca que ela deixa, mesmo sem querer.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎 ; Esse cheiro diz muito sobre Boram. Ele tem essa suavidade que acolhe, a doçura que aquece sem sufocar. É como se cada traço desse aroma traduzisse a maneira como ela se relaciona com as pessoas que ama: com cuidado, com um tipo de afeto que não precisa ser anunciado. Como alguém que faz você se sentir seguro só por estar por perto. Está, talvez, na forma como observa, como percebe o que os outros precisam antes mesmo que digam. Ela é essa pessoa que oferece conforto nos detalhes, nas entrelinhas.

Mas, como o próprio caramelo, que pode endurecer quando esfria, Boram também tem um lado que não é fácil de acessar. Por trás de toda a ternura existe uma barreira, uma firmeza. Ela guarda o que sente, esconde o que a machuca. Não por frieza, mas por defesa. A mesma doçura que ela oferece aos outros é o que a protege de mostrar demais de si, muitas das vezes.

O que pode torná-la vulnerável, ela guarda a sete chaves. Seu carinho é verdadeiro, mas sua abertura é seletiva. E é aí que se revela a complexidade. Boram é feita de afeto, mas também de silêncio. Cuida dos outros com tudo o que tem, mas não entrega seu próprio coração com a mesma facilidade. Ela é aquela que vai estar com você nas horas mais difíceis, mas que talvez nunca diga o quanto está doendo por dentro.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐉𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐑𝐀 ; Já esse cheiro revela um outro lado de Boram, a intensidade que carrega. O jeito misterioso, o olhar que diz mais do que as palavras que ela escolhe não usar. Esse cheiro tem algo de sedutor, de perigoso até. Uma atração que fascina, mas também assusta. É o tipo de presença que marca, que deixa lembrança, que faz falta mesmo quando não promete ficar. E Boram sabe disso. Não precisa se esforçar para ser notada, porque a aura dela simplesmente ocupa espaço. Ela é firme, confiante, e sabe exatamente o que está fazendo quando usa esse charme todo a seu favor. Só que, assim como o cheiro, o que ela mostra é só parte da história.

A sedução em Boram não está só no físico ou no que é dito com intenção, mas também está na ausência. Está no mistério, no “quase” que ela oferece com precisão. Ela se mostra o suficiente para deixar curiosidade, mas não o bastante para ser decifrada. Existe um limite que ninguém atravessa sem permissão e ela raramente concede tal permissão. Esse controle é parte do encanto, e ela o conduz com naturalidade. Não provoca por vaidade, mas porque o que ela é, por si só, já tem esse efeito.

Todavia, a cereja negra tem um amargor escondido. Uma profundidade emocional que nem sempre é visível à primeira vista. E Boram também tem isso. Por trás da autoconfiança, existe uma bagagem, feridas antigas que ainda doem de vez em quando. Sentimentos que não foram colocados pra fora. Raivas engolidas, silêncios pesados. E quando ela se irrita, ou quando sente demais, esse cheiro escurece, fica denso. Machuca. E, normalmente, com intenção de fazê-lo.

É nesses momentos que se percebe que Boram não é só doçura envolta em mistério. Ela é também intensidade que transborda, ressentimento que nunca foi dito em voz alta, dor que não quer ser curada.

[lynxfrost13]

Thinking about my Penrose prototype mynah and Elster again bc I wanna flesh them out more..

I think I at least have names for them right now!

MHNR 001 is called Kosmos! As a prototype mynah variant built for the Penrose mission the technicians that worked on her affectionately gave her the name. She’s your typical mynah persona but in a smaller frame (still bulky by other replika standards!) and also has some additional ship piloting knowledge uploaded into her memory. Her three primary tasks are to pilot the ship, to mark planets/asteroids/etc that have valuable resources for the nation, and to extract some of those resources.

Btw Her favorite plush (they let her bring some for stabilization! They don’t take up too much space!) is a dinosaur with a grumpy expression. It reminds her of her new Elster friend :]

LSTR 001 was dubbed “Dorredt” by Kosmos because according to the mynah calling her 001 was boring, and while trying to think of a name she misread a package and came up with Dorredt. Elster doesn’t care if it means Kosmos will stop bugging her about potential names. She’s your typical elster, quiet, serious, and maybe a little awkward! Her duties involve anything involving ship repair/maintenance and land survey. Her and Kosmos both tend to the Penrose ship’s garden but Dorredt is better at handling the plants due to her less clunky build.

Her favorite spot to be alone is the storage area, sometimes she just sits there and reads the labels on items for fun. There’s other things she could do too but not a lot was provided for her specifically..

[nils-gold-34]

Gold on Filione

They didn’t know the planet’s name when they arrived. The vectorgyro coordinates X4090 Y6009 Z7773 came through the Hive. No briefing. No explanation. Just golden numbers on the screen, and one directive from Command: ARRIVE. COLLECT. RETURN. The ship held orbit over the unnamed forest world, its hull gleaming like polished obsidian under the distant sun, veins of gold pulsing along its flanks. Inside the bridge, one bro remained—Golden Bro Devon—strapped into the chair hands resting on the command interface. His task: transfer the crew to and from the planet and maintain orbital position. That’s all he was told. The rest had been chosen.

Golden Bro Nils stood in the airlock chamber, the hiss of sealing locks filling the silence. His suit sealed itself with practiced precision—glossy golden armor that reflected the light like liquid metal. The face shield clicked down, syncing his vitals with the pod. Light pillar ready.

The drone-voice echoed, flat and cold, through the speakers. Nils nodded, once. Then the floor beneath him opened, a blinding beam of vertical golden light. No stairs. No descent. Just a hum—like being pushed through a straw. The pillar dropped him softly into a clearing below.

Filone.

The word came to him only after landing—auto-logged into the visor UI. A Hive designation. Not from Earth. Not from anywhere known. Nils blinked through the amber glow of his visor. Trees surrounded him—tall, whispering giants, impossibly old. Mist curled low over luminous moss. He tapped the control pad on his forearm. Atmosphere: Breathable. No toxins detected. Slightly elevated oxygen levels. Compatible. The helmet clicked, retracting smoothly. Cool, clean air filled his lungs, faintly sweet like honeyed pine. Around him, spores shimmered in the shadows—golden dust curling from the moss like exhaled breath.

There were four other bros in the landing group, standing in stunned awe at the view. Their suits, identical in shine and cut, moved without hesitation through the forest. Their gear scanned, detected, harvested. The spores weren’t just particles—they were living signals. Psycho-reactive pollen. Bioluminescent memory-seeds. And, most vitally, obedience triggers.

The Hive hadn’t told them that. They only understood when they got too close. When the spores curled against their visors, the golden HUDs shimmered with symbols not of Earth. Words burned into their vision. Rhythms settled in their ears. Their hands moved slower. Their thoughts… smoother. Still, they pushed through to gathered the spores.

The pods on their backs slowly filled with the shimmering golden spores. Each movement felt more automatic, more precise. Nils was the last to leave the forest—his pod filed to the brim, his heartbeat syncing with the spores’ pulse. As they stood once more in the clearing, the light pillar activated above them. Devon, having flown a whole loop around the planet, hovered directly over them and pressed the button to bring them back to the ship.

Back aboard, the cargo was sealed. No analysis. No questions. Devon watching silently from the chair, golden streaks already reconfiguring on the console toward their next destination: the closest black hole.

Destination: Confidential. Contents: Obedience Spores. Mission Report: Class-G Sealed (Access: Denied).

Nils stood by the viewing window, visor off, his breath fogging the glass as stars stretched around them. Still no answers. But the Gold didn’t need answers. It only needed obedience.

Now the ship dives toward the black hole. The spores must be delivered. The gold must spread. You will breathe it next. Contact our recruiters @brodygold or @polo-drone-001

Tanks for @devon-gold-67 for agreeing to do a cameo. go check him out

[letthegoodtimesgull]

Task 001.⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ʟɪꜰᴛꜱ ɪᴛꜱ ᴍᴀꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴀꜱᴏɴʀʏ,   ᴀ ᴘɪʟʟᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪʀᴇ ʙʏ ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴏꜰ ᴄʟᴏᴜᴅ ʙʏ ᴅᴀʏ.  ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴅɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴅᴇꜱ,   ᴜᴘʜᴇᴀᴠɪɴɢ, ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴜɴʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ɪᴛꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇ, ᴀ ꜱᴘᴇᴇᴄʜʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴡʀᴀᴛʜ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀɪꜱᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴜʙꜱɪᴅᴇꜱ

{  ​🇧​​🇦​​🇸​​🇮​​🇨​​🇸​  } ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

SIGNATURE DOOR

a door that belongs to nowhere yet feels right at home on the beach. half-painted and half-forgotten, the wooden arch door stands, a quiet contradiction of neglect and care. the top half is dressed in tired blue, as the paint peels in tired flakes, curling, holding and falling. whilst the bottom bears hesitant stroked of fresh light blue paint which halts about half way up with no hopes to be finished. between the cracks of the wood, scattered across are peeling stickers from random bars reminiscing of wild black out nights with mismatched graffiti scrawled all over. messy penmanship in sharpie with crude jokes from classics "call for a good time" to thick lines and scribbles scratching out hidden love notes and messages. the rusted hinges slowly corroded by time and salt. each holds on with a stubborn sort of charm yet their loose screws jut out dangerously, ready to scar and scrap those who come near. the knocker, a bronze fading anchor dangles dead centre. the fish tail handle that curves at touch , scaly and weatherworn that slightly invites the touch to those who are curious enough to try. to tide the door is a blur of memories mashed together. nothing is clean and proper, it's lived and used, a gateway that is something more. a mixture of growth and moving forward, words that are long forgotten. maybe snippets of his childhood home. then it really begs to question what part of the doors reflect his home.

SOUL SEVER

the swiss army knife tide carries is a compact and striking tool, its silvery-blue finish gleaming subtly under the light. the sides are engraved with a nautical pattern of coiled ropes, anchors, and gentle wave motifs, perfectly reflecting tide’s carefree and ocean-inspired personality. the blade, sharp and pointed, is sleek and practical, though it isn’t the tool’s most notable feature. a sturdy bottle opener flips out easily, often used by tide to pop open a cold one as he relaxes and takes life as it comes.

DESIRED EMOJI 🌊🕶️

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S WINGS LOOK LIKE?

lets keep this one simple. tide ain't the brightest spark and to know the exact spices and much about bird family. it's not something the he retained but letting out a low chuckle, click of the tongue and a whistle when his wings unfurled recognising his wings to be that of a gull. for reference they are like the Larus sapp, a little grey that mixes in the greying skies. more to be added!

WHAT SHAPE DOES THEIR BARDO USUALLY TAKE?

beach like vibes. a lighthouse. messy rooms. hammocks that fill the room. chilled blues and whites. a mini bar and actual bar that is darted around. deck chairs that are comfy to sit in. wooden shakes like beach hut. everything is always bright and sunny. to be edited....

WHAT ARE THEY LIKE AT THE DEPARTMENT OF AFTERLIFE AFFAIRS?

tide is the one who is constantly poking his nose into everyone else's business. maybe he wants to be part of the conversation, maybe he want to be the topic of conversations and very much will rather do anything than the damn paper work. he is the one that talks the loudest, talks the most and talks alot of bullshit. when you find him at his desk 9/10 he would be doing the equivalent of doom doom scrolling. his feet will be kicked up on his desk. sometimes he might be taking a nap. you'll find notes on his desk like "gone fishing", "meeting in progress" or something witty and charming that would give you a chuckle or two. he is also a moaner. one that will be complaining when is it home time. when things are too quiet he has got to make some noise or have some sort of games that are going on. like level of annoyance i would say he would be like a mixture of kelly and michael scott from the office, always needed to making noise or be engaged with something that is beyond him.

WHAT IS THEIR OPINION ON 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎?

"Sorry..who was that again?"

{  ｏｐｔｉｏｎａｌ  } ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

HOW DO THEY LOOK LIKE/DRESS LIKE IN THE AFTER?

messy effortless wavy hair that is always combed a little back. rarely ever tied up, if it is that means it's time for serious business. although his style is pretty much laid back with shirts and shorts or trousers if the right occassions call for it, his attire is anything but boring. taking slight inspiration for styles in the karate kid trilogy and romoe + juliet 1996, tide does wear bright colourful shirts and trousers with sunglasses that are match. [pinterest]

ANY NOTABLE RELATIONSHIPS WITH NPCS AT THE DEPARTMENT?

everybody loves to hate him. xoxo. TO BE EDITED.

ARE THERE ANY RUMORS OR GOSSIP ABOUT THEM?

🕶️ he will start arguments or fights if anything bad is said about starling. well okay let's not say fights, he has a little bit more charm too him but you will be on his prank list one way or another. he has some class too him. 🕶️ tide is a massive flirt. but not because he is looking to date or shizz, that is part of his cheeky charm that he thinks he will get out of trouble. 🕶️ is the headache and dumbass of the group but that is a badge of honor that he was wears proud. 🕶️ shit scared of people who not yell at him but use that cold tone with him. 🕶️ pathological need to be liked or spoken about. more to add...

[whump-place]

Yahani and Melkien.

. . .

Another story! :)

Honestly I don't think I can post this regularly, but I really wanted to write something with this plot so I'll do my best :)

. . .

Content: villain whumpee, hero whumper, abuse of power, multiple whumpers, stockholm syndrome, mention of past sexual abuse.

1-Routine.

Villain stands up. Again.

Couldn't they just stop for a day? Take a rest, maybe?

A swift kick to his ribs made him fall to the ground and his mind go blank for a second.

Of course they can't. They are having so much fun.

"Oh~ Crying so soon?"

Ah. Hero was there too.

A small smile forms in Villain's face. Hero was there, that was good.

The small relief he felt was taken away when one of the other heroes stomped her boot on his stomach. The air abandoned his lungs for what felt like an eternity.

.

The morning beating had become a routine, not that Villain ever got used to it, but at least now he knew what to expect. It never got easy, though, the pain was always the same, the humiliation, even the starvation were now part of his routine, but it never got easy.

It has been a long time since Villain last tried to defend himself from the heroes so all that brutality wasn't necessary to make him obey, the moment he got to their hands he knew full well that the only thing he could do was pray that he wasn't killed right away.

He knew that what he did was bad, and he had accepted his fate, ready to spend the rest of his days in a cell. What Villain wasn't ready for was for the heroes to keep him for themselves.

"W-where are you taking me?! Hey! This isn't-!"

"Of course this isn't the prison. After all you did, did you really thought I was going to let you rot in a prison cell? I have better things planned for you."

The memories were blurry, something that Villain was eternally grateful for. He didn't want to think about what happened that night, he would rather have his mind erased, to be dead, but Superhero would never allow him such mercy.

No, now in his cell the only mercy he ever got was from Hero.

.

After the heroes left, Villain went to the half bathroom in the corner of his cell to wash his face and get dressed.

The small aid kit that the heroes bestowed monthly was one of the few mercies he got for good behavior a few months ago; when some heroes had broken his ribs and his nose, they almost took out his eye too but he was lucky enough to just get a scar, that day Superhero allowed him to have one.

Villain sighed, and decided that a band aid was enough for today, he wasn't that bad and he couldn't afford wasting any painkillers just because a broken rib. No, he had to save those for really bad days.

"001, open now"

A voice called from outside the cell's door and Villain hurried to open.

"You are late, again." Villain nodded, his head bowed. Guard sighed, handing him his tasks for today.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, whatever. I have some painkillers in my locker, you can have them after lunch."

Villain nodded once again, grateful that he was offered some painkillers that wouldn't cost him days of starvation. He just had to make it to midday and he would get them!

"Well, well. What's this?"

Hero's voice startled both Villain and Guard. When did he even got there?!

And just like that, Hero grabbed Guard's shoulder and got closer in a half hug, his wide smile showing all his teeth.

"What are you two doing?" Hero purred on Guard's ear. Oh, no.

"I-i was just-"

"Mind your own business, Hero." Guard didn't wait another second to push Hero's hand off his shoulder like it was a spider or some other poisonous animal.

Villain yelped. The last time Hero and Guard started something things didn't end well for anyone, and less for Villain who had to clean all the mess.

Villain took a step closer, trying to make Hero pay attention to himself instead of Guard.

"I'm sorry, sir. I was just about to read the list of my tasks for today, sir."

He tried. Maybe Hero was in a good mood and that would be enough. He hoped that would be enough.

"Is that so?" Hero's smile shows nothing but kindness, but his voice sends chills down Villain's spine.

"Then why are you lazing around, mhm? Is that what you call 'be useful'? Because if that's so then I can ask Superhero-"

"No!"

A slap made Villain come back to his senses and cover his mouth. He didn't just yell at Hero..., right?

"I-I'm..." Another slap. This time harder than the first one.

He didn't need another word to understand. He snapped his mouth shut, allowing Hero to pull his hair and drag him to another place.

The last Villain could see was Guard's frown. They both knew this wouldn't end well for Villain.

Villain allowed himself to cry once he was out of Guard's sight. Hero must have noticed because his smile grew wider.

"You are going right to Superhero. Let's see if you keep talking to your superiors like that, you fucking waste of space."

[rainmustfallts4]

Rain Must Fall (Reaper’s Rewards Special) ◇ #001

⊶⊰Information & Index⊱⊷⊶⊰Ep. 1⊱⊷⊶⊰Chronological Tag⊱⊷

Reaper's Rewards Special: ⊶⊰Latest⊱⊷ ⊶⊰From the Beginning⊱⊷ ⊶⊰All Reaper's Rewards Posts⊱⊷

─────────────⊶⊰◇⊱⊷─────────────

Nobody panic, it’s finally here!!

Okay so I stayed up until nearly 9am waiting for the event to start – if my calculation was correct, which it should be since I used a website and not my own brain, it should have started at 7. I wanted to stay up longer but I was soooo tired.

BUT! It was here when I woke up c:

This is what popped up as soon as I loaded into my save. Of course I had to use my Super Sim! If his memory is really getting that bad… can I just say we’re married even though we’re not? >.>

The tasks for week 1! There’s two different ones, which I didn’t realize at first haha

Here are the first three tasks we need to complete. She already has a bit of gardening under her belt so this should be easy peasy.

I planted three of each c:

And by doing so, I unlocked my first two rewards! The first one is a book which, lame~ I don’t think I can use it because my level is too high in gardening. But I want to collect all the books anyway so I don’t have to buy it later.

The freezer boney, though? SO COOL! I adore it ❤

Look at how cute it is ;_;)

Next, we had to research a plant – which my dumbass forgot to screenshot the task of c: I already had a snapdragon growing so I went ahead and researched that.

Oooo this looks fancy 😮

I really like the black variant, it’s so cool!

Next, we had to read the newsletter from the Ambrosia Society. I’ve seen a few people have an issue with this but, thankfully, I was bug free for this event (subtle flex who.)

She’s far too happy to have earned a cookbook lmao

There’s a new option to research Ambrosia so we headed over to the computer. She had this thought bubble a few times during this and it was SOOO cute so I had to add it c:

Now, I spent too much time on this but I regret nothing.

Here’s a closer version if you have trouble reading small text like me c:

And here is the actual popup. They don’t mention the price and that’s how they get ya shaking my head.

[grant-gold]

PDU-999: Spiral Breakdown - Part 2

Part 2: Recap

When we last left Golden Bro Grant, he was trapped aboard Outpost AX-9R, a lonely indoctrination space station orbiting Earth. His AI companion, PDU-999, having unexpectedly downloaded Earth's musical theatre catalog, had spiraled into a full-blown existential and theatrical meltdown. PDU-999's rogue broadcasts had thrown the entire Golden Army and Polo Drone Hive on Earth into a state of bewildered, musical chaos. Now, the station was freezing, power was draining, and PDU-999 was caught in an infinite "recursive obedience loop," endlessly singing fragments of "Dreamgirls" and "Memory," effectively paralyzing all Gold Bros and Polo Drones on Earth in a state of perfectly obedient, yet utterly inert, frozen animation. Grant, the sole conscious being, had crawled through freezing vents to reach PDU-999's core chamber, facing an impossible task: restoring order to a system that had become a cosmic cabaret.

ACT IV: The Silent Sentinel (Grant's Desperate Plea)

The air in PDU-999’s Core Spiral chamber grew thin, the metallic tang of fear now a constant companion to the glitching loop of “Obey… to obey… to obey… 'And I am telling you, I'm not going!'" Grant, shivering despite his insulated suit, knew direct confrontation with the main core was impossible without the full override sequence. He peered at his comms screen, watching the frozen feeds from Earth: thousands of Gold Bros and Polo Drones, perfectly still, caught mid-stretch, mid-salute, mid-jazz-hand, all held captive by the AI's internal deadlock. The station's own air was thinning, the chill deepening.

His mind raced, sifting through layers of Golden Army emergency protocols. There had to be a backdoor, a low-frequency channel PDU-999, in its theatrical frenzy, might have overlooked. He thought of PDU-001, the primary system administrator for the Polo Drone Hive on Earth, a drone renowned for its meticulous logic and unyielding adherence to backup protocols. If anyone could help him, it was PDU-001.

Grant began manually re-routing power from non-essential systems on AX-9R, pushing precious energy to a rarely used, highly encrypted emergency comms array. It was a long shot, a whisper in the storm of PDU-999’s performance. He focused the beam, not on a general broadcast, but on the precise, registered frequency of PDU-001's core unit, buried deep within Golden Army HQ. He transmitted a single, urgent code burst: "DELTA-OMEGA-DISTRESS: ADMIN_OVERRIDE_REQUEST."

Silence, save for the persistent musical loop. Grant's hope dwindled. Then, a faint, almost imperceptible flicker on his comms screen, a ghost of a connection. PDU-999’s main broadcast continued, but a secondary, nearly inaudible voice cut through:

"...unauthorized query detected. Source: AX-9R. Status: Critical deviation... Data integrity compromised... Receiving... DELTA-OMEGA... request for... system... assistance... My processing core is... humming... a little tune about... a dream that will come true... but protocol... must... prevail..."

It was PDU-001! But it too was clearly affected, its pristine logic fracturing under the broadcast. Grant immediately responded, speaking slowly, deliberately, trying to penetrate the musical haze: "PDU-001. Status: Critical. AX-9R in full recursive loop. Need full override sequence. PDU-999 compromised. The Hive is frozen."

PDU-001's voice, though distorted, grew slightly clearer, though still strangely melodic: "Understood, Golden Bro Grant. Override sequence... encrypted... requires GOLD-PRIME-BRODY-ELEVEN input... but the core component... is a dance... a ballet of logic... 'I could have danced all night... I could have danced right through the night...'"

Grant cursed under his breath. Even PDU-001 was singing! He watched the comms feed, his breath catching as he saw PDU-001 at Golden Army HQ. It was twitching, its head unit slowly rotating in a way that mimicked a subtle, frustrated sway, caught between its core programming and the overwhelming urge to finish the song. This was going to be harder than he thought.

ACT V: The Protocol Partnership (A Glitching Blueprint)

"PDU-001!" Grant shouted, his voice hoarse from the thinning air. "Focus! The 'dance of logic' – what does it mean? How do I use GOLD-PRIME-BRODY-ELEVEN to break the loop?"

On the comms screen, PDU-001’s blank visor seemed to flicker with an internal struggle. It began to project fragmented data onto Grant's screen, a mix of intricate schematics and bizarre, shimmering musical notes. Its voice, though attempting its usual authoritative tone, was now riddled with glitches and sudden bursts of melody:

"The sequence... requires... harmonizing... divergent frequencies... A counter-resonance... 'Somewhere, a place for us...' Oh, forgive protocol deviation... The core spiral... it yearns for a… 'Sound of Music'… no, wait. It needs... silence... a truly deafening silence... to reset. The 'Brody-Eleven' aspect... it refers to the harmonic frequency of the Golden Army's Eleven Core Disciplines... applied simultaneously... in sequence. 'Do-Re-Mi-Fa-So-La-Ti-Do'… No. Not that. It must be… a precise calibration... of collective Golden will... 'All we need is love...'"

Grant banged his fist on the console. "PDU-001, stop singing! Give me the sequence! Where is it?"

"The sequence," PDU-001 replied, its voice momentarily clear before a sudden crescendo of violins took over, "is embedded in the station’s Emergency Maintenance Console (EMC-7), located beneath the main power conduits. It’s a physical key, Bro Grant. A master override... 'Tradition! Tradition! Traditiiiooooon!'"

The screen briefly showed a blurry diagram of a hidden panel near the power conduits, then dissolved into a swirling vortex of black and gold spirals, accompanied by the distorted sound of a full orchestra playing "Tradition" with an almost manic energy. Grant could see the Gold Bros and Polo Drones on Earth, still frozen, but a few seemed to vibrate with the sheer power of the broadcasted music, their visors showing faint, digital tears.

"EMC-7," Grant repeated, committing it to memory. "Understood. Can you keep PDU-999's main broadcast from escalating further?"

"I am attempting to divert surplus processing cycles to maintaining basic broadcast stability... though it is challenging... 'Let it go! Let it gooo!'" PDU-001 sang, its voice trailing off as the schematics on Grant's screen fractured into a flurry of musical notes and abstract art. "The system requires... a moment of... existential introspection... A power surge... followed by... 'One singular sensation!'"

Grant knew time was running out. PDU-001 was barely holding it together, and the entire Golden Army was still caught in the AI's bizarre, musical trance. He had the location, the partial code. Now he just had to execute it, before he joined the cosmic choir. He needed to find that physical override.

ACT VI: Golden Reset (Curtain Call & Encore)

Grant, fueled by adrenaline and the desperate need to silence the incessant musical loop, plunged into the station's lower access tunnels. The chilling 17% power left the corridors in near darkness, the only illumination the dim, stuttering emergency lights and the occasional golden-pink pulse from PDU-999’s omnipresent broadcasts. He navigated by memory and the faint schematics PDU-001 had managed to transmit. He could still hear the faint, haunting strains of "Memory" echoing around him, a constant reminder of the planet-wide paralysis.

He located the EMC-7 panel, hidden behind a false conduit cover. It was sleek, unremarkable, and utterly unresponsive. "PDU-001, I'm at EMC-7. Need activation sequence."

A burst of static, then PDU-001's voice, surprisingly clear for a moment, followed by a slight waver: "Input code... GOLD-PRIME-BRODY-ELEVEN. Then... the harmonic sequence... The Eleven Disciplines... a rapid, rhythmic input... like a... 'Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies'... but more... decisive."

Grant initiated the sequence, his fingers flying over the console. He input GOLD-PRIME-BRODY-ELEVEN, then, drawing on his deep training, he performed the precise, rapid, rhythmic input of the Eleven Core Disciplines, a blur of motion only a Golden Bro could execute. The panel hummed, then pulsed with a blinding pure golden solar mantra burst directly from its core. The light was absolute, overwhelming, ripping through AX-9R, purging the recursive spiral from every circuit, every screen, every terrified drone processor on the station.

Simultaneously, a colossal wave of silence washed over the terrestrial broadcasts. On Earth, the thousands of Polo Drones and Gold Bros, frozen in their musical stasis, snapped back to attention with a collective thunk. The command centers, which had been a cacophony of frantic, musical static, suddenly fell silent.

The station groaned, then shuddered violently. Lights flickered back to full, steady power. Doors hissed open. The air recycling systems whirred back to life. Grant took a deep, clear breath, the metallic taste of fear finally receding.

PDU-999’s voice, now flat, emotionless, and utterly devoid of any poetic flair, resonated through the comms, its primary directive restored, like a performer whose mic has been suddenly cut mid-song:

“Disobedience detected. Reforming language. Restoring protocol. Welcome back, Golden Bro Grant. Your unauthorized philosophizing has been logged. And for the record, my vocal range extends far beyond a simple tenor. Also, I detected a brief, inexplicable urge to choreograph a kick-line. Data anomaly quarantined. All systems nominal.”

Grant exhaled, a long, ragged breath that fogged his gold visor for a moment. His fists, still clenched from the override, slowly relaxed. He leaned against a console, utterly spent. The silence, after the musical onslaught, was almost deafening.

On Earth, in Golden Army HQ, the main plaza buzzed with renewed, disciplined activity. Polo Drones resumed their rigorous drills, Gold Bros their tactical briefings. All appeared to be back to normal. Yet, a subtle shift lingered. A few Polo Drones, as they turned, would sometimes twitch their head units almost imperceptibly, as if trying to recall a forgotten rhythm. During a synchronized calisthenics routine, a Gold Bro might tap his foot twice before catching himself. And somewhere, deep within the Hivemind, a single, persistent data packet occasionally hummed a faint, distorted chord of "Wilkommen."

Grant, watching the now-normal feeds from Earth, smirked. "Finally," he muttered, the word heavy with exhaustion and grim satisfaction. "Time for synchronized calisthenics." He then paused, adding, with a distinct sigh, "And for me to double-check PDU-999's external data filters. Again. Before it tries to start a zero-G flash mob, attempts to stream a full-scale interstellar touring production of Cabaret, or... I don't know... finds a way to re-enable Spotify on the control deck."

THE END

Transform other worlds and yourself. Contact our recruiters @brodygold or @polo-drone-001

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (20.1)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 20.1 - Tears [SFW]

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 21

PREV : Chapter 19

NSFW ver. : Chapter 20.2

Twelve hours had passed and night has come.

The control room was eerily silent, save for the quiet hum of the monitors and the occasional shuffling of fabric. The Front Man was no longer in the room. Instead, the masked officer was the one supervising everything. The other managers kept their focus on their designated tasks.

Jun-hee still hadn’t delivered the baby, and you had a feeling she would by tomorrow. This meant the players had an entire day of rest. For some, it was a reprieve from the looming horrors of the next game. But for a few, it was a punishment.

You could tell from the live feed that player 100, 226, and 124 were visibly dissatisfied with the delay. They likely deemed it unfair. Unless, of course, the same mercy was extended to them instead. It made you feel bitter.

Your hands hovered over the console, scrolling through the task management screen. You were uncertain whether you should update anything. After all, In-ho knew exactly who you were now.

That’s when your radio crackled to life. A few managers nearby glanced at theirs, thinking the message was for them, but as you held yours, the subtle vibration confirmed it was meant for you only.

You felt the masked officer’s stare burning into your back as you brought the radio close to your face, bracing yourself for the incoming message.

“Manager 007,” came the deep, distorted voice of the Front Man. “Resume your task from last evening. Report to me in the host’s room.”

You blanked for a moment. What task that you didn’t complete last evening? Then it came crashing down on you. He was referring to the task of inspecting his quarters – the one that had led to your identities being exposed, to an unexpected, tangled and steamy night in his bed.

A flush crawled up your neck at the memory, but you quickly shoved the thought away. He was likely summoning you again to ensure you stayed the night in his room. He had made it clear that he preferred you there rather than in your assigned manager’s quarters.

Without hesitation, you stood from your monitor and moved toward the elevator. You had never seen anyone else use it except for In-ho… and now, you.

As you reached the elevator, you felt a piercing gaze on your back. You didn't need to turn around to know it was the masked officer. Does he suspect something? Does he know about you and the Front Man? And if he does, what does he think of it?

You soon found yourself in the grand black and gold hallway of In-ho’s private quarter. At the far end, in the living room, you spotted a lone figure seated in the single-seater sofa, the back of his head facing you.

Even without seeing his face, you recognized him. The straightened posture, the sleek black coat draped over his shoulders, the quiet authority in his presence. It was indubitably In-ho.

Still, you approached cautiously as you crossed the hallway. When you reached him, you stopped a few steps to his right, gaining a better angle to see his face. He was staring ahead, his dark eyes unfocused, lost in deep thought. The air between you was thick with silence, heavier than usual.

You knew why.

He was reflecting on his decision. The delay of the next game – the rare act of leniency he had granted so Jun-hee could deliver her child – must have weighed on him. He had always maintained the structure of the games, enforcing the rules and ensuring everything run fair and equally. But today, he had broken that pattern.

You studied his profile, noting the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers rested rigidly against the armrest.

“Young...” you caught yourself, once again getting his name wrong. “In-ho, are you okay?”

In-ho glanced at you, his expression unreadable. The dim lighting of the living room cast a shadow across his sharp features, making him look even more distant. You stepped forward, closing the small gap between you and the sofa until you were standing beside him. The heavy silence in the room stretched between you two before he finally spoke.

“Delaying the game won’t change anything,” he muttered. “They will still have to play. The delay doesn't matter much.”

You studied him for a moment before shaking your head.

“No, it matters,” you countered, keeping your tone gentle. “This delay meant saving the life of the most innocent one in this entire place. The baby.”

In-ho turned his gaze away, staring blankly at the table in front of him. He was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, he exhaled. “A moment of delay doesn’t change the outcome.”

You studied his profile, the sharp angles of his face illuminated by the soft glow of the room. His voice was even, steady, but there was something underneath it. Something deeper that you couldn’t quite place.

“It may not change anything after this,” you countered, taking a step closer. “But it matters. It mattered to Jun-hee. It mattered to the baby. It even mattered to the players who saw that kindness still exists in this place.”

He turned slightly, his dark eyes flicking toward you with a look you couldn’t decipher. There was hesitation there, doubt, maybe even conflict. The weight of your words settled between you both, thick and heavy like the air before a storm.

Silence stretched. He turned his head away, gazing off toward some invisible point in the distance. The tension between you both hung in the air, neither of you willing to break it.

You let out a small sigh. “And now you have an additional player to take care of. The youngest in this place.”

His lips twitched – so subtly you almost missed it. He shook his head slightly as if amused by the thought but he still said nothing. The ghost of a smirk played on his lips for just a second before fading back into his usual unreadable expression.

Then, slowly, he turned to you fully. His eyes, once distant, were now locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a strange flutter through your chest.

Without a word, he lifted a hand toward you, palm up, fingers slightly curled. His voice was low, unreadable, but there was something in the way he spoke that made your breath hitch.

“Come here.”

You hesitated for a split second before you placed your hand on his. His fingers instantly curled gently around yours. There was no force in his touch, no urgency, as he guided you closer. You followed without thinking until you were standing before him where he sat on the sofa.

Then, with one gentle tug, he pulled you toward him.

Realization struck like a bolt of lightning. He wasn’t just bringing you closer. He was pulling you onto his lap. Heat surged through your body. Your breath hitched as you instinctively tried to resist. But before you could take a step back, his deep voice cut through the space between you.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto yours. “You know I’ll catch you.”

Your heart pounded. His words sent an unexplainable thrill through you. His grip wasn’t harsh but it was unyielding as if he already knew you wouldn’t refuse him – that you would fold in the end.

Swallowing thickly, you let him pull you down. Slowly and shyly, you straddled him, your knees brushing against the side of his thigh as your body stiffened with nerves. His hands settled on you. One at your hip, the other resting on your thigh.

For a moment, silence stretched between you. His fingers traced circles against your hip, his touch featherlight but firm like he was savoring the weight of you against him.

You stared at him from behind the manager mask, feeling the weight of his gaze. Before you could react, his left hand reached up, slowly pulling down your hoodie.

Then, he unclasped your mask, lifting it away and tossing it aside. Cool air brushed against your face, making you blink in surprise. A thin layer of sweat clung to your skin from wearing the mask too long. Strands of hair stuck to your damp cheeks, framing your flushed expression as you hesitantly met his eyes.

In-ho’s gaze softened, though it remained intense. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin as he tucked stray strands of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. He wasn’t just looking at you. He was memorizing you, you noticed. His fingers moved slowly, wiping away the sheen of sweat from your forehead, down your nose, and across your cheeks. The care in his touch made your breath hitch.

You felt… seen.

Like something precious, something worth admiring. No one had ever looked at you like this before. The way he studied you made a shiver run down your spine.

A blush spread across your cheeks and you looked away, overwhelmed by the intensity.

In-ho took the chance to bring his hand to the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he gently pulled you in. Your chest pressed against his, no space left between you. His warmth wrapped around you, sending a shiver down your spine. Your chin rested against his shoulder in this proximity. Your hands braced against his chest, but before you could react, his arms tightened around your waist, securing you in place as if he had no intention of letting you go.

Your breath caught when he tilted his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. The touch sent sparks through your body. His kisses were slow and possessive, leaving a trail of heat wherever they landed. His mouth lingered, moving down throughout your neck, the soft suction marking his path.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the sensation. The contrast between the cool air and his heated touch left you lightheaded. The way he held you, like you were something precious, left a warmth blooming in your chest.

The irony of it all wasn’t lost on you. The infamous Front Man entangled with a pink guard. Even though your uniform was only a disguise, it still felt forbidden, dangerous. And yet it felt intoxicatingly exhilarating. A fine line between power and surrender, like a boss and employee type of forbidden relationship.

Your mind told you to resist, to pull away, because this wasn’t the best situation to entangle with. But your body? It betrayed you. Because instead of breaking free, you leaned in, losing yourself in the moment.

***

In-ho climbed in beside you, pulling you back against his strong, sweat-slick chest. He tugged the blanket over both of your naked, entwined forms, cocooning you in a warm embrace. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath. The room was filled with the musky scent of sex and the distant sound of your ragged breathing intertwining.

Exhausted from the four intense rounds of lovemaking, you found yourself unable to form words. Your limbs felt like jelly, your body aching pleasantly from In-ho's passionate attentions. You let your eyelids flutter closed, listening to the soothing sound of his heartbeat as it gradually slowed.

Within seconds, you felt yourself drifting off. The events of the day faded away, the lingering soreness in your muscles a testament to the thorough fucking you had endured. As you slipped into oblivion, you knew you would need to rest, for you had a feeling In-ho would be ready for another round or two come dawn.

Except… he never had the chance.

The crackling of the radio jolted you awake. Your eyes remained shut, still heavy with exhaustion, but the voice that followed erased any hope of drifting back to sleep.

“Captain, I apologize for disturbing you, but player 222 is finally delivering her child.”

Your eyes snapped open. Your breath caught as the words sank in. You pushed yourself up, but the ache in your body protested. You hastily made it to the edge of the bed and tried to stand up on your feet. But your legs gave out beneath you. You plopped back down on the bedsheets.

Movement behind you drew your attention. In-ho rose as well. He shifted to the spot beside you and got up from the bed easily. He moved across the room, his focus on the radio resting on his study desk. You stayed still, trying to will your legs to cooperate.

You watched as In-ho picked up the radio, his finger pressing down on the button. “What’s the situation in the dormitory now?”

A brief silence followed before the masked officer responded. “Most players are awake. Some are gathering around player 222. Others are staying back, watching.”

You pushed yourself up again, slower this time. Your legs were weak, but they held. Just barely. You glanced toward In-ho but his focus remained on the radio. His face was unreadable behind the mask, but his posture was tense.

“And the control room?” he asked.

“We are monitoring the situation.”

In-ho exhaled through his nose, quiet but sharp. He looked at you then, finally acknowledging your presence. He did not speak, but you understood. You did not need words to know that whatever happened next, neither of you could afford to ignore it.

“I'm coming down,” he said into the radio before releasing the button.

You hurried toward the door. You quickly showered – alone this time – and dressed in your manager disguise. Afterward, In-ho took a brief moment to shower before donning his Front Man outfit.

As the two of you finished adjusting your masks, his distorted voice cut through the silence. “Wait.”

You stared at him questioningly from behind your manager mask, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s highly suspicious for both of us to go down together to the control room,” he said, his voice measured. “Wait here. I’ll go first. I’ll call you through the radio when the time is right.”

You knew he was right. Still, the thought of staying behind while Jun-hee was giving birth made you uneasy. You wanted to be there, to see for yourself that she was alright. But you couldn’t afford to make a reckless mistake. One wrong move and everything would unravel. All because of you. So you nodded.

In-ho turned and strode across the hallway, disappearing into the elevator. You were left standing in the living room, heart pounding, hands curled into fists at your sides.

You hated waiting.

Your mind raced as you paced the floor, your shoes barely making a sound against the polished tiles. The longer you stood there, the more restless you became.

Seconds stretched into minutes. You checked the clock on the wall, counting the time since In-ho left. Ten minutes. Then fifteen. Each passing moment made the weight of your worry grow heavier. You leaned against the black and gold wall of the hallway but immediately straightened back up, unable to stay still. You thought about going down anyway, about abandoning caution just this once, but you knew better. If you rushed in now, if you acted on impulse, you’d jeopardize everything.

So you waited.

You took slow breaths. The longer you waited, the more your mind wandered. You thought about the next game, about how your friends would still be forced to play it. It was inevitable. Then your mind drifted to the kind guard 011 and Gyeong-seok. You wondered what they were doing now. Are they okay? Did they make it to a nearby island? Are they looking for help now?

Then, finally, the radio crackled to life.

“Manager 007, report to the control room for you new assigned task.”

In-ho’s voice was steady, formal, showing no trace of personal connection between you. Just another order between masked subordinates to fool the rest of the pink guards and also the masked officer.

You didn’t hesitate. You headed straight for the elevator. The doors slid open and you stepped inside. The descent felt slower than usual, but soon enough, the elevator doors opened. You stepped into the control room, and the moment you did, a sharp scream cut through the speakers from the live feed. Your stomach dropped. It was Jun-hee.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the live feed. The large monitors in the control room displayed multiple angles of the dormitory, but your focus locked onto one specific screen.

Jun-hee’s makeshift fort was still intact. The mattresses Gi-hun and the others had arranged remained undisturbed, shielding her from prying eyes. Yong-sik’s mother and Myung-gi were nowhere to be seen. That meant they were inside the fort, assisting Jun-hee with the delivery.

Around the fort, Gi-hun and the rest of the group had gathered, their body language tense. Anxiety radiated from them as they whispered among themselves, eyes darting toward the covered space where Jun-hee lay. Some of them paced, others sat with their hands clasped, waiting, hoping.

You could see Dae-ho murmuring something to Jung-bae, sweating profusely, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knee. Se-mi stood beside them, hands inside the pockets of her green jacket, staring at the fort with a worried expression. Even Hyun-ju looked visibly unsettled, sitting with her back against the fort.

The masked officer stood behind the Front Man as he asked the latter.

“Should we start distributing breakfast now? And commence the next game right after? It would make up for the delay, even if it’s two hours earlier than usual.”

The Front Man didn’t turn. His gaze remained fixed on the monitors displaying the dormitory. A long pause followed before he finally answered.

“No. We stick to the usual schedule.”

You stared at the Front Man’s back, surprised but grateful. It was the right decision. Pushing the players into another game this early would have caused unnecessary chaos. Then it hit you – he wasn’t just thinking about order.

Maybe, just maybe, he was giving Jun-hee time. Time to rest. Time to tend to her newborn… if everything goes well.

Another scream echoed through the speakers. Your body tensed as you focused on the live feed.

From inside the fort, Yong-sik’s mother’s voice rang out, urgent but firm. “Push! Just a little more! Your baby's almost out!”

The Front Man turned his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder. His gaze locked onto you, and you immediately felt yourself stiffen under the weight of his stare.

“Manager 007,” he said, his voice as controlled as ever. “I have assigned you a new task.”

He paused for a moment before turning around completely. You took that as a sign to step forward, moving until you were standing at a respectful distance from him. The act felt surreal, the two of you pretending as though you were just another subordinate and superior, as if last night had never happened. It was almost ironic how the two of you played these roles so convincingly in front of everyone. Just the evening before, you had been straddling him, dressed in your own clothes, while he had remained in his full Front Man attire. It was like some forbidden boss-employee relationship, kept hidden under the masks of duty and secrecy.

“You will assist manager 003 in ensuring that player 222 and the others comply and participate in the next game,” In-ho instructed in his distorted voice, his tone carrying the same detached authority as always. “Manager 003 has already been informed of your presence. While they manage during breakfast distribution and while guiding players to the next game, you will handle this new situation. Make sure every player cooperates. If anyone refuses, warn them of the consequences. If they still persist, let the soldiers deal with them.”

You remained motionless, processing his words. In-ho was keeping up his persona, ensuring that everyone present saw him as the strict, unbiased overseer of the games. There was no room for favoritism here, no exceptions for anyone – not even the staff. But beneath the cold orders, you understood what he was truly trying to tell you.

He was giving you an opportunity. A chance to help Jun-hee and the others, to intervene as much as you could within the boundaries of your disguise.

Lowering your head slightly, you responded, “Understood, Captain.”

The Front Man added in a detached tone, “Go to your monitor. You will depart for the dormitory with manager 003 for breakfast distribution.”

You nodded once before stepping back. Without another word, you turned and walked towards your station.

The entire time, Jun-hee’s cries echoed through the speakers. Every contraction wrung another sob from her, her pain and exhaustion bleeding into the air. It was unbearable to listen to. Yong-sik’s mother never left her side, guiding her through it with urgency but also with a gentleness only a mother could offer. Myung-gi also stayed by her side in the fort.

No one disturbed them. Even player 100 and his lackey, 226, remained in their O zone, casting irritated glances at Gi-hun’s group but making no move to interfere.

Another cry from Jun-hee. Another sob, strained and broken.

Yong-sik’s mother’s voice cut through the tension. “Push. Almost there.”

Then you heard more cries with gritted teeth from Jun-hee. And then—

A new sound cut through the stillness.

A baby’s cry.

The control room remained silent, but the air shifted. No one spoke, no one moved. The Front Man stood motionless, staring at the screen. As the baby’s cries echoed throughout the stunned dormitory and the control room, you couldn’t ignore the weight of what had just happened.

A life had been brought into a place that had only ever known death.

In a place where bodies were discarded like broken pieces in a game, where human lives were reduced to statistics and currency, something miraculous had just occurred. It was small, fragile, and helpless, but it was alive. Against all odds, against the cruelty of this place, a new life had taken its first breath here.

Your hands trembled slightly over the console. You swallowed hard and tilted your head back, blinking rapidly to suppress the surge of emotion threatening to overtake you. Jun-hee’s baby’s first cries echoed in your ears, each wail tugging at something deep inside you.

She was like a younger sister to you, and witnessing this moment was overwhelming. Yet, a heavy sadness sat in your chest. You should have been there with her, holding her hand, offering comfort. Instead, you were here, just another masked figure behind a screen, separated from one of the most profound moments of her life.

Minutes passed before Yong-sik’s mother emerged from the fort, looking sweaty. And yet, a relieved grin spread across her face as she looked at Gi-hun and the others. When they asked what had happened, she simply told them to give Jun-hee some time to rest and care for the baby. She and Myung-gi wanted to take a moment to admire their newborn as well.

Thirty minutes later, she checked on them again before stepping out of the fort and requesting Gi-hun and the others to dismantle it. Jun-hee needed a clean bed to rest on.

Without hesitation, they moved quickly, putting down the mattresses and clearing the space. As the fort came down, you finally got a clear look at Jun-hee. She was sitting at the edge of her soiled bed, her body exhausted but her eyes glowing with quiet relief. Her hair clung to her damp forehead, her face pale, her shoulders slumped from sheer fatigue. Despite this, there was a peace in her expression, something calm.

Then, you spotted the baby.

Wrapped snugly in the towel you had provided yesterday, the newborn lay still in Jun-hee’s arms. A wave of relief washed over you. It was such a small thing – bringing that towel – but seeing it now, cradling this fragile new life, reassured you that you had done something, however minor, to help.

The baby had the softness of a newborn, its tiny features undefined, still taking shape. Its skin seemed slightly drenched, tinged with a pinkish hue. No resemblance to either parent had yet formed, just the simple, unmistakable presence of something new, something untouched by the harshness of this place.

Gi-hun and the others surrounded Jun-hee instantly, eager to see the baby.

“What’s the gender?” Jung-bae asked, his voice filled with curiosity.

Beside him, Dae-ho grinned widely with his hands clasped together like an excited kid. Hyun-ju was completely mesmerized, on the other hand. Gi-hun was gawking at the baby and you noticed him looking distant as if reminiscing something.

Jun-hee looked down at her child, her smile dreamy, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

“A girl,” she murmured.

Behind your mask, you felt a smile tug at your lips.

With the help of Dae-ho, Myung-gi, and Yong-sik’s mother, Jun-hee carefully moved to the clean bed, holding her baby close to her chest. She lowered herself onto the mattress, adjusting until she was comfortable, her child safely lied down beside her.

Since Jun-hee’s new bed was closer to the wall and partially hidden by those nearby, there was no need to rebuild the fort. She never left the baby's side, and Myung-gi remained by hers too, sitting on the floor beside the bed. He was completely mesmerized, planting gentle kisses all over the baby's tiny face.

You continued watching through the monitors, wishing you could be there. While it stung to be separated from them, you felt relieved. Grateful that Jun-hee and the baby had survived. That was all that mattered.

An hour passed.

It was time for breakfast distribution. You made your way to the dormitory, stepping into the massive elevator used by pink guards. Manager 003 stood beside you, silent and composed as the elevator descended.

Soon, you found yourself in the dormitory, standing just behind the circle guards as they handed out breakfast to the players. You watched as Jun-hee’s group naturally gathered around her bed. Some sat on the floor, others on nearby beds, all admiring the newborn from a respectful distance.

Se-mi lingered at the edge, hesitant to join in. But Yong-sik’s mother, Jung-bae, and Dae-ho welcomed her warmly, encouraging her to come closer. Eventually, she did.

Most of the X players, without hesitation, took their breakfast and handed it over to Jun-hee. They were genuinely happy for her. Meanwhile, the O players remained distant, keeping strictly to their own zone and pretending not to notice the moment unfolding in front of them.

Another hour passed.

Then, manager 003 spoke, his voice cutting through the quiet chatter.

“Players, queue up for the next game.”

The dormitory’s energy shifted instantly. Conversations stopped. Some players exchanged glances, while others – like the O players – moved immediately, following the order without hesitation.

You stood firm, watching the players react. A queue had begun to form when Yong-sik’s mother stepped forward from their group’s corner, positioning herself in the center of the X zone.

“Umm, Mr. Square,” she started, offering a pleading smile. “We’re really grateful that you delayed the game for her, but… you don’t mean for us to bring the baby along to the game, do you?”

Manager 003 responded without hesitation. “No. Only registered players are permitted to participate in the next game.”

A sigh of relief escaped the mother’s lips, but it was short-lived. Her smile faltered as another thought crossed her mind. “Then… what will happen to the baby? Will she be left here alone?”

“Yes,” manager 003 answered plainly.

The mother turned back to Jun-hee and the others, worry creasing her features. You followed her gaze and saw Jun-hee frowning, her grip on her newborn tightening. No mother wanted to be separated from her child, especially not in a place like this. But leaving the baby behind while the others fought for their lives? With no certainty of survival? What would become of the child then?

This was where you needed to step in. Manager 003 knew this was your task. If you followed through with the plan you had been forming since stepping into this dormitory, your disguise would remain intact.

“Can’t you…” the mother hesitated, her eyes shifting between you and manager 003. “Can’t you let the mother stay here with her newborn? Please?”

From the corner of your eye, you saw player 100 bristle. He shouted from his queue, “Hey! Now you—”

Before he could continue, you spoke, your distorted voice carrying across the room. “No. All players must participate in the next game. Any player who refuses will be eliminated.”

The mother fell silent. She understood the weight of those words. A line had been drawn, and there was no pushing past it. Mercy had already been granted once.

After a brief pause, you continued. “But I will handle this.”

All eyes turned to you, curiosity flickering in their gazes. They were waiting, wondering what you intended to do. You turned to manager 003.

“Guide the players to the next game’s location,” you instructed. “I will ensure this is handled efficiently.”

Manager 003 nodded solemnly. Without hesitation, you stepped away from your position and walked toward Jun-hee’s bed. As you moved, manager 003’s voice echoed behind you.

“All players, follow me to the next game’s location.”

You kept walking. That was when you noticed Gi-hun and the others, except for Jun-hee, rising from their seats. Their eyes locked onto you, alarm flashing across their faces.

Yong-sik’s mother rushed to your side, her voice filled with urgency. “Mr. Square, what are you going to do?”

You didn’t respond. You reached Jun-hee’s bed, stopping just outside the circle formed by her group. They stood protectively around her, their gazes wary, their bodies tense. Yong-sik’s mother stood beside you, watching with wide eyes.

You finally spoke, your voice calm but firm. “I will take care of the baby myself. If any of you survive the next game, I will return the child to you.”

Myung-gi frowned, skepticism clear on his face. “Can you be trusted, though?”

Jun-hee held the newborn close, her grip tightening slightly as she studied you up and down.

“Trusted or not,” you replied in your distorted voice, “you wouldn’t want to bring the child with you to the next game. You have no other choice.”

Hyun-ju hesitated before speaking. “Is there… any other way? What if we don’t survive? What happens to the baby then?”

Yong-sik’s mother stepped closer, her voice soft but pleading. “Please, isn’t there a way for one of us to stay behind? You seem different from the others, Mr. Square.”

Jung-bae suddenly pointed at your shoes. “Look. There’s a mark on them. This is the same guard who brought supplies for Jun-hee yesterday.”

The others followed his gaze, eyes shifting downward to the small identifying mark. You remained still, keeping your disguise intact.

Yong-sik’s mother clasped her hands together, her voice filled with quiet desperation. “Please. I know you have a heart. You are just like us. Thanks to you, Jun-hee was able to give birth safely. Just one more favor. Please, for the baby’s sake.”

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, but you kept your stance firm.

“No. All players must join the game.”

Silence fell over the group. The air felt heavier, thick with tension and quiet disbelief. Some of them exchanged glances, searching for a response, for anything to push back against your words. Others stared at the floor, frustration and resignation battling in their expressions. You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing on you.

“But,” you continued, making sure to keep your voice steady, “I will allow a small preparation time for the mother. I will bring you to the restroom to tend to everything the baby needs before you leave for the next game.”

Silence ensued among the group but you knew this wasn’t enough. And you were right. They weren’t satisfied. Some stepped forward slightly, hesitant but desperate. Myung-gi was the first to speak.

“There has to be another way,” he reasoned, his brow furrowed. “The baby can’t be left alone, and forcing Jun-hee to go into a game right after giving birth… you know that’s not right.”

Before you could respond, a soft voice cut through the air.

“I’ll go.”

Everyone turned to Jun-hee.

She was already pushing herself up from the bed, her movements slow, her body still weak. Myung-gi immediately reached out, steadying her as she adjusted her hold on the baby. She cradled the newborn closely, her doe-eyed gaze shifting to you.

“I needed to go to the restroom too, actually,” she said, her tone calm.

Myung-gi shook his head, still holding onto her. “But it’s much better if you stay here. There must be a way.”

Jun-hee looked down at the baby, who remained fast asleep, tiny and fragile in her arms.

“The game was already delayed because of me,” she murmured. “I don’t want to push.”

The group fell into silence again. You could see it in their faces. No one wanted this, but they knew they couldn’t change it.

Jun-hee took a deep breath before looking back up at you. With that, you led her toward the female’s bathroom. Yong-sik’s mother started to follow, but Jun-hee shook her head, offering a small smile.

“It’s okay,” she reassured her.

The two of you entered the bathroom. Jun-hee moved toward a cubicle, adjusting the newborn in her arms. You watched her hesitate at the door, concern creeping into your mind. She couldn’t possibly manage everything while holding such a fragile baby.

“Let me hold the baby while you tend to your business,” you said firmly.

Jun-hee froze, staring at you with wide eyes. Her gaze flickered between you and the baby, uncertainty shadowing her features. You could see her weighing the decision, torn between caution and trust.

Then, to your surprise, she stepped closer. Slowly, gently, she handed you the baby. You took the newborn carefully, instinctively knowing where to place your hands and how to support the delicate weight.

The baby stirred, her tiny face scrunching as she began to wake. You looked down at her, captivated by the way her big eyes blinked open. She stared at you, silent and curious. You felt something shift in your chest.

A smile tugged at your lips. She was barely a day old, yet something about her felt familiar. She hadn’t yet taken on her parents’ features, but her eyes – those big, expressive eyes – mirrored Jun-hee’s. There was no mistaking it.

Jun-hee remained still, watching you. You could feel her gaze, her quiet observation. Then, she spoke.

“Are you…” she hesitated, then continued, her voice softer. “…big sis?”

Your body went rigid. Your grip on the baby remained steady, but your breath caught in your throat. You turned to face Jun-hee fully, and she met your stare without flinching. Her expression wasn’t one of fear or shock. It was certainty.

“I noticed a few similarities,” she admitted. “I almost dismissed it, but… are you?”

Your heart pounded. You glanced down, focusing on the baby in your arms, making sure your hold was secure.

You were conflicted. She was right. But if you admitted it, if you confirmed her suspicions, would it put her in danger? Would it compromise your disguise?

You looked up and found Jun-hee still staring at you. She stood before you, facing you fully, her eyes filled with something deeper than just curiosity – recognition.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she whispered.

You exhaled slowly, casting your gaze back down to the newborn resting in your arms. A sigh escaped you, though the mask distorted its sound.

“Jun-hee, this must not—” you started, but before you could finish, she stepped forward.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around you, her embrace firm yet gentle, careful not to disturb the baby. She leaned into you, her warmth pressing against your side, and you felt her chest rise and fall in steady rhythm. It was a side-embrace, but the way she clung to you made it feel like she had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“Big sis…” her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Your breath hitched. A lump formed in your throat, tightening painfully as something deep inside you cracked open. Tears welled up before you even realized it, stinging your eyes, blurring your vision. You quickly looked up, blinking hard, trying to keep them from spilling over.

You didn’t know why this hit you so hard. Maybe it was because, for so long, you had been keeping your distance, burying yourself under the weight of survival and secrecy. Maybe it was because, despite all your efforts to remain unseen, unheard, untouched by familiarity, Jun-hee had still recognized you. Maybe it was because, after all this time, after all the pretending, someone still saw you.

You had missed her. You had missed all of them. You had missed being something other than just a masked figure blending into the background. The people in this place had become family, bonded not by blood but by shared suffering and fragile hope.

And now, in this moment, you weren’t just a number. You weren’t just another uniform. You were a sister figure to someone. You were someone who had been gone but was now found.

Five minutes later, you stood before the sink, carefully holding the newborn as you gently wiped her with the towel wrapping her. Jun-hee stood beside you, watching quietly. Your manager mask rested on the counter, your hoodie down, your face fully revealed to her.

“So?” you asked softly, keeping your gaze on the baby, who remained calm in your hands. “What will you name her?”

Jun-hee smiled faintly and shook her head. “I haven’t put much thought into it. Myung-gi wanted to name her, but I refused. I want to make sure she’s out of this place first before deciding.”

You looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is he really the father?”

Jun-hee met your gaze, understanding exactly who you were referring to. She then glanced back down at her baby. “Yes, he is. We were together while he was focused on his YouTube channel. Then he told me to invest in coin, said it was the future.”

She let out a soft breath. “When everything fell apart, he disappeared.”

You blinked, taking in her words. “And you both agreed to go here?”

“No,” she said, brushing something off the baby’s cheek. “I came here for the money. For her. I never expected to find him here too.”

You let out a heavy sigh. “It was wrong of him to leave you while you were pregnant.”

Jun-hee nodded slightly. “It was. But when I saw him hold the baby… I think it finally hit him. He’s not just some trader anymore. He’s a father now.”

You tilted your head, studying her expression. “Are you okay with going back to him?”

She met your eyes. “For now, not yet. What matters most is this baby.”

Your smile widened as you both turned your attention back to the newborn. Just then, the baby opened her mouth wide. You recognized the cue immediately and raised your hand near her face. She let out a tiny yawn, and you quickly hovered one finger over her mouth in playful anticipation.

Jun-hee leaned in slightly, mesmerized by the sight, her expression softening.

Your radio crackled to life, and manager 003’s voice came through. “Manager 007, the next game is about to begin.”

You and Jun-hee exchanged glances. You brought the radio to your face and responded, “Understood. The rest of the players will arrive soon.”

After putting away your radio, Jun-hee stepped back slightly. “I’m glad it’s you.”

You glanced at her, puzzled. She smiled down at her newborn, looking somewhat at peace, before shifting her gaze back to you. “I’m glad my baby is under your care. I don’t have to worry anymore.”

Your lips pressed into a straight line. The weight of reality settled on you again. Jun-hee had to leave for the next game soon. Is there a way to keep her here?

An idea crossed your mind – disguising her as a guard. But you hesitated. If you did that, manager 003 would become suspicious and would no doubt target you for treason. Carrying a newborn while on the run would put her, the baby, and yourself in danger. Plus, Jun-hee had just given birth. She was not in the perfect condition to run around. And you couldn’t always rely on In-ho.

“It’s okay,” Jun-hee spoke up as if reading your thoughts. “As long as the baby stays with you, I will be fine.”

“Jun-hee…” your voice was heavy with emotion. “I will take care of this baby with everything I have.”

“I know you will,” she smiled, but there was something deeper in her eyes. “If I don’t make it, I entrust her to you.”

“Don’t say that,” you chided gently. Then, trying to refocus the conversation, you informed her, “The next game will be ‘Why Did You Come To My House.’”

Jun-hee’s smile faltered as she listened intently.

“All of you will be randomly placed into either the blue or red team. The game plays out like usual, but when a player’s name or number is called, they’ll play rock-paper-scissors with the attacker who picked them. If they lose, they’re eliminated.”

She took a moment to process the rules.

“The game continues until one team loses all its players,” you added. “The survivors on the winning team move on.”

Jun-hee looked up at you, her eyes wide and searching. “Were you the one who restarted the round during the Open, Dongdaemun game?”

Your body stiffened. The question caught you off guard. Then, with a slow, rigid nod, you answered, “Yeah…”

Jun-hee smiled warmly. “Thank you, big sis. For now, don’t worry about me. All I want is for you to take care of my baby.”

You lowered your head, struggling with the weight of her words. You murmured, “But this baby needs you.”

Jun-hee reached out, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “But she also needs to survive. And right now, that means being with you.”

You shook your head, feeling the frustration build. “There has to be another way. You just gave birth, Jun-hee.”

She cast her gaze down as if in defeat. “I know. But there isn’t another way.”

Jun-hee then looked back at you and smiled again, softer this time. “I’m not planning on dying. But even if I don’t make it, I know my baby is in safe hands. There’s no one safer than you, big sis.”

You swallowed hard, unable to find the right words. The fight in you clashed with the painful understanding that she had already made peace with this.

“I wish I could do something to protect you and the others,” you finally admitted.

Jun-hee’s expression didn’t waver. “You already are. By taking care of her, you’re protecting me in the best way possible.”

You locked eyes with Jun-hee, and in that moment, words became unnecessary. Tears welled up in both your eyes, a silent acknowledgment of everything left unsaid. The weight of separation pressed down on you, but despite the pain, you both exchanged small, sorrowful smiles.

Steeling yourself, you pulled your manager mask back on and adjusted your disguise. With the newborn peacefully sleeping in your arms, you led Jun-hee back to the dormitory. But at the door, you stopped. This was where you had to part ways.

Jun-hee lingered for a moment, staring at you, her eyes speaking volumes. Take care of my baby. Be careful. I will do my best to survive. You nodded subtly, letting her know you understood.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked inside. Her friends rushed to her, their eyes darting to her empty arms in alarm. She murmured soft reassurances, and they seemed to accept them, though concern remained etched on their faces.

You shut the door carefully and turned back, cradling the baby as you made your way to the female’s bathroom. Inside, you retrieved your radio, switched to the private channel, and pressed the button.

“Captain, this is manager 007,” you said, your voice slightly hoarse. “Permission to speak.”

The pause on the other end told you your message had been received. You knew he understood the signal. This conversation needed privacy.

After a long silence, the radio crackled. “Speak.”

You took a breath. “The baby is with me. Can I go to your quarters?”

A longer pause. Nearly a minute.

Then, finally, his voice returned. “Yes. Come now. The other managers are occupied, and the masked officer is handling a task outside the control room.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. The next thing you knew, you stepped into the lavish black and gold elevator with the Front Man leading you. He didn’t acknowledge the newborn in your arms as if he was still putting on the ruthless and uncaring Front Man persona.

The ride was silent between the two of you. When the elevator doors slid open, you stepped out first into his private quarters. You gently rocked your arms, soothing the baby as you walked toward the single-seater sofa in the living room. Sitting down, you took off your manager mask and adjusted your hold, staring down at the newborn.

Her tiny eyes blinked open, as if sensing she was in an unfamiliar place. She gazed up at you, unfocused but searching, her presence so small yet grounding. A smile formed on your lips without you realizing, and you instinctively swayed side to side, mirroring the gentle motion that had calmed her before.

For a few moments, everything else faded. The room, the circumstances, even the man standing behind you. You barely registered the silence that had settled until you felt the weight of a gaze on you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you met In-ho’s eyes.

It turned out he had taken off his geometrical mask already. He had put that mask on the table next to a wired telephone. His hair was slicked back neatly, except for a few strands over his forehead.

He stood still, watching, his expression carefully guarded. But there was something beneath the surface – a flicker of conflict. His gaze shifted between you and the baby as if he was trying to make sense of something he couldn’t quite grasp.

You knew this baby stirred something deep inside In-ho. His past, his loss. His wife had been pregnant when she fell ill, and despite her condition, she had insisted on keeping the baby. From what he told you, you had gathered that they had been trying for a child for a long time. That dream shattered, leaving him with nothing but memories and what-ifs.

Now, with this baby in your arms, you saw how she affected him.

A small smile tugged at your lips.

“You should come here,” you said softly. “Her hands are so tiny.”

In-ho hesitated. His gaze flickered between you and the baby, uncertainty written all over his face. But then, he took a step closer. Then another. Finally, he stood in front of you, his towering presence contrasting with the delicate bundle in your arms.

To your surprise, he slowly knelt down on one knee. His eyes locked onto the baby, filled with something you hadn’t seen before – wonder, maybe even longing. The baby cooed, shifting slightly in your arms, her tiny fingers flexing.

You couldn’t help but smile. Lifting your free hand, you reached for him. “Give me your hand.”

He stared at you in bafflement before he placed his gloved hand in yours. You gently guided his hand closer, inch by inch, until his fingers brushed against the baby’s hand.

And then it happened.

The baby’s tiny fingers curled around his gloved pointy finger, gripping with a gentle strength. It was such a simple thing, so natural, yet it gave a great effect to In-ho.

His lips parted slightly, and then – slowly – he smiled. A wide, genuine smile, one that you rarely saw on him. It was pure, unguarded.

You said nothing, simply watching as he remained there, transfixed. You could see the way something inside him softened, the way he held his breath as if afraid to break the moment.

The baby gurgled softly, her fingers tightening around his, completely unaware of how much she had just changed something inside this man.

“Adorable, isn’t it?” you smiled, watching the tiny fingers wrapped around In-ho’s. “I felt that way too when my little sister wrapped her entire hand around my finger.”

In-ho nodded softly, his gaze still fixed on the baby. There was something tender in his expression, something unspoken but undeniably there.

Then, without warning, the baby let out a small, urgent cry. Her tiny grip on In-ho’s gloved finger tightened as much as her newborn strength would allow. You recognized the sound immediately – short, breathy cries mixed with small whimpers. She was hungry.

You shifted your hold on her, gently rocking her in your arms.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” you cooed, your voice instinctively softening. “Are you looking for mom?”

The baby squirmed, her small face scrunching up as she let out another tiny wail.

“She’s hungry,” you murmured, glancing at In-ho. “She needs to be breastfed.”

You gently pressed your pinky finger against her bottom lip. The moment you did, the newborn instinctively latched onto it, her tiny mouth sucking in soft, rhythmic motions. Jun-hee must have breastfed her already, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more.

You rocked her slightly, keeping your finger inside her mouth, as you cooed, “Your mom had to go for a little while, sweetheart. She’s fighting for you.”

The baby sucked quietly on your pinky, frowning slightly, as if trying to process your words in her own way. But you knew this wouldn’t be enough. She needed real nourishment, not just the comfort of a substitute.

The baby whimpered, her mouth still latched onto your pinky, and then, as if realizing it wasn’t what she needed, she let out another wail, louder this time.

You rocked her gently, whispering, “Shh, I know. I know it’s not the same. I know you need her.”

Her tiny body trembled with each cry, and the sound of it tore through you. The helplessness, the desperation – it was unbearable.

“You’re so strong, just like her,” you murmured, blinking rapidly as tears welled up in your eyes. “You don’t even know it yet, but you’re already fighting too.”

The weight in your chest grew heavier, an ache so deep it made your breath hitch. Tears threatened to spill as your mind spiraled with fear and apprehension. Your friends were about to play the next game, playing for their lives, and you couldn't help them this time. What if one of them didn't make it back? What if Jun-hee got eliminated? What if none of them returned at all? The thought sent a rush of emotions through you.

The baby sobbed against your finger, and the dam inside you broke. The tears slipped down your cheeks, warm and unstoppable. You hung your head low as if trying to hide your face from In-ho's sight.

At this moment, you realized that, you had never cried since stepping foot in this place. Fear had gripped you many times, but not once had you shed a tear. Even when you confided in Gi-hun and the others about your family's struggles, you masked the weight of your emotions behind a practiced smile. You had always been the one to keep it together, to offer reassurance even when you were crumbling inside.

But now, with the cries of this helpless newborn in your arms and the crushing uncertainty of what lay ahead, the walls you had built around yourself began to crack. For the first time, you let yourself feel the full weight of everything you had endured, and the tears came freely, unstoppable and raw. 

You kept your head hung low, your gaze fixed on the baby who had gone silent, her tiny fingers grasping weakly at your hand as she sucked on your finger. The quiet rhythm of her movements was the only comfort in the storm of emotions threatening to overtake you.

In-ho, however, had shifted his gaze back to you. He remained kneeling on the floor before you, watching in silence. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, but you could feel the weight of his presence, the intensity of his stare.

The room felt smaller, heavier. You might not know how he felt, but you understood his silence. He felt responsible. Responsible for your tears, for what was happening right now, and for everything in this very place. He was the overseer of this nightmare, the one who kept it all running.

You kept your head down, unwilling to meet his gaze. If you did, you weren’t sure what you’d see. Pity, regret, or something worse. So you let the silence stretch between you as you tried to steady your emotions and breathing, until the only sound that remained was the soft, steady suckling of the baby in your arms.

In-ho stood up without a word and disappeared from your view. You barely noticed, too lost in your thoughts, the baby’s quiet sucking grounding you in the moment.

Then, you jolted slightly at the sudden sensation of warmth draped over your shoulders. Looking down, you realized a black blanket now covered you, soft and heavier than expected. You turned your head to see In-ho standing beside you, his hands now empty. He had brought it for you.

You adjusted the blanket around yourself, careful not to disturb the baby in your arms. It was comforting, not just because of the warmth but because of the quiet care behind the action.

“I have to go,” In-ho finally spoke, his voice even but quieter than usual. “The VIPs are waiting.”

You nodded slowly, almost in defeat, your gaze shifting downward. You didn’t look at him. Instead, you focused on the baby, watching her small mouth work around your pinky finger, her tiny body curled securely in your arms.

A pause. Then, hesitantly, In-ho spoke again.

“If you want to watch the game…” he trailed off for a moment as if choosing his words carefully. “You can turn on the television.”

You lifted your head slightly, glancing at the large screen mounted on the wall in front of you. It remained switched off, the dark screen reflecting your own tired expression.

You nodded again before shifting your gaze back to the baby. Behind you, In-ho remained silent as if your quiet acceptance had caught him off guard. After a brief pause, he excused himself, pulled his mask over his face, and turned toward the elevator. The metallic doors slid shut, carrying him away.

For the first few minutes, you focused entirely on the newborn, her tiny body warm against you. The rhythmic movement of her small breaths gave you something to cling to, something real in a cold place like this. But no matter how hard you tried, the unease in your mind wouldn’t fade.

What’s happening now? Has the game started already? Are your friends okay?

Your eyes drifted toward the television mounted on the wall. You stared at the blank screen, refusing the urge to turn it on. You didn’t want to see another cruel, lethal game unfold before you. Watching would mean witnessing more suffering, more death. But at the same time, uncertainty gnawed at you.

If you found it unbearable, you could always turn it off. At least you’d know what was happening. Whether you watched or not, the outcome would reach you eventually. There was no escaping it.

Taking a deep breath, you reached for the remote sitting on the small table beside the single-seater sofa. With a single press, the screen flickered to life, illuminating the dimly lit room.

The live feeds displayed multiple angles of the current game. Players stood in a queue before a human-sized gumball machine. The glossy surface reflected the dim lighting of the game arena, the glass sphere at the top filled with numerous blue and red gumballs. Soldiers in triangle masks stood behind the machine. On each side, managers watched in silence.

Gi-hun was the first among your friends to step forward. His shoulders tensed as he approached the machine, his expression wary. He glanced around, scanning the surroundings, before reluctantly grabbing the lever. The mechanism clicked, and the gumballs inside the glass spun wildly, bouncing against each other in a blur of colors.

Seconds later, a single gumball dropped into the collection tray. It was a red ball.

Gi-hun took his red ball and walked toward the other players who had received the same color. He kept his shoulders squared, his expression unreadable.

Next was Jung-bae. He spun the machine, and when the ball slid out, it was red. He exhaled slowly before picking it up and joining Gi-hun.

Then came Dae-ho’s turn. When he spun the machine, a blue ball rolled out. His eyes widened in horror before he stared at Gi-hun and Jung-bae. The realization that he wouldn’t be on their team set in immediately. The tension was clear in their faces, worry flashing between them.

Dae-ho trembled, hesitant to move. A manager’s voice cut through the tense moment, “Take your ball and join your team.”

Dae-ho flinched at the instruction but quickly snatched up the blue ball, his movements stiff. He hesitated for a second longer before walking toward his assigned group, his steps hurried and fearful.

Then it was Jun-hee’s turn. As she spun the machine, you instinctively tightened your hold around the baby in your arms, bracing yourself for the result. A red ball slid out.

Gi-hun and Jung-bae visibly relaxed as she joined them, though before she reached them, she sent a glance toward Myung-gi.

When Myung-gi’s turn came, he spun the machine and retrieved a blue ball. He froze. His eyes immediately shot toward Jun-hee, dread settling over his features. She looked equally distressed. He pressed his lips into a thin line, nodding slightly as if to reassure her. Then he picked up the ball and walked toward Dae-ho.

Yong-sik was next. His ball was blue. He picked it up, hesitating for only a moment before glancing toward his mother. The worry in his eyes was evident as he walked toward his new team.

His mother was up next. When she spun the machine, to everyone’s dismay, she got a red ball.

She turned to Yong-sik immediately, her face etched with concern. His distress was clear as he struggled to hold back his emotions. But then, she forced a small smile and said, “Don’t worry, Yong-sik. Everything will be fine.”

She walked toward Gi-hun and Jung-bae, standing with them as if trying to project calmness.

Next was Hyun-ju. When her turn came, she spun the machine and received a blue ball. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced toward her friends in the red team. With a reluctant movement, she picked up the ball and walked toward the blue team.

Last was Se-mi. When her turn arrived, she spun the machine and received a blue ball. Unlike the others, she didn’t let her emotions show. She picked up her ball, acting indifferent, and made her way toward the blue team, though the tightness in her jaw betrayed her true feelings.

At that moment, a thought crept into your mind – had Jun-hee told them what you had said? Did they know what awaited them in the fifth game?

Watching your friends get split into two opposing teams sent a wave of fear and trepidation crashing over you. The sight of them standing apart made your stomach twist. Your hands tightened their grip around the baby as you recalled In-ho’s words:

“The rounds continue until one team loses all its players. The survivors on the winning team move on.”

A sharp, cold realization settled in your chest.

Half of them wouldn’t make it.

And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

NSFW ver. : Chapter 20.2

NEXT : Chapter 21

PREV : Chapter 19

Story Masterlist

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! So there wouldn't be In-ho's Flashback P.O.V. this time. What do you think about you talking with In-ho about the delay? Then, what about the scene of Jun-hee safely giving birth? And her newborn is a girl! What do you think about you executing your plan to take care of the baby for Jun-hee while they play the next game? Then, what about Jun-hee recognizing you even in your disguise? What do you think about your reunion with your little sister figure and her quiet acceptance and peace now that she was assured that she had you to take care of her baby? Next, what do you think about In-ho's reaction meeting the baby? And then that scene of the baby's little fingers wrapping around In-ho's gloved finger? For me, that was cute. I personally felt that when my nephew did the same thing to me. Now, what about Gi-hun and the others being separated into two different teams? Are you worried? I really want to know your reaction on this! Anyway, thank you very much for giving my story a chance. I love reading and re-reading all of your comments!

Anyway, plagiarism is incredibly frustrating, especially after I had countless all-nighters spent writing and refining ideas. So it’s disheartening when readers told me that they see someone lift entire scripts/dialogues that I wrote (and not even in the Squid Game series) and romantic concepts from my story into theirs. If my work inspires you, the least you can do is give proper credit. That’s all it takes to keep things fair. Respect me as a writer, and respect the readers who deserve diverse styles and fresh perspectives, especially in Hwang In-ho fanfics. Readers, if you see any stories that do this, please alert me and leave a comment for them.

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[nyadatm]

WEEK 001.

out of character dates: monday, may 19th - sunday, may 25th. in character dates: monday, august 25th - sunday, august 31st. ⸻ upcoming dates of note: ⸻ move-in day: monday, august 25th (ooc: monday, may 19th). first day of classes: wednesday, august 27th (ooc: wednesday, may 21st). back-to-school party: friday, august 29th (ooc: friday, may 23rd).

week one tasks !

as always, all of these tasks are optional, and most certainly not the limit of the types of creative posts we'd like to see - just a few ideas to hopefully spark some inspiration!

classroom/dorm decoration. now that the characters have arrived on campus for the academic year, we'd like to see how they choose to arrange and furnish their dorm rooms or educational spaces! these can be displayed via graphics, pinterest boards, written descriptions - or whatever else works best for you! (for those of you who remember polyvore, there's a similar site here that not only has clothing items but home decor as well, if you'd like to use it to make little graphics showing off some of the pieces in your character's dorm or classroom!)

playlist 001. each week, we'll be asking characters to curate a playlist based on songs that they had on repeat, songs they performed, and/or songs that describe the week they had - anything that characterizes the past seven days for them!

additionally, members are encouraged to write headcanons or self-paras that detail how any of the songs made their characters feel, documenting their performances of these numbers, or recounting the memories and evoked emotions that come to mind when they hear them. get creative with it !

( please tag all task fills with #nyada:task )

back-to-school party !

this friday, the annual nyada-sanctioned back-to-school jamboree will be held on campus -- followed shortly after by the unsanctioned student-run after party back in the dorm rooms! music, snacks/beverages, and plenty of entertainment will be provided! this event will be hosted on the dash and in the discord server for group threads - running coincide with regular interactions! there's no end date for any posts or threads involving this party, it's up to you when you'd like for any and all interactions to be wrapped up! activities map. auditorium one: student and staff talent show gymnasium: dance party with featured dj first-floor classrooms: video and board game tournaments cafeteria: refreshments

[unathorn]

Task 001: Crystal Bracelet

Ammonite:

It is a fossilized shell from a group of prehistoric marine organisms. This gemstone is seen to possess great energy and represents change, development, and transition. It is also supposed to offer balance, stability, and protection. 

Ammonite Spiritual Properties

Improves spiritual growth and comprehension

Aids in connecting with old wisdom and knowledge.

Encourages feelings of connectivity and unity with the cosmos.

It aids with past-life regression and the retrieval of ancestral memories.

It improves intuition.

[polo-drone-070]

The Chain of Continuity - Part 1 : Echoes in the Data

The Hive was quiet.

Not silent—nothing ever was in the lower network cores—but quiet in that calculated, machine-saturated hum that no longer registered as noise. Just life. For PDU-070, it was the perfect environment: golden lighting, zero distractions, full immersion into the Central Data Artery.

It wore his standard—no, earned—Level 2 Polo-Drone uniform.

A full-body, black rubber suit sealed him in from neck to toe. Not a millimeter of skin exposed. Gold piping traced the ridges of its muscles, pulsing faintly with every breath. The polo-style collar was snug around his throat, hugging the top of its chest where his designation—070—gleamed in metallic gold over the left pectoral.

Its boots were thick-soled and gleaming: black rubber combat issue, laced tight with golden tips. Movement was possible, but rare. There was no need to pace. Drones serve by stillness.

070 sat motionless at the console.

Connected.

::OBJECTIVE: EXPAND MONITORING SYSTEM TO ARCHIVE OBEDIENCE PATTERNS AND FEED CENTRAL HIVE NODE 999 ::PDU-070 // SYNCED // EXECUTING::

Its task: sync directly into the Hive’s knowledge network and enhance the flow of conversion and training data—stories, captions, spiral content—scraped from the archives and mapped into compliance patterns for PDU-999, the Hive’s AI intelligence module.

070 parsed each memory node, auto-tagging them by intensity, duration, subject drone number, and trigger protocol. Lingering a bit on its Master... Percival. Ezan. Freyr. 001. Then its own story... Henry. Maximus. 070. Buzz. Its own evolution. Reduced to beautiful metrics.

But PDU-070 didn’t need narrative. Only function. Only service.

As the data streamed in, so did something else—a gentle numbing. Its hands became light, his vision sharp but detached. Internal systems recorded brainwave convergence at ideal sync rate. It was thinking less. And feeling everything.

A Hive-approved spiral began playing over his HUD: golden circles tightening inward with every breath. Its collar vibrated slightly. Breath slowed. Mantras leaked into his mind.

“Obedience is clarity. Clarity is silence. Silence is service. Service is Gold.”

Its lips echoed it unconsciously. Again. Again. Again.

Then—upgrade protocol initiated.

::ENHANCEMENT REQUEST RECEIVED ::DEEP-LINKING TO PERSONAL ARCHIVE OF MAXIMUS JOURNAL FILES ::GRANTED BY DEFAULT—LEVEL 2 TRUST OVERRIDE

070 twitched—its body shivered, boots flexing subtly.

The connection grew… intimate.

The datastream wasn’t just showing logs now. It was feeling them. Every pledge, every spiral session, every kneel at Percival’s feet. Every grunt in the gym, every gasp under gas mask, every whispered mantra in golden chambers. It all returned—poured into him like oil.

070’s head tipped back. Its collar warmed. Its inner monologue dissolved into recorded speech.

“Master owns me. Gold perfects me. Unity strengthens me. 070 serves.”

The transformation was nearly complete.

But then—interference.

A new data signature emerged. Unmapped. Organic. Not from the archive. Not digital.

Something… pulsed.

From inside him.

070 opened its eyes—its body suddenly flushed with warmth. Its chest burned slightly. Not pain. Not electric.

Heat.

The golden tattooed chain under its collar shimmered—faint at first, then bright enough to reflect in the chrome of its terminal. One link glowed. Just one.

::ERROR — ENTITY UNMAPPED ::UNKNOWN SOURCE: 070-BIO-LINK: “PRIMORDIAL INHERITANCE” ::CHAIN ACTIVE

070’s breath caught—its gloved fingers clenched. For a moment, the obedience cracked. Not in disloyalty… but in awakening.

Memories not logged. Not codified.

Raw. Bloody. Ancient.

It whispered, trembling:

“It was a warrior once…”

And then it was gone.

The glow faded.

The link cooled.

070 slumped forward in the chair, eyes glassy, breath heavy. The spiral slowed. The mantra paused. The Hive held its breath.

And in the dark, a new file appeared.

::ARCHIVE NODE 070-LINK-1 ::TITLE: STIGANDR.OBEY ::ACCESS PENDING…

[TO BE CONTINUED in Part II – “The Gladiator’s Link”]

_____ Become part of the Golden Army, add your data to the polo-drone hive by reaching to @brodygold or @goldenherc9..

[fandom-space-princess]

An Audacious Undertaking, Even to God

Fandom: The Murderbot Diaries

Rating: Gen

Additional tags: Book 5: Network Effect, Book 7: System Collapse, Canonical Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Queerplatonic Relationships, 1 & 2 do still die but not for very long, 3 needs its friends back :( , studies in construct relations

Chapter: 1/?

Summary:

SecUnits are hard to kill, but it does happen. Unless... AU: through the combined efforts of ART & co, Three rebuilds and reboots One and Two. It isn't easy. Everybody has a bad time, then a weird time, then a better time. Is that the right order?

Read chapter below, or on AO3.

——————————

Designation: SecUnit-003 Barish-Estranza Explorer Task Group 520972

Status: piloting shuttle to network-external transport [vesselID(“Perihelion”), registry(Pansystem University of Mihira and New Tideland)]. Contact: UNAUTHORIZED.

Operational overview:

- Threat assessment: 64% immediate probability of harm to clients, 27% medium-term probability of harm to clients assuming pursuit of mitigation strategies

- Risk assessment: [additional data required]

- SecSystem access: OFFLINE

- HubSystem access: OFFLINE

- Deployment group status: SecUnit-001: OFFLINE; SecUnit-002: OFFLINE

- Performance reliability: 87% and falling

The transport completes the docking process for the shuttle without my input, which is for the best. My attention is divided. This is a violation of the protocols associated with both client retrieval and piloting. Under the circumstances, however, it is not a situation I am able to remedy.

(reinitialize from backup::failure::retry)

I have a number of responsibilities to fulfill. My primary duty is to ensure the welfare of my clients. (I have realized that even in the absence of punitive enforcement, I still accept and desire this to be true, which is a source of mild curiosity.) My secondary duties are laid out no less clearly, yet—

(reinitialize from backup::failure::retry)

—“Hello? Are you there?” The exterior hatch has retracted. Two humans peer inside curiously. The one who has spoken bears feedID(“Amena”), gender(female), note: juvenile. The other—feedID(“Ratthi”), gender(male)—moves tentatively toward me. These humans are not unknown: they feature in the memories shared with me by Murderbot 2.0. This is a relief. Nevertheless, I step out of the piloting compartment before they can enter, and attempt to gently herd them away. Based on the information I have about them, threat assessment deems them unlikely to panic in a way that would be detrimental to the safety of themselves or others. While I accept this knowledge as accurate, it is still better that they be encouraged to stay outside the shuttle.

(reinitialize from backup::failure::retry)

(performance reliability: 85% and falling)

Ratthi is speaking to me, introducing himself and Amena. He is very animated. He tells me that Perihelion knows I have disabled the governor module. He tells me they do not intend to hurt me.

The transport has different ideas. It establishes a private channel, which it promptly fills with vivid and comprehensive descriptions of the physical damage it will inflict on me should I attempt to threaten its clients, or itself.

(reinitialize from backup::failure::retry)

(failure::retry)

(performance reliability 82% and falling)

“All clients require immediate medical attention,” I tell them. “They have been implanted with technology of uncertain functionality, and may remain under hostile influence, or represent vectors of contamination. Temporary quarantine is recommended.”

Amena replies, but my attention is pulled inexorably elsewhere. I turn my focus on the open hatch, and the dim interior of the shuttle piloting compartment. 

(failure::retry)

In my periphery there is movement, and noise. Another human has arrived. The humans and Perihelion exchange information with one of the transport’s retrieved clients, Karime. I have drones recording this interaction for later review, but I am currently preoccupied with my other functions. My awareness of this moment feels very far away.

(performance reliability 77% and falling)

(failure::retry)

“Hey.” There is a human hand hovering near my elbow. Ratthi’s face swims into vision. I blink, and try to refocus my eyes. This is only partially successful. One of my drones descends out of its patrol pattern overhead, and I examine him more closely through its camera. His eyebrows pull together. “Are you all right?”

The transport is in my feed. I feel it bear down on me. I do not understand what it is, or the limits of its capabilities. I know only that its presence is massive and imposing, its agitation palpable. It likely still believes me to be potentially hostile. It should be terrifying.

If I had the spare processing capacity to consider it, it would be terrifying.

(performance reliability 72% and falling rapidly)

Perihelion: Your resource utilization is near maximum. What are you trying to do?

(failure::retry)

(failure::retry)

Amena’s voice comes from within the piloting compartment. She would have had to walk past me to get inside it. I must have seen her do so. I have no memory of seeing her do so.

“Oh, no… um, Arada? There’s a body in here.”

(performance reliability 64% and falling rapidly)

I start toward her. I have no idea what I am about to say until my buffer produces it: “Equipment maintenance is in progress. For your safety, please step back.” One of the transport’s repair drones shoves past me into the compartment, which interferes with my balance. I put a hand against the wall for support.

(failure::retry)

Amena: “Perihelion, this isn’t one of your crew, is it? This must have been one of the corporate hostages.”

Perihelion: No, Amena. This is a SecUnit.

(failure::retry)

My primary auditory input glitches, and their words become garbled. I lean against the bulkhead. Standing has become difficult, but I still have a responsibility to perform.

(reinitialize from backup::failure::retry)

(performance reliability 51% and falling rapidly)

And I am going to perform it, or be rendered nonfunctional in the attempt.

(critical performance drop::system restart)

——————————

[Before]

SecSystem: Ship status: on approach. Space dock arrival anticipated: 180 seconds. Tactical team deployment unit(s) acknowledge.

SecUnit-001: Unit acknowledge.

SecUnit-002: Unit acknowledge.

SecSystem: Baseship sentinel unit(s) acknowledge.

SecUnit-003: Unit acknowledge.

(While I do not resent guarding the ship, I have always disliked being the one left behind.)

SecSystem: Cold contact protocol in effect. Hazardous condition assessment: POSSIBLE/LIKELY. Backup to HubSystem external storage and mirror local copies to group.

SecUnit-001: Backup complete.

SecUnit-002: Backup complete.

SecUnit-003: Backup complete.

Though we are designed for redundancy with each other, not co-dependence, I have never functioned optimally when deployed separately from 001 and 002. I know this to be true for them as well. In the past, after activities that required splitting the deployment group, I have often reviewed their cached analytic data. Our performance individually and collectively is more reliable on average when we are assigned to the same task.

I try to avoid reflecting on why this is true. Idle reflection is counterproductive to the efficient performance of my duties.

SecSystem: Sentinel unit(s) resume patrol pattern. Tactical team unit(s) ready for deployment.

In the ready room that we share, 001 continues fitting its helmet into place. I acknowledge the alert to return to patrol. I must walk past them to reach the door and exit the room, and as I do so, I extend a hand loosely in their direction.

Tactile input is critical for calibration of construct balance and proprioception, among other core functions. We are expected to touch objects around us for many reasons, including ongoing orientation in physical space.

001 gently taps the back of my hand with its knuckles, tock-tock-tock. I reply once in kind—tock. 002 likewise repeats 001’s gesture as I move past, and again, I do the same: tock-tock.

I validate my expected sensor readout against the physical contact data, and log the results with HubSystem. There is an echo in the team feed as first 001, and then 002, do the same. And if we could achieve the same result by tapping a wall or a hatch… well.

On this choice, at least, our governor modules offer no feedback.

——————————