Chapter Text
Junhee had asked him to hide, so he does. Hands trembling as he cowers beneath the metal bed frame, the dirty, cold flooring sticking to his sweat-layered skin, he hides. Every fiber of his being cries at him to fight back, to not let the others slaughter his peers like pigs while he does nothing but watch. But he has to stay hidden - for Junhee. For Junhee's - no, for their child. So he doesn't move a muscle, silently observing the struggle in front of him while trying to mentally block out the vile sounds of death tearing into his ears - squelching, blood splattering, screaming, broken bones. Don't do anything. For Junhee. It's not until the lights turn back on and dozens of pink soldiers enter the room that Myunggi allows himself to move his head, trying to make out Junhee's hiding spot. She hadn't told him where she'd hide, only to stay down. Thinking back on it now, he definitely should have asked.
One of the pink soldiers empties their magazine into the air as to break up the fight, and the sound of it ricochets around the hall. "Back up!", the soldiers command over and over, their guns pointed at the assailants to move them aside, trying to take control of the situation. Myunggi scoots back a little more, only now realising that the bright overhead lights make him more visible than he had expected. Not only that, his heart is beating against his chest so violently, it feels as if the sound of it echoes around the hall.
As long as Junhee is okay. Junhee has to be okay.
The pink soldiers had barely started identifying the deceased, when some of the players suddenly emerge from their hiding spots, charging them forcefully to get hold of their guns. Just a few seconds after the previous struggle had ended, a new one begins - and this one is much louder. The deafening sounds of gunfire disorient Myunggi, and in the chaos, he can't tell who's winning. But it doesn't matter. He's no part of this fight. He needs to find Junhee, make sure she's okay. Make sure she's not caught in the crossfire. They should've hid together from the start, goddamnit.
Myunggi shimmies out from under the bed frame, staying low enough as to not get spotted by anyone. He scans the other bed frames on their side, heart rate increasing with every empty one he comes across. She's not here.
His chest now begins to tighten as he scans the bodies on the ground insteady, silently praying to himself that he wouldn't find her there. And when his eyes finally graze over a familiar face on the other side of the room, the pit in his stomach grows hot with adrenaline instead. Of course. She hid on the other side before the fight began. No one would've expected her there. Worry claws at his face as he tries to catch a better glimpse at her. She seems to be trying to build a barricade with the mattresses to protect herself from the gunfire - Myunggi hadn't realised that in her condition, she was in no place to hide on her stomach beneath a bed frame. Don't do anything, she had told him just an hour earlier. But he can't keep that promise.
A quick glance toward the fight at the front of the hall, and then Myunggi begins to sprint. Don't do anything, her words echo in his head. But he can't just sit around and watch as Junhee tries to protect herself with mattresses. No, he has to be with her. As he runs, skipping past dead bodies and pools of blood on the floor while he makes his way toward the front of the hall where Junhee is hiding, he relies on the others to keep him safe from the crossfire. There is a split second when he notices, in the corner of his eye, a pink soldier pointing their gun in his direction, but as he braces himself for gunfire, he sees them drop to the floor violently, as if shot in the head. With no time to look at them any further, he continues to run.
When all of sudden, someone slams into him with their entire body weight, throwing him sideways onto the floor. "ACK!-" He lands face first with a grunt, pain shooting up his chin where he meets the hard flooring and a ringing in his head drowning out the sounds of gunfire for a few seconds. In a feeble attempt to fight his lightheadedness, he rolls onto his back to get back up, but the sight of a pink soldier at his feet makes him stop in his tracks. Their back is turned to him, gunshots ripping through the air as their body shakes from the recoil.
Don't do anything.
In a split second of adrenaline, Myunggi lunges forward and wraps his arm around the soldier's neck with all the strength he can muster up, slamming the both of them backwards onto the floor. The weight of the soldier's body on him knocks the air out of his lungs, pain shooting through his back as he gasps for air. In a frenzy, he tries to flip them over, but the soldier is heavier than he had expected, a broad frame concealed behind the uniform pink jumpsuit. Instead, he finds himself overpowered as the soldier rolls free from his headlock, one hand on Myunggi's chest almost instantly, holding him down.
"Don't move.", a robotic voice emerges from the mask.
Don't move?
With that, the soldier lets go of him and turns their back to him again. Myunggi watches, perplexed, as they take cover behind the bed frame, occasionally poking their head out to take a shot, completely ignoring him.
Don't move.
Don't do anything.
The words continue to ring in his head as Myunggi heaves himself up. He throws himself at the soldier in an attempt at another headlock, but is once again quickly overpowered and pushed back onto the floor. The soldier cages him in with their body, one hand on each side of the gun as they press the side of it onto Myunggi's throat.
"I said don't move."
Myunggi squirms beneath his attacker, staring into the big white square above him with bloodshot eyes as he claws at their arms. His face grows hot, lungs screaming for air. Behind, he notices another soldier emerge with their gun drawn, and Myunggi watches them in terror, expecting to be shot in the head any second - when suddenly, the soldier on top of Myunggi catches on to his averted gaze, quickly removing the gun off of his throat and turning around to point it at the approaching soldier, taking them down with a clean headshot.
Between coughing and gasping for air, Myunggi retches painfully, and he weakly pushes himself away from the soldier with his feet. His back hits the wall behind him, where he attempts to calm his breathing, monitoring the pink soldier in confusion.
Did they just shoot one of their own? What is going on?
As if they had heard, the soldier turns to him, but Myunggi takes notice of the way they keep their gun carefully pointed away from him.
"Stay."
Myunggi's eyebrows furrow in confusion. He has become painfully aware of the way his chest is heaving up and down. "What are you doing?", he barely manages to exclaim, his voice more of a whisper. But the soldier doesn't respond, instead turning their back to him again. It is now that Myunggi finally notices the gunfire has died down. From where he's sitting against the wall, he can observe as the other surviving players catch their breath and come together to check up on each other.
They had won. Just one of these fuckers left.
With a last surge of adrenaline, Myunggi grabs the pink soldier's hood, forcefully slamming their head into the bedframe they were cowering behind. The painful sound of the collision mixes with a robotic grunt, and Myunggi uses his chance to pry the gun from their hands. He stumbles backwards from the lack of resistance and quickly gathers himself, pointing it at the soldier's head with trembling hands. "Hands up. Don't you fucking move."
The commotion had caught the attention of the others, including that of Player 456, who runs up to them with his gun drawn and a concerned look on his face. "You okay?"
"I'm good.", Myunggi responds breathlessly. Player 456's attention turns to the soldier in front of him. "Take the mask off.", he commands. There is hesitation, but when they finally bring down their hands to pull the mask off of their face, Myunggi feels his anxiety ramp up again. Until now, the soldiers had been faceless, emotionless figures. Humanizing them like this, making them show their face, scares him. He doesn't want to know they're killing real people.
Beneath the black metal mask, a man's face emerges, half of it still covered by fabric. "Take that off, too."
They comply.
And Myunggi's stomach drops.
He doesn't even notice himself stumble backwards, until a hand on his back stops him from falling. He doesn't notice he had stopped breathing either. The man kneeling in front of him - dark, full hair, boney cheeks and sunken eyes - looks exactly like him.
Like Moonjo.
Had Moonjo ever told him about a twin? A brother?
"You okay?", Player 456's words pull him out of it, but he barely manages to react with a nod. "Do you know him?" Myunggi hesitantly looks back down at the kneeling soldier. The instant he does so, their eyes meet, and it's as if Myunggi is punched in the gut violently, his blood running cold.
Those are his eyes. The same eyes that haunt him at night. The same eyes of that man he killed five years ago, at his old residence.
"You-", is all he manages to push past his lips, the rest of his body paralyzed in fear. It's not until the man smiles ever so slightly that Myunggi throws aside his gun as if in a trance and lunges forward, grabbing him by the throat to push him down on the hard, unforgiving floor, and squeeze. With a pained grunt, the man continues to smile as he finds himself below Myunggi, hands making no effort to protect himself.
"Good to see you, babe."
It is Moonjo.
"You DIED!", Myunggi screams in terror, but before he can apply further pressure on the man's throat, he is pulled back by Player 456 by his vest. "Easy, easy. We need him."
"Why are you alive?!", Myunggi asks in a silent scream, eyes swelling up with tears as he watches Moonjo silently sit back up.
He killed him . 5 years ago, he killed him. Moonjo is dead. Eden is no more. So how is he here? Is this not Moonjo? Why does he look like Moonjo?
The gun Myunggi had pushed aside earlier is picked back up with trembling hands, and he stands, gun pointed at Moonjo's head, who doesn't avert his gaze. "Speak, you sick fuck!" At a calculated, forceful kick to his stomach, Moonjo keels over, a painful grunt leaving his mouth. Still, no response. Myunggi can only watch, his own lungs tightening to the point he feels as if he hadn't taken a breath in ages.
"Are you okay?", a sudden, concerned voice snaps him out of his trance and Myunggi turns his head towards it, his eyes meeting those of Player 120. She has a gun pointed at Moonjo as well, a determined look on her face. "We can kill this one if you want, there's another one."
"No, wait!" Myunggi swiftly grabs her gun from the top, pushing it down towards the floor. His trembling voice sounds more like a whimper. He's not sure why he stopped her. If Moonjo died again now, nothing would change. But he needs to know what in the world is going on. Player 120 locks eyes with him for a quick second, before nodding and taking a step back.
Myunggi takes a deep breath as he shakily kneels down, meeting Moonjo at eye level. The man had not once taken his eyes off of him, and to say it feels intrusive would be an understatement. As they sit, staring at each other once again after god knows how long of a time, memories start to flood in. Memories of Moonjo, of Jaeho, of Eden. Eden.
"You died in front of me.", Myunggi exclaims breathlessly with gritted teeth. "Speak, before I blow your head off."
"Myunggi!", before Moonjo has a chance to respond, his attention is diverted once more. Looking up, he sees Junhee run towards him, hand protectively holding her belly. He had completely forgotten to check on her.
"Are you hurt?", Myunggi asks, almost absentmindedly. It feels as if two of his worlds are colliding - one of them which he had worked so hard to forget. Junhee shakes her head no, eyeing Myunggi for a quick second before glancing at Moonjo as well. "What are you doing?", she asks timidly. Myunggi doesn't know how to respond.
In the same moment, Player 465 speaks up, voice layered with determination. "There's no time. We need to find these people's headquarters, now." He looks down at Moonjo, gun drawn confidently. "You will lead us to your captain. Get up."
Myunggi refuses to take his eyes off of Moonjo as both of them simultaneously push themselves up with one knee, eyes still locked onto each other. Moonjo's eyes are trembling - perhaps he's scared? Myunggi can't tell. He never could, with him.
"Come.", orders Player 456, to both of them. As Myunggi sets out to follow, Junhee calls out to him. He turns towards her, and notices Moonjo doing the same. She meets his eyes with a concerned look, hand caressing her extended stomach. Don't go, he can almost hear her say, accompanied by a weak headshake. With a lump in his throat he looks back at Moonjo. He's not going to let him out of his sight now. Not when there are so many questions left unanswered.
"I'm sorry.", Myunggi whispers, eyes struggling to look at Junhee's again. "Stay here.", she now pleads verbally, taking small steps towards him, urging him to look at her - but he can't. "I'm sorry. I'll be fine, I promise.", he whispers once more, before pushing past her, swallowing a shaky breath. He feels her grab his vest, but ignores the weak resistance, holding back tears.
At the front of the hall, the others had begun distributing the remaining guns and magazines between other players willing to join the fight. Player 120 was kindly giving them a rundown of the MP5 submachine gun, which Myunggi was ordered to sit out on to guard Moonjo, seeing as he is already familiar with this particular type of gun. He has practice with it from during his time in the military. Moonjo stands to the side, hands still raised to his head and his posture as straight as ever. Behind him, Myunggi has his gun pointed at him at an angle. Now that he has a moment to take the sight of him in completely, he feels even more dissociated than before.
It's been 5 years since he had last laid eyes on this man. 5 years since he had slit his throat on the fourth floor of Eden. 5 years since he watched him bleed out beneath him. 5 years worth of therapy to deal with his trauma, only for all his hard work to crumble right in front of him like this.
Moonjo ever so slightly turns his head to look down at him.
"Jongwoo-ssi."
Jongwoo.
Jongwoo.
The name feels like a gunshot to the head and it takes everything in Myunggi to not lose his footing.
No one had called him like that in years. Not since he had his name legally changed - a measure taken after deep consideration with his therapist. The name held too much trauma, she had said. The name represented a side of him he had to overcome, she had said. So he changed it. Removed any traces of the name, cut off old friends and acquaintances, and moved to a neighborhood on the other end of Seoul to start anew. He had left Jongwoo behind. For good.
"Myunggi.", he interrupts Moonjo, who had already continued speaking. The tall man falls silent. "You call me by that name one more time and I'll shoot your fucking head clean off." his voice still trembles - but he's not sure if it's because he's frightened, or angry.
"Doesn't suit you.", Moonjo calmly exclaims under his breath, his words barely audible as he turns his head forward again. No telling if he means Myunggi's new name or his attitude. "You're outnumbered, so be careful out there. I don't want you to get hurt."
"Worry about yourself, you sick fuck.", Myunggi swears.
"You're awfully angry at me, babe."
"Shut the fuck up."
"I save-"
"I said shut up."
Silence.
He wants to talk, Myunggi desperately wants to talk. He wants to know what's going on, how he survived, why he's here. But the last time he saw Moonjo, he had killed him. It doesn't feel right to treat him with anything but contempt. He should want him dead, still. Right?
Player 456 finally walks up to the two of them, gun pointed at Moonjo's head. "Lead us to your captain. You can lower your hands." Moonjo complies without resistance, taking short but determined steps toward the exit door, which had been forced open earlier. As Player 456 walks him out with a gun pressed to his back and a hand firmly grasping his hood, he steals a glance at Myunggi. "You wanna take the lead?", he offers. "I'm less worried about him attacking you."
"Yeah, okay sure.", Myunggi replies, gulping down the lump in his throat as he slides between the two, taking firm hold of Moonjo's hood himself. He walks him quietly, heavy steps filling the silence.
"All players, it is bedtime now. Please return to your quarters immediately. Otherwise, you will be eliminated from the game. Let me repeat. All players-" BANG!
A gunshot cuts through the air, followed by silence. The group continues on without the looming voice on the PA system threatening them to retreat. Their feet move in unison, the only sound breaking the silence of the maze, until-
"GET DOWN!", someone yells, and Moonjo and Myunggi duck instinctively, just milliseconds before gunfire starts raining down on them. Myunggi lowers himself as much as possible, stealing a quick glance at Moonjo to make sure he's okay, before covering for Player 120, who had started to move up to get a better angle at their assailants. The sounds of bullets cutting through the walls behind them is deafening, and it takes everything in Myunggi to not cover his ears, but instead keep them firmly planted on his gun. He takes a shot where he can, but barely manages to peek his head out from behind the wall without getting his head blown off instantly, so he's more than relieved when Player 456's familiar voice calls out: "Hold fire!", silencing the gunshots. "Everyone okay?" They had gotten them all. "Alright then, let's go up."
Myunggi quickly rises to his feet, dragging Moonjo up with him, before pushing him forward, gun yet again trained into him. As he leads them through the maze, Myunggi hadn't noticed that he had once again started dissociating - only when Moonjo starts reaching for his pocket is when he realizes that he had been following him silently as if on autopilot, blindly trusting his lead. He aggressively shoves the barrel of the gun into Moonjo's back, stopping him in his tracks.
"The entrance to the management area is right around this corner.", Moonjo says calmly, without turning around. "I need my mask to pass security." Myunggi turns his head to look for Player 456's approval - who he had come to see as the leader here - when in the corner of his eyes, he detects movement on the other side of the maze.
"DOWN!", Moonjo suddenly yells, slamming his entire body weight into Myunggi to push him to the floor, and in the same moment, a gunshot rips through the air. Myunggi finds himself beneath the tall man, head throbbing in pain from the forceful impact, wall splitters raining down on the two as bullets hit the wall next to them. With no time to recover, Moonjo quickly pushes himself off of him before pulling Myunggi up into a kneeling position with a firm grasp around his wrist. The two press their backs against the wall next them, breathless. Myunggi doesn't know what to say. If he should say something. Instead, he watches as the other players shoot back at their assailants, occasionally taking cover to reload and catch their breath. With a secure grip on his gun, Myunggi moves to get up and join them, when a hand on his shoulder abruptly pulls him back down. He throws his head around, eyes meeting those of Moonjo.
"A gun.", he demands, trying to make himself heard over the sound of gunfire. "Give me a gun." Myunggi blinks at him for a second, the hand on his shoulder throwing him off. Despite it being covered in thick leather gloves, it exceeds a warmth that feels so intrusive he's overcome with the urge to peel his skin off.
"No.", he responds coldly, moving to begin shooting again, when he is pulled back once more, the hand on his shoulder now exerting a tight grip on his vest. Moonjo doesn't say a word this time, but his expression speaks for itself.
Fuck.
Myunggi ever so slightly opens his mouth to say something, before turning to Player 456 next to him. "I need another gun!", he yells over the sound of gunfire. Player 456 bends down to look at him, before his eyes move over to Moonjo, apprehensive. "I trust him.", Myunggi assures him. "They're trying to kill him, too."
Without a response, Player 456 turns to the other players to ask for an additional gun, which is pushed over across the floor to him by Player 120. He picks it up and hands it to Myunggi, but before letting go of it, he gives it a firm shake in his hands, almost as if to say 'If he tries something, you've doomed us'.
Myunggi throws him another reassuring expression as he takes the gun from his hands and turns, now holding it out to Moonjo. He expected a calm transfer, but is taken aback when Moonjo forcefully yanks the gun out of his hands so abruptly he loses his balance, and before he manages to say a word, Moonjo has already gotten up, taking shots at the other soldiers. The recoil barely sways him, and Myunggi can't help but stare for a second.
Be careful, he wants to say. But he doesn't. He shouldn't.
Without a word, Myunggi takes aim as well, attempting to gun down the pink soldiers while intermittently taking cover from their fire. He manages to headshot two of them, the adrenaline making blood rush to his ears. Next to him, despite a nasty tinnitus getting hold of his ears, he hears a frantic conversation unfold.
"I'll continue on to the control room."
"Will you be alright? Should I come?"
"I'll go with Jung-bae. I need you to buy us time! Jung-bae, let's go."
As Myunggi takes cover again, he watches as Player 456, and another player he doesn't recognize, crawl past him towards Moonjo. They reach up to drag him down, away from the gunfire. "Take us to the control room.", Player 456 demands. All of sudden, Myunggi feels Moonjo's hand dig into his arm, a firm grip holding it in place. "He's coming with us."
"No.", another voice next to Myunggi objects, followed by a hand on his other arm. He turns his head, eyes meeting those of Player 001. The two have never spoken to each other before, but Myunggi has seen him hang out with Player 456 a lot. They seem close. "Jo- He stays here. We need him."
Myunggi turns his head again, looking back at Moonjo. He feels cornered like this, sandwiched between the two as they stare right past him at each other, an uncomfortable tension in the air.
"Go!", Player 001 yells urgently, while pulling Myunggi closer to himself. Moonjo throws him another concerned glance, before hesitantly nodding. "Keep him safe.", he says, then turns to lead Player 456 and his friend to the management area. Myunggi watches them leave, breathing in sharply as they turn around the corner.
Keep him safe?
He barely has time to wrap his head around the conversation that just unfolded in front of him, when Player 001 gets back up next to him to start shooting again. Myunggi catches his breath for a second, then joins him. He's an excellent shooter - he had trained meticulously during his time in the military, and his hard work seemed to be coming in clutch now, with the way he gunned down one soldier after the other. In an almost trance-like state, he continues to fire off his magazines into the pink soldiers. Beside him, Player 001 seems to be having a panicked conversation with the others on his walkie-talkie, and Myunggi bends down to listen, expectantly looking at him to give him an order.
"They need backup!", Player 001 ultimately yells for everyone to hear. "Three of us will go, and the rest will stay. Join us once you get the magazines. Who wants to go with me?"
"I'll go!", Myunggi jumps at the opportunity.
"Not you."
The brusque reaction startles him. "Why? I can go!"
"You'll go back to the chambers. With whoever is getting magazines. And stay there."
"What?!", Myunggi exclaims in confusion, eyebrows furrowed. "I can help!"
The continuous sound of gunfire above their heads is an annoyance to him now, more than anything.
"No!" Player 001 forcefully holds him down with his left arm, an angry expression plastered on his face.
"I don't understand-"
"We need someone there, too. They could be rounding everyone up any second. We're holding our own here, go and guard the others."
"I'll be much more of a help if I co-"
"NO!"
The irritated tone shuts Myunggi up immediately and he purses his lips in annoyance.
Fine.
The others quickly agree on a trio to follow Moonjo's group, and as Player 001 gets up to run past him, he shoots Myunggi one last warning glance. Said watches him turn around the corner, every muscle in his body screaming at him to follow, but he obeys. He stays behind. Player 388 volunteers to pick up the remaining magazines, and so Myunggi grudgingly joins him. The two share a determined nod, and speed off.
The way back to the chambers is long, but not dangerous. Player 120 had destroyed all the security cameras on their way here, leaving them an obvious trail to follow, and it seems as if the pink soldiers aren't roaming around the place. The two had effortlessly reached the chambers, without running into anyone else.
As they enter the room, a hush falls over the remaining players, who had stopped in their tracks to expectantly listen for news from the arrivals. Myunggi puts his hands up to draw attention to himself, voice loud and firm. "They're still searching for the control room. We're out of ammo, so collect any magazines you can find on the bodies and give them to 388 right here." Then, he aimlessly walks towards the bedframes on the right side, the suffocating feeling of helplessness clawing at his brain. Sounds of gunfire can still be heard echoing in the distance, creating an ominous atmosphere in the room. The others are out there, fighting for their freedom, and he was sent back to guard. He shouldn't have let that old fuck command him around.
Moonjo will be okay. He'll be fine on his own. They'll make it out.
"Myunggi!", a warm, female voice cuts straight through his trance and he looks up, startled.
Junhee.
Before he can meet her eyes, his ex-girlfriend has already thrown herself at him, embracing him in a desperate hug. The sudden physical contact takes him by surprise - she had been avoiding him since the games started, having her this close again feels unfamiliar. Still, Myunggi carefully pulls her closer, nuzzling his face into her hair. She's trembling. In a soothing motion, he runs his hand over her back - but what was supposed to be a compassionate gesture feels awkward to him now.
This is what he had longed for, for so long. To have Junhee back, to be in her arms again. Why does it not feel like he expected it to? Why does it feel.. cold? "I'm okay.", he simply assures her.
Is Moonjo?
Myunggi didn't sleep that night.
It had been hours since the distant sounds of gunfire had subsided, followed by a horde of pink soldiers entering the chamber with their guns drawn. They had removed the bodies, but not cleaned the floor, leaving behind pools of blood to remind the remaining players of their fallen peers - or perhaps as a warning.
Myunggi would rather watch the blood dry than go to sleep.
The vote to continue the games had been easily won by those in favor. Players who were complicit in last evening's attack had been exempted from voting as punishment, leaving O-Voters to take the lead by a long shot. Somehow, Myunggi can barely get himself to care anymore. There are other matters on his mind.
They didn't make it. They all died.
Like a broken record, the words tear into his brain over and over, as he stares blankly at the bedframe ceiling on top of him.
Moonjo is dead.
As he should be, right?
He was supposed to be dead.
He's been dead for five years.
This changes nothing.
So why does the thought of it make him tear up now?
Both dissociated and sleep-, as well as food-deprived, Myunggi barely registers the next day go by. Junhee had stayed close to him all day, though to him, it felt more like she was replacing her old team with him, instead of a friendly offer at reconciliation. Not that he was interested, anyway. Somehow. And so the hours dragged on, every living second seeming to only pass by to knock another painful memory into him - one of Eden, one of last night, another one of Eden. It was suffocating.
He never did get to talk to Moonjo.
Should he have wanted to?
Would he have given him any answers?
The walk through the stairwell maze to the next game felt awfully dragged on today, bullet holes in the wall and occasional splatters of blood reminding him once more of the events of last night. Reminding him that they truly happened, that he wasn't imagining things. Moonjo really had come back to life and died a second time in the same breath - his therapist would probably strangle him if he told her.
Upon finally entering the game hall, Myunggi's eyes fall onto an enormous, animatronic hand, placed right in the center of the room, taking up the entire spotlight - by its fingertips and behind it, one plank each. Myunggi only now notices that the contraption is held up with strings, beneath it looming depth. There's no telling how far down it goes.
A hand tugs at his arm. He had completely forgotten about Junhee. "What do you think this is?", she whispers, eyes scanning the room. But before her ex-boyfriend can answer, the all-to-familiar PA system voice fills the room.
"Welcome to your fourth game. The game you will be playing is Cham-Cham-Cham. All players, please line up in your chosen teams of two. When the game starts, the offense must step forward and choose which direction to attack in. Your options are left, and right. The defense must choose which direction to move in to avoid the attack. If both players choose different directions, the hand will rotate, and roles will switch. If both players choose the same direction, the offense be eliminated."
With every word spoken, distressed gasps and cries fill the room, a wave of horror washing over the remaining players. When they were told to split up into teams of two earlier, most had chosen a friend, someone they hoped to survive together with. No one had expected this round to be a face-off instead. "Myunggi.", Junhee whimpers next to him, her fingers digging into his arm. The two lock eyes, and when he notices hers swell up with tears, realization overcomes him that he should be devastated, that he should be crying and offering to sacrifice himself for his child - but he feels nothing. Even when staring back into Junhee's terrified eyes, watching her lips tremble, he feels nothing. He doesn't know what to say. "What do we do?", she asks in a choked out cry. Unable to respond, Myunggi pulls her into a silent hug instead, soothingly caressing her head as he watches the other teams hug each other as well, many in tears.
None of this felt real. No, since the moment Moonjo revealed his face to him last night, nothing had felt real. This might as well all be an elaborate nightmare.
And he doesn't care.
Doesn't care what happens to Junhee, doesn't care what happens to the others, doesn't care what happens to him.
Why does he not care?
He doesn't care when players in front of him are ruthlessly knocked off the plank one by one, falling to their depth with terror-stricken screams. Occasionally, gunshots can be heard from the depths below - perhaps some of the players survive the fall - but Myunggi can't bring himself to care about that either. He doesn't care when he himself gets called up, faced with buttons to his feet which would decide his fate. He doesn't care when he notices Junhee's petrified eyes trained on him from the other side of the room as the hand slowly turns to face him with agonizing creaks.
Myunggi presses down on the left button without much thought and he stares down the hand in front of him.
A wave of nausea overcomes him as he steadies himself, swallowing down onto the lump in his throat.
Cham, cham-
WHAM!
As if hit by a truck, pain spreads over Myunggi's entire body as the hand turns to slam into him, forcefully knocking him off the plank. He screams - for what, or who, he doesn't know. He just screams, heart sinking to his stomach while air rushes past him, limbs helplessly flailing around. When he expects to hit the ground and get painlessly knocked out however, a harsh landing on a large mat catches him by surprise. The air is knocked out of his lungs as he crashes onto it with a loud thud and he gasps in terror, disoriented.
He's alive?
Bewildered, Myunggi thrashes around as the world spins around him, trying to find his footing. Despite the weakness in his legs, he manages to stand up, heart convulsing with such power it resembles a heart attack. He barely has the chance to notice the three pink soldiers in front of him, when a sudden, booming gunshot rips through the air.
At first he's not sure if he's been hit or not, until his feet give away beneath him and he falls, head slamming onto the floor full force. The impact makes his ears ring and he feels blood soaking up his shirt, leaving him dazed. His entire body feels hot, it's burning. He hardly registers himself being picked up by the three soldiers and carefully placed inside a big, black box.
"Help..", he moans, the plea sounding more like a hiccup. It is not answered, and he can only watch as a lid is lowered onto his box, drowning him in complete darkness.
When Myunggi comes to, there's a penetrating ringing in his ears, accompanied by throbbing pain on the side of his head. Harsh lighting paints his eyelids red, hindering his attempts at opening his eyes. With every blink, he can slowly begin to make out his surroundings, finding himself laid out on what seems like a dental chair in the middle of a cold, dark room. Is he dead?
"Easy."
The voice, coming from right next to his ear, makes him jump in shock, startling him awake.
"Hey, shh. I'm not done."
Disoriented, Myunggi turns his head to the side, his gaze immediately met with a familiar face leaning over him. In an instant, he feels his body go rigid, eyes fixated on the man as his heart begins to pump more rapidly.
Moonjo.
Not a single sound leaves his mouth as he stares up at him, now beginning to perceive a soft touch on his shoulder, accompanied with agonizing, pulsating pain. As he tries to make sense of the situation he has found himself in, Moonjo leans back with a sigh, carefully pulling white, blood stained gloves off of his hands to throw them away beside him. A pungent, alcoholic stench overcomes him and he looks down on himself, checking for injuries.
"What's going on?", he asks in terror, his voice hoarse and strained. "Where am I?"
"You don't remember?", Moonjo responds, his familiar, sultry voice snapping Myunggi's eyes back on him like magnets. The two stare at each other in silence for a second and Myunggi can physically feel his brain recalibrate.
"What happened?", he asks in a whisper, eyes scanning the room around him. It smells of disinfectant and iron, various shelves lined up against the walls. The fact that he doesn't remember how he got here freaks him out, even more so than the presence of the man next to him.
"You were eliminated.", Moonjo says calmly.
The instant Myunggi lays eyes on him again, memories hit him like a truck - memories of the games, of pink soldiers, of guns, of the hand.
He feels his breathing accelerate in a panic, once again looking down on himself to check for injuries, when his attention falls on his shoulder, which had been hurting like hell. But as he reaches up to touch it, Moonjo quickly grabs his wrist, a stern look on his face.
"Don't. I just disinfected that."
Myunggi meets his gaze again, a terror-stricken expression on his face. He was shot. He fell, and was shot. So why is he here? Why is he alive?
"Calm your breathing, babe."
"What's going on?", Myunggi whispers, his own voice feeling alien to him now.
"Lay back down, come on.", Moonjo responds, wiping down his shoulder with something that reeks of alcohol as he lets go of Myunggi's wrist. Despite the loss of contact, he can still feel the man's fingers on his skin, leaving a flaming imprint.
"Why am I not dead?"
No response.
"The others died."
"Eventually."
"So why-"
"Jongwoo-ssi."
The stern tone shuts him up instantly.
"Breathe."
It takes everything in him to hold back tears. His lungs strain against his efforts as he tries to calm his breathing, the lump in his throat growing bigger by the second. What is going on? "I want to get up.", he chokes out.
"Slowly, then."
A warm, comforting hand on his back helps him up, but when he expects Moonjo to retract it, the man instead leaves it there, thumb moving softly across his back as to soothe him.
"Why are you alive?", Myunggi finally manages to bring past his lips.
"Back to that question?", Moonjo counters with a slight, warm smile.
"I don't understand."
"You don't have to, not yet. There's a boat in twenty minutes that'll pick us up, just rest until then."
Absolutely not.
"Hyung."
This time, it's Moonjo who freezes, an indiscernible expression on his face. The thumb on Myunggi's back stops moving as well, an uncomfortable silence in the air. At least he's listening to him now.
"I want to know.", Myunggi finally continues.
There's another second of silence before Moonjo slowly breathes in, preparing to speak.
"I brought you here."
"Figured."
"It was really difficult to try to keep you alive, you know?"
"What?"
"I never expected you to show up here. Almost lost me my job."
"Your job?", Myunggi repeats, audibly repulsed.
"This place pays good money. And they need someone like me. It was a miracle they took me in right after my clinic shut down."
In an instant, new memories start flooding in, physically making Myunggi tremble in his seat.
Memories of Eden.
In a sudden surge of adrenaline, Myunggi lunges forward, grabbing Moonjo by the throat with both hands. He straddles the man with his knees, pushing him downward into his chair and tipping his head upwards to make their eyes meet. Agonizing pain pulsates from his shoulder to his back, his body protesting at the sudden movement, but he shuts out the discomfort completely, focused entirely on the creepily smiling man beneath him.
"I killed you.", he whispers, voice both terrified and enraged at the same time.
"Always a dance with you.", Moonjo responds, his nonchalant tone finally making Myunggi break into tears.
"WHY ARE YOU NOT DEAD?", he now screams, fingers digging into the man's throat. The same throat he cut into just five years before. The same throat he had watched bleed out in front of him.
A sudden, forceful punch into his stomach sends Myunggi stumbling backwards into the dental chair and he keels over, lungs contracting in pain and forcing out violent coughs. However, before he gets a chance to counterreact, he is all of sudden pulled forward into a hug, slender arms embracing him as his face is pressed into Moonjo's warm chest. The unexpected gesture freezes Myunggi's body up once more, and he holds his breath, half expecting to have his neck cracked any second.
It's not until he feels Moonjo's face on his neck and his fingers beginning to soothingly rub his back again, that his throat convulses, and he bursts into tears. Desperately, he buries his face into the tall man's black sweater, muffling his choked cries as he trembles in his arms, hands clawing at his sides. Moonjo doesn't say a word and only pulls him closer, one hand now carressing the back of his head while he sobs into his chest, his body going limp.
He's not sure why he's crying - perhaps it's the adrenaline, perhaps it's fear, perhaps it's confusion - but more than anything, he's not sure why he's letting his old, creepy neighbor embrace him like this. All he knows is that he needs it right now.
And so he cries, for god knows how long. Sobs and wails, desperately sucking in air in between, and Moonjo lets him.
It takes a few minutes for him to calm down, his cries turning into shaky breaths and sniffles as he allow himself to lean into Moonjo's hug. The tall man patiently continues to caress him, until he feels him weakly pull away, and he reaches out to cup the younger man's face in his hands. Jongwoo's face is puffy, eyes red with tears and a pained expression on his face, and Moonjo warmly smiles down at him while wiping tears off his cheeks with his thumb.
"You wanna sit down?", he asks, to which Jongwoo responds with a nod, quickly wiping snot off his nose with his wrist as he leans back onto the dental chair again.
"I just don't understand.", Jongwoo whispers, followed by a controlled, deep exhale in an attempt to calm himself down.
"What part?"
"I killed you."
Jongwoo looks up at him, eyes fixated onto Moonjo's throat. It is only now that he realizes that it's unblemished. Except for a noticeable blush due to Jongwoo's strangulation attempt earlier, there's no wound, no scar.
"I.. I slit your throat."
Once again, Moonjo smiles, sitting back down on his own chair. "I'd be pretty upset if you did that to me, babe."
"But then how-"
"You were having a severe manic episode.", Moonjo interrupts him, eyes soft when Jongwoo meets them. "I just played along."
"What?", Jongwoo responds in a perplexed whisper, hands coming up to bury his face into them.
A manic episode? But why does he remember it all so well?
"Your therapist did a number on you. Maybe I should've stayed around. It's not good for you to bury traumatic memories."
"So you were alive, all this time?"
Moonjo doesn't respond. Rightfully so, that was a stupid question.
"And you started working for these people?"
"As I said, it's good money. And the work suits me.", with a smile, he looks around the room. "I have a proper office now."
"What is your job?", Jongwoo asks apprehensively, though unsure if he's prepared to hear the answer.
Moonjo stares at him for a while, eyeing him up and down, before opening his mouth to speak. "I take care of the eliminated players. Sometimes I put on a pink suit, too. It's up to me, really. The boss has given me creative freedom."
"What do you mean, take care?", Jongwoo pushes further. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, his shoulder had begun to hurt again, and it takes everything in him to not whine in pain. "I saw the others die."
"Not all of them die up there.", Moonjo responds coldly, and Jongwoo can tell he's apprehensive about going into detail. "Those who survive are handed over to me." In an almost threatening demeanor, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I salvage what's salvageable and ship it overseas. You're lucky the boss and I are close, otherwise he wouldn't have let me stitch you back up."
Perhaps, had Jongwoo learned about this information a few days earlier, he would have ran away in panic. The very least, he would've thrown up from nausea at the thought. Now, however, the implication of black market controlled organ harvesting doesn't shake him one bit. It's Moonjo, after all. That checks out. He doesn't know what to say, and instead sits in silence, thinking back at the therapy sessions he took up after Eden. How he had worked so hard to leave the Jongwoo from back then behind and become Myunggi - a name that feels insulting to him now.
"Player 222."
Jongwoo looks up at Moonjo, startled.
Junhee. He had completely forgotten about her.
"Is it yours?"
"...yeah."
"Mm. What a shame."
"Why?", Jongwoo asks in a slightly panicked tone.
"She's fine. But the baby won't make it. Too much stress on the body."
Silence. Jongwoo looks down on his knees again, wiping salty tear residue from his eyes.
"Does that not bother you?"
"I don't know."
"Mm."
Silence again. Nothing but the faint ringing of the LED light next to him fills it, leaving him alone with his thoughts, pain still clawing at his left shoulder. There's nothing he could possibly say, not here. Not right now. He just wants to go home.
"After all these years, you still have it in you." Moonjo smiles almost tenderly, shaking his hand over the left side of his face. "This."
Ah. His bruises. A reminder of the pathetic loser he took out with a goddamn fork.
"That kid had it coming, anyway. Stay here, alright?" Moonjo gets to his feet. "I'll go see if our ride is ready."
"Okay."
"I was thinking, babe."
Jongwoo looks up at him. It's the first time their eyes meet and he feels nothing. No hatred, no disgust, no fear. It feels just like the first time the two met on the rooftop of Eden.
Moonjo takes a step forward, carefully reaching out to touch Jongwoo's throat. He brushes his thumb over his adam's apple, before bringing his hand up to his chin, tilting it upwards. Jongwoo leans into it.
"How do you feel about New Zealand? I hear it's beautiful. We could start over, together."
New Zealand. That'd be.. nice.
"Yeah. Okay, sure."