Work Text
The loudspeaker crackled, its sharp buzz silencing the murmur of hundreds of contestants.Sae-byeok had been sitting by her bed and minding her own business. She didn't sit with a group — she didn't have time for that. Instead, she had been quietly observing. Conversations players were having, potential alliances being made.You had to calculate every move here.But, of course, Sae-byeok could never be granted the luxury of getting to stop and think even for a little while. No one ever got the chance to pause in a place like this.Sae-byeok watched as the masks of the guards remained impassive, as one of them stepped forward, holding a clipboard."In two minutes,” the guard’s voice boomed, ever so slightly muffled by the mask, "you must form groups of six. Failure to comply will result in immediate elimination.""Immediate elimination". The way they had worded it at the beginning, before anyone knew this would be a death game, made it sound more like you'd be dropping out of the competition.Instead, they took "elimination" far too literally for Sae-byeok's liking.Anyway.The announcement plunged the room into chaos.Contestants scrambled to form alliances, bargaining, pleading, or outright threatening to secure their spots.Sae-byeok exhaled softly, standing up. Her eyes scanned the crowd, instinctively drifting towards Gi-hun's group. Gi-hun had been kinder to her despite her having pickpocketed him before the games. Currently, Gi-hun was sitting with Sang-woo and Ali, whilst Mi-nyeo begged to join. Sang-woo appeared wildly reluctant to allow it, but Gi-hun reminded him that they needed a team of six, and bringing Mi-nyeo in brought them closer to that objective.That also meant that they needed two more players.Sae-byeok's eyes immediately flicked away from that group and over to a certain girl. A girl with a nose piercing.Ji-yeong.Ji-yeong stood off to the side, hands tucked into her jacket pockets, watching the frenzy unfold with an indifferent expression, looking unbothered as always.Sae-byeok wasted no time in walking up to her, quickening her pace so as to not dawdle. Upon noticing Sae-byeok sidling up to her, Ji-yeong blinked and turned a little to face her directly, her eyebrows raising ever so slightly in surprise to see Sae-byeok coming to her again.Sae-byeok's sharp eyes narrowed. "You’re not planning to go solo, are you?"Ji-yeong blinked again, before shrugging. "Didn’t realise you cared.""Come with me," Sae-byeok said bluntly, her voice low but firm.Ji-yeong allowed herself a small laugh but nodded anyway, looking like she was only agreeing because she had nothing better to do or something. She followed Sae-byeok through the sea of desperate faces, before Sae-byeok had already found Gi-hun, Sang-woo, Ali, and Mi-nyeo, the latter looking smug as she leaned against the wall despite having been pleading to join their group mere moments ago.Ji-yeong tilted her head, examining the faces of these players. "Well, aren’t we a charming bunch," Ji-yeong quipped as she joined the group.Mi-nyeo scoffed. "Better than being dead weight, sweetheart. At least some of us know how to survive.""Enough," Sae-byeok snapped, her tone cutting through the tension. "We need to stick together.""What she said," Gi-hun nodded, gesturing to Sae-byeok. "We shouldn't fight right now. We've made a team, so we should act like it, huh?""I agree." Ali nodded politely, and Gi-hun offered his own nod of approval in return.Sae-byeok sighed heavily, moving to sit down. She couldn't tell if she was somewhat thankful to have a group she could go to for times like this, or to be annoyed by how irking they are....The tension in the waiting area was stifling.Ji-yeong sat cross-legged on the cold floor, idly flicking a pebble between her fingers. The screen above on the wall remained black, and the murmurs of other groups filled the cavernous room.Sae-byeok sat nearby, her back pressed against the wall, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her sharp eyes flicked to Ji-yeong, who seemed far too relaxed given the situation."You're not even a little curious about what's happening in there?" Sae-byeok asked, her voice low.Ji-yeong tossed the pebble into the air and caught it. “Oh, I’m curious. I just don’t see the point in stressing about something we can’t control.”Sae-byeok’s brows furrowed. "You volunteered for this like us. Don’t you at least want to know what kind of game we're going to be playing? What kind of death you signed up for?"Ji-yeong shrugged, though her eyes flickered toward the black screen for a moment. "Let me guess. It’s something psychological. These guys love messing with our heads. Probably some sick twist where you think you’re safe, but..." She made a soft popping sound with her mouth, miming an explosion. "Game over."Sae-byeok’s raised a brow, feeling oddly intrigued. "You think it’s psychological?""Yeah," Ji-yeong said, leaning back on her hands. "Think about it. They’ve already done physical games. Tug-of-war, Red Light-Green Light.. They want us paranoid. What’s scarier than knowing you could screw up just by thinking wrong?"Sae-byeok considered this, her expression unreadable. "That’s exactly why you should get your act together. These kinds of games... they punish risk-takers."Ji-yeong tilted her head, her smirk returning. "Maybe. Or maybe they reward people who stop overthinking everything. You know, just go with their gut."Sae-byeok stared at her. "That’s a terrible strategy." She said bluntly.Ji-yeong chuckled. "Why do you care so much, anyway? You’re acting like I’m already dead."Sae-byeok hesitated, her eyes darting to the floor. "I just don’t want to see you killed for nothing. You'd look like an idiot."For the first time, Ji-yeong’s playful demeanor softened. She leaned forward, her voice quieter. "Hey. If it’s me or someone else, I’d rather it be me. And who knows? Maybe I’ll surprise you and come back alive. And you'd better do that too, Miss. Spy-from-the-North." She grinned playfully.Sae-byeok didn’t reply, her gaze fixed on the screen as if willing it to show something, anything.Ji-yeong let the silence linger before speaking again."You ever think about what you’d do if you got out of here?" Ji-yeong asked.Sae-byeok blinked, startled by the sudden question. "What?""I mean, assuming we all survive," Ji-yeong said, gesturing vaguely around the room. "What’s the first thing you’d do if you won the money?"Sae-byeok hesitated. "Get my brother out of that orphanage."Ji-yeong nodded, her expression thoughtful. "That’s nice. I think I’d..." She trailed off, her smirk fading. "Actually, I don’t know. Never really thought I’d make it out of here."Sae-byeok glanced at her, the faintest flicker of concern crossing her face. "You should. Think about it, I mean. If you win, you might have something to look forward to."Ji-yeong smiled faintly. "I’ll think about it. Just for you, Sae-byeokie." She teased.Before Sae-byeok could respond, the guard cleared their throat, and the room fell silent.Ji-yeong’s smirk returned, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Well," she said softly. "Guess we’re about to find out if I was right.""Now that you have formed your groups of six," the guard began coldly, "from each group, one volunteer must be selected for the next game. The choice is yours. You have five minutes. If no player steps forward, a player will be chosen at random."A collective groan rippled through the room.The announcement reverberated in Sae-byeok's head as she looked back at her unlikely team. Around them, other groups whispered and bickered, the tension mounting like a powder keg ready to explode."Volunteer?" Mi-nyeo snorted, folding her arms. "That’s just a polite way of saying we’re sending someone to die.""Shh," Sang-woo hissed, his sharp gaze darting to the guards, who loomed like statues. "Keep your voice down."Mi-nyeo rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.Ji-yeong crouched against the wall, now picking at a loose thread on her shirt. "Well, this is fun," she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm.Sang-woo, ever the strategist, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let’s not waste time. We need to decide rationally. This isn’t about what’s fair; it’s about survival.""Survival for who?" Gi-hun asked, his voice rising."For the group," Sang-woo said firmly.A tense silence fell over them."Let’s be clear about one thing," Mi-nyeo said, raising a hand, before quickly shooting her next words out her mouth. "I dibs not it!" She said firmly. "Don't even look at me."Ji-yeong let out a dry snort. "That’s not really how it works, lady. Someone has to go.""Well, it’s not going to be me," Mi-nyeo shot back, her lips curling into a smirk.Ali glanced between them, his expression earnest and pained. "Maybe we can think about who has the best chance of surviving. We don’t even know what the game is, but—""That’s the point," Sae-byeok interjected, her voice low but firm. "We don’t know what it is. How do we decide who’s most likely to survive something we can’t predict?"Silence fell over the group.Nobody wanted to volunteer....However, the silence was punctuated by a sudden and heavy sigh.Sae-byeok's eyes immediately darted to Ji-yeong as the girl began to stand up. "Ahh. Fine. I’ll do it."The group turned to her in stunned silence.Sae-byeok's head snapped up to look up at the girl, who was now standing, her posture lazy and slouched. "Don't be stupid."Ji-yeong tilted her head, her grin widening. "It's not stupid. I'm the least useful here. And hey, if I die, at least I'll go with a... bang." She joked as she shot a finger-gun at the air, referencing how the guards shoot eliminated players."That's not funny." Sae-byeok said sharply through gritted teeth, now also getting up to her feet to glare at Ji-yeong.Ji-yeong sighed heavily, turning her head down to look at the other members of the group. "Okay, then. Anyone else want to step up?"...No one spoke."That’s what I thought." Ji-yeong adjusted her jacket and began walking toward the front of the room where the guards stood waiting."Ji-yeong!" Sae-byeok called after her, hurrying forward and grabbing her arm. "Don’t do this. We can find another way." She said sharply, even as her mind yelled at her to think rationally. No one else was going to volunteer—there's no other way to do this.
Get a hold of yourself, Sae-byeok.
"There is no other way, Sae-byeokie," Ji-yeong said, shrugging. Her eyes then flicked to the others again. "Unless someone else wants to swap places with me?" She said, though it was clear she already knew what the answer was and just wanted to prove her point.The group remained silent.Sae-byeok’s grip tightened, but Ji-yeong pulled free, giving her a small, almost apologetic smile. "It’s fine. Really."Ji-yeong turned and walked up to the front before stopping, the first in line to volunteer. The masked guards acknowledged her with a nod, their blank masks and flat body language betraying no emotion.The room erupted into chaos as other groups began arguing, voices rising to shouts. People pointed fingers, pleaded, and even physically fought over who should go.In the corner, Sae-byeok clenched her fists, her jaw tight as she stared at Ji-yeong’s back."Are you just going to let her do this?" She hissed, whipping around to face the others."She volunteered," Sang-woo said, his tone cold. "It’s done. It was her choice, not ours, anyway.""Coward," Sae-byeok spat, her glare cutting through him.Gi-hun sighed softly as he stood up, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder. "Let her be. She made her choice.""She shouldn’t have to," Sae-byeok snapped, shrugging him off....Ji-yeong stood tall, her head held high as the guards led her and the other chosen players toward a set of double doors.The metal creaked as they opened, revealing only darkness beyond.As Ji-yeong disappeared into the shadows, Sae-byeok felt a hollow ache in her chest.She didn’t know what awaited Ji-yeong on the other side of those doors, but one thing was certain: whatever it was, it would change everything.The doors slammed shut, leaving the remaining players to their fears and regrets.The room where Ji-yeong and the other four players were led was unlike the crude simplicity of the other game arenas.The floor was a sleek, metallic black that reflected the cold, sterile light from above. At the center of the room sat a table in the shape of a pentagon, each seat equipped with shackles bolted to the backrest. Above the table was a metal (or, at least, it looked like metal) contraption shaped like an equilibrium stand, suspended precariously.What they were for, Ji-yeong had no idea.The players exchanged uneasy glances as they were shackled to their seats by the guards. None of them fought, knowing it'd only end in death. Ji-yeong tested the restraints around her torso with an experimental tug, but they didn’t budge. The others were equally bound, each with a tablet screen glowing faintly in front of all of them.Ji-yeong glanced at the others. To her left sat Eun-gyeol, a wiry man in his early twenties who tapped the table nervously. Beside him sat Soo-min, a girl no older than eighteen, her face pale and tear-streaked. Then next to her was Chan-wook whose age was indiscernible, who wore the kind of hardened expression that made her think he’d probably killed someone to get this far. Finally, Ha-eun, a woman in her early twenties at Ji-yeong's right, rounded out the group, her sharp eyes darting between the contraption above them and the tablet in front of her."Welcome," the familiar, detached voice of the Front Man crackled over the intercom. "This is a special, bonus game created for the entertainment of our VIPs. Congratulations on being selected.""Lucky me," Ji-yeong muttered under her breath, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"The game is called Beauty Contest. It is deceptively simple, but your survival depends on your strategy, intelligence, and perhaps... a bit of luck. The rules will now be explained."
The voice outlined the mechanics.
"Rules. Players have five minutes to choose a number between zero and one-hundred."
Ji-yeong's eyes flicked down to the tablet, where a board of numbers from 0—100 flashed from the screen.
"The average of the numbers everyone selected is multiplied by 0.8."
The screens in front of them changed to what looked like a tutorial. Pictures of them from the first day they'd taken photos appeared on screen, with numbers below them. An example, clearly. The numbers layed before them were 10, 20, 30, 40, and 50.The average was 30, so the screen displayed it being multiplied by 0.8. The answer was 24.
"The person who chose the number closest to that result is the winner."
In this case, whoever would've chosen 20 would've won. In this case, the pictures displayed that Chan-wook was the winner.Chan-wook smirked lazily. "Must be a sign of good luck." He joked, and Ji-yeong snorted.
"One point will be deducted from the four losers, and the round is concluded.
The screen displayed the pictures of them again. There were zeroes beneath their pictures, but then, all the zeroes but one of them changed to -1.
"When a player reaches negative ten points, they will receive a game over."
The screen demonstrated this by showing all the players but ones numbers dropping to -10, and their pictures flickered of the screen, leaving only one — Chan-wook's. Ji-yeong frowned as she saw her picture leave the screen.
"The last player standing will clear the game."
Ji-yeong chewed the inside of her cheek. So it's one of those games.But the voice didn't stop there.
"However, every time a player is eliminated, a new rule is added."
"New rule?" Ha-eun scoffed, looking at the others. "What's up with that?"Ji-yeong merely hummed in agreement, before looking up as if to try and speak to the voice. "And nobody's explaining these scales, huh?"...
"Round one, start."
Fuck.
The air in the dormitory was thick with tension as the screen flickered to life.Players in their respective groups shifted uneasily, their gazes glued to the monitor. Sae-byeok sat stiffly on one of the metal bunk beds, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her team — Gi-hun, Sang-woo, Ali, and Mi-nyeo — gathered around her.On the screen, Ji-yeong and four other players were shackled to their seats at the round table. The camera panned over their faces, lingering on each expression of fear, defiance, or despair. Ji-yeong, as always, wore her trademark unbothered mask, but Sae-byeok could see the tension in her clenched jaw."They’ve got her strapped in like an experiment," Gi-hun muttered, shaking his head."Isn’t that the whole point of this place?" Mi-nyeo said with a snort, though her bravado felt thin. "It’s just another way to make us kill each other.""Shh," Sang-woo snapped, his eyes narrowing at the screen. "Listen to the rules."The Front Man’s voice boomed through the speakers in the dormitory as he explained the game: "Beauty Contest. Five players. One winner. The rest? Losers."The players in the room stiffened as the mechanics were revealed — the numbers, the penalties, the elimination rules. By the time the explanation concluded, the dormitory was filled with murmurs."This is..." Ali trailed off, his brows furrowed deeply. "This is horrible. What kind of game is this?""It’s not a game," Sang-woo said, his tone clipped and clinical. "It’s a psychological trap. The Front Man’s trying to turn them against each other. He’s playing with human nature.""What do you mean?" Gi-hun asked, frowning."Think about it," Sang-woo said, leaning forward. "The rules are designed to manipulate their decisions. It’s not just about picking a number — it’s about predicting what everyone else will do. If they overthink it, they’ll lose. If they play it safe, they’ll lose. And if they panic..." He gestured to the screen. "They’ll lose faster."Sae-byeok’s fists tightened. She hated the cold logic in Sang-woo’s voice, but she couldn’t deny he was right. Ji-yeong wasn’t an idiot, but this wasn’t the kind of situation where being clever guaranteed survival."Do you think she knows that?" She asked suddenly.The group turned to her."Knows what?" Gi-hun asked."That it’s not about being smart," Sae-byeok said, her voice quieter. "It’s about... reading people.""She’s good at that," Ali said, a flicker of hope in his tone. "She’ll figure it out.""Or she’ll die trying," Mi-nyeo muttered under her breath.Sae-byeok shot her a glare. "She’s not going to die."Mi-nyeo raised an eyebrow but said nothing.On the screen, Ji-yeong tested the shackles around her torso. Her expression hadn’t wavered, but the camera caught the way her fingers tapped nervously against the metal. Sae-byeok recognised it as one of Ji-yeong’s little tics, the kind she did when she was scared but trying not to show it. Trying not to feel it, even."She volunteered for this," Sang-woo said suddenly. "That means she’s willing to take risks. That might give her an edge.""Or make her reckless," Sae-byeok countered, her voice sharp."Let’s just wait and see," Gi-hun said, trying to placate them. “There’s no point in arguing. The game hasn’t even started yet."Mi-nyeo crossed her arms. "What’s the big deal? She’s not your family or anything."Sae-byeok’s jaw clenched. "She’s in our group. That makes her our responsibility.""Responsibility?" Mi-nyeo laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. "The only responsibility we have in this place is to survive. And if she volunteered, then she’s on her own. End of story.""Shut up." Sae-byeok snapped, her voice low and dangerous.The tension between them was broken by Ali, who raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Please, let’s not fight. Ji-yeong needs us to stay focused, not turn on each other."The room fell silent again as the screen shifted to a countdown clock. Five minutes. That was how long the players had to choose a number now.Sang-woo broke the silence. "If Ji-yeong’s smart, she’ll start with a middle number. Something safe, like 50. Then she can adjust based on how the others play.""But if everyone does that, the calculated number will be lower," Ali pointed out. "She could end up losing points anyway.""She’ll need to read the room," Sae-byeok said. "Figure out who’s panicking, who’s overthinking. And she needs to stay unpredictable.""She’s good at that," Gi-hun said with a small, encouraging nod. "I can never tell what she's thinking. And she sits on those steps up there watching everybody all day. She’s tough. She’ll make it."Sae-byeok didn’t respond. She stared at the screen, her expression unreadable.The camera zoomed in on Ji-yeong’s face as she leaned back in her seat, her expression softening into something almost wistful. Sae-byeok’s chest tightened at the sight. Ji-yeong wasn’t just fighting for herself. She was fighting for all of them, whether she realised it or not.The countdown ticked closer to zero. Sae-byeok leaned forward, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the bed."Come on, Ji-yeong," she whispered. "Don't be an idiot."Ji-yeong stared at the glowing tablet in front of her, the numbers 0–100 taunting her like a cruel joke. Her smirk remained plastered on her face, but inside, her thoughts churned like a storm.
Alright, genius, what now?
The glowing display on the tablet blurred slightly as the countdown for the first round began: five minutes. Ji-yeong glanced around the table, taking in her fellow contestants.Eun-gyeol was practically vibrating in his seat. His fingers drummed against the edge of the table as his wide eyes darted between the wall and his tablet. Overthinker, Ji-yeong thought. He’d probably spiral into a panic before the game even picked up speed.Next to Eun-gyeol was Chan-wook, who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. His sharp jawline and steely expression screamed confidence — or arrogance. Ji-yeong pegged him as the type who’d try to "outsmart" everyone else and end up eating a bullet for breakfast.In front of Ji-yeong was Soo-min. She had trembling hands and kept blinking rapidly, as if trying to hold back tears. Poor girl’s probably already resigned herself to death, Ji-yeong thought grimly.Finally, there was Ha-eun. Her sharp, calculating eyes betrayed no fear, only cold determination. Ji-yeong decided she was the one to watch out for.The sharp glow of the tablet in front of her brought Ji-yeong back to the present.Ji-yeong forced a grin, her voice cutting through the heavy silence. "So... anyone here good at math?"No one answered.Awkward.However, Eun-gyeol eventually spoke, his voice shaking. "This... this is insane. How are we supposed to—?""Calm down," Ha-eun snapped, her tone harsh. "Panicking won't help.""It's not like we have a choice," Ji-yeong said, leaning back in her seat. Her gaze flicked to Soo-min, who was now quietly crying. "Hey, kid. If you keep bawling, you'll scare the bullets in the guards guns more than us."Soo-min sniffled but didn't respond.Ji-yeong pursed her lips, glancing back at the numbers. The rules were clear enough, but she had no way of predicting what the others would choose. If everyone aimed too high, the calculated number would be low. If they aimed low, the number could climb unexpectedly.Okay, Ji-yeong thought to herself. Think, Ji-yeong. Or don't. You're not smart enough for this crap anyway.She tapped her finger on the table absentmindedly, thinking back to what the Front Man had said:
The average will be multiplied by 0.8
Okay. So the trick was figuring out what everyone else would pick. Ji-yeong had to be close to the average, but not too close, and definitely not too far. She let out a quiet laugh."This is like that stupid 'guess how many jellybeans are in the jar' game," she muttered under her breath. "Except the jar explodes in your face if you screw up.""Are you talking to yourself already?" Chan-wook sneered, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "That’s not a good sign."Ji-yeong shot him a grin. "Better than looking constipated like you."Soo-min let out a nervous giggle before clamping a hand over her mouth. Chan-wook glared but didn’t respond.The clock hit 30 seconds. Ji-yeong exhaled slowly. Her fingers hovered over the tablet.Think, she thought again. What would Sae-byeok do?Her heart twinged at the thought of Sae-byeok. She didn’t want to imagine the expression on her face right now. No pressure, right?
"Ten seconds."
Ji-yeong made her decision in a flash, her instincts overriding logic. She punched in her number and hit confirm just as the buzzer blared.
"Time’s up. Calculating results."
The screen flickered to display something else, displaying each player’s choice.
Eun-gyeol: 29.
Ha-eun: 30.
Chan-wook: 33.
Soo-min: 40.
Ji-yeong: 32.
The average appeared on the screen: 32.8. The calculated number: 26.24.Ji-yeong bit her tongue. Close, but not close enough.
"The winner is Eun-gyeol."
Eun-gyeol gasped audibly, his hands flying to his mouth, while Soo-min let out a choked sob. Ji-yeong’s stomach dropped as the words she’d dreaded followed.
"The remaining players lose one point."
The equilibrium stand above their heads tilted ever so slightly, and all of a sudden, there was a loud dripping sound.What the fuck?"Hey—the fuck is that? What the fuck is going on?" Chan-wook cursed, looking up at the equilibrium above him as it filled up a little, along with Ji-yeong, Soo-min, and Ha-eun's.
"Sulfuric acid."
"Eh?" Ji-yeong blurted out, blinking.
"If someone reaches negative ten points, the scales will tip."
All the players stared up at the scales, eyes wide and unblinking."It'll melt our bodies." Eun-gyeol said quietly, but it may as well have been an alarm siren in Ji-yeong’s ears.Ji-yeong doesn't care if she lives or dies. But death via acid sounds like a really shitty way to go."Best case scenario, we end up horribly disfigured." Ha-eun grumbled, squinting up at the scales."The scales..." Soo-min said shakily, so shakily in fact that Ji-yeong had trouble understanding it for a moment. "It's like those things in court. Like a lawyer... Lawyers represent equality, right? Is... I–Is this s'posed to show equality in lives...?"Ji-yeong scoffed, leaning back in her chair. "Equality in lives?" She echoed, sounding sceptical. "The scale will always tips to whatever side has more gold. Not all life has the same value, you know."...
"Round two, start."
Back in the dormitory, the atmosphere was suffocating.Sae-byeok sat stiffly on the edge of the bench, her eyes glued to the massive screen as the results of the first round flashed before them."Damn," Gi-hun muttered, running a hand through his greying hair. "That’s brutal. Just losing one point and that acid is already—""Shut up," Sae-byeok snapped, her voice colder than usual.Gi-hun flinched but held his tongue, glancing at the others for backup. Sang-woo stood behind him, arms crossed, his face unreadable as he studied the mechanics of the game. Ali sat beside him, his wide, worried eyes darting between Sae-byeok and the screen.Mi-nyeo leaned against the wall, chewing on a fingernail. "That girl’s got guts," she said, though there was an edge of mockery in her tone. "Choosing 32. Pretty ballsy, considering how close she was to the average."Sae-byeok shot her a glare that could have frozen fire. "Say that again, and I’ll shove your head through that screen."Mi-nyeo rolled her eyes but wisely stayed quiet.Ali leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "It’s not just about picking numbers randomly, is it? They have to think about what the others might choose and... I don’t know, guess the average somehow.""Exactly," Sang-woo said, his tone clinical. "It’s a mind game. Each round will get harder because they’ll start second-guessing each other. The only way to win is to predict human behaviour—and no one in that room is going to play nice for long."Gi-hun shook his head. "Eun-gyeol was lucky this time. But next round? Ji-yeong has to do better. She can’t afford to—""She’ll be fine," Sae-byeok interrupted, her voice steady but low.Gi-hun glanced at her, unsure whether to believe her or not. The tightness in her jaw, the way her hands clenched into fists—Sae-byeok was far from calm."Did you see how close the sulfuric acid was to spilling?" Gi-hun asked, lowering his voice as though speaking the words too loudly would make them real. "That wasn’t even one full point lost. One mistake, and it’s over."Sae-byeok’s gaze never wavered from the screen. "She’s not going to make a mistake."Mi-nyeo scoffed. "You sound awfully sure for someone who barely knows her."Sae-byeok turned her head sharply, her glare cutting through the air. "Ji-yeong is smart. Smarter than you, at least. She’ll figure it out."Mi-nyeo raised her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. No need to get your claws out, kitty.""Enough," Sang-woo snapped, his voice carrying an authority that silenced the group. "Arguing isn’t going to help her. We need to focus on what’s happening."Ali nodded, his expression pained. "I just hope the others don’t gang up on her."Sae-byeok’s chest tightened at the thought, but she didn’t let it show. "She’ll be fine," she repeated, her voice like steel.The group fell into a tense silence as the screen shifted, showing the players preparing for Round Two. Sae-byeok’s eyes softened just a fraction as the camera focused on Ji-yeong. Her smirk was still in place, but there was a flicker of something deeper—something vulnerable—in her eyes."You’ve got this," Sae-byeok whispered under her breath, her voice too soft for anyone else to hear.Mi-nyeo snorted quietly. "You better hope so. Otherwise, that cute little crush of yours is going to melt into a puddle of goo."Sae-byeok’s glare snapped back to her. "I said enough.""Sorry, sorry," Mi-nyeo muttered, though the smirk on her face said otherwise.The buzzer sounded on the screen, signalling the start of the next round.Sae-byeok leaned forward, her heart pounding in her chest as Ji-yeong’s hand hovered over her tablet.The second round began with a buzzer, and Ji-yeong’s tablet screen lit up with the same sterile grid of numbers as before.The tension in the room felt thicker, heavier, as if the air itself had gained weight.Ji-yeong leaned back in her chair, glancing briefly at the other players. Their faces were masks of concentration, their fingers hovering over the glowing numbers as if the right choice might reveal itself through sheer willpower.Her lips twitched into a smirk. Amateurs.
Eun-gyeol's Thoughts.
Eun-gyeol tapped his fingers nervously against the edge of his tablet. His mind spun with calculations.
Last time, the average was 26... If I multiply that by 0.8, I get 20.8. So, rounding up, 21’s a good guess, right? But wait—what if the others think the same thing? That’ll push the average down.
He chewed on his lip, eyes darting to the timer at the top of the screen. Less than a minute remained.
Alright, so if they’re thinking like me, they might go a step further. Multiply 21 by 0.8, and I get 16.8. Maybe 16? No, 16’s too obvious. Let’s round it up to 17... or no, better yet, further down to 14. Safer that way.
He locked in his number, heart pounding in his chest.
Ha-eun's Thoughts.
Ha-eun stared blankly at her screen for a moment before she began scribbling invisible calculations on her palm.She obviously couldn't see anything, merely writing numbers into her palm with her finger. But it helped to imagine. She struggled with thinking without moving.
Let’s say everyone picks 100—that’s 80 after the reduction. But 80’s too high to aim for; we’d all lose. So, multiply 80 by 0.8—that’s 64. And then multiply that by 0.8... 51.2. And again... 41. So, 32, 26, 20...
Her head hurt. This wasn’t her kind of game, but she knew one thing for certain:
You don’t pick a number higher than what the average can realistically be. The trick is figuring out what everyone else thinks is safe and beating them to it.
Her fingers hovered over the tablet as she typed in 15.
Lower than what they’ll predict, but not too low. That’s the sweet spot.
Chan-wook's Thoughts.
Chan-wook’s approach was colder, methodical. He wasn’t here to play mind games; he was here to win.
The crux of this game is predicting not just one move ahead, but two or three. If they’re rational, they’ll try to calculate the average and adjust accordingly. There are established equations for this, like Nash equilibrium, but we don’t have time to go that deep.
He tapped his chin, considering his options.
If I overthink, I’ll lose. 21 is a safe middle ground. It’s high enough to account for wild guesses but low enough to stay close to the average after adjustments.
He confirmed his choice and folded his arms, watching the others with thinly veiled disdain.
Soo-min's Thoughts.
Soo-min panicked. She wasn’t a numbers person—never had been.
Everyone else looks so calm. They probably already know the answer. I just... I don’t want to die, okay?
Her hands trembled as she punched in a number almost at random.
If I go too high, I lose. If I go too low, I lose. Maybe the middle is safest?
She hesitated, then entered 16.
Close enough, right? Please let it be close enough.
Ji-yeong's Thoughts.
Ji-yeong tilted her head back, letting out a long, slow sigh. "Ugh, math," she muttered under her breath. "Why couldn’t it be a staring contest or something?"Her mind wandered briefly to Sae-byeok, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. If the VIPs are watching, she could probably be watching right now with the others. Betting she’s cursing at the screen, telling me to stop screwing around.She glanced at her tablet. Alright, let’s see. Everyone’s going to try to go low this time. Maybe not too low, though. They’ll overthink it. I’ll stick with... 17. Lucky number, right?She confirmed her choice with a smirk. "Yeah, let’s roll with that."The buzzer sounded, cutting through the thick silence like a blade. The tablets froze, and the results appeared on the central screen.
Eun-gyeol: 14.
Ha-eun: 15
Chan-wook: 21.
Soo-min: 16.
Ji-yeong: 17.
The glowing average calculation blinked ominously:16.6 × 0.8 =13.28.The screen and Front Man declared the winner: Eun-gyeol. Again.The others’ scores dropped to -2. The weight above them shifted as more sulfuric acid poured into the precariously balanced scale. Ji-yeong glanced up at the bubbling acid, her smirk faltering for a moment."Fuck," she muttered under her breath.Soo-min let out another choked sob, and Ha-eun swore violently, slamming her fist against the armrest of her chair.Chan-wook stayed silent, his face unreadable.Eun-gyeol, meanwhile, looked like he might vomit. "I—I didn’t mean to—"Ji-yeong shot him a half-hearted glare. "Yeah, congrats, genius. Enjoy your zero points while the rest of us roast up here." She pouted, huffing as she leaned back again.The tension in the room grew thicker as the timer reset for the next round. Ji-yeong exhaled slowly, her hands tightening into fists."Alright," she muttered to herself, her voice low and determined. "Game on."The timer buzzed, signalling the beginning of the next round.They were now on the fourth round. Ji-yeong was on -3. She hasn't won anything yet.Kind of a bummer.Meanwhile, Eun-gyeol has been having a winning streak, and despite looking like he's going to vomit 24/7. He looks quite spirited about it.The tension was palpable, each player locked in their seat, eyes fixed on their glowing tablets. Ji-yeong leaned back slightly, her posture relaxed but her gaze unreadable. She twirled a loose strand of hair absentmindedly, her finger hovering above the numbers without any clear urgency.
Eun-gyeol's Thoughts.
Eun-gyeol stared at his tablet, his earlier confidence shaken.
The numbers keep getting smaller. Last time, I was closest because I guessed low, but now what? If we keep going like this, are we all just supposed to pick zero?
He rubbed his temples. It seemed like the most logical conclusion. If everyone played rationally, zero would always be the inevitable endpoint.
But that’s too obvious. Someone will break the pattern. I should pick zero, right? Or should I...? No, no. Stop overthinking. Zero it is.
He locked in his choice with a trembling finger.
Ha-eun's Thoughts.
Ha-eun gritted her teeth, her earlier calculations spiralling into frustration.
The rational answer is zero. If everyone chooses zero, the game theoretically stalemates. But that’s impossible. No one here trusts anyone else to stick to the plan.
She tapped her screen absently, then clenched her fists.
Fine. I’ll play along this round. Zero is the rational choice. Let’s see if anyone else has the guts to stick to it.
She selected 0 and folded her arms, glaring at the others.
Chan-wook's Thoughts.
Chan-wook’s sharp eyes darted between the other players. He could see the fear etched into their faces, the indecision.
Picking zero is the logical endpoint, sure. But not everyone here is rational. Hell, I’m not even rational. The limit of logic is different for everyone. Someone’s going to break rank, and when they do, I’m going to profit.
He smirked, fingers confidently tapping in a single number: 1.
Let them guess zero. I’ll always be one step ahead.
Soo-min's Thoughts.
Soo-min’s hands trembled over the tablet. Her thoughts were a chaotic jumble.
Zero. Everyone’s going to pick zero, right? That’s what we’re supposed to do. But what if someone doesn’t? What if I pick zero and still lose? Or what if I don’t pick zero and... oh God, I don’t know!
Tears pricked her eyes as she shut them tight and punched in 0, whispering a desperate prayer under her breath....Ji-yeong leaned forward, propping her chin in her hand as she tapped idly on the tablet. She didn’t appear tense at all—if anything, she seemed almost bored. A faint smirk played on her lips as she glanced at the others, her eyes flickering briefly to the scale above their heads.Without a word, she made her choice, reclining lazily in her chair.The buzzer sounded.The screen lit up, displaying the choices for everyone to see:
Eun-gyeol: 0.
Ha-eun: 0.
Chan-wook: 1.
Soo-min: 0.
Ji-yeong: 100.
The room went silent."What?" Ha-eun gasped, her voice filled with disbelief. "A hundred?! Are you kidding me?"Even Chan-wook’s confident smirk faltered for a moment before he burst into laughter. "You’ve gotta be crazy. Absolutely insane."The calculations appeared on the screen:Average: 20.2.Multiplied by 0.8: 16.16.The winner was declared: Chan-wook.The results spoke for themselves:
Eun-gyeol: -1.
Ha-eun: -4.
Chan-wook: -3.
Soo-min: -4.
Ji-yeong: -4.
The scale above Ji-yeong, Ha-eun, and Soo-min groaned as more sulfuric acid poured in, its toxic bubbling filling the air. The weight shifted, and the container above them tilted ever so slightly. Meanwhile, Eun-gyeol got his first dose of it, and he didn't look very happy about it.Ha-eun rounded on Ji-yeong, her voice trembling with anger. "What the hell is wrong with you? You realise that choosing 100 means you always lose, right? There’s a zero percent chance of winning if you do that!"Ji-yeong shrugged, her smirk widening. "You’re all waaay overthinking this. Math just gives me a headache.""You’re insane!" Ha-eun snapped.Chan-wook leaned back, chuckling. "I mean, she’s got a point. Overthinking is a killer. And, hey, I’ll give you this—your strategy sure keeps things interesting."Ji-yeong winked at him. "Glad you’re entertained, Mr. One-Step-Ahead."Eun-gyeol, meanwhile, was trembling, his face pale. "We’re going to die if this keeps up," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.Ji-yeong leaned back in her chair, her grin not faltering even as the ominous sound of the bubbling acid echoed above her. "Well," she said with a shrug, "if I’m going out, I’m going out swinging."The timer reset. The next round was about to begin.Back in the dormitory, the tension was unbearable.The large screen displayed the players' choices and the calculated results, each step illuminated in clinical precision. The camera lingered on Ji-yeong as she leaned back in her chair, unbothered by the acidic death trap looming over her.The room was silent for a moment, save for the faint hum of the screen. Then, Mi-nyeo broke it with a loud laugh."Oh my God! She picked 100! She’s insane! Absolutely nuts!” Mi-nyeo doubled over, cackling. "Did you see their faces? Priceless!"Sae-byeok, however, was far from amused. Her jaw tightened, and her fists clenched. She could feel her pulse thundering in her ears as she glared at the screen. "What the hell is she doing?" She hissed, her voice low and sharp.Gi-hun scratched the back of his head, visibly perplexed. "Maybe she... I don’t know, has a plan?"Ali tilted his head, frowning deeply. "How could picking 100 be part of any plan? It’s the opposite of logical. She’s just losing points faster.""It’s reckless," Sang-woo said coldly, his eyes fixed on Ji-yeong’s relaxed expression. "She’s treating this like a joke. If she keeps this up, she’ll be the first to go.""She’s not treating it like a joke," Sae-byeok snapped, whirling on Sang-woo. "You don’t know her."Sang-woo raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And you do?"Sae-byeok faltered, her lips pressing into a thin line. She turned back to the screen, unwilling to engage further.Gi-hun crossed his arms, trying to make sense of it. "Maybe she’s trying to psych them out? You know, like reverse psychology or something?'Mi-nyeo snorted. "Psych them out? By making herself look like an idiot? Yeah, genius move. She’s practically begging for that acid bath."Ali grimaced, his eyes darting nervously to the scales above Ji-yeong and the others. "This game... it’s cruel. Every round, the acid gets closer. She’s losing too quickly. If she doesn’t start taking it seriously, she’s...""She’s what?" Sae-byeok interrupted, her voice sharp. Her gaze didn’t leave the screen, her eyes locked on Ji-yeong’s carefree posture."She’s going to die," Ali finished quietly, lowering his head.The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.Mi-nyeo shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Hey, maybe she wants to die. People like her..." She trailed off, smirking. "They’ve got nothing to live for anyway, right?"Before anyone could react, Sae-byeok turned on her, her voice icy. "Shut up."Mi-nyeo blinked, feigning innocence. "What? I’m just saying—""I said shut up!" Sae-byeok’s voice was louder this time, her anger barely restrained.Gi-hun quickly stepped between them, holding up his hands. "Alright, calm down. This isn’t the time to start fighting each other."Sae-byeok ignored him, her eyes burning with fury as she stared Mi-nyeo down. "You don’t know a damn thing about her. So keep your mouth shut."Mi-nyeo raised her hands in mock surrender, though her smirk remained. "Fine, fine. Touchy much?"Sang-woo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This isn’t helping. None of us know why she’s doing what she’s doing, but sitting here arguing about it won’t change anything. The only thing we can do is watch."Sae-byeok’s shoulders stiffened, but she said nothing, her eyes flicking back to the screen.On the screen, the camera panned to Ji-yeong, who was now grinning at something Chan-wook had said. Her nonchalance was infuriating."She’s not taking this seriously," Sang-woo muttered, shaking his head. "If she doesn’t start playing smart, she’s going to drag this out until she gets herself killed."Sae-byeok’s hands clenched tighter, her nails digging into her palms. "She’s not stupid," she said through gritted teeth. "She knows what she’s doing.""And what’s that?" Mi-nyeo asked, leaning back against the wall. "Committing slow-motion suicide?""She’s distracting them," Sae-byeok snapped, her voice rising. "Making them underestimate her. She’s not scared, and that’s what’s throwing them off. That’s why Chan-wook laughed. He doesn’t see her as a threat anymore."Ali nodded slowly, his brow furrowed. "That could work, but... it’s dangerous. Too dangerous. She’s risking too much.""Yeah, well," Sae-byeok muttered, her voice quieter now, "sometimes that’s the only way to win."Gi-hun placed a hand on her shoulder, offering a tentative smile. "Let’s just keep watching. She’s tougher than she looks, right?"Sae-byeok didn’t respond, her eyes glued to the screen as the timer for the next round began its ominous countdown.The room was suffocating with tension as the results of the seventh round flashed on the tablets.Ji-yeong had only won one round so far. The sixth round, so she was at -5 points. But she just lost the seventh round, because Chan-wook won. Again. Ji-yeong definitely didn't peg him as some kind of math whizz, but oh well. Now she's at -6.She glanced up at the container above her head, watching as the thick liquid dripped steadily into the scale. The acid level rose just a fraction higher, glinting ominously in the fluorescent light. She resisted the urge to gulp."Yikes," she muttered under her breath, leaning back in her chair as far as the restraints would allow. "Definitely don’t want to die like that. Looks way too... melty for my taste."Eun-gyeol shot her a sharp look, his face cracking with panic. "You’re joking about this? Now?"Ji-yeong shrugged, offering him a lopsided grin. "What else am I supposed to do? Cry? That’s not gonna stop the acid."Across the table, Ha-eun was biting her nails, her eyes darting between the container above her and the others’ faces. "This is bad. We’re all dropping too fast," she murmured, mostly to herself. "We’ll hit -10 before we even have a chance to adapt.""Speak for yourself," Chan-wook said with a smug grin, tapping his tablet idly. "I’ve got plenty of breathing room. Maybe you should’ve picked better numbers.""Breathing room?" Soo-min hissed, her voice trembling with terror and emotion. "You’re acting like this is some kind of game...!"Chan-wook raised an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah. Because it is."Soo-min looked like she wanted to lunge at him, but her restraints held her back. "You—!" she exclaimed, looking as if she was on the verge of tears."Hey," Ji-yeong interrupted, raising a hand as if to calm them down. "Don’t waste your energy on him. He’s just riding the wave because he thinks he’s safe."Chan-wook smirked. "Safe and smart, thank you very much. I play to win.""Yeah?" Ji-yeong tilted her head, her grin widening. "Then why do you look like the kind of guy who peaked in high school?"For a moment, Chan-wook’s smirk faltered, and Eun-gyeol stifled a laugh despite the circumstances. Even Ha-eun cracked a tiny, reluctant smile."You’re unbelievable," Chan-wook muttered, shaking his head."And you’re predictable," Ji-yeong shot back.The timer for the eighth round began its countdown, the numbers glowing a bright red.Ha-eun’s small smile faded as she gripped her tablet tightly. "We need to figure out how to get out of this mess. If we keep losing points like this..." She trailed off.Eun-gyeol, still visibly shaken, muttered, "The numbers don’t make sense anymore. We’re all thinking too many steps ahead... It’s like trying to solve a puzzle where the pieces keep changing shape."Ji-yeong hummed thoughtfully, her fingers tapping the side of her chair. "Yeah, it’s almost like this whole thing is rigged to screw us over.""You’re not helping," Ha-eun snapped, but there was no real heat in her voice.Ji-yeong leaned forward slightly, her grin fading as her eyes flicked between the others. "Here’s the thing. We’re all too close to the edge now. One wrong move, and—" She gestured lazily toward the acid containers. "Splat.""Helpful," Soo-min muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm as a defense for her growing fear."But," Ji-yeong continued, ignoring her, "I’ve got a hunch."Eun-gyeol frowned. "A hunch? About what?"Ji-yeong’s grin returned, sharp and mischievous. "Oh, you’ll see."The others exchanged uneasy glances as the timer ticked down. Ji-yeong casually leaned back again, tapping her tablet with a dramatic flourish.Chan-wook rolled his eyes. "You’re insane.""Maybe," Ji-yeong replied, flashing him a wink. "But at least I’m not boring."The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the round. The players stared at their tablets as the results began to display on the screen.
Eun-gyeol: 3.
Ha-eun: 18.
Chan-wook: 7.
Soo-min: 2.
Ji-yeong: 99.
A stunned silence fell over the room as the average was calculated.The screen displayed:Average = 25.8. Multiplied by 0.8 = 20.64.The closest to the result was Chan-wook.
Eun-gyeol: -5.
Ha-eun: -8.
Chan-wook: -4.
Soo-min: -8.
Ji-yeong: -7.
Ji-yeong looked up at the acid container again, watching as another few drops dripped into her scale. "Huh," she said lightly, as if commenting on the weather. "Guess my hunch was off."Ha-eun slammed her hands on the table, her face pale. "What is wrong with you? Why would you pick 99?""Because," Ji-yeong said, her tone almost playful, "everyone else was going low. I figured, why not mix things up?""Mix things up?!" Soo-min exclaimed, her voice cracking. "You’re going to get yourself killed!""Maybe," Ji-yeong said with a shrug. "But at least I’ll go out with a bang. Or, you know, a sizzle."Chan-wook shook his head, laughing despite himself. "You’re completely insane."Ji-yeong smirked lazily, glancing at him. "Took you this long to figure that out?"The timer reset, starting the countdown for the next round. Ji-yeong leaned back again, her grin fading as her eyes flicked to the acid above. Her voice softened, barely audible."Still don’t want to die like that."The air in the room was so thick with tension it felt like breathing would break it.They were at round 10. Ji-yeong had just won round 9, thank God. She'd rather not turn into butter melting off a pancake.The timer ticked down mercilessly, and each second seemed to stretch longer than the last. Ji-yeong glanced at the others. Ha-eun’s trembling hands hovered over her tablet. Soo-min’s breathing was shallow, her shoulders hunched as if preparing for a blow. Eun-gyeol was shifting uncomfortably in his seat.Chan-wook? He looked like he couldn’t care less, idly nodding his head to a beat only he could hear like a bored teenager in a math class.Ji-yeong’s lips quirked into a faint smile. "This guy’s got a death wish, and he’s the only one far from dying," she muttered under her breath.The buzzer rang, announcing the final five seconds to cast their votes.Ha-eun wiped sweat off her forehead, her thoughts racing. I can’t make a mistake. I won’t. If I lose, it’s over. Zero is the safest number. Rational. Predictable. It has to be zero.Eun-gyeol, on the other hand, couldn’t think straight. Seven. Seven sounds good. Lucky seven, right? But what if it’s not lucky? What if— His thoughts spiraled as his trembling fingers tapped the screen.Soo-min was biting her lip so hard it had turned white. Tears brimmed in her eyes. Don’t mess up. Don’t mess up. Just pick zero. It’s safe. It has to be safe. It has to—Chan-wook smirked to himself, almost amused by the chaos around him. Two. Why not? These morons are just running circles in their own heads.Finally, Ji-yeong sat back, staring at her tablet thoughtfully. Closer to zero, huh? That makes sense. But Chan-wook—he’s smarter than he looks. He’s got a pattern, I’m sure of it. Alright, let’s go with one. Just to mess with him a little. She smiled to herself as she hit submit.The buzzer rang, and the players held their breath as the results began to display on the screen:
Eun-gyeol: 7
Ha-eun: 0
Chan-wook: 2
Soo-min: 0
Ji-yeong: 1
The system calculated the average.Average: 2.0. Multiplied by 0.8 = 1.6.The winner was Chan-wook.The silence was deafening. Ji-yeong leaned forward, eyebrows raised. "Huh. Look at you, Captain Cool over here."Chan-wook didn’t even respond, reclining in his chair as if he’d expected nothing less.But it wasn’t him everyone was watching.Ha-eun and Soo-min stared at the screen in growing horror as their points updated.
Eun-gyeol: -7
Ha-eun: -10
Chan-wook: -5
Soo-min: -10
Ji-yeong: -8
The word "LOSER" appeared above Ha-eun and Soo-min’s pictures in harsh, glowing letters."No," Ha-eun whispered, her voice shaking. "No, no, no, no!"Soo-min’s hands shot to her face as if trying to shield herself. "This can’t be happening. It can’t—"Ji-yeong’s curiosity flickered to life despite the darkness of the upcoming event. She tilted her head. "Well, that’s new. Wonder what happens next?" She said with a hint of sarcasm.Eun-gyeol’s face blanched as he recoiled in horror. "They—they’re at -10. Does that mean—"Before he could finish, the eerie voice of The Front Man echoed through the room.
"Ha-eun and Soo-min: game over."
The sound of machinery roared to life above them. Ji-yeong’s eyes darted upward as the acid scales above Ha-eun and Soo-min began to tilt ominously with the weight of the added fluid."Wait!" Ha-eun screamed, struggling against her restraints. "Please! I can still play! I can still—"
"Game over."
The dormitory was silent except for the faint hum of the massive television screen, which displayed every detail of the game.No one dared speak as they watched the results flash across the screen.Sae-byeok sat at the edge of her bed, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the mattress. Gi-hun now stood beside her, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw clenched.Ali leaned forward on the floor from where he was leaning on the metal bed-frame, his face a mix of confusion and distress, while Mi-nyeo tapped her fingers nervously against her thigh, her usual bravado subdued. Sang-woo sat back in his seat on the floor against the wall, his expression unreadable, but the rigid set of his shoulders betrayed his unease."Shit," Mi-nyeo muttered, breaking the silence. She gestured at the screen. "They’re dropping like flies. That Ji-yeong girl’s barely holding on.""She’s not the one I’m worried about right now," Sae-byeok replied sharply, her eyes fixed on Ha-eun and Soo-min’s trembling figures."Negative ten," Gi-hun said, his voice low. "That’s it, isn’t it? They’re done."Ali’s brow furrowed. "Maybe... maybe there’s some other kind of penalty? Maybe they don’t have to—""You think the games care about fairness?" Sang-woo interrupted coldly. "We’ve seen what happens when someone loses. The rules are clear. They’re finished."Ali’s face fell, his hope extinguished. "But... they’re so young..."On the screen, Ha-eun’s face twisted with panic as the glowing word "LOSER" flashed above her picture on the screen. Soo-min, pale and silent, appeared frozen in shock.Mi-nyeo clicked her tongue. "The quiet one’s accepted it already. She knows what’s coming."Gi-hun paced back and forth, running a hand through his hair. "This is insane. There’s got to be a way out of this! They can’t just—" He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze flicking to the acid containers tilting above the two players. His breath caught. "Oh, no. No."Sae-byeok’s expression tightened, her dark eyes narrowing as the machinery above the contestants whirred to life. The faint rumbling noise that accompanied it sent a chill through the room. "They’re really going to do it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.Ali stood abruptly. "They wouldn’t! They... they can’t! There has to be another way!" His eyes darted between the screen and his fellow dormmates, desperate for someone to contradict him.Mi-nyeo scoffed bitterly. "Ali, have you been watching these games? You think they’re going to let two people walk away? Dream on.""But they’re just..." Ali trailed off, his voice breaking."People," Gi-hun finished grimly. "That’s all we are to them. Pieces on a damn chessboard."Sang-woo’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. "This isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last. You need to get used to it, or you won’t last another round.""Shut the hell up," Sae-byeok snapped, her sharp tone drawing everyone’s attention. She glared at Sang-woo, her voice heavy with suppressed fury. "You talk about getting used to it like it’s normal. None of this is normal!"Her outburst was followed by a deafening silence, broken only by the soft whirring of the acid containers on the screen."They’re gonna die," Gi-hun murmured, his voice barely audible. His pacing stopped, and he sank onto the front of the bed, his head in his hands. "We’re watching them die."The camera zoomed in on Ha-eun’s tear-streaked face, her desperate pleas muted through the screen. Soo-min sat still, her lips trembling as she stared up at the descending container above her."Turn it off," Ali called out, his voice choked. "Someone turn it off. I don’t want to see this."Nothing happened.Mi-nyeo crossed her arms, her bravado a flimsy shield against the reality unfolding before them. "You think you can just close your eyes and pretend it’s not happening? Grow up. This is the world we’re in now."Ali shot her a look, his face twisted with anguish. "How can you be so heartless?"Mi-nyeo’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing.On the screen, the containers tilted further, the acid visibly sloshing toward the edge. The dormitory grew colder, the weight of the inevitable pressing down on everyone."We can’t do anything," Sae-byeok said quietly, exhaling. Her hands trembled as she forced them to her sides. "We just have to... watch."And so, they did.The acid began to pour.The hiss of acid as it kissed the metal table was a sound that echoed through Ji-yeong’s mind.She tilted her head, watching the first droplet break free and splash onto Ha-eun’s section of the table. The sharp smell hit her nose, acrid and biting. Ha-eun’s scream followed almost instantly. It was guttural, raw, a desperate sound that reverberated off the walls."I’ll do anything! Please!" Ha-eun wailed, thrashing in her restraints, her face streaked with tears and mucus. Her voice cracked, breaking into pitiful sobs as the acid began to eat away at the edge of the table.Soo-min's scream joined hers, a piercing sound of pure terror. Her body jerked against the straps that bound her, her hands clawing at the table’s edge as if she could somehow escape. The first droplets of acid splattered onto her lap, and she let out a shriek so loud and raw it sent a shiver down Ji-yeong’s spine.Ji-yeong leaned back slightly in her chair, arms crossed. Her lips pursed as she studied the scene. It wasn’t that she was enjoying it—at least, she didn’t think she was. But there was something almost... fascinating about the way the acid worked, the way it sizzled and smoked as it ate through fabric, then flesh."Fuck, fuck, fuck," Eun-gyeol muttered beside her, his eyes wide and fixed on the carnage. His nails dug into the arms of his chair, drawing scratch marks, as he instinctively recoiled, trying to get further away. His hands then reached up to grip the sides of his head as if to block out the sounds.Chan-wook grimaced, one hand covering his mouth. "Jesus Christ, this is disgusting," he muttered. But he didn’t look away.The acid began to pour faster now, a steady drip-drip-drip onto Soo-min's hand. The flesh bubbled and hissed, the skin peeling back to reveal raw muscle. Her screams rose to an agonising crescendo, her voice breaking as the acid ate deeper. Smoke curled up from her lap, twisting and writhing in the stagnant air.Ji-yeong squinted, almost absently. She wondered how much it hurt. The human body had so many nerve endings, especially in the hands. She figured it had to feel like a thousand needles stabbing all at once, amplified by the sheer horror of knowing it wasn’t going to stop.Soo-min's screams turned into gurgles as the acid climbed higher, spilling across her torso. The fabric of her shirt dissolved in seconds, exposing charred, bloodied flesh beneath. Her head jerked back, eyes wide and rolling in their sockets.The scale groaned, a low, ominous sound, before tilting completely.Ji-yeong blinked as all the remaining acid cascaded onto Soo-min in one horrific splash. Her body jerked violently, and her scream cut through the room like a blade. The acid hissed louder now, a cacophony of destruction. Smoke billowed up, thick and choking, as the acid mixed with blood and burned deeper into her flesh.Her skin began to slough off in patches, revealing raw muscle and glimpses of bone. The smell hit Ji-yeong like a wave—sickly sweet and metallic, tinged with something acrid. Also sort of like cooked meat.Beside her, Eun-gyeol let out a shriek, scrambling so far back in his chair Ji-yeong was sure he'd trip over if it weren't for the restraints. His hands trembled as he clutched the edges of the table, his face pale as death. "Oh my God! Oh my God!" he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper.Ji-yeong didn’t react. She simply watched, her gaze flicking between Soo-min’s body, now slumped against the table, and Ha-eun, who was next.Ha-eun stared at Soo-mi’s remains, her eyes wide with terror. She was sobbing uncontrollably now, her words garbled and incoherent. "No, no, please, not me, not me—"But the acid didn’t care.The scale creaked again, and the first large splashes fell onto Ha-eun’s lap. She convulsed, her scream a high-pitched wail that echoed through the room. Smoke poured from her body as the acid ate away at her clothes, her skin, her very essence.It happened faster this time. The acid seemed to find its rhythm, pouring relentlessly over her. Ha-eun’s hands jerked, her nails digging into the table as if to anchor herself. Her head snapped back, and a guttural sound tore from her throat—half scream, half moan of pure agony.Ji-yeong tilted her head slightly, observing the way Ha-eun’s body spasmed. She didn’t even notice when blood splattered across the table, mixing with the acid and turning it a dark, murky red.The smoke was so thick now that Ji-yeong could barely make out Ha-eun’s form. But the sounds—oh, the sounds were unmistakable. The sizzling of flesh, the crackle of bone, the final, dying wails of a human being reduced to nothing.And then, silence.Well—there was silence until her, Eun-gyeol, and Chan-wook began to cough. The smoke billowing through the room really wasn't good for their lungs. And Ji-yeong was trying to quit smoking as a teen, too.When the smoke began to clear, two figures slumped against the table, their forms unrecognisable. What was left of their bodies was a charred, mangled mess of flesh and bone, barely distinguishable as human.
"Players 176 and 294 have been eliminated."
Ji-yeong exhaled slowly, leaning back in her chair. "Huh," she muttered. "That’s one way to go."Eun-gyeol whimpered, his face buried in his hands. Chan-wook blinked slowly, huffing as he raked a hand through his hair.Ji-yeong glanced at the others, her expression neutral. She supposed she should feel something—horror, disgust, maybe even pity. But instead, all she felt was a faint sense of relief.After all, it wasn’t her. Not yet.If Sae-byeok doesn't know what's happening right now, Ji-yeong is going to have the best time ever telling her.The room was thick with a silence that pressed against Ji-yeong's ears.The air smelled faintly of smoke and acid, the remnants of what had just transpired clinging to everything like a ghost. Eun-gyeol sat hunched over in his chair, his face buried in his hands, while Chan-wook leaned back casually, though his foot tapped a restless rhythm against the floor.Ji-yeong glanced between them, her gaze eventually settling on the two blackened spots on the table where Ha-eun and Soo-min had once sat.The Front Man's voice crackled through the speaker, dispassionate as ever. "Since two players have been eliminated, two new rules will now be added to the game."Ji-yeong straightened slightly, her attention snapping to the speaker. The others did the same, their exhaustion momentarily replaced by a wary alertness.The Front Man continued: "First, if two or more players choose the same number, each will lose one point. Second, if a player selects the exact correct number, all other players will lose two points instead of one."The silence that followed was deafening. Ji-yeong's stomach twisted. The new rules changed everything. She couldn’t afford a single mistake now—not when she was already teetering on the edge.Chan-wook was the first to move. He reached out, his fingers hovering briefly over the console before pressing 0. His face was calm, detached, but there was a faint flicker of disgust in his eyes, a leftover shadow from the gruesome deaths they’d just witnessed.Eun-gyeol’s hands shook as he reached for his console. His breath came in short, shallow bursts, his chest heaving. "Fuck it," he muttered under his breath, barely audible. He selected 0, his hand retreating like the console had burned him.Ji-yeong stared at her screen, her mind racing. Picking 0 was the logical move. It was the only move. Right? But... what if someone else had the same thought? The Front Man’s new rule loomed in her mind, a sinister weight pressing down on her.Her finger hesitated, hovering over the screen. Then, with a sigh, she pressed 0.The screen flickered to life a moment later, displaying the results:
Eun-gyeol: 0.
Chan-wook: 0.
Ji-yeong: 0.
Ji-yeong felt her stomach drop."We... We all chose zero?" Eun-gyeol stammered, eyes wide.The Front Man’s voice returned, cold and clinical. "Since all three players have selected the same number, all players will lose one point."Ji-yeong’s heart sank as the updated scores appeared on the screen:
Eun-gyeol: -8.
Chan-wook: -6.
Ji-yeong: -9.
Her throat went dry.Shit.She glanced at the others. Eun-gyeol was pale, his face etched with panic. Chan-wook leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable, though his jaw tightened just slightly. Ji-yeong swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm."Well," she muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with bitter amusement. "Guess I screwed that one up."But it wasn’t funny. Not really. One more loss and she was done for. She’d be next. The acid, the smoke, the screams—it would all happen to her.Her hands clenched into fists on the table.She thought of Sae-byeok, of their quiet conversations, of the way Sae-byeok had fought for her earlier despite Ji-yeong having already made up her mind.No. She wasn’t going to die. At, least, not in a shitty way like this. She wants to go out in a blaze of glory.Ji-yeong doesn't want to go without saying bye to Sae-byeok at least, you know?Her gaze hardened as she stared at the console, her mind already running through possibilities. She would have to think carefully next round. Very carefully.But for now, all she could do was sit back and stew in her growing dread.Fuck.The camera feed in the dormitory flickered, displaying the results of the latest round. Ji-yeong, Chan-wook, and Eun-gyeol’s scores flashed on the screen.Sae-byeok leaned forward in her chair, her sharp eyes fixed on Ji-yeong’s score: -9. Her jaw tightened as she crossed her arms over her chest, the tension radiating from her in waves."She's on the edge," Sang-woo muttered, his voice low and analytical, though a slight furrow in his brow betrayed his unease. "One more wrong move, and that’s it for her."Ali, who had been gripping the armrest of his chair, shook his head. "Why did they all choose zero? They knew the new rule, and zero was the most predictable option...! It doesn’t make sense...""Fear," Sae-byeok interjected, her voice clipped. "When you’re that close to death, you don’t think straight. You panic." Her eyes remained glued to the screen, her expression unreadable, but her clenched fists betrayed her true feelings.Mi-nyeo huffed, leaning back against the couch with her legs crossed. "It’s not just fear—it’s stupidity," she said, though her tone lacked its usual edge. Her eyes flicked to Sae-byeok. "Your little friend better wise up fast, or she’s toast."Gi-hun ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. "She’s tough," he said, though his voice wavered. He glanced at Sae-byeok. "She’ll figure something out, right?"Sae-byeok didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze was glued to the screen, where Ji-yeong sat stiffly at the table, her face a mask of forced calm. "She better," she said finally, her tone flat. "Or we’re going to see her die."The room fell silent.Ali shook his head again, muttering something in his native tongue before switching back to Korean. "How can they even think straight after what happened to those other two? That... that acid..." His voice trailed off, his eyes distant."That’s the point," Sang-woo said coldly. "The game is designed to break them. Ha-eun and Soo-mi’s deaths were a warning. Ji-yeong knows what’s waiting for her if she loses."Mi-nyeo clicked her tongue. "Yeah, well, they’re all screwed. That Chan-wook guy? He’s sitting pretty at -6. He’s playing them like a fiddle."Gi-hun shot her a glare. "You don’t know that. Ji-yeong could still win.""Win?" Mi-nyeo barked out a laugh, though there was no humour in it. "At this rate, she’ll be lucky to last another round."The screen shifted back to a wide shot of the remaining players. Ji-yeong was staring at the console in front of her, her lips pressed into a thin line. Beside her, Eun-gyeol was visibly trembling, his hands clutching the edges of the table. Chan-wook, as always, looked eerily calm, a faint smirk playing on his lips.Sae-byeok narrowed her eyes. She didn’t trust Chan-wook. There was something unsettling about how composed he was. But maybe it was because he was getting too confident."She needs to stop focusing on him," Sae-byeok said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. "He’s baiting them. Making them react to him instead of thinking for themselves."Gi-hun frowned. "But how is she supposed to—"The screen cut to the scoreboard, and the numbers flashed in bold red letters:
Eun-gyeol: -8.
Chan-wook: -6.
Ji-yeong: -9.
The tension in the room spiked."Shit," Mi-nyeo muttered under her breath."She has to win the next round," Ali said, his voice trembling slightly. "If she doesn’t..."No one finished the sentence, but the implication hung heavy in the air.Gi-hun glanced at Sae-byeok again, his expression a mix of worry and frustration. "You think she can do it?"Sae-byeok didn’t answer immediately. She stared at the screen, her jaw tight. Finally, she said, "She has to."Her words were quiet but firm, and for a moment, the others didn’t dare argue.The camera lingered on Ji-yeong’s face, her eyes hard with determination. Then the screen cut to black, leaving the group in silence.For now, all they could do was wait.The room was thick with tension as the results flickered on the screens.Ji-yeong’s finger hovered over her console, but she wasn’t panicked—not this time. Her brain worked like a machine, piecing together the fragmented puzzle that was Eun-gyeol. She could almost feel the fragile threads holding his logic together, the desperation behind his choices.When the Front Man’s voice rang out, announcing the results, Ji-yeong's pulse quickened.
Eun-gyeol: 62.
Chan-wook: 1.
Ji-yeong: 23.
Ji-yeong’s heart gave a single, strong thud as the Front Man continued, his voice devoid of emotion.
"The average is 22.93. Rounded up: 23."
A stunned silence followed as Ji-yeong’s name flashed in bold letters across the screen. Winner: Ji-yeong.The Front Man’s next words sent a chill through the room.
"As the winner guessed the exact number, the remaining players lose two points."
Ji-yeong watched the scoreboard shift:
Eun-gyeol: -10.
Chan-wook: -8.
Ji-yeong: -9.
Eun-gyeol froze, his eyes wide as the realisation hit him.Then, panic."No. No, no, no, NO!" He stammered, his voice rising in pitch. His body jolted against the restraints as he tried to pull free. "This is wrong! I—I can’t be out!"Ji-yeong didn’t react immediately. She observed him the way one might watch a chaotic animal cornered in a cage. There was a detached curiosity in her eyes, as if this outburst was just another step in the sequence she’d predicted."YOU CHEATED!" Eun-gyeol suddenly screamed, turning on her with a wild look. "You must’ve seen my number! That’s the only way you could’ve guessed it exactly!"Ji-yeong tilted her head, her expression calm but her words laced with amusement. "I’m flattered you think I’m that clever," she said lightly. "But honestly, you’re giving yourself too much credit. Do you really think your number was so unpredictable?"Eun-gyeol’s face twisted with rage. "Bullshit! There’s no way you could’ve just guessed! You cheated!" He whipped his head toward the speaker. "She cheated! She must’ve! She—"Ji-yeong cut him off, her voice steady but with a sharp edge. "You’re wrong. And I’m actually kind of proud of myself right now."That caught him off guard. "What?!""I figured you out," Ji-yeong said, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "I don’t get to feel smart often, so this is a rare moment for me." She leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with him. "At the start of this round, you had -8 points, and I had -9. Even if you lost this round, you’d still have another chance. So you gambled. You thought Chan-wook and I would target each other, eliminate ourselves. You figured you could just throw out a random number and let us destroy each other. Sound about right?"Eun-gyeol blinked rapidly, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. His anger was momentarily replaced by disbelief.Ji-yeong shrugged. "It wasn’t rocket science. You were banking on the chaos. So I thought about what number you’d pick to throw us off. Odds are, you’d pick something over 50, just to skew the average." She gave him a sly smile. "And I was right."Eun-gyeol laughed, a sharp, incredulous sound. "No. No way. You’re lying. That’s—there’s no way you just guessed that." His voice cracked.Ji-yeong didn’t flinch. Her gaze was steady, piercing. "It wasn’t just a guess," she said coolly. "It was you. You’re predictable, Eun-gyeol. You’re desperate, and you think everyone else is too stupid to see through you. But you made it obvious."Chan-wook, who had been silent this entire time, let out a low whistle. "Damn," he muttered, leaning back in his chair with a bemused grin. "She’s got you pegged, man."Eun-gyeol’s face flushed red. His thoughts were a whirlwind....
It's like she read my mind.
...The room was now silent except for the low mechanical hum of the equipment around them.Ji-yeong crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair, her lips curling into a faint, almost amused smile."I’m still pretty proud of myself," she said, her voice light, even conversational.Eun-gyeol’s bloodshot eyes darted toward her. His mouth opened, trembling, but no words came out. His breaths came shallow and rapid, a clear sign of his spiraling panic.Ji-yeong tilted her head, regarding him with a mix of curiosity and detachment. "You wanna know how I figured it out?"Chan-wook raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. He didn’t speak, but there was a faint flicker of interest in his otherwise stoic expression."See, it wasn’t just random," Ji-yeong continued, ignoring the way Eun-gyeol’s restraints creaked as he shifted. "At least, not entirely. I mean, you’re predictable, Eun-gyeol." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "You had -8 points. I had -9. So if you lost this round, you’d still have a chance, right? That meant you had to gamble. But you weren’t gonna pick just any number."Eun-gyeol swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared at her."You’d avoid anything under 50," she said, tapping her finger on the table rhythmically. "Too close to the average, and you’d risk losing. You'd want to avoid numbers under 50 by a large rate. But you wouldn’t go too high, either. Something like 90 or higher? That’s too much. Too suspicious. So... over 50, under 90. That narrows it down, doesn’t it?"Chan-wook let out another low whistle. "Damn," he muttered.Ji-yeong barely acknowledged him, her focus locked on Eun-gyeol. "But then there’s the question of what you’d actually pick within that range. When you ask people to guess a number, a few things come to mind. Double-digits, so they're out. Same with round numbers—divisible by ten. Ten, twenty, thirty, blah blah blah... nah, you wouldn’t go for those."Eun-yeong exhaled shakily."When you put someone on the spot and ask them to choose a number, they'll usually go for eights, threes, and fives. Too popular. And then some of those are prime. You'd try not to pick them."Eun-gyeol's gaze was unblinking as he stared back at Ji-yeong.Her voice took on a faintly teasing edge. "Not too many options now. So I was thinking, 'how do I narrow it down further'?"Ji-yeong smiled, pointing at Eun-gyeol. "Glad you asked. Some of these numbers we see everyday. Game systems, movie titles, brand logos, easy associations. By my count..." She paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make Eun-gyeol squirm. "That left me with 62 and 74."Eun-gyeol’s breath hitched.Ji-yeong spread her hands in a mock shrug. "At that point? No way to narrow it down further. So, well, I..."She smiled faintly."I got lucky."The room was deathly silent.Eun-gyeol’s voice finally broke his silence, shaky and barely above a whisper.
"I... I knew I shouldn’t have picked sixty-two."
Ji-yeong leaned back again, watching him with that same detached curiosity.She didn’t say anything else, and neither did Chan-wook.The Front Man’s voice came over the speaker, cold and mechanical.
"Eun-gyeol: game over."
The word "LOSER" appeared in massive block letters above Eun-gyeol’s photo on the screen.Eun-gyeol’s panic erupted. "No! NO! This isn’t—this isn’t fair!" He yanked at his restraints with all his strength, his face contorted in pure desperation. "I—I don’t deserve this! It was just a game! Please! PLEASE, LET ME GO!!"Ji-yeong didn’t flinch, her expression unreadable as she watched him thrash.The hum of the machinery shifted, growing louder. Above Eun-gyeol, the metal tank tilted slightly. Ji-yeong’s eyes flicked to it, and she could see the acid sloshing inside, a sickly viscous liquid that caught the harsh fluorescent light.In one smooth, horrifying motion, the tank released its contents.The acid hit Eun-gyeol with a wet, nauseating splash.He didn’t scream. Instead, a guttural rasp escaped his throat as smoke began to rise from his skin. His face contorted in agony, his body jerking violently as the acid ate through him. His clothes dissolved almost instantly, the fabric bubbling away to reveal raw, blistering flesh beneath.The smell hit Ji-yeong first. Acrid and metallic, like burning wires mixed with meat left out to rot. She wrinkled her nose but didn’t look away.Eun-gyeol’s thrashing slowed as his flesh sloughed off his bones, his frame collapsing against the table. Smoke poured from his remains, thick and grey, obscuring what was left of him.
"Player 015 has been eliminated."
Chan-wook turned his head away, his jaw clenched tightly.Ji-yeong’s gaze lingered on the heap that had once been Eun-gyeol. She tilted her head slightly, as if considering something. Then, without a word, she turned back to her console, her face calm, her mind already shifting to the next round.The Front Man’s voice echoed again.
"Prepare for Round 13."
The dormitory felt suffocatingly tense.Sae-byeok, Gi-hun, Sang-woo, Ali, and Mi-nyeo were still seated together, their eyes glued to the screen as Ji-yeong calmly walked Eun-gyeol and Chan-wook through her strategy. The silence was broken only by the occasional creak of furniture as someone shifted uncomfortably or the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights above.As Ji-yeong concluded her explanation, Gi-hun let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t think she had it in her.""She just guessed," Sang-woo muttered, though there was a faint edge of admiration in his voice. "But it was a calculated guess. She thought through every single angle. That’s not luck—that’s skill."Mi-nyeo leaned forward, her elbow propped on her knee, her hand resting dramatically against her cheek. "That little rat! I thought she was just some scrawny loser. Who knew she had a brain in there?"Ali looked confused but impressed, his brow furrowed. "She is very smart, yes? She thought about all those things—the numbers, the patterns. I would never have come up with that!"Sae-byeok, who had been silent, leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. Her sharp eyes were focused solely on Ji-yeong, who sat calmly in her chair on the screen, her expression unreadable even as chaos erupted around her."She’s... clever," Sae-byeok murmured, her voice soft but steady."Understatement of the year," Gi-hun quipped. He grinned, leaning back and crossing his arms. "You gotta admit, though, it’s pretty badass. She practically broke that guy’s brain just by explaining herself."Sang-woo rolled his eyes. "She’s not a genius. She just exploited Eun-gyeol’s predictability. That doesn’t make her special."Mi-nyeo snorted, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Says the guy who’s probably jealous she outsmarted him."Before Sang-woo could retort, the screen shifted, showing Eun-gyeol’s final moments. His desperate screams and the horrific hiss of acid drowned out any banter. Smoke billowed, and the group collectively recoiled, their stomachs churning at the graphic sight.Ali covered his mouth, his wide eyes filled with horror. "Oh no... that’s... that’s horrible."Gi-hun grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Poor bastard. He never stood a chance."Mi-nyeo rolled her eyes, though there was an edge of discomfort in her tone. "That’s what you get for being cocky. Should’ve picked a safer number."Sae-byeok’s gaze never left the screen. She didn’t flinch at the gruesome imagery, but her jaw tightened, her fists clenching slightly."Ji-yeong didn’t even blink," she muttered under her breath.Gi-hun turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "What’s that supposed to mean?"Sae-byeok didn’t answer right away. Her mind lingered on Ji-yeong’s expression during the entire ordeal—calm, detached, almost curious. It wasn’t what she expected from the girl she’d been sharing meals and quiet moments with, the one who seemed to light up the bleakest corners of this place with her dry wit and offbeat charm."She’s stronger than I thought," Sae-byeok said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.Mi-nyeo smirked. "You sound like you’re proud of her or something. What, she your kid sister or what?"Sae-byeok shot her a cold glare, and Mi-nyeo quickly raised her hands in mock surrender.On the screen, the words Prepare for Round 13 appeared, and Ji-yeong’s face was briefly illuminated. She looked tired but resolute, like someone who had survived yet another storm but knew there were more to come."She’s got guts," Gi-hun said, breaking the tension. "And a brain to back it up. Can’t say that for most of us."Sang-woo scowled. "Don’t lump me in with—""Not now," Sae-byeok interrupted sharply, her eyes still on the screen.As the others argued, Sae-byeok allowed herself a small, fleeting smile. Ji-yeong was proving to be more than just her first friend here—she was someone to admire, someone who might just make it through this nightmare."Hang in there," she whispered, so quietly that no one else heard her. "I’m counting on you."The room felt quieter than ever now, the weight of Eun-gyeol's absence lingering like a shadow.Ji-yeong’s gaze flitted to Chan-wook, who sat across from her, looking remarkably composed despite everything they’d just witnessed. He wasn’t fiddling nervously with his hands like Eun-gyeol had, nor did he wear the manic edge of someone trying to mask fear. Instead, he leaned back slightly, studying her with an almost casual curiosity.Ji-yeong shifted in her chair. If she was going to be stuck in this hellscape with only one person left, she might as well make the most of it."So," she started, her voice cutting through the silence. "You’re... not bad at this. Way too calm. What gives? Been through something like this before?"Chan-wook chuckled, a quiet sound that didn’t reach his eyes. "Not quite, but you learn a thing or two in my line of work.""Which is?"He tilted his head, as though debating whether to answer. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I’m a lawyer."Ji-yeong blinked. That was the last thing she expected. "Seriously? You don’t look old enough to be a lawyer.""Flattering," he said with a faint smirk. "But I assure you, I’m as legitimate as they come.""Wow." Ji-yeong leaned back, crossing her arms. "So what’s a lawyer doing here? Thought you guys were loaded.""Loaded?" He let out a bitter laugh. "Have you ever peered behind the curtain and seen how the world really works? Watched children die because their parents couldn’t scrape together a few yen for medicine? Seen girls sold off to pay for their parents’ debts? Been powerless to break the cycle of poverty, even when you’ve got the law on your side?"Ji-yeong’s smirk faded. She didn’t reply, but she didn’t need to. Chan-wook continued, his tone grim but steady, like someone reciting a story he’d told himself too many times to count."I got into law to help people, to change things," he said. "But it’s not that simple. You find out pretty quickly that the law isn’t about justice—it’s about power. And when you don’t have any, you can’t save anyone. Not even yourself."He paused, his gaze drifting to the screen where Eun-gyeol’s photo had once been displayed."Before I came here, I was going to kill myself," he said flatly.Ji-yeong’s eyes widened, but she didn’t interrupt."I was standing on the edge of a bridge, ready to jump, when a man approached me. He handed me a card and said I had a choice: jump and end it all, or take a chance on something different." He gestured vaguely to the room around them. "I figured, why not? I didn’t have any debt, but I didn’t have anything else, either. So here I am."Ji-yeong stared at him, unsure how to respond. She hadn’t expected him to be so candid, but then again, maybe that was the point. What was the use of keeping secrets in a place like this?"Well," she said finally, "that’s one thing we have in common, then."Chan-wook raised an eyebrow but didn’t press her for details. Instead, he leaned back again, his expression softening slightly."Your turn," he said. "Why are you here?"Ji-yeong hesitated, her usual bravado faltering for a moment. But before she could answer, the Front Man’s voice crackled through the speaker.
"Attention, players. A new rule has been added. If a player chooses 0 as their number, the other player will automatically win if they choose 100 as their answer."
The announcement hung in the air like a loaded gun.Ji-yeong and Chan-wook exchanged a glance. For the first time since they’d been left alone, Ji-yeong felt a flicker of genuine uncertainty."Great," she muttered under her breath. "Just what we needed. More mind games."Chan-wook didn’t respond, but his faint smirk was gone. They both knew the stakes were higher now.And they were running out of time.Ji-yeong’s mind raced, the weight of the new rule bearing down on her like a heavy stone. She tapped her fingers rhythmically against the table, her gaze darting between Chan-wook and the screen in front of her.Okay. Let’s think this through.With just the two of them left, the math was simple: whoever picked closer to 0 would win. If Ji-yeong chose 0 every round, Chan-wook couldn’t catch up—not without a lucky guess or a new rule to tip the scales. But now, this new twist turned everything upside down.The wildcard: 100.If Chan-wook picked 0 and Ji-yeong picked 100, she’d win outright. Easy. But if he anticipated that and picked 1, he’d win instead. And if they tied? She was done for. Her -9 points wouldn’t allow for a single slip.It was rock-paper-scissors, except with her life hanging in the balance....Chan-wook broke the silence, his voice even but thoughtful."Let me ask you something, Ji-yeong."She glanced at him, half-expecting him to throw out another strategy or veiled threat."If you had a million vaccines for a disease," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly, "which million people would you save?"Ji-yeong frowned. "What kind of question is that?"He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "A real one. You’ve got a million lives to save and seven billion people to choose from. Who gets the shot? And who dies waiting?"Ji-yeong stared at him, her mind grappling with the impossibility of the question. "I... I don’t know. That’s not something you can just decide.""That’s the problem, isn’t it?" Chan-wook said, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "How do you determine the value of someone’s life? What makes one person more deserving than another? Their age? Their wealth? Their potential? Their connections?"Ji-yeong didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure she could.Chan-wook exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I’ve seen people try. I’ve seen them weigh all the variables, crunch the numbers, and still come up short. They all say the same thing: 'It’s not personal'. But it is. It always is."He turned his gaze back to her, his expression unreadable. "So? Who would you choose?"Ji-yeong hesitated, her mind racing for an answer. Finally, she shrugged. "I’d give them to kids without parents or money. Or at least, I’d try to. But let’s be honest: I wouldn’t be the one to choose, would I?"Chan-wook raised an eyebrow."It’s all about money," Ji-yeong continued, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Anyone with enough of it gets to decide whose life is worth saving. You’ve seen it, haven’t you? You’ve peered behind the curtain."Chan-wook’s eyes darkened. "I have.""What did you see?"He paused, his jaw tightening. "After an accident I worked on, there was no settlement paid out. The company said it was too costly. People died because they couldn’t afford treatment. Kids died."Ji-yeong felt her throat tighten, but she pushed through the wave of emotion. "Then why bother? If the game’s rigged, why keep playing? Why strive for justice at all?"Chan-wook’s gaze met hers, steady and resolute. "Because I must. If I stop, then they win. And if I don’t fight, who will? Equality isn’t something you’re given. It’s something you fight for."His words hung in the air, heavy with conviction.For the first time, Ji-yeong found herself reevaluating her perception of Chan-wook. Beneath his calm exterior, there was a fire—one born of pain, frustration, and an unyielding determination to make the world just a little less cruel.But that didn’t change the fact that one of them wouldn’t leave this game alive.Ji-yeong clenched her fists, her mind racing again. The clock was ticking, and she had only one point left to her name.If she was going to win, she’d have to play her cards perfectly.The Front Man’s voice broke through the tension, announcing the start of the next round.Ji-yeong exhaled slowly, her hand hovering over the keypad.
Think, Ji-yeong. Think.
And as the timer began its ominous countdown, she steeled herself for the choice that would decide everything.Ji-yeong stared at the keypad, her mind a blur of strategies, probabilities, and calculations.Each scenario ended the same way: with her teetering on the edge of survival. It was maddening, the constant churn of thoughts, the suffocating pressure. She needed to break the cycle.She glanced up at Chan-wook, his expression stoic as ever, though there was a flicker of something behind his eyes. Concern? Doubt? She couldn’t tell....Wordlessly, she tapped a number on the tablet.Ji-yeong exhaled sharply and leaned back in her chair, her lips curving into a faint smile. "I’m choosing 100."...Chan-wook froze.His composure shattered for the first time, and his brow furrowed in disbelief. "What?""I said," Ji-yeong repeated, her tone casual, "I’m choosing 100. Thought I’d let you know."Chan-wook blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he processed her words. "Why the hell would you tell me that?""Just thought I’d give you a little help," Ji-yeong said nonchalantly, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers."Help?" Chan-wook’s voice rose, his usual calm replaced with frustration. "Are you insane? You’ve just handed me your life on a silver platter! If I don't choose 0, you’re finished!""Exactly," Ji-yeong replied, her gaze steady as it locked onto his. "It’s your choice now. You hold all the power. What are you going to do, Chan-wook?"He leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "You can’t do this. You don’t do this. This is suicide."Ji-yeong shrugged. "Sitting across from you is a girl charging headfirst toward death. So go ahead. Decide. What value does this life hold? What value does my life hold?"Chan-wook’s expression faltered. His sharp, calculating demeanour gave way to a flicker of hesitation. He studied her face, searching for something—fear, desperation, regret. But all he saw was resolve."You’re playing a dangerous game," he muttered."Life’s a dangerous game," Ji-yeong shot back, her voice tinged with dry humour.Silence stretched between them, the weight of her words pressing down like a vice. Chan-wook’s hands tightened on the table, his jaw clenched as he wrestled with the impossible choice laid before him.The countdown continued, its mechanical beeps echoing through the tense room.Ji-yeong didn’t move. She didn’t look at the keypad. Her choice was made, and now, it was all up to Chan-wook.Would he choose 0 and end her life? Or would he gamble everything on a decision that could cost him his own?The seconds ticked by, the air thick with suspense.And then, as the timer approached zero, Ji-yeong’s voice cut through the silence one last time."Good luck, lawyer."The atmosphere in the dormitory was electric, a palpable tension that none of them could shake.On the screen, Ji-yeong’s calm but calculated decision to announce her choice hung in the air like a noose, and Chan-wook’s hesitation was as gripping as the clock ticking down.Sae-byeok leaned forward, her hands gripping her knees so tightly her knuckles turned white. She stared at Ji-yeong’s face, her expression an unreadable mix of concern and awe."What the hell is she doing?" Gi-hun blurted, breaking the silence. "Is she trying to die? Who tells their opponent their choice like that?"Sang-woo adjusted his glasses, his brow furrowing as he scrutinised the scene. "It’s a test," he said slowly, as if working it out aloud. "She’s putting the ball in his court. It’s psychological. She’s forcing him to confront his morals, his sense of justice.""Yeah, but what if he doesn’t have any?" Mi-nyeo shot back, her arms crossed. "She’s screwed if he just picks 1 like a heartless bastard. He looks like a heartless bastard. You think some random lawyer’s going to throw away his shot to survive?" She scoffed. "Bold move, but dumb as hell if you ask me.""Maybe not," Ali interjected softly, his voice tinged with hope. "She’s challenging him to see her as a person, not just a competitor. Maybe that’s her way of winning—making him care."Gi-hun frowned, scratching the back of his head. "That’s a hell of a gamble.""It’s not just a gamble," Sae-byeok said, her voice quiet but firm. Everyone turned to her. "It’s... Ji-yeong."Mi-nyeo raised an eyebrow. "What’s that supposed to mean?"Sae-byeok didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on Ji-yeong’s face on the screen, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips despite the circumstances. "She’s not just trying to win. She’s making a point. She wants him to see her for who she is, not just another player in this game. That’s... brave."Mi-nyeo snorted. "Brave or stupid. We’ll find out soon enough."Gi-hun sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "Man, if I were in her shoes, I’d just pick 0 and hope for the best. She’s got guts, I’ll give her that.""She’s smart enough," Sang-woo murmured, almost to himself. "This isn’t just about winning or losing. It’s about breaking him down, making him question everything. She’s playing the long game."Ali nodded, his expression a mixture of admiration and worry. "I hope it works."Sae-byeok didn’t say anything more, but her eyes never left Ji-yeong. Her heart pounded in her chest, every second of that countdown feeling like an eternity. She clenched her fists, willing Ji-yeong to survive, to prove everyone wrong.Because Ji-yeong wasn’t just another player to her. Ji-yeong was her friend. Her first real friend.And Sae-byeok wasn’t ready to lose her. Not yet. Not ever.The room fell silent again as the clock ticked closer to zero. On the screen, Chan-wook’s hand hovered over the keypad, his face a mask of turmoil.The final seconds loomed, and all they could do was watch.The room was dead silent as the results flickered onto the screen.
Chan-wook: 0.
Ji-yeong: 100.
The word "WINNER" flashed above Ji-yeong’s name, accompanied by a soft chime that felt deafening in the tense air. Ji-yeong’s lips parted slightly, her chest rising and falling as she processed the impossible.She won this round.But the feeling was anything but triumphant.Her eyes darted to Chan-wook, who sat with a resigned expression, his hands resting limply on the table. The acid in his scale bubbled violently, climbing higher as his point total dropped to -9. Ji-yeong felt her stomach churn as the foul stench of chemicals filled the room, though the sight of Chan-wook’s calm face somehow unsettled her even more."You... actually picked zero?" Ji-yeong asked, her voice hoarse with disbelief.Chan-wook smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "You wanted me to decide the value of your life, didn’t you?" he said softly. "I figured it was only fair to give you the same choice."Her jaw tightened, and she looked away, anger and guilt warring in her chest. "You’re insane.""No," Chan-wook replied simply. "I'm just tired."The screen reset, the word "ROUND 14" emblazoned in bold letters above their updated scores.
Chan-wook: -9.
Ji-yeong: -9.
The final round.Ji-yeong’s heart pounded in her ears as the numbers blinked on the screen.The Front Man’s voice echoed through the room, mechanical and cold. "This is the deciding round. The winner will be determined based on their answers. Choose wisely."Chan-wook leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed as if the stakes weren’t life and death. "Well," he murmured, "I guess this is it."Ji-yeong clenched her fists, her mind racing. This wasn’t just a game anymore. It was survival.Her survival.She stared at Chan-wook, his composed demeanor sending a spike of frustration through her. "You could’ve just ended it last round and killed me," she snapped. "Why drag it out?"Chan-wook opened one eye, his gaze steady. "Because I wanted you to see it through. To make a choice you’d stand by."Her teeth ground together as she looked back at the screen. She wasn’t ready for this. Not yet.The countdown began.The silence was suffocating as Ji-yeong stared at Chan-wook.His face was a battlefield of emotions—conflict, sorrow, and something else she couldn’t quite place. She had never seen someone wrestle so hard with a choice, as though his very existence depended on making the right one.And maybe it did.Ji-yeong tilted her head, her voice soft but tinged with sarcasm. "You’re struggling so much. If it’s too hard, just kill me. That’s fair, isn’t it?"Chan-wook’s head snapped up, his eyes locking with hers. For a moment, she thought she’d gone too far. But then, he shook his head, his voice low and steady. "I cannot make that decision."Ji-yeong’s lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. "Well, I’m just glad I get to be here for your final choice."Without another word, she picked up her tablet and made her choice.100.She carefully picked the tablet up and turned it around, showing him her screen."If you pick 1, you win," she said simply, leaning back in her chair.Chan-wook stared at the tablet, his expression unreadable. His fingers hovered over his own screen, trembling slightly. Ji-yeong could see the turmoil etched into every line of his face, the weight of everything he believed pressing down on him."I’m just one man," he said quietly, almost to himself. "I don’t know the value of a life. I don’t know its meaning. And I don’t think I ever will."Ji-yeong raised an eyebrow, waiting.Chan-wook looked up at her, his gaze steady now, resolute. "But right now, I can decide one thing."...Wordlessly, he tapped his screen.The room was silent except for the soft click as he confirmed his choice.Ji-yeong’s heart pounded in her chest, her throat tightening as she waited.The Front Man’s cold, detached voice broke through the stillness. "Round 14 is officially over."Ji-yeong glanced at her screen, her breath catching as the results flickered to life.
Chan-wook: 0.
Ji-yeong: 100.
She won.Her gaze darted to Chan-wook, who sat quietly, a faint, serene smile on his face."You finally made up your mind," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "The value of a life can’t be decided, huh?"Chan-wook nodded, his smile deepening. "I didn’t choose for a life’s value. I chose for my ideals."Ji-yeong’s chest tightened. "Why? Why did you do it?"He looked at her, his eyes filled with a strange mix of peace and gratitude. "Because I could. And because of you. You helped me see it."The Front Man’s voice echoed through the room. "Chan-wook: game over."The acid began to bubble and churn in Chan-wook’s scale.He closed his eyes, the soft smile never leaving his face. "I’m finally free," he murmured. "I made my own choice, based on my own ideals. And I’m okay with that."A tear slipped down his cheek, but his expression remained calm, almost content.He opened his eyes one last time to look at Ji-yeong, his gaze steady and warm."I managed to do this because of you," he said. "Thank you."And then his eyes closed again, the faint smile still gracing his lips.In an instant, the acid poured down in an unrelenting torrent, engulfing him entirely.The hissing of the liquid filled the room, smoke rising as his body slumped forward against the table, his head banging against it as he was reduced to a mangled corpse....Ji-yeong watched, unmoving, as the life left him.The speakers crackled, the mechanical voice announcing, "Player 107 has been eliminated."For a long moment, Ji-yeong didn’t move. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She just stared at the lifeless form of the man across from her.Finally, she broke the silence, her voice low and bitter. "He quit while he was ahead." She let out a hollow laugh, her hands trembling slightly. "I helped him make that choice."Her eyes burned as she looked down at her hands, her voice dropping to a whisper."I’m so jealous."...The metallic click of her restraints unlocking echoed in the silent room.Ji-yeong blinked, looking down at her torso — and, sure enough, it was released.The pink guards entered without ceremony, their presence as cold and impersonal as ever."Let’s go," one of them said.Ji-yeong stood on oddly shaky legs (she lied to herself by saying it was because she hadn't stood up in a while), allowing herself to be guided out.She didn’t look back—not at the table, not at the acid-scarred scale, not at Chan-wook.The corridors blurred past her, the sterile, oppressive walls closing in as they led her back to the dormitory. She kept her gaze forward, her mind blank. She couldn’t afford to feel anything yet, not until she was away from prying eyes.Which was probably never.When they reached the dormitory, the guards opened the doors and gestured for her to step inside. Ji-yeong hesitated for a fraction of a second before crossing the threshold.Inside, Sae-byeok, Gi-hun, Sang-woo, Ali, and Mi-nyeo were waiting. They — and all the other players — turned their heads toward her as the door slammed shut behind her, the sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot.Ji-yeong wordlessly walked up to her group, merely standing by them and examining their faces.It was Sae-byeok who broke the silence."You’re back." Her voice was quiet, but there was a flicker of relief in her tone.Ji-yeong nodded. "Yeah. I’m back. Obviously."Mi-nyeo snorted, leaning back against the wall. "Figures you’d come out of there alive. I don’t know how you pulled it off, but good for you, kid."Gi-hun’s brow furrowed. "Hey, kid. Are you okay? You don't look..." He trailed off, biting his lip.Ji-yeong shrugged. "Well I’m alive, so there’s that."Ali stepped forward, his kind eyes filled with concern. "You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just... we’re here, okay?" He said with a polite smile. Ali was always nice.She looked at him for a moment, her lips twitching into a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Thanks... cool-guy."She didn't want to admit that she frequently forgot peoples names.Sang-woo crossed his arms, his gaze scrutinising. "You’re on edge. You made it through, so what’s the problem?"Ji-yeong’s eyes snapped to him. "The problem? The problem is that I watched someone die because they made the only choice they could live with." She said, her tone not quite sharp but not kind either. It was nothing.The group fell silent.Ji-yeong sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Aish... Forget it. I’m just tired."Gi-hun cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, hey, you’re still here. That means you’re one of the smart ones, right?"Mi-nyeo rolled her eyes. "Yeah, let’s all clap for the genius who survived. Real comforting."Sae-byeok shot Mi-nyeo a glare before turning back to Ji-yeong. "Just rest. You'll need your strength up for tomorrows game."Ji-yeong nodded, her body heavy with exhaustion. She sank onto one of the bunks, leaning her head against the wall.The others drifted into their own conversations, but Sae-byeok stayed close, sitting on the bunk beside her. Neither of them spoke, but the silence between them was... comfortable.Ji-yeong closed her eyes, the weight of the day pressing down on her. She was alive. Whatever.But she forced herself not to care. She forced herself not to bother with useless feelings. After all, Ji-yeong didn't even know who Chan-wook and the others were until that game. So why bother?That's life.