The Light That Binds Us-Hwang Inho

The room was a boiling pot of emotions—anger, fear, desperation. Rae-a kept her face neutral, her arms folded as she leaned back in her seat. She studied the players as the announcement was made. People fidgeted, whispered to each other, or stared at the floor.

"Each of you will now cast your vote," the voice said through the intercom. "Red to stop the game. Green to continue."

Rae-a noted the first player, 456, was the first in his selection process. The man who was eager to inform everyone of the risk the game posed. The thoughts running wild through her mind. How did he know that the game was life or death?

As players went in reverse order up to the podium, she noticed how many players were choosing O; to continue with the games. She scowled, leaning back up against the bed post. Human greed truly knew no bounds, not even the risk of death.

Rae-a glanced at the line forming to the podium. Her gaze lingered briefly on a player who was looking directly back at her; Player 001, the old man sitting a few rows away. He had a peculiar look. He wore a serene expression, completely out of place among the panic swirling around them. It struck Rae-a as strange, unsettling even. She filed the observation away in her mind, as he looked away, and waited.

The room was tense, the atmosphere thick with desperation and mistrust. Gi-hun stepped forward, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.

"Wait a minute, everyone!" he shouted, his eyes scanning the frightened faces of the players. "You can't do this. Come to your senses! Don't you see? These aren't just any games. We will all die if we keep playing! We have to get out of here now. With a majority vote, we can! We must stop here!"

A man from the back, Player 333, yelled out in frustration. "Who do you think you are? Why do you keep egging people on like that? You scared us by saying they'd shoot us before the game even began!"

Rae-a, who had been observing silently, spoke up for the first time. Her voice was calm but firm. "None of us would be alive if it weren't for him, you fool."

Another voice chimed in agreement. "That's right!" A person named Jungbae said, nodding vigorously.

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd. One man shouted, "Let's all get out of here!" Others began to echo the sentiment. "Let's get out of here!"

But not everyone was convinced. "No! We have to keep playing!" Someone snapped, his voice rising above the chaos.

The shouting grew louder, players' voices overlapping in a cacophony of fear and uncertainty. Gi-hun raised his voice again, desperate to be heard. Rae-a closed her eyes, sighing quietly.

"I have played these games before!" he yelled.

 The room went silent, all eyes turning toward him.

"I have done this before! I knew about the first game because I had played it before! I played the games here three years ago! And everyone who was with me... died here!"

Gasps and whispers broke out among the players. Rae-a kept her eyes fixed on Gi-hun waiting for a semblence of deception within his words.

"They all died?" a woman asked, her voice trembling.

"All of them?" another man added.

"Really? No way," someone else muttered.

Player 230 stepped forward, narrowing his eyes at Gi-hun. "Hold on. If they all died, how did you survive alone? Wait, are you saying you were the sole winner?"

Gi-hun met his gaze and nodded solemnly. "That's right. I was the final winner."

The players erupted into murmurs, their voices filled with a mixture of disbelief and fear. Gi-hun pressed on, his tone grim. "If we continue the games, every single person here, just like all the people back then, will die in the end."

"That's bullshit," Player 100 interrupted, crossing his arms. "If you were the sole winner, it means you won 45.6 billion won. If you really did, why would you come back here?"

Another voice, a woman this time, chimed in angrily. "That's right! He's lying! Cut the crap!"

Rae-a's stomach twisted as she heard Gi-hun's confession. Her gaze locked onto him, and for the first time since arriving, she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the room's temperature. Three years ago... could it really be true? She didn't need to believe him to recognize the pain in his voice, the heaviness of his words. But if what he said was true, then why was he here again? Was it guilt, desperation, or something else entirely? 

The arguing reached a fever pitch, the room descending into chaos. Gi-hun tried to speak again, but his words were drowned out by the shouting. A masked guard stepped forward, raising his weapon. The sound of the gun cocking silenced the room instantly, the threat hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

Gi-hun froze, his breath catching in his throat. The other players exchanged uneasy glances, their fear palpable. The guard's faceless mask betrayed no emotion, but the message was clear: no more disruptions.

The silence lingered, heavy and oppressive, as the players hesitated to speak or move. Rae-a watched Gi-hun carefully, her mind racing. His words carried the weight of truth, and she found herself believing him.

When it was her turn, she approached the podium, her steps steady but purposeful, as the crowd mostly turned back to look at her, as most had already placed their votes. She reached out to press the button, then felt a pair of eyes on her. Turning her head slightly, she caught Player 001 watching her, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Rae-a's brows furrowed, but she didn't linger.

She pressed red and stationed herself on the red side, her gaze sharp and distant. The old man's smile didn't waver as he followed her with his eyes. A presence that she certainly did not miss.

When it was his turn, Rae-a found herself watching him. He moved slowly but confidently, his frail frame belying the calm determination in his movements. He pressed green without hesitation and turned, catching Rae-a's stare. Their eyes met. He tilted his head, as if silently inviting her to ask a question, but Rae-a held her tongue.

One thing was certain, the games would continue.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rae-a approached Gi-Hun with her usual calculated air, her hands tucked into her pockets as she stopped a short distance away. She observed him for a moment, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp.

"You're the one who won the games" she stated, her tone steady, almost clinical.

Gi-Hun looked at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "And who are you?"

She ignored the question, her eyes wandering off. "I've been trying to understand why someone would leave it all behind. The money. The power. It doesn't make sense to me."

Gi-Hun sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You wouldn't understand unless you were there."

Rae-a's gaze darkened, her voice firm. "You're right. I wasn't there. But I've seen what the games do to people. We've just seen the aftermath." She paused, her tone softening just slightly. "I chose Red because staying in the shadows of this system would mean letting it define me. I wanted the chance to dismantle it—or at least fight it—on my terms. They don't get to play God."

There was a lingering feeling of being trapped in the same type of world as the one she just escaped from. She was tired of letting people control the way she lived, and if she couldn't escape it, she would surely do her best to destroy it.

Gi-Hun studied her, a mix of skepticism and curiosity in his eyes. "And you think leaving the games will give you that chance, instead of staying?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't think. I know. Walking away from their control is the first step. Staying means becoming another cog in their machine, just like everyone else who thinks they're in power."

For a moment, the two stood in silence, the weight of her words settling in the air between them. Rae-a had no interest in convincing him—she'd said what needed to be said. But little did she know that it was exactly how Gi-hun saw it. And he now looked at her in a different light. A little standoffish but an ally.

"We should make an alliance," stated Gi-Hun, looking at her sincerely.

Rae-a smirked lightly, solidifying the request. "And I thought you would never offer."

They continued to talk to one another, one more than the other, with Rae-a understanding roughly what Gi-huns goals are, and being introduced to other members of this newly formed alliance. This included: Jungbae (an optimistic cheerful man) and Dae-ho (another optimistic cheerful man).

She found that despite her quieter nature, she got along with them pretty naturally. Though she couldn't shake the thought she should still keep a reasonable distance.

The decision to continue the game weighed heavily on the room. Conversations buzzed around the dormitory, but Rae-a remained seated near Gi-Hun and the others, yet a little further away, her sharp gaze sweeping across the players. 

Her attention flicked to Player 001, who moved with surprising ease for someone his age. He approached Player 456 who was sitting on the lower bunk nearby, muttering to himself. Rae-a's eyes narrowed as she watched the interaction unfold.

"You're quite the talker, aren't you?" In-ho said to Gi-hun, his voice carrying a warm yet oddly measured tone.

Gi-hun looked up, startled. "Oh, uh... sorry if I was too loud earlier. I didn't mean—"

In-ho waved a hand dismissively. "No need to apologize. I find people like you interesting. You have a way of bringing life into this place, even when it feels impossible."

Gi-hun blinked, caught off guard by the comment. "I don't know about that. I'm just trying to stay alive like everyone else."

Rae-a, who had been silently observing from her bunk, let out a soft scoff. " Announcing your thoughts for everyone to hear is the quickest way to paint a target on your back. Telling people you have been here before certainly was not smart."

Gi-hun turned toward her, whiplashed by her harsh phrasing, his brows furrowing. "I'm just being honest. And its what brought you to forming an alliance with me."

"Honesty won't save you here," Rae-a shot back, her tone cool and sharp, avoiding admitting to Gi-huns second statement. Her eyes flicked to In-ho, who watched her with a curious expression. "And you—why are you so calm about all of this? Everyone else is losing it, but you act like you're on a stroll through the park."

In-ho chuckled softly, unperturbed by her accusation. "I've lived a long life, young lady. Seen a lot of things. Fear doesn't serve much purpose anymore. I voted O because player 456 here made me believe we have a higher chance of winning."

"Convenient," Rae-a replied, her suspicion sharpening her voice.

Gi-hun glanced between them, sensing the tension and they both stared at one another. "Hey, come on. He's just an old man trying to get by, like the rest of us. Even if his reasoning isn't clear."

"Is he?" Rae-a challenged, her gaze locked on In-ho. "Something about you doesn't add up. People like you don't just wander into places like this without a reason."

In-ho's faint smile didn't waver, but his eyes carried a flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or recognition. "You're quite the observer, aren't you?"

"I've learned that trusting the wrong person can get you killed," Rae-a said bluntly. "And I'm not planning to die here."

In-ho nodded thoughtfully. "A wise mindset. But wisdom and paranoia can look awfully similar, don't you think?"

Rae-a clenched her jaw, her distrust growing with every word. She didn't like how easily he deflected her questions, how effortlessly he wore his mask of serenity. There was something off about him, and she wasn't going to let her guard down.

Gi-hun shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe we should all just focus on surviving, yeah? No point in fighting each other before the next game."

"Survival's exactly what I'm focused on," Rae-a muttered, her eyes lingering on In-ho for a moment longer before she turned away.

In-ho's gaze followed her as she moved, his smile fading into a thoughtful expression. "Interesting," he murmured, almost to himself.

"What is?" Gi-hun asked, his brow furrowing.

"Oh, nothing," In-ho replied with a chuckle. Just watching how people react under pressure. It tells you a lot about who they really are.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, the dormitory fell into a restless hush. The chaotic energy from earlier had burned out, leaving most players either lost in thought or fitfully trying to sleep. Young-il had weaved himself into their newly formed alliance and Rae-a was not happy about it. Rae-a had claimed a corner bunk, her body curled up defensively, her back pressed against the cold wall.

In-ho, known to everyone else as Player 001 or Young-il, sat on his own bunk a few rows away, watching her through half-lidded eyes. His frail posture and benign expression hid the sharp calculations running through his mind.

There was something off about her, something that didn't match the information he'd reviewed before the games started. Her precise, calculated movements, her unwillingness to indulge in meaningless conversation, and the way she had studied him earlier—all suggested a past that was far from one driven by desperation or mere luck. Yet, his instincts told him the opposite. There was a sense of raw desperation about her, but it wasn't for money.

He thought back to the report the guards had handed him before the games. Player 089: No formal records. No record of playing the Ddakji initiation game. Impossible to verify origin. Such anomalies were rare in his meticulously controlled system.

Rae-a shifted slightly in her sleep, her brows furrowed as if even her dreams couldn't offer her peace. In-ho's lips pressed into a thin line. That fire in her eyes during the first game—that wasn't the look of someone surprised by violence. She had seen bloodshed before, maybe even caused it. And yet, there was a hesitation in her. A line she seemed unwilling to cross unless absolutely necessary.

"Who are you, really?" he muttered under his breath, his voice too soft to be heard over the faint snores and murmurs of other players.

He leaned back against the wall, his mind turning over the possibilities. Was she here by accident? A late addition, perhaps, brought in by some oversight in their usually flawless selection process? Or was there something more deliberate at play?

The way she had helped Player 120 before the game stood out to him. It was a calculated move, but there was a flicker of something human in it—a rare glimmer of empathy in a place that rewarded self-preservation. And then there was the way she had looked up at the shooter after the first death: not in fear, but in anger.

In-ho closed his eyes briefly, the faintest smile ghosting his lips. Rae-a was different, that much was clear. Whether she posed a threat or an opportunity was a question he intended to answer.

For now, though, he would wait. He had learned long ago that time had a way of revealing people's true natures. And if Rae-a had any secrets, this game would strip them bare.

As the night wore on, Rae-a remained motionless in her corner, the quiet hum of the dormitory masking the silent scrutiny of Player 001.