WE’RE NOT FINISHED YET!

Captain John Price

Call of Duty Modern Warfare 3

CHAPTER 16 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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WARNING: 18+ content ahead. Read at your own risk.

——

The dress fit like a second skin.

The silky fabric hugged your frame, every seam meticulously designed to highlight the slopes and curves of your body. Black as the midnight sea, the gown shimmered subtly beneath the dim, golden lights, catching on the angles of your hips as you shifted. The slit along your leg teased just enough bare skin to stir something dangerous in the air.

You traced your fingertips along the smooth material, feeling the delicate weight of it drape over you like liquid shadow. It felt expensive and… powerful. Like something meant for a woman who could command an entire room with a single glance.

You swallowed hard. This was not the version of yourself you once knew.

The past and present clashed inside you as you stared at your reflection. This wasn’t the same woman who had stepped into the games, trembling at the unknown. She had died the moment she was betrayed, died at the hands of the very man who had set all of this into motion.

And yet, here you were. In his world again.

The door behind you clicked open. Even without turning around, you could feel the shift in the air — the slow, burning warmth that accompanied his presence, filling every inch of the room like an intoxicating mist. The faint scent of cedarwood and smoke curled around you, familiar and unmistakably his.

In-ho didn’t speak right away. Instead, silence stretched between you that weighed. You could feel his gaze roaming over you, mapping every curve the dress accentuated.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

His voice was lower than usual, rough with something dark and restrained. A slow shiver trickled down your spine. You turned just enough to meet his gaze, and the sight of him sent something sharp and molten through your chest.

His eyes told you everything.

The intensity there made your breath catch — the dark, smoldering, filled with a hunger that had been starved for too long. He looked at you like a man standing on the edge, barely holding himself back from the fall.

“Is it too much?” You asked, feigning innocence.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but there was no amusement in it. Only something ravenous. “Too much?” His voice was a whisper of smoke. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, closing the distance between you inch by inch. 

Then, his fingers reached out, knuckles ghosting over the bare skin of your shoulder before tracing down the length of your arm. His touch was featherlight, but it burned, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Then, he tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to look at him fully.

“You look—“ his voice caught for a fraction of a second, the muscles in his jaw tightening as his thumb brushed over your lower lip. His eyes darkened, something flickering beneath them. “Dangerous.”

And then, without another word, he kissed you. It was deep and desperate, like he had been waiting years for this moment, like he was drowning and you were the only thing keeping him afloat.

His hands found your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric as he pulled you against him. Your bodies fit together seamlessly, your curves molding against the hard planes of his form as his lips moved against yours with bruising intensity. His was deep and consuming — each movement demanding and desperate, like he was trying to carve himself into your very soul.

Your fingers found the lapels of his coat, gripping the fabric as his tongue brushed against yours, drawing a quiet moan from your lips. He drank it in, pulling you impossibly closer. Your back hit the cool surface of the vanity as he pressed you against it, his lips never leaving yours, his fingers skimming down your spine.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he deepened it further, his tongue parting your lips, tasting you, drinking in the soft, shuddering sigh that escaped you. His hands slid down your waist, gripping you possessively, as though he feared you would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

The heat of his touch burned through the silk of your dress, his fingers trailing over the fabric before slipping beneath the slit at your thigh, skin meeting skin. Your body reacted instantly, a sharp gasp caught between your lips as his fingertips traced higher, teasing you.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and edged with need. “Bend over for me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. 

You barely had the chance to respond before he pulled away and turned you around, his strength effortless as he bent you over to the closest surface — the sleek marble counter of the vanity. The cool stone bit into the warmth of your arms as he settled between them, his hands roaming, mapping, owning every inch of exposed skin.

He lifted your dress up, only to find that you’ve gone commando. You heard him let out a deep sigh. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

“Then don’t make me wait any longer.”

A dangerous smirk plastered across In-ho’s lips as he unbuckled his belt, hearing his pants come down as he positioned himself to your entrance, already wet. “As you wish.”

He thrusts into you deep, earning a whimper from you. His hands squeezed your butt cheeks, each thrust corresponding with the sound of slaps as he felt you in, much to your pleasure. He gripped on your waist like a handle, lifting his other leg on a chair as he thrusts into you more, your breasts pressing against the surface as you moved.

You aligned yourself to him, giving it back, which earned a groan from him, stopping his thrusts as he let you work on him. You turned your head to him from behind, seeing his head up in the air as his eyes closed, savoring each pleasure as you continued to ride him from behind, biting your lip as you felt his shaft reach your cervix, hitting the right spots.

The heat was unbearable. The feeling of him inside you, the scent, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours — it was dizzying. And in that moment, nothing else existed. No past. No games. Just him and you, too focused on the pleasure building within these walls.

In-ho’s fingers dragged down to your cheeks, his breath hitching as he continued to thrust. His eyes devoured the sight of you, dark and smoldering with hunger as he met yours. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above your shoulder. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, pressing a slow, reverent kiss along the slope of your shoulders. “Every inch of you… mine.”

He bit his lip once more as you moaned, hearing your satisfaction which made him thrust harder. His other moved to your shoulder, hammering you further as he groaned.

“You’re breathtaking,” his voice was filled with awe. “Every inch of you… so beautiful.”

He didn’t stop, much to your liking. You pulled him closer, your hands reaching for his waist taking it as a sign for him to go further. His breaths continued to hitch as he realized what you were doing, earning a moan from him.

“I need you,” he admitted, his voice raw, almost vulnerable. “More than anything. More than I should.”

“Then take me,” you whispered.

And he did.

“Fuck,” he groaned as his thrusts became harder and faster. “I’m cumming.”

“Please,” you whimpered. 

He thrusts one last time, his pace stopping as you felt him cum inside you. Your insides felt the warm juices he let out, much as your insides clenched as you reached your climax too. You let out one last moan before he pulled out, feeling your heart pound through your chest. 

The warmth of his body still lingered against yours, his breath slow and steady as he lay beside you, one arm lazily draped over your waist, as if afraid if you would slip away the moment he let go. 

After a few minutes, he began to move, sliding your dress down and fixing it. You stood up and straightened yourself, turning around and seeing him fix his pants, zipping it up as he buckled his belt once again. When he was done, his fingers traced mindlessly traced patterns along the curve of your hip, his touch featherlight yet possessive. You turned your head to meet his gaze, catching the way his dark eyes softened as he studied you. He looked almost… at peace. A rare sight for a man like him.

He held your hand as he led you out of the closet, stepping out of the bedroom as your eyes widened slightly. The living quarters were nothing like you remembered. The sterile, minimalist design had been completely transformed.

The living room now boasted deep leather furniture, dark marble accents, and walls lined with bookshelves filled with carefully selected literature. The kitchen had been expanded, outfitted with sleek, top-of-the-line appliances, and an elegant dining area stood just beyond it. There was even a glass bar stocked with premium whiskey and aged wines.

Your fingers trailed along the polished black marble countertop, taking in the sheer luxury of it all. This wasn’t just a place to stay — it was a place of power.

“I take it you like it?”

You turned to find In-ho standing behind you, fully dressed in his signature black attire, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“This wasn’t here before,” you said, your voice carrying a note of suspicion.

“That’s because it wasn’t. This is the overseer’s private residence,” his eyes glimmered with warmth. “Our private residence.”

You managed to make a small smile, though you couldn’t deny his words settled over you like a weight. Before you could say anything, In-ho motioned for you to follow him, leading you to the elevator down to the management area.

For hours, In-ho guided you through the intricacies of your new role, showing you each room of the organization. He taught you the protocols, the meticulous rules that governed the games, the chain of command, and the delicate balance of power that had to be maintained.

He walked you through security measures, how to control the masked men, how to issue commands with precision, and how to wield fear without the need to raise your voice. And most importantly, he taught you how to make the hard choices.

“The games are not just about entertainment,” he explained as you stood in front of a large screen displaying various surveillance feeds. “They are about control. Order. Equality. Without structure, the world falls into chaos.”

His voice was calm and methodical, but you could sense the weight behind his words — the years he had spent becoming what he was now. You listened carefully, absorbing everything, but deep down, you wondered if you would ever be able to see it the way he did.

After what felt like an eternity, In-ho finally motioned for you to follow him again. “There’s one last thing I need to show you.”

He led you down a long hallway, stopping in front of a set of heavy double doors. You held on to your mask, feeling the heat behind it. Without a word, he pushed them open, revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond.

At the center stood a tall figure, dressed in a sleek black uniform, a mask covering his face, the one you’ve seen before — the mask of the Frontman. The figure turned slightly at your approach, his stance relaxed yet authoritative. Then, he spoke, his voice carrying an eerie familiarity.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

You stiffened. Something about the way he said it, the tone, the cadence. Your breath hitched as he slowly lifted his hands, pulling the mask away. 

And there, standing before you, was someone you never expected to see again.

“Surprised?”

You couldn’t speak as your mind raced, trying to process what you were seeing, but no explanation made sense. 

How?

Why?

What the hell happened to him?

You turned to In-ho, searching for answers, but he simply watched you with quiet intensity, as if waiting for your reaction.

“I have to admit,” the frontman murmured, his voice almost taunting. “I never thought I’d see you here.”

“Gi-hun,” you started, stepping forward, but his expression darkened.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he cut in, his tone sharp enough to make you pause. “Not when you’ve made your choice.”

The weight of everything —  your past, the games, the choices you had made — came crashing down on you all at once. You had been ready to embrace your new role.

But now? You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

Your fingers twitched slightly at your sides, though whether it was from unease or the remnants of last night’s indulgence, you weren’t sure. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier.

Gi-hun stood before you, no longer the man you once knew. His hair was still the same, yet he had grown slightly, falling messily around his face. The tired desperation you last saw in his eyes had been replaced by something sharper, something calculated.

A man molded by survival. A man who had seen the truth and had chosen to become part of it.

Your throat was dry, but you forced yourself to speak. “How?”

Gi-hun’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but not quite a sneer. “You mean how I became the frontman?” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, as if amused by the irony of it all. “You already know the answer.”

Your gaze flickered to In-ho, who remained quiet, his expression unreadable. Gi-hun followed your glance and chuckled. “Of course, he hasn’t told you everything, has he?”

Gi-hun took another step closer, and this time, there was no mistaking the anger beneath his gaze. “Do you know what I realized after the rebellion?” His voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “That there is no ‘winning’ in the games. Not really.”

You swallowed.

“I tried,” he continued, his jaw tightening. “I tried to fight back, to take them down. But you don’t fight something like this without becoming a part of it. And when I had the choice…” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I took it.” He looked up at you then, truly looked at you, and there was something almost resigned in his gaze. “Just like you did.”

You clenched your fists. “I didn’t—“

“But you did,” he interrupted. “You let him find you. You let him bring you back here.”

Your stomach twisted again, but before you could say anything, In-ho finally spoke. “She didn’t come back to be questioned,” his voice was calm, but there was an undeniable edge to it. “She came back to take her place.”

Gi-hun scoffed. “Her place?” He turned back to you, tilting his head slightly. “So, tell me, is that what this is? Have you decided to become part of the machine too?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Gi-hun stepped even closer, his voice dropping. “Tell me, when they made their offer, did they promise you power? Control? A way to make sure the games run fairly?” His mouth twitched. “Or did he tell you it was the only way to survive?”

You clenched your jaw. “I don’t expect you to understand,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “Not yet.”

Gi-hun exhaled sharply through his nose, his smile humorless. “No,” he murmured. “I suppose I don’t.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with too many unspoken things. Then, just as you thought the conversation was over, Gi-hun leaned in slightly, his next words barely above a whisper. 

“When the time comes, and they ask you to prove your loyalty, what will you do?”

A chill ran down your spine. You knew exactly what he was asking.

And you didn’t have an answer. 

Not yet.

The silence between you and Gi-hun stretched long enough that the weight of it settled deep in your bones. He was waiting —  waiting for an answer you weren’t sure you could give.

You felt In-ho’s presence beside you, steady and unwavering. Yet there was something almost expectant in the way he stood, as if he was waiting to see what you would say,

Your fingers twitched at your sides, realizing that Gi-hun was right. The games had no winners — only survivors. And here you stood, standing in the space between the two men who had survived alongside you — one who had risen to control it, and the other who had surrendered himself to it.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you finally said, your voice even.

Gi-hun let out a soft breath, almost in disbelief. “I suppose you don’t,” his eyes then flickered over to In-ho. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t regret this.”

The threat in his voice was subtle, but it was there. In-ho shifted slightly, just enough of his shoulder to brush against yours — a silent reminder of where you stood. “Are you done?” He asked, his tone calm but firm.

Gi-hun held his gaze for a long moment before exhaling sharply. He stepped back, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the invisible tension. “For now.”

Then, without another word, he turned away, striding toward the door. You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until it closed behind him. The silence left in his wake was thick and suffocating.

You felt In-ho’s gaze on you before you turned to meet it. “You don’t have to let him get inside your head,” he murmured.

You felt a lump in your throat. “He’s not wrong though.”

In-ho’s jaw tightened, but he paused for a while. Instead, he reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours with quiet uncertainty. “You made your choice,” he said. “Now, you see it through.”

You weren’t sure if that was meant to reassure or warn you.

——

The following weeks were grueling yet fulfilling. 

In-ho wasted no time in thrusting you into the depths of the organization, stripping away any illusion that this was anything less than a meticulously crafted empire. You learned the structure, the power dynamics, and the unspoken rules that dictated every move behind the curtains. And more than anything, you learned how to become something else entirely.

In-ho didn’t go easy on you. If anything, he was harsher than you expected, demanding precision, discipline, and complete detachment. Yet he was like that during the day, but completely different when the training was over. You understood that he needed to do it.

Still, you played your part well. It became your nature — the way you stood, the way you spoke, the way you carried yourself. The mask you wore became seamless, indistinguishable from the person you once were. This was the life you accepted, the life they had given you. You were at the top — you just had to figure out how long you can survive it.

The new season of the game came by quickly. This time, it had a new set of rules, and new players. The games had changed, and so did the players. This time, it was less cruel, but enough to make a person inside the game to go crazy and desperate. All in the test of human greed and the true unraveling of human nature — just like how you saw it in the past game you were in.

Gi-hun stood before you, his face unreadable, the mask of the Frontman now absent but its presence still lingering in the air between you. He had taken In-ho’s old position, and in a cruel twist of fate, you had taken his place as someone trapped within the very system he had once tried to dismantle.

And then, there was In-ho — calm, composed, the ever-calculating overseer. His expression betrayed nothing, but you knew him well enough to recognize the quiet weight behind his silence.

“You’re late,” In-ho said evenly, stepping forward near In-ho with measured grace. “The new games are already being prepared.”

Gi-hun smirked. “I’m not here for the games.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. Then why was he here?

In-ho watched him carefully. “Then what do you want?”

Gi-hun exhaled slowly, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You know exactly what I want, In-ho.”

He turned his gaze to you and something flickered in his expression. Your grip on your own mask tightened. “You can’t expect me to believe you came all the way back here just to see me.”

Gi-hun’s smirk faltered slightly, but he didn’t deny it. Yet you wondered why was he invested in you, why you were his… target. You were gone for six months — what could you have possibly done? Was it because you chose to hide? Did you ruin the rebellion?

The three of you stood in a delicate balance, a triangle of power where no one truly had the upper hand. Gi-hun had the experience of a player — the raw survival instincts of someone who had clawed his way out of hell and returned stronger. While In-ho had the control, the authority, the understanding of the system. The calculated mind of a man who had long abandoned morality for necessity.

And you? You were the variable. The piece neither of them could fully control that made you the most dangerous of them all.

“Whatever your reason is, Gi-hun,” you said carefully, stepping closer. “It doesn’t change the fact that you put yourself back in their hands. You think they’ll let you walk out of this a second time?”

Gi-hun chuckled, much to your surprise as he shook his head. “You think I care?”

That caught you off guard, knowing he meant it. Gi-hun had nothing to lose and that made him a threat to both you and In-ho. The silence stretched between the three of you, a cold realization settling over the room. 

This wasn’t just about the games anymore. This was about control — none of you were willing to give it up.

You and In-ho stood in the control room, overseeing the first round unfold through a wall of monitors. The massive, sterile space was silent, except for the occasional flicker of radio chatter and the quiet hum of the surveillance equipment.  Below, the contestants — new players, all wide-eyed and trembling — were led into the first game. The tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate. You watched them shift nervously on their feet, eyes darting around the colossal playground. They didn’t know yet or understand.

Then, the crack of gunfire came. The first round of eliminations. Bodies collapsed like ragdolls, blood soaking into the sand. The screams echoed against the walls of the arena. You remained impassive, even as In-ho glanced at you from behind his mask. This was your first official trial as an Overseer. Would you flinch? Would you hesitate?

But you didn’t. You simply stepped forward, your gaze fixed on the screen. The moment of hesitation in your chest had passed. As the game continued, you excused yourself from the control room. In-ho let you go without a word, his trust in you silent but absolute. 

Your heels clicked against the pristine white floors as you made your way down the winding halls of the facility, your long cat flowing behind you. The organization had spared no expense in making sure the island remained impenetrable, a well-oiled machine that would continue to devour the desperate and the damned.

You tried to ignore the slight dizziness that washed over you as you walked, the strange wave of nausea that had crept up on you over the past few days. Brushing it off, you steadied yourself with a hand against the wall, forcing yourself to breathe evenly. It was nothing — just the stress and exhaustion. Nothing more. 

Eventually, your path led you to the lower levels — the organ harvesting room.

The air was thick with the stench of chemicals and decay. Metal tables were lined with bodies, each corpse stripped and gutted with surgical precision. The underground trade had continued, a secret that the organization pretended not to notice.

You stepped forward, weaving through the dimly lit space, and then you heard a sound. A wet, grotesque noise. A sickening squelch of movement.

Your stomach turned before your brain even fully processed what you were seeing.

A guard — one of the masked enforcers. He was hunched over a lifeless body, his gloved hands gripping at cold flesh, his breath ragged and frenzied. The corpse beneath him was unmoving, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. The guard didn’t even notice you at first, too lost in whatever twisted pleasure he was indulging in.

You felt the rage, pure seething rage coiled inside you, dark and boiling. The guard barely had time to turn his head before your pistol was drawn, the barrel pressed against the back of his skull. “Disgusting fuck,” you hissed.

He didn’t even have time to beg.

The gunshot rang out, deafening in the enclosed space. His body slumped forward, his own blood staining the lifeless flesh beneath him. You didn’t move for a long moment, your grip tight around the handle of your gun. Your heart was pounding — not out of feat or shock. Just out of unfiltered disgust.

Slowly, you exhaled and stepped back, holstering your weapon. The other guards in the room had frozen, staring at you in stunned silence. None of them dared to move.

“Dispose of this trash,” you ordered coldly, nodding toward the body of the disgraced guard. “And if I catch any of you doing the same…” You let the threat linger, your voice sharp as a blade. “You’ll wish I killed you this easily.”

The guards scrambled to obey, dragging the corpse away with frantic urgency. You lingered for a moment longer, staring down at the mess of bodies, the grotesque remnants of human lives reduced to nothing more than profit.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and left the room, but that nausea returned, a sharp tug in your gut. You barely made it to the nearest empty hallway before doubling over, your breaths shallow.

You swallowed hard. No, it couldn’t be. You refused to entertain the thought, the possibility. Not now. Not here.

But deep down, you already knew. You had felt it lingering in the back of your mind for days. You pressed a hand to your stomach, fingers trembling slightly. You were showing signs — signs you couldn’t ignore forever. But now, you pushed the thought away, straightened yourself, and walked back into the shadows.

——

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A/N: I'm debating on whether I'll end this series for only 20 chapters or extend it for more. 🤔 More ideas come into my mind whenever I finish writing so we'll see how this goes. 👀 Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged in the next chapter! ✨

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69 @plague-cure @theredvelvetbitch @cherryheairt @ggsrlla123 @alliyah-ll  (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)

i miss the person i was before squid game

thank you for feeding my delusions

⋆˙⟡ #SecretHusband

lee byung-hun x wife reader, social media!au

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Liked by wi_wi_wi and others

August 12, 2023

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fangirlforever 5h

YOU N WHO???

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is that a MAN???

kdramaaddict 3h

soft launch??? bestie drop the @.

hoooooyeony 6h • Liked by creator

🤍🤍🤍

yourusername

yourusername he takes me out in resto’s like these. who else is winning?

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August 20, 2023

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eunoiary 7h

who’s that soft giant..

lbhpix 6h

BYUNG-HUN LIKED??

leebyungiee 7h

i swear his hands look like lbh’s…🫠

from_jjlee 7h • Liked by creator

Enjoy!! 그것들은 정말 사랑스러워 보인다~~ (They look so lovely~~)

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August 28, 2023

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byunghun0712 12h • Liked by creator

love you more, 자기이. you take absolutely nice photos of me.

detectivekpop 11h

IMAGINE GETTING MARRIED TO THE LEE BYUNG-HUN

kdramaspoilerz 12h

GIRL MARRIED THE DAMN FRONTMAN FROM SQUID GAME??

iluvoldermen 6h

…im jealous.

boxabum 12h • Liked by creator

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love you both 💞

still salty on soap mactavish's death dont talk to me

CHAPTER 12 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

previous chapter | next chapter

——

“All players, it is bedtime now. Please return to your quarters immediately. Otherwise, you will be eliminated from the game.”

The fight was slipping through your fingers.

What had started as a strong rebellion was now being crushed under the sheer numbers of the guards. Players fell one by one, their weapons useless as they ran out of ammo. You could hear the panicked shouts, the desperate cries of those who realized they were on the losing side. You could hear more guards closing in, pressing their advantage with disciplined precision, their faceless masks showing no hesitation as they cut down players who resisted.

Your hands tightened around your gun, fingers slick with sweat and grime. You raised it, took aim at the nearest guard, only to hear a click.

Your stomach twisted as your breath came in short, ragged gasps as you glanced around, scanning for an escape. The crimson-soaked floors blurred with lifeless bodies, the scent of blood thick in the air.

“In-ho!” You called, frantic.

His gaze snapped to yours, only for you to realize how much of a mistake you just made. You immediately regretted it. He was Young-il to everyone else. The name lingered in the tense air, but he didn’t react, his expression remaining unreadable as chaos erupted around you.

Still, you shook your head and continued to speak. “This isn’t getting us anywhere! Let’s follow them to the upper level!”

“We might get surrounded if we move together without a plan!” In-ho said. “Let’s wait until they find the control room.”

You nodded. He throws an ammo your way as you grabbed on to it, reloading your gun as you continued to shoot the guards. 

“Everyone, check your magazines!” Hyun-ju yelled.

“I’m down to half,” Gyeong-seok called out. 

Most of the rebels only had little ammo left. You looked at In-ho, who seemed to be too composed. As if his mind was working ahead of everyone else’s, calculating and strategizing. His grip on his gun was steady, his stance unshaken. But his eyes— there was something in them. Something you couldn’t quite place. Something that made your chest tighten.

“Young-il, Dae-ho, Y/N, can you hear me?” You heard your radio crackle up to life. 

“Yeah!” You raised your voice enough for the radio to hear. “What’s the situation over there?”

“I think we’re right below the control room!” Jung-bae said. “But we need backup and more ammo.” 

“We’re running out of ammo too!” You replied.

“There should be spare magazines in the soldiers’ pockets in our quarters,” you heard Gi-hun’s voice over the radio. “Go get them!”

“Got it!” You beeped the radio down and placed it on your pocket. 

In-ho immediately snaps to the other rebels. “Did you hear that? They need backup!” He called out. “The four of us will go, and the rest will stay!” He looks at you and gives you a nod, then turns to the other rebels again. “Join us once you get the magazines! Y/N, come with me.”

You nodded and held his sleeve, almost tripping as you stepped forward while still crouching. Player 047 and 015 followed you and In-ho, the desperation etched onto their faces. You didn’t know their names, and you didn’t need to. Right now, survival was all that mattered.

You sprinted through the facility’s wreckage, ducking behind overturned tables and shattered crates, the pounding of boots growing louder behind you. Every corner turned felt like a death sentence as every hallway stretched longer than it should.

Then, up ahead, you saw Gi-hun and Jung-bae. Their faces were lined with exhaustion, but when they saw you, something flickered in their eyes. As if there was relief.

“Gi-hun!” In-ho called out. “Did you find the control room?”

“I think it’s right up there, but we can’t go this way,” Gi-hun said. “I want you to find another way.” 

“I did a quick scan of the layout here. I’m sure there’s a way to go around them.”

You almost let out a scoff, but you held it back. You were in no way of letting him know that you knew who he was. You needed an actual proof, something that would slap you to reality on what his role is in the games.

“I want you guys to keep their focus on you. We’ll hit them from behind.”

Gi-hun nodded. As In-ho was about to turn away, Gi-hun held his shoulder to stop him. “Wait!” He grabbed an extra ammo from his pocket and handed it to In-ho, who seemed to stare at the ammo in Gi-hun’s hand. “Here, take this. You’re going to need it.”

You stayed silent, watching the scene. You realized and saw the goodness of Gi-hun, who seemed to willingly give his ammo for In-ho. If he only knew who he was.

“Are you sure?” In-ho asked, his eyes flickering with almost an amusement.

Gi-hun nodded. “Dae-ho will be back with more.”

In-ho nodded back, grabbing the ammo from Gi-hun as he placed to his pocket. He then looked at you, giving you a nod as a signal for all of you to move. You gripped your useless weapon as if it could protect you. The four of you pressed on, winding through the hallways, each step pulling you closer to the control room.

The air was heavy, thick with sweat and tension. You could feel In-ho behind you, his presence grounding in a way that contradicted the madness around you. He had barely spoken since you fled the battlefield, his focus sharp and unwavering.

Then, you heard a bang.

Beside you, Player 047 let out a strangled gasp before crumpling to the ground. Then Player 015 stared at In-ho in horror, only for his fate to be the same.

Your heart stopped. You turned to In-ho, your pulse hammering, only to see Player 047’s and 015’s bodies sprawled on the cold floor. There, you saw In-ho, holding his gun.

For a moment, your breath caught in your throat. The world narrowed down to the sight of him standing there, his expression unreadable. The blood dripped from the fallen players to your feet, pooling beneath you, as their bodies twitched as the last remnants of their life drained away.

You stumbled back a step. “In-ho?”

His gaze met yours, dark and steady. Although something flickered across his face, something almost mournful, but it was gone before you could grasp it.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

You opened your mouth to demand an answer, but before the words could form, he moved, raised his gun, and aimed it at you. His hand was steady, but this time, he aimed at your shoulder.

Everything slowed.

You could see the tension in his fingers, the way they curled around the trigger, hesitating for just a breath. His lips parted, a whisper carried on the blood-tainted air.

“I’m sorry.”

Then, a shot rang out. The sting of pain shot through you as you stumbled back, collapsing against the floor. The white-hot agony seared through your shoulder as you staggered. Your vision blurred, a strangled cry slipping from your lips as your body screamed in protest.

The impact sent you sprawling onto your back, your limbs heavy, your breath shallow. The pain was excruciating enough. But the shock? Betrayal? That was way worse.

Your body felt heavy and sluggish, as your knees buckled beneath you. Through the haze, a voice crackled over the radio.

“Young-il, Y/N! What’s going on? Are you attacking?” Gi-hun asked over the radio, though his voice was urgent yet demanding.

In-ho kept his gaze on you, though his voice was steady and emotionless. He leaned his face near you. “Tell him you and I were shot.”

The darkness was beginning to swim at the edges of your vision. You wanted to say something, but you could only form the words, “Gi-hun, I’m sorry. It’s all over.”

“Y/N, what happened? Are you all right?” Gi-hun’s voice reeked of desperation.

You felt your breath tremble, to which In-ho managed to place the radio near you. Then, a guard approached the two of you, draping a dark coat over In-ho’s shoulders. You watched, dazed, as the guard handed him the black mask, lifting and and sliding it on, his transformation complete. The final piece of a puzzle you had been too blind to put together.

You could barely fight when the guards grabbed you, dragging you away. You heard In-ho order something to the guards, but you couldn’t hear it well. Your body was weak, but your mind was screaming. Not from pain but from realization.

In-ho was never just another player.

——

In-ho sat on his quarters, his mask discarded on the table beside him. The rebellion was over. The bodies had been cleared, the blood scrubbed from the floors, and order had been restored. But none of it settled in his chest the way it should have. His hands, now free of gloves, trembled slightly as he unbuttoned his coard. He clenched them into fists.

Then, his gaze flickered toward the bet.

You lay there, still, your face softened in sleep. Someone had already stitched up your wound— he made sure of it. He had made sure the bullet wouldn’t be fatal. But then again, that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

A mistake, yet a necessary one, he thought to himself. But was it?

He pulled up a chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched you, the rise and fall of your chest too steady for comfort. You should hate him. You should wake up and look at him like he was a monster, and perhaps he was. But he couldn’t walk away. Not yet. Not when he had already made the choices that led him here.

Minutes passed before your breathing shifted. A flicker of movement. Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused, before they locked onto him. 

“In-ho,” you breathed, his name like venom in your mouth.

He sighed, sitting back slightly. “You should be resting.”

You ignored him. “You shot me.”

His jaw tightened. “I had to.”

Silence hung between you, thick and suffocating. Your fingers curled into the sheets, gripping them as if they were the only thing anchoring you. The betrayal swirled in your eyes, but underneath it was something worse. You were piecing it together. The rebellion, the foresight, the calculated steps he had taken long before anyone else even had a chance to act.

You swallowed, your voice barely a whisper. “How long have you been here?”

He met your gaze, and for a moment, he looked almost human again, like the boy you used to know. “Since I won.”

Another silence. Your eyes flickered around the room, taking in the minimal furnishings — the mask on the table, the weapons mounted on the wall. Then, your gaze landed on it. Another black coat, folded neatly on a chair beside the bed.

“What’s that?” You asked.

In-ho followed your gaze. “A choice.”

Your stomach twisted. “A choice?”

He stood, stepping toward you with measured steps, but he didn’t touch you. He wouldn’t. Now now. “You can take it. Become a part of this. Survive.”

You scoffed. “You want me to be a part of this?”

A flicker of something— regret, pain, longing —passed through his features, but it was gone before you could grasp it. “I want you to live.”

You looked away, staring at the coat as if it burned your vision. “And if I say no?”

His silence was enough for an answer.

A bitter lump formed in your throat as you forced yourself to meet his eyes again. “Tell me, In-ho. How did you become this?”

He inhaled deeply as if steadying himself. “The games… They don’t end when you leave. The debt, the desperation, it follows you,” he turned away slightly, as if speaking the words to the empty room. “I thought winning would fix everything. I was wrong. They gave me a choice. Play again, or become something else.”

Your fists clenched. “And you chose this?”

“I chose to live,” he turned back to you, his eyes darker than before. “I had nothing outside to offer. I lost my job and wife. I’ve lost everything, Y/N.”

In that moment, as you stared at him, the weight of everything settled in. He had chosen survival over morality. And now, he was offering you the same path.

He leaned more, cupping your face, but you didn’t pull away. His lips brushed yours, hesitant yet desperate, an almost feverish need for something neither of you could name. It was surrender, it was a plea. And for a moment, you kissed him back, almost letting go, almost giving in.

You felt his hands all over your body, though he was careful on your left shoulder. He gripped your breasts, earning a slight moan from you. You could feel yourself throbbing down there, craving for his shaft as you felt his bulge against you. As he was about to pull down your shorts, you stopped him, placing a hand on his chest, shaking your head. “You pulled away from the kiss, looking at him in the eye. “I need time.”

He paused, his eyes softening as he searched yours before he nodded. He respected it.

He turned away and went to the bathroom, hearing the shower turn on. You were left in his room to think, tugging yourself in the warm blanket. You closed your eyes, taking the sleep in as you snuggled yourself to the sheets.

——

The room was eerily silent except for the rhythmic hum of the ventilation system. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows over the wall, making the space feel smaller and more suffocating. You lay stiffly on the bed, your wound still aching, but the pain wasn’t what kept you awake. 

It was In-ho.

He lay beside you, his breaths even, his expression serene in his sleep. You couldn’t but think that he was the same man who had shot and betrayed you. And yet, here he was, inches away, as if nothing had changed. As if your blood wasn’t on his hands.

Your eyes traced the contours of his face, familiar yet foreign. The In-ho you had known would never have done this. But this wasn’t the same In-ho anymore, was it?

A quiet sigh left your lips as you carefully pushed back the sheets, rising from the bed without a sound. He didn’t stir. He trusted you enough to sleep beside you, to let his guard down. It should have meant something, but all it did was remind you of how much had already been lost.

Your bare feet moved soundlessly across the cold floor as you slipped past him, stepping into the darkness beyond his quarters. The air felt heavier here, oppressive in a way you couldn’t quite describe. You wandered through the halls until you reached a door slightly ajar, the soft glow of monitors spilling out into the dim hallway.

His office.

Something in your gut twisted as you stepped inside. The room was meticulous, every detail organized, every document in its rightful place. The screens displayed live feeds from different areas of the facility, the mechanical nature of it all making your skin crawl.

And then, you saw them. The files. They were neatly stacked, labeled, and categorized.

Your breath hitched as your fingers hovered over them before pulling one free. The second your eyes landed on the name printed across the cover, your pulse skyrocketed.

It was your name.

You nearly dropped it in shock as your hands trembled. You flipped the file open, scanning the neatly typed reports inside. Every detail of your life was in here — your past, your choices, your weaknesses. The things no one should have knowns, even the things you had forgotten. It wasn’t just a dossier. It was a map of your existence, meticulously studied and dissected.

A hollow feeling settled in your chest, cold and sharp.

This was the last straw. You had to leave.

Now.

Your grip tightened on the folder as anger surged through you, your breathing uneven. The weight of the betrayal was suffocating, pressing against your ribs, clawing at your throat. The room spun slightly as the edges of your vision blurred with rage. 

With a sharp cry of frustration, you hurled the glass of water off the desk, watching as it shattered against the floor. The crash echoed through the room, its shards scattering in all directions, the water pooling at your feet.

Then, a sharp inhale came from behind you.

You turned slowly as your heart pounded while In-ho stood in the doorway. His hair was slightly disheveled, his eyes heavy with sleep—but the second he took in the scene before him, the exhaustion was gone. His gaze flickered between the scattered documents, the broken glass at your feet, and the fury on your face so evident.

He exhaled, his voice low, almost regretful. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Your fingers curled into fists. “And what else was I not supposed to see, In-ho? How much of my life did you put under a microscope? How long have you been watching me?”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t deny it. “It wasn’t like that. I needed to—“

“You needed to what? Control me? Keep me under your thumb?” Your voice cracked with emotion, but you refused to let it show as weakness.

In-ho took a slow step forward. “I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N.”

“Then why did you?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but the accusation behind it was deafening.

A long silence stretched between you both. His eyes darkened, filled with something unreadable— remorse, maybe, or something heavier. “I did what I had to do.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Of course you did. That’s what you keep telling yourself, right? That this is all justifiable?”

His lips parted as if he wanted to say more, but no words came. And for the first time, you saw it —  the regret buried beneath the cold exterior, the man you once knew, struggling beneath the weight of his own sins.

But it wasn’t enough. Nothing could be enough.

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay composed. “I need to get out of here. I need time to think. Away from all of this,” then you looked at him sternly. “Away from you.”

His expression flickered, his hands clenching at his sides. “And where exactly do you think you’ll go?”

“Seoul. Just for a few days,” you swallowed. “Give me three days, In-ho. Three days to clear my head. Then, I’ll decide if I ever want to see you again.”

For a moment, you thought he would refuse. His entire posture screamed resistance, his jaw tightening as he weighed the idea. But then, after a long pause, he sighed.

“Three days,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then you come back. Or else.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t know if you would.

As you turned away, the weight of his gaze followed you, heavy and desperate, but he said nothing more. And neither did you.

The silence between you was louder than any words could ever be.

——

The next morning was quiet. Too quiet.

You sat across from In-ho at the small dining table, the scent of warm food filling the air. The golden brown pancakes sat neatly on the plate beside crisp bacon, a simple yet familiar meal. Your stomach clenched as you realized this was his favorite.

A quiet, bitter smile tugged at your lips. “Bacon and pancakes. You always liked them, didn’t you?”

In-ho glanced up, seemingly surprised with the conversation. “I remember us making them once. Back then.”

The nostalgia weighed heavy in silence between you. In-ho motioned to place a piece of pancake on your plate, but you swatted his hand away, much to his surprise. You scoffed at him. “It’s enough that you prepared a nice meal. You don’t need to be nice,” you muttered idly.

You definitely struck a nerve, noticing his jaw clenched. Instead, he sat down and said nothing, staring at you intently as you spread out the butter and syrup on to your pancake. After what seemed forever, he was done eating. Then, he slid a box across the table and left, proceeding to go to his room.

You opened it and found your belongings— the things you had before you entered the games. A cruel reminder of the life you’d nearly lost.

After you were done, you proceeded to wash the dishes. For a moment, it felt like you had your life back, as if you were living a normal one. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you felt a ting of happiness knowing you’re with In-ho in one space, yet the betrayal crawled to you like venom, still feeling pain from when he shot you.

You heard the door open and saw In-ho walking towards the kitchen, his expression unreadable though his head tilted when he saw what you were doing. He sighed. “You should’ve just left them at the table. The guards will take care of them.”

“You let the guards wash your dishes?” You chuckled bitterly. “Pathetic.”

You patted your hands down to dry them and proceeded to walk past In-ho, only for him to grab your shoulder— the one he didn’t shoot. His grip on you tightened but you didn’t let him show it hurt a bit. You only let out a bitter laugh. “What, isn’t one shoulder enough for you?”

You felt In-ho’s body stiffen, then he let go of his grip. He looked at you and took a deep breath. “Get ready in ten minutes. The limo’s waiting.”

You rolled your eyes and walked towards the room. You proceeded to go to the bathroom, letting your thoughts drain in the shower as the warm water embraced your body, finding comfort and somewhat relaxation in a place like this. When you were done, you proceeded to grab your clothes, sighing in relief as you looked at yourself in the mirror, feeling your life getting back to normal piece by piece.

The drive to Seoul was cloaked in silence. Inside the limousine, the air was thick and heavy with unspoken words. In-ho sat across from you, the smooth leather seat beneath you offering little comfort against the turbulence within. The city lights flickered through the tinted windows, painting fleeting shadows over this face.

“Three days,” In-ho said, his voice measured and controlled. As if he was saying it out loud cemented the fact that he was letting you go, even if it was temporary.

Now, in the quiet of the moving car, his presence loomed, filling the space even without words. The scent of him— clean and crisp with a faint trace of cologne — lingered in the air, a cruel reminder of the closeness you once cherished. His posture was composed, one arm resting on the divider, fingers drumming absentmindedly. But his eyes, dark and piercing, were trained on the passing streets, lost in thought.

Or maybe lost in you.

Your hands curled into your lap. The cityscape outside blurred, and for the first time in a while, you felt the weight of freedom pressing against your chest.

Freedom. If it could even be called that.

The limousine slowed to a stop in front of your apartment. You hesitated, fingers grazing the handle, but before you could move, his voice cut through the silence.

“Three days,” In-ho repeated, softer this time. You turned to him, meeting his gaze. It wasn’t a demand but a quiet plea buried beneath his usual coldness.

You gave him a small nod, glancing at his lips, resisting the urge to place yours. You averted your gaze when he seemed to notice. Then, without looking back, you stepped out into the cold air. 

The limousine lingered behind you as you walked toward your apartment. Even without seeing him, you could feel his eyes on you. But by the time you reached the door and turned around, the car was already gone.

It was only when you stepped inside your apartment, exhaling the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, that you felt something crinkle in your coat pocket. Frowning, you reached inside and pulled out a card.

An address.

It wasn’t his handwriting, but you knew who had left it.

Something in you whispered that you shouldn’t go. That you should ignore it, shut your door, and pretend it didn’t exist. But before you could talk yourself out of it, your feet were already moving.

The taxi ride felt long, anticipation and unease twisting together in your chest. But the moment you arrived, standing at the threshold of the dimly lit apartment, the truth settled deep into your bones.

Why did he have to bring you into this place?

You entered the place, finding the unit number placed on the card. To your surprise, it was already unlocked, as if the place was expecting you. You turned the doorknob and revealed a small studio apartment, enough for only one person to live in it. The bed was already there and a desk.

You stepped inside hesitantly, taking in the stillness, the carefully arranged furniture, the faint scent of familiarity that clung to the air. You checked the desk and saw an old fish— already dead, floating on the water. Books were lined and arranged properly.

Then, your eyes caught a familiar black box wrapped in a pink bow.

The same box where the dead players were placed after they were killed.

This was In-ho’s place.

The one he had after winning the games.

It was strange. For a man who had spent so much time trying to sever himself from the past, he had still left a door open. And now, you had walked through it.

Before you could fully process it, a voice came from behind you, soft but laced with shock. Your blood ran cold, your heart pounding as you heard him.

“Noona?”

——

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A/N: Okay, so it's around 5am in where I live and I need to sleep. I wanted to update two chapters today to make up for the lost times I had to update, aside from the fact that I wrote a pretty long one. 😭 Anyway, feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged in the next chapter! ✨

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STOP YOU'RE MAKING ME CRY

This very moment is when Soap is rushed with every emotion he ever experienced during his end days in the 22nd Regiment, after believing he lost everyone he cherished.

SCREAMING

‼️ NEW OFFICIAL PHOTOS OF SQUID GAME SEASON 3 ‼️

PREMIERING 27 JUNE

the poster