Hi! Idk If U Do Other Than Squid Game Or Lee Byun Hun But Could U Please Do Study Group Yoon Gamin X

petals of white, cover fields flowing in grieving tears.

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

>> MASTERLIST

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——

“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! ✨

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

feel like i want to play MGS once again

CHAPTER 14 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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——

He had seen it coming. Hell, he was in charge of everything.

That final game. The one that had changed everything. The one that had you in it.

The air had been suffocating inside the control room, thick with the metallic scent of blood, with the weight of choices that had been made long before the game had even begun.

In-ho remembered how you looked on the TV from the last season of the games, your body barely keeping itself upright during the Red Light, Green Light game. Your eyes were sharper than ever, burning and filled with something that he had never quite seen before.

The way you had looked at him in the limousine at that moment haunted him still. 

And then, despite the rebellion, there had been a winner. Deserving, as In-ho thought. 

But the man who had risen from the bloodshed, broken, and victorious should have left. But he didn’t.

Instead, a new role had been placed upon him. Not by choice, but by design.

In-ho had watched as the mask was placed over his face, the weight of it settling onto his shoulders like a sentence, as if an inevitability. He had worn that mask once. 

But not anymore.

Not after he had been called into that silent, suffocating room where the men in gilded masks sat in the shadows, waiting for him. 

The Overseer. A title heavier than the one before it.

A role he hadn’t asked for — one that had been forced upon him the same way he had forced the mask onto the new Front Man. The games had changed, and so had its players. 

A knock echoed through the dimly lit room. In-ho turned, his gloved hands resting idly behind his back as the door opened. The knocker’s footsteps were slow and deliberate. Then, a silence came in.

A presence stood across from him, face obscured beneath the black mask that had once belonged to him. For a moment, neither spoke. Then, in the quiet, In-ho exhaled.

“How does it feel?” In-ho asked, his voice smooth but unreadable.

The figure didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was different than before — colder, stripped of anything human.

“It doesn’t matter how it feels.”

In-ho allowed himself the faintest ghost of a smirk beneath his own mask. “Good.”

Then, without another word, he turned away. 

The city hadn’t changed. The streets pulsed with life as if the world had never stopped turning, as if nothing had fractured beneath its surface. The skyline still burned with city lights stretching beyond the horizon. People walked from one place to another, drowning in their own worlds, oblivious to the monsters that lurked beneath their feet.

But for In-ho, the world had never felt more empty.

Six months had passed since that night — since he found the blood on his counter and the microchip abandoned beside it. Six months since you had vanished without a trace, disappearing into the shadows as if you had never existed. 

It had been six months since he had lost you. And yet, he refused to let go.

He searched everywhere. Every street, every darkened alley, every lead that turned to dust beneath his fingertips. But no matter how far he looked, how many resources he pulled from the depths of his influence, you were nowhere to be found. He scoured the underground, digging into places so deep that even the organization had turned wary of his movements. The weight of the mask no longer felt heavy on his face, but without you, it no longer felt like it belonged.

The realization had settled in his bones like a sickness — an aching, gnawing thing that refused to let go. And yet, he couldn’t stop.

Every week, without fail, he visited your apartment. It was muscle memory now, the way his hand would rest against the doorframe, the way his breath would still in his chest as he listened for any sign of movement beyond the door. But there was nothing.

Always nothing.

There was no warmth inside. No trace of your presence.

You left your key there, but he never once thought of taking it. He never stepped inside, not even once. Because if he did — if he walked into that empty space and saw the dust gathering on surfaces you should have touched, saw the absence of you woven into the very walls — he wasn’t sure if he could keep moving forward.

So instead, he stood there. Every end of the week, in the dead of night, standing like a ghost outside a home that no longer belonged to anyone.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Knowing, deep down, that you weren’t coming back.

——

The news reached him in whispers. 

In-ho went back to his other apartment, the one that no one ever knew — only him. The apartment he went home to after every season of the games. However this time, he was searching for you again, locked in on every file. For the first time in months, something inside In-ho shifted.

A body had been found at an abandoned dockyard. A clean execution — one bullet to the head. No struggle, no trace left behind except the corpse of the man who had once been responsible for finding desperate souls for the games. 

The organization had been careful. This was no ordinary attack. Whoever had done this had known exactly what they were doing. It wasn’t just a loss of a valuable asset to the operation. It wasn’t just the unsettling fact that someone had gotten close enough to take him out without raising any alarms.

You were still out there. And now, you weren’t just running. You were fighting back.

A slow exhale left his lips as he set the report down. His fingers tightened slightly around the edges of the paper, though his face remained unreadable.

The world had indeed changed in the past six months.

In-ho’s feet moved before his mind worked, entering his car as his fingers curled around the steering wheel, knuckles white from the pressure. The rain drummed softly against the window of his car as he drove towards your apartment. There, he parked outside. Although he had no reason to be there, but he couldn’t help himself.

Another week. Another night. Another moment was spent staring at the door that would never open.

The rain blurred the city beyond the windshield, distorting the world in streaks of color. And for a moment, he let himself remember your voice, your smile. The warmth of your presence beside him.

But then, as his gaze drifted toward your apartment building, something gnawed at the edges of his mind. A feeling — one he had long learned not to ignore. The environment carried a charge, something almost electric, almost alive. It wasn’t obvious at first, not to someone who wasn’t looking for it.

Something was wrong.

Without thinking, he stepped out of the car, the cold rain soaking through his coat almost instantly. His heart pounded as he took the stairs two at a time, reaching your door before he could convince himself otherwise.

Then, he froze. The door was slightly ajar. His pulse quickened, a sharp contrast to his otherwise calm exterior. His breath caught in his throat. Slowly, he pushed the door open, the hinges creaking in protest. And then, his stomach dropped.

The apartment was empty. Not just in the way it always had been — but stripped bare, as if someone had come and erased every last trace of you from existence. The bed was untouched. The air smelled stale. His eyes scanned the space, taking in every detail. Although the furniture was the same, something about its arrangement felt off. As if someone had touched it, moved it, sat on it.

His gaze trailed along the room until it landed on the small table near the window. And then, he saw it.

Your letter.

The envelope was simple. There were no markings, no embellishments. Just his name scrawled in familiar handwriting.

Your handwriting.

His fingers tightened around the edges as he picked it up, his throat constricting. He exhaled, steadying himself before he slipped a gloved finger beneath the seal, carefully unfolding the paper within. 

Your scent still lingered on it.

His eyes moved over the words, absorbing them, dissecting every sentence, every choice of phrasing, every hidden meaning between the lines.

I wonder how long it took you to realize I was close. Or if you came here just to mourn the ghost of me, the one you left behind. I wonder if you’ve spent your nights lying awake, picturing my face in the crowd, searching for a glimpse of me in every shadow.

But I already know the answer, don’t I?

You’ve been looking for me. I know, because I’ve been watching you, too.

Do you understand what you did to me, In-ho? It wasn’t just the bullet — it was the choice. It was the cold look in your eyes, the way you pulled the trigger as if my life was nothing more than a means to an end. I wasn’t just another player in your game. I wasn’t someone you could sacrifice for the sake of your throne.

You betrayed me.

And yet, I still think about you. That’s the cruelest part of all. 

Even after everything, I still remember the way you used to look at me. I still remember your hands, the warmth of your touch before you became someone I could no longer reach. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for every moment I miss you.

But I won’t let that stop me from what I have to do. The recruiters are still out there, hunting for the desperate and the broken. And I see them. I watch them from the shadows. I’ve followed them down the streets, through the alleys, watching as they hand out those cursed cards. And every time I find one, I promise myself I will end them.

I wonder, In-ho… will you stop me? Will you try?

Or will you let me disappear into the abyss you threw me into?

You know where to find me. If you’re willing to look hard enough.

By the time In-ho finished reading, his hands had curled so tightly around the letter that the edges crumpled beneath his fingers. A slow exhale left his lips, his shoulders stiff, his mind a storm of emotions too tangled to unravel.

You were near. You knew he was looking for you. And now, you had given him a choice: let you vanish into the darkness or chase after you.

The corner of his lips twitched, a ghost of something almost like amusement, but there was no warmth in it.

You wanted a challenge? You would get one.

Because no matter how far you ran, no matter how well you hid, In-ho wasn’t going to stop. He had already lost you once.

And he wasn’t going to lose you again. 

——

The alley was silent. The kind of silence that only came after death.

Even in the middle of Seoul, where the streets never truly slept, there were places like this — forgotten corners between looming buildings, spaces where the city’s neon glow didn’t quite reach. Places where death could slip by unnoticed.

The recruiter’s body slumped against the cold brick wall, his final breath long stolen from his lungs. Blood seeped into the cracks of the pavement, dark and glistening under the faint streetlight overhead. The warmth of it clung to your hands, soaked into the creases of your knuckles, staining your sleeves.

The knife was still in your grip, trembling slightly as the adrenaline burned through you.

Another one down. Another recruiter gone.

Your pulse pounded, loud in your ears, drowning out the distant sounds of the city. This was what you had become. You had made your choice the night you left. 

You promised yourself that if you couldn’t stop the games, you would stop those who fed it. And yet, as you stood there, staring at the life you had just taken, a part of you wondered if this was really justice.

Or if it was revenge. 

Your breath came uneven as you wiped the blade clean against the recruiter’s coat before slipping it back into your pocket. The blood on your hands had already begun to dry, leaving a tacky feeling against your skin. The weight of it pressed against your chest.

You had to move.

With one last glance at the lifeless body, you turned, slipping into the shadows, disappearing before anyone could find you.

You had never been much of a smoker before, but now, it was a habit you had picked up in the quiet moments between the killings, in the stolen hours of the night when the world slowed just enough for your thoughts to catch up.

The flame flickered as you brought it to the tip, the ember glowing faintly before you took a slow drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs. It burned, just for a second, before settling into something familiar, something grounding. Your mind wandered before you could stop it.

In-ho.

The man who had once been your everything before he became the one thing you could never forgive.

Six months since you had disappeared into the cracks of the city. Since you had left behind the world that had nearly swallowed you whole. Since you had walked away from him.

And yet, he hadn’t walked away from you.

You’ve seen him. Every week. Every damn week, without fail.

Standing just across the street from your apartment building, half-hidden in the shadows, his hands in the pockets of his coat, his gaze lingering on the shadows as if you could step out onto the balcony. He would stand there for hours, unmoving, just watching. 

And then, just before the sky began to lighten before the world stirred awake, he would disappear like a ghost. Like a man who didn’t know how to let go.

You had never let him see you, never once stepped out of the safety of your hiding place. But you had thought about it.

God, you had thought about it.

There were nights when you had stood by the window, fingers curled around the curtain, watching him through the sliver of space between the fabric. Careful enough not to make any movement around your apartment, for him to think that you never came back there. Nights when you had imagined walking down those steps, crossing that street, standing in front of him, and asking him why.

Why he had done this. 

Why he had betrayed you.

Why he still looked at you like you were something worth waiting for.

And worse, there were nights when you had almost considered it. 

Almost considered going back.

Almost considered accepting his offer.

Because for all the blood on his hands, for all the lives he had stolen, there had been a time where he had been yours. And a part of you, no matter how much you hated it, still wanted to believe that be again. 

But then, the memories would come back. The pain. The betrayal. 

The weight of his gun against your body, the sharp crack of the bullet tearing through you. The way he had looked at you afterward. Not with regret, not with hesitation, but with cold, calculated detachment. Like you had never meant anything at all.

You exhaled, watching the tendrils of smoke curl toward the ceiling before vanishing into nothing. As you stood there in the dim light of the convenience store, with the taste of nicotine on your tongue and the weight of another life on your conscience, you couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how far you ran, no matter how many recruiters you took down, he would always find a way back to you.

The gas station flickered ahead, neon signs buzzing faintly against the dark sky. It sat on the edge of the city, just far enough from the main streets that it felt detached from the world. A temporary sanctuary.

You pushed open the door to the restroom, locking it behind you. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, casting a sickly glow over the cracked mirror. And then, for the first time in hours, you saw yourself, barely recognizing what you had become.

Your reflection stared back at you, hollow-eyed and exhausted. Slowly, you turned on the faucet, watching as the water sputtered out, filling the sink.

Your fingers shook as you scrubbed. The blood smeared at first, painting your skin deeper shades of red before finally fading down the drain. But even as your hands became clean, the weight in your chest did not lift.

You gripped the edges of the sink, head lowering, and your breath shaky. You had been killing them one by one. 

You exhaled sharply, blinking back the exhaustion threatening to consume you. There was no time to dwell on it. Not now.

Pulling your coat tighter around yourself, you pushed open the restroom door and stepped into the dimly lit convenience store. 

The bell above the convenience store door chimed as you stepped inside, the harsh fluorescent lights making you squint after spending too much time lurking in the shadows. The scent of cheap instant ramen and cleeaning detergent filled the air, clashing with the lingering smoke of your cigarette, which you quickly stubbed out against the trash bin by the entrance.

You barely spared a glance at the other customers. Just another late-night stop for the city’s restleses — people either coming from work or trying to escape something. The latter fit you right in.

But then, you saw her.

Jun-hee.

Your breath hitched.

She was standing in front of the fridge, reaching for a bottle of water, completely unaware of your presence. For a moment, your mind refused to believe it was real. But she was here, standing right in front of you when, by all accounts, she should have been dead.

Just like you.

Her hair was longer than you remembered, tied back in a loose ponytail, and she wore a thick coat that did little to hide the exhaustion in her posture. But it wasn’t her disheveled appearance that caught your attention.

It was the baby in her arms. Small, bundled up in soft, pale yellow fabric.

Yours and Jun-hee’s eyes met in the reflection of the fridge door. She froze, the bottle slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud.

“No…” Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with disbelief. “You… You’re dead.”

The words sent a chill down your spine. You could have laughed if the moment wasn’t so suffocating. You had to get out.

You schooled your features, masking the sudden rise of panic clawing at your ribs. “I’m sorry, you must have the wrong person.”

Her eyes widened, a million emotions flashing through them. “No, no. It’s you. It’s really you. How—?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you cut her off, voice steady but firm. You turned sharply on your heel and strode toward the door, the familiar itch of danger creeping up your spine. 

You shoved the door open and stepped back into the cold air, swallowing down the panic rising in your throat. Your fingers twitched at your sides, muscles tensing as you forced yourself to keep walking, to not turn back, to not run.

Jun-hee won.

She was the winner of the last game. The realization settled like a heavy strone in your gut. She had survived. She had gone through the same nightmare, played the same deadly games, watched people die, and somehow, she had come out alive.

And she had a baby now.

Your mind ran circles around the thought, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. She had seen you. That was all that mattered. You needed to disappear again and let the city swallow you whole, let the neon lights blur in your peripheral vision, let the sounds of traffic and distant voices drown out your thoughts.

By the time you realized where you were, you were standing in front of a bar. It was dimly lit, old, with a neon sign flickering above the entrance, half the letters burnt out. It was the perfect place to sink into oblivion. 

The door creaked as you pushed it open, the scent of liquor, sweat, and stale cigarette smoke hit you instantly, familiar and suffocating all at once. A few patrons lingered at the tables, hunched over drinks, lost in their own troubles. The bartender barely spared you a glance as you slid into a seat at the counter.

Your hands were still shaking, realizing that Jun-hee had seen you. 

You drank the night away, the coldness of the liquor etching your throat as it burned, but you didn’t care. You needed to be wasted.

——

A/N: So far, I've been liking the thought of In-ho and Y/N writing letters for each other 🤭 What did you think of Jun-hee becoming the winner of the games? Do you have any theories in mind for the next season of Squid Game? Let's discuss about it! Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

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SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK™

Hold on Imma let you finish, but John “Soap” MacTavish is the most handsome video protagonist of all time

frank woods requested by anonymous

▪legend ▪

This belongs to you, sir.

白虎

CHAPTER 17 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

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——

You walked with purpose back to the control room, your steps echoing in the sterile hallways. The adrenaline hadn’t left your system yet. The sickening scene still burned in your memory — the way that guard had defiled a corpse, how he didn’t even have the time to beg before you put a bullet through his skull. You dismissed everyone, seeing it was dinner time for the players.

But your mind wasn’t on him anymore. It was on the larger truth — the rot that had festered in this system long before you arrived. 

You returned to the suite where In-ho was already waiting, his mask removed as he sat on the edge of the bed, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked up the moment you walked in, concern flashing his dark eyes.

“What happened?” His voice was quiet but firm.

You hesitated only for a moment before stepping closer. “In the organ harvesting room,” you started, voice level, though the memory of what you saw still made your stomach coil. “One of the guards was defiling a corpse.”

In-ho stiffened, his jaw tightening. “What?”

“I killed him,” you met his gaze without flinching. “I didn’t hesitate.”

His expression darkened, his hand clenching into a fist against his thigh. “The organ trade itself is something I’ve had to tolerate,” he admitted, exhaling sharply through his nose. “It keeps some of the higher-ups pleased, funds the games even further. But this,” his fingers ran through his hair, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him. “This is unacceptable. It’s… disgusting.”

You nodded, stepping closer, placing a hand gently over his clenched fist. He looked at you, his expression softer, but filled with something deeper — an unspoken anger, a silent promise that he would handle it. His free hand reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering against your cheek. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice quiet now, laced with something tender now.

You hesitated. Your body had been feeling different lately — tired, restless, an occasional nausea curling in your stomach. The signs were there, but you weren’t ready to say them out loud. You weren’t ready to confirm what you already feared.

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a small smile.

His eyes lingered on yours, as if he could see past the mask you wore. But then, just as quickly, his thoughts drifted elsewhere. His grip on your hand tightened. “I need to make an example out of them,” he muttered, his mind already turning toward the next steps. “The guards think they can do whatever they want. That ends now.”

You watched him, the way his mind worked, the way he was already planning the next move to keep everything under control. For a moment, you thought about telling him the truth. About the possibility growing inside you, the uncertainty that gnawed at you.

But instead, you just leaned into his touch, letting the warmth of his palm against your cheek ground you in the present. “You’ll handle it,” you murmured.

His gaze flickered to yours, something soft breaking through his usual hard exterior. “Of course,” he whispered, his thumb tracing lightly along your jawline before he pulled you into a slow, lingering kiss — one that tasted of quiet promises and unspoken truths.

——

Sleep came to you in fragments, restless and fleeting. The weight of the day sat heavy in your bones, but exhaustion was no match for the thoughts clawing at the edges of your mind. Somewhere beside you, In-ho’s steady breathing filled the quiet room, his presence a familiar warmth. He slept deeply, unaware of the turmoil unfurling beside you.

Then, a sharp wave of nausea twisted in your stomach, dragging you from the fragile grasp of sleep. Your eyes snapped open. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the moon filtering through the heavy curtains. You swallowed hard, willing the discomfort to pass, but it only worsened. The sickening churn in your gut grew unbearable, forcing you to move. 

Carefully, you peeled back the silk sheets, mindful not to wake In-ho. Every small shift of the mattress felt like a risk, but he didn’t stir. His face was soft in the dim light, his mask stripped away in the safety of sleep. For a fleeting moment, you lingered, watching him who looked so peaceful and unguarded.

Then, another wave of nausea struck, violent and unrelenting. You pushed yourself off the bed, your bare feet barely making a sound against the cool floor as you rushed toward the bathroom. The moment you stepped inside, you slammed the door shut with the softest click possible, locking it before stumbling towards the sink.

The nausea tore through you mercilessly. You barely had time to turn the faucet on, letting the rush of water mask the sound as you collapsed in front of the toilet, retching violently. The bitter taste of bile burned your throat, your entire body shuddering as you gripped the porcelain edges for stability.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to breathe through the dizziness. Your heart was racing, hammering against your ribs like it knew the truth before your mind was ready to accept it. 

This had been happening for days. The fatigue, the strange unease in your stomach, the shifts in your appetite.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your trembling hand, staring blankly at the water swirling down the sink drain. You wanted to deny it, but the thought had already taken root, curling around your mind like a vice. It explained too much.

Your fingers fumbled to turn off the faucet, your breathing unsteady. For a moment, you just stood there, gripping the counter with white-knuckled hands, trying to center yourself. 

Then, you left the bathroom. Your steps were slow and calculated as you pushed open the door and stepped back into the bedroom. In-ho hadn’t moved. He lay still in the moonlight, his dark hair tousled, his chest rising and falling in an even rhythm.

You hesitated, watching him.

You weren’t ready to tell him. Not yet, anyway.

Quietly, you slipped out of the room, the soft hum of the facility filling your ears as you padded through the halls. The guards stationed outside immediately straightened at the sight of you. Their red masks reflected the dim hallway lights, their bodies rigid with attention.

You exhaled, trying to steady yourself. “I need you to do something for me.”

The two guards exchanged a glance before one of them nodded. “Anything, Overseer.”

You swallowed, forcing your voice to remain firm. “Get me a pregnancy test,” you paused for a moment. Then, with a sharp edge to your words, you added, “And do not let In-ho know.”

The guards hesitated for just a second too long, as if processing your request, but they knew better than to question you. “Yes, ma’am.”

You turned on your heel before you could see their reaction, your pulse thrumming violently beneath your skin as you strode back toward the bedroom. Every second felt like an eternity. You climbed back into bed, lying stiffly beside In-ho, your back turned to him as you stared blankly at the darkness.

You barely noticed when the guard returned. A soft knock at your door. A small package slipped into your hands, no words exchanged. Then, you went to the bathroom again. 

You tore open the box with shaky hands, your breath coming in uneven bursts. The instructions blurred before your eyes, your mind already lost in the storm of possibilities. 

Minutes passed.

An eternity.

And then, there it was.

Two lines.

Positive.

Your stomach lurched, but this time, it was nausea. It was fear. 

Your grip tightened around the small plastic test, your knuckles going white. The world felt too small, too suffocating. The air in the bathroom suddenly too thick.

You were pregnant.

With In-ho’s child.

You let out a shaky exhale, staring at the result, unable to look away. For a long time, you stayed there, your reflection in the mirror staring back at you, eyes wide and unblinking. You should feel something — relief, dread, hope, or even terror. But all you felt was the weight of the unknown, pressing down on you like the walls were closing in.

And for the first time in a long while, you had no idea what to do.

The walls of the bathroom felt too tight — the fluorescent light suddenly too harsh against your skin. You grabbed the pregnancy test with an unsteady grip, shoving it into the pocket of your robe before stepping out of the bathroom, heart pounding like a war drum against your ribs.

In-ho was still asleep. His dark hair spilled across the pillow, his breathing deep and undisturbed. The weight of him, the sheer presence of him, made something heavy settle in your chest. Carefully, you slipped past him, reaching for the heavy balcony doors and pushing them open. The cool night air hit you like a wave, crisp and briny from the sea surrounding the island. The sky stretched infinitely above you, speckled with stars that seemed far too serene for the storm raging inside you.

You gripped the balcony railing, your knuckles turning white.

You’re pregnant with In-ho’s child.

A child that would be born into this — this hellish, blood-soaked world.

Your stomach twisted as you stared out at the dark waves beyond the facility, the gentle crash of the tide doing little to soothe the panic bubbling beneath your skin.

Would this child be raised in the shadows of this place? Would they ever see the real world, or would they only know the cold walls of the Overseer’s domain?

Then, there was the other thought — the one that coiled around your chest like a vice.

In-ho lost his wife. He lost his unborn child.

You never asked him about it in detail, never pressed when you saw the way his gaze darkened at the mention of his past. But you knew it haunted him. And now, here you were, carrying his child. The thought alone made your stomach lurch.

Would he be happy? Would he be terrified? Would he see this as a cruel twist of fate, a ghost of his past resurrected in your womb?

Or worse — would this child be doomed from the start?

You exhaled sharply, running a hand down your face, overwhelmed.

“You should be more careful.”

The voice startled you. It was low, calm, and familiar. Your head snapped to the right, eyes locking into the figure standing a few feet away.

Gi-hun leaned against the railing, dressed in his usual black suit, a cup of tea held loosely in his hands. His posture was relaxed, but his sharp eyes were already studying you. You didn’t even notice him there. How long had he been standing in the shadows?

A heavy silence settled between the two of you, the only sound being the distant crash of the waves. You swallowed, trying to mask your unease. “What are you talking about?”

Gi-hun let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Noticed you haven’t been yourself lately.” You froze as his gaze flickered down your stomach. “I’m not the only one who noticed.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your robe, gripping it tightly, as if you could shield yourself from his knowing stare. You wanted to deny it, to brush past the topic, but the look in his eyes told you he wouldn’t buy it. Gi-hun took a slow sip of his tea and then exhaled. “Does In-ho know?”

Your throat went dry. You didn’t answer him, and your silence was enough of an answer for him.

Gi-hun hummed, setting his cup of tea down on the railing, his fingers tapping against the porcelain. His eyes flickered toward the horizon, but you could feel his attention still on you. “You haven’t told him,” he murmured, almost to himself. His tone wasn’t accusatory — just an observation, spoken with quiet certainty. 

“It’s none of your business.”

Gi-hun let out a breathy chuckle. “Maybe not,” he turned slightly, his gaze finding yours again. “But you’re standing here, looking like the weight of the world is crushing you. And I think we both know that it is.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling your chest tighten.

“You’re scared,” you flinched, but his voice remained steady and measured. “Scared of what this means. Scared of what it will do to In-ho. Scared that you’ll lose this child the same way he lost his first one.”

A lump formed in your throat. He wasn’t mocking you nor was he prying. He was just stating the truth that you had been trying to outrun since you first saw the result of the test. 

Gi-hun leaned against the railing, his expression unreadable. “You know, for all the blood on your hands… you still hold onto things that make you human,” his gaze flickered downward, just briefly. “And this? This is the most human thing that could ever happen to you.”

You exhaled shakily, your mind spinning.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do?” He asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.

The question slammed into you harder than any bullet ever could. You had spent months surviving, fighting, killing — but this? This wasn’t something you could fight your way out of. 

This was life.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “No.”

Gi-hun nodded, as if he expected that answer. He didn’t press. Instead, he straightened himself, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. “You should tell him soon,” he murmured. “Secrets have a way of eating people alive. And something tells me that this isn’t one you can keep forever.”

You watched as he turned, picked up his tea, and walked away, disappearing from the balcony as he went back to his room. The wind blew through your hair, the cold air biting against your skin.

You placed a hand over your stomach, your fingers trembling.

Tell him.

The thought alone made your pulse race. Because once you told him, there would be no going back.

——

The morning sun cast a pale glow through the tinted windows of the conference room, stretching long shadows across the polished table. The air inside was thick with unspoken weight, each of you seated in your designated places. In-ho was at the head of the table with you at his right, while Gi-hun was across from you. The three of you, the orchestrators of the games, gathered for another day of calculated cruelty.

A digital screen hummed to life at the far end of the room, displaying live footage of the contestants inside the dormitory. The uneasy silence stretched as you and In-ho studied the screen, watching the slow build of tension amongst the players. The numbers were dwindling, but something was different this season. There was more desperation and paranoia present.

In-ho tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair, his mask placed beside him. “We need a contingency,” he said. “The moment they turn on each other, we set the special game in motion. A purge, disguised as an opportunity.”

Gi-hun leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at his lips. “Encouraging savagery before they even step onto the field. Smart.” He reached for a tray beside him, grabbing one of the drinks set out for the meeting. But instead of taking a sip, he slid it across the table — right in front of you.

Your brows furrowed as you glanced down at the cup. It was different from the others. A light, warm shade. You could smell the faint scent of ginger and honey.

You blinked.

This wasn’t coffee. It wasn’t alcohol. It wasn’t even tea.

It was a pregnancy-safe herbal drink.

Slowly, you lifted your gaze, meeting Gi-hun’s eyes. The smirk on his face wasn’t cruel, but it held something else. 

In-ho must have noticed your hesitation because his eyes flickered between you and the cup before settling on Gi-hun. His voice was calm, but his words carried sharp edges. “What is this?”

Gi-hun tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Something nutritious. For someone who should be careful with what they drink.:

The room fell silent. Your throat tightened as you felt In-ho’s gaze shift to you. You could feel his heavy and piercing eyes on you. Your fingers curled against your lap, pressing into the fabric of your pants.

In-ho didn’t look away from you. His voice was quieter this time, but no less intense. “Are you?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. For a moment, you thought about lying. You thought about deflecting, about pretending this wasn’t happening.

But there was no running from this. Not anymore.

“Yes.”

Silence.

You could feel Gi-hun watching, his expression unreadable. But your focus was on In-ho.

His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. His fingers twitched against the table, tightening into a fist before relaxing again. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t relieved.

He was stunned.

His breath was slow and controlled. But his eyes held something fragile… and raw.

“Out,” In-ho said, his voice calm but final.

Gi-hun sighed, standing up from his chair with an exaggerated stretch. “Well, I’d say that’s enough emotion for one morning,” he downed the last of his drink, tapping the rim of the cup against the table. “Congratulations, by the way.”

You shot him a glare, but he only smirked. Then, with a final knowing glance at In-ho, he turned and strolled out of the conference room, leaving you both.

The door clicked shut behind him.

In-ho turned to face you further as the look in his eyes silenced you. There was no fury nor accusation. 

Just something fragile.

Something like fear.

——

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I’m aiming to finish this by the next five chapters, After that, I’ll be focusing on doing oneshots and maybe a new series soon. I’m curious about what you guys are expecting at the ending of this series, so please 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 @voxslays @thebluehair23 @coruja12345 @alliyah-ll (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)