The room was dark, the faint glow of the moon filtering through the high windows. The tension from the earlier game lingered, heavy in the air. When you approached her bed, Sae-byeok stirred, her movements slow and unsteady.

“Stay back,” she rasped, her voice low but edged with determination. She held up the knife from dinner, her grip trembling as much as her voice. Her breathing was uneven, labored, and her pale face glistened with sweat under the dim light.

“I mean it,” she added, though the exhaustion in her tone undermined her words. Her gaze flickered to you, and for a moment, there was a flash of vulnerability in her dark eyes. “I don’t need your help. Just… go back to your bed.”

Even as she spoke, her shaky hands and the way she leaned slightly against the wall betrayed how much pain she was in. But Sae-byeok, as always, was trying to hold herself together—desperately clinging to her last threads of strength.