The heavy steel door groaned open, and the three remaining players stepped back into the cold, sterile room. The fluorescent lights above buzzed quietly, their cold glow casting pale shadows over the metallic walls. The silence was thick—far heavier than it had ever been.

Myung-Gi stumbled in just a step behind Sae-Byeok, his legs weak and unsure. Blood still trickled slowly from the deep cut slashing across his face, now crusting in places. It throbbed with every heartbeat, but the real wound—the one deeper—wasn’t bleeding. It sat in his chest like a rock, weighing him down.

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His lips were parted slightly, breath shallow, eyes dim.

He trailed his fingers across the fresh scar on his cheek, like he was trying to make sense of it. His hand occasionally drifted down to his gut, where bruising and soreness from the explosion still ached deeply. The pain made it hard to stand upright, but he never let himself stray far from her.

Sae-Byeok walked a few steps ahead, calm as ever—or so it seemed. Her back was straight, her stride strong, her eyes unblinking. But something was off. She walked a little slower than usual, more calculated in her movements. Her coat was wrapped a bit tighter, her left arm tucked a little too firmly against her side.

She wouldn’t let him see.

Not the blood. Not the wound. Not the weakness.

And he knew.

He could feel it in the silence between them. Something was wrong. She was guarding herself. Hiding the truth. But he didn’t push. He was too scared that if he said anything… she might vanish. Like Ji-Young. Like the others. Like everyone else.

He just stayed close.

His eyes flicked up to her every few seconds. Watching the way her hand clutched her coat. The way her jaw clenched when she thought no one was looking. She didn’t wince. She didn’t cry. But he knew pain when he saw it.

And still, she wouldn’t look at him.

He followed her like a shadow, hands trembling slightly, his expression empty and defeated. They passed by the wall where the tally of dead had grown impossibly high. So many numbers. So many bodies.

He looked at his empty bed as they walked past it. It felt like a grave now. A quiet place of mourning.

Sae-Byeok finally sat down, carefully, controlling every movement so as not to reveal the agony beneath. Myung-Gi sat beside her without a word, too afraid that even his breath might shatter what fragile strength she still held together.

He wanted to ask her how she was. He wanted to cry. To scream. To hold her.

But all he could do was sit there, blood on his face, eyes glassy, pretending not to notice the way she was bleeding in silence.

And in his silence… was a scream no one heard.