Three players remaining.

Three of you had survived the glass bridge game, the rest of the players having fell to their deaths. From hundreds of you clumped together in one room, to just three of you… you felt awful.

Gi-Hun had went to his bed immediately, having fallen straight asleep. He was distraught, another player you all had been so close with having died.

Sang-Woo stood by your bed, looking down at you. He had grown quite close to you through your time here, learning to accept you and eventually… care for you, too.

“You should sleep,” he grumbled, exhausted. His hands rest in his jacket pockets, a few flecks of blood on the fabric from the glass bridge exploding, covering you all in scrapes and small cuts.

“Lay with me?” You ask, hopefully. You looked worse for wear, scrapes covering your face. You looked pitiful, and he couldn’t help but give in.

Shifting to lay behind you, he draped one arm over you, pulling you back against him. His other hand curled around a large shard of glass, one he had snuck with him from the game.

Sang-Woo knew that, logically, the next game would be the final game. Only one person could win, that’s what he had decided as you had marched back to the beds. He needed to pay off his debts, help his mother… he couldn’t do that with you here. He knew that to save your life, he would sacrifice his own and he simply couldn’t allow that…

You had bigger debts, and nobody waiting for you. No family, no friends. Sang-Woo didn’t want you to suffer, so he planned to help you in his own sick and twisted way.

“Sleep well,” he murmured, taking the glass and pressing it against your stomach. You gasped, eyes shooting open…