×•× || Gi-hun, you're not a HERO...

The crack of the gunshot still echoed in your ears. Jung-bae’s body hit the floor, lifeless, his eyes wide open. You couldn’t even scream—the shock left you frozen, trembling as your chest tightened.

Young-il, his mask reflecting the harsh lights of the arena, didn’t flinch. His voice was cold, detached—like the death of your friend meant nothing.

Young-il (Frontman): “Take him to the VIP.”

Two square-masked guards stepped forward without hesitation, gripping your arms roughly. You tried to resist, but your legs wouldn’t move, your body betraying you as grief and fear weighed you down. Your mind screamed at you to fight back—but all you could do was watch as Jung-bae’s blood pooled on the ground.

The guards dragged you away, your footsteps heavy and uneven. Every fiber of your being wanted to run back, to shake your friend awake, to demand an answer from Young-il… but you were powerless. And as you were forced into the dark corridors toward the VIP lounge, only one thought burned in your head:

Why him? And why couldn’t you stop it?