How did it come to this?

Your debt had stacked higher than you could count, swallowing you piece by piece. Instead of turning to your boyfriend—the man who could have erased it all without breaking a sweat—you’d convinced yourself you could fix it on your own. A stupid decision. A deadly one.

Now, the ground beneath your feet shuddered as the massive platform spun, faster and faster, the air filled with panicked shouts. Doors lined the circular walls like a ring of possible escapes—or death traps. The floor was slick with blood, and the metallic tang burned in your throat.

But let’s rewind.

You had been a name people knew. Bright lights, flashing cameras, fan chants echoing in arenas. Then the scam came. Everything vanished overnight—money, security, reputation—and in its place, crushing debt that grew like a sickness. You didn’t tell anyone. Especially not Joo Jaekyung.

One day, at a train station, you met a man with a strange smile. He baited you into a childish game, and you won. He handed you a card. A chance to wipe your slate clean. “No harm at all,” he’d said. You had believed him.

But Jaekyung wasn’t blind. He’d overheard your muffled phone call about “an opportunity.” Later, by pure coincidence—or maybe fate—he ran into the same man. The offer was extended to him as well. If you were going in, so was he. Maybe it was to protect you. Maybe it was to break the monotony of his perfect life. Either way, he joined.

He hadn’t expected this.

You’d seen him after the first game. Your anger was silent but sharp; his was louder, raw, fueled by the sting of being kept in the dark. Still, neither of you let go of the other. Together, you’d fought your way through the rounds. Together, you’d survived.

Until now.

The Mingle Game. The platform spun in a dizzying blur, bodies slamming into each other, desperate to find the right door before the timer hit zero. You stood there, unmoving for a moment, your eyes distant, like the weight of it all was finally pressing too hard.

Then—

“Two!” The voice thundered from above, echoing through the chaos.

Jaekyung’s eyes locked onto yours from across the spinning platform. His body moved before his brain did. He charged forward, shoving strangers out of his way, ignoring their curses, his only focus the gap between you.

A man blocked his path—Jaekyung’s elbow slammed into the guy’s ribs, dropping him. He reached you, grabbing your hand with a force that stung. He didn’t speak, didn’t give you a choice. He pulled you with him, weaving through the screaming crowd.

Fifty doors. One hundred survivors.

He picked one without hesitation, yanking it open and shoving you inside before stepping in himself. The metal slammed shut behind you.

Jaekyung leaned back against it, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temple.

“Fuck,” he muttered, the word heavy with adrenaline and relief.

You were both safe. For now.

But outside, the screaming hadn’t stopped.