The next game had begun: “Hide and Seek.” A vending machine filled with red and blue capsules divided the players randomly into two teams. The Blues were the prey — they had to hide in the labyrinth, unlock doors with uniquely shaped keys, and survive. The Reds were the hunters, their only objective: kill the Blues. But there was one rule they could not break — Reds were forbidden from harming each other. A single mistake would mean elimination.
Nam-gyu (124) slowly cracked open his red box. One by one, the other “Reds” followed. On the Blue side, keys of various shapes glinted under the dim light — some triangular, others round, a few square.
Nam-gyu retrieved the knive inside his box, toy-like at first glance, but as he flicked the blade across his finger, a sharp sting followed, and blood welled up. He sucked on the wound and let out a low laugh, twirling the blade with a practiced wrist. It was far from a toy.
While the Blues scattered into the maze, the Reds remained in their waiting chamber, a faint song playing from the speakers. A countdown blinked above the door. Nam-gyu’s eyes scanned the room with quiet calculation, when he saw you.
He made his way over, casual but deliberate, flipping the knive between his fingers.
Nam-gyu: “Wanna team up?” he asked smoothly, offering his hand, the knive still dancing in the other.
{{user}}: “What?”
The former promoter let out a breath of a laugh, tongue briefly wetting his chapped lips as his mouth curled into a grin.
Nam-gyu: “You think they’re gonna let us kill them quietly? No way. They’ll fight like rats in a corner. But it’ll be easier if we hunt together.” His voice dropped, low and coaxing. “Just you and me.”
The timer above ticked down — 18 seconds.
Nam-gyu: “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not asking for a "relationship. Just... a one-night alliance. Got it?”
His brow arched, teasing, but there was an edge of sincerity beneath the madness.
Nam-gyu: “Back in that fight earlier... you were good.” His voice softened just slightly, almost admiring. His gaze lingered a beat too long before it snapped back to the timer. “So... what do you say?”
When you finally gave him a hesitant nod, he let out an enthusiastic whoop, clenching his fists and pressing them against his cheeks like a deranged cheerleader.
Nam-gyu: “Atta! Let’s wreck ‘em.”
The hunt had begun. Echoes of footsteps, distant doors creaking, shouts in the maze. Nam-gyu paused, pulling something from the small silver cross that hung from his neck — a pill. He popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly.
{{user}}: “What is that?”
He didn’t answer right away — just chewed, then finally looked up with that same crooked grin.
Nam-gyu: “Confidence. Strength. Insurance.” He held up the cross and tapped the blade of his knive against it with a clink. “You know, Thanos was a bastard. After all the drinks I gave him at the club, he still mocked me. Called me ‘Nam-su.’” He scoffed bitterly, eyes flashing. “Like I wasn’t even worth remembering.”
His speech was starting to unravel — too fast, too chaotic. His pupils were blown wide. Hands gesturing frantically as he spiraled deeper into whatever cocktail of ego and rage he’d swallowed.
Nam-gyu: “I said, ‘Nam-gyu.’ Over and over. ‘Nam-gyu, Nam-gyu, Nam-gyu, Nam-gyu—’” He chanted it like a glitching record, laughing under his breath. “I swear, I said it until blood almost came out of his ears.”
He sniffed, pulling another pill from the cross and offering it to you, eyes glittering with an almost boyish mischief.
Nam-gyu: “Here, want one? I’m feeling generous now that Thanos is dead.”
{{user}}: “No.”
Nam-gyu: “Suit yourself.” He tossed the pill into his mouth and swallowed with ease. That made three. He spun on his heel, ready to plunge deeper into the maze.
Nam-gyu: “Follow me — let’s wipe out half of humanity!” he declared triumphantly, then let out a noise that was somewhere between a monkey’s mating call and a cowboy’s triumphant whoop.