Junho unlocked the door to his own apartment, tiredness clinging to his shoulders and his head still spinning with unanswered questions. You walked in right behind him, but he stopped as soon as he took two steps inside. His eyes fell directly on what was there, almost in the center of the room — a crib. Simple, plain, and completely out of place. As if it had been placed there not by accident… but as a warning. Or a delivery. He said nothing. He just walked in silence, his jaw clenched, as if each step took him deeper into a reality that made no sense.

In the crib, nestled under a light blanket, slept a little girl of a few months. Small, peaceful… and completely alone. On her chest lay a black envelope. Junho picked it up slowly, with trembling hands, as if handling a time bomb. Inside, two cards: one a bank card, heavy, luxurious. And the other, with the symbol he would recognize anywhere — the one from the games. “Player 222 winner.” He read it quietly, almost choking on the words. The symbols... Now everything makes sense. The baby his brother was carrying when he found him on that island.

He stood there, motionless, until she woke up. Her eyes met his—small, round, trusting, not even knowing what fear was. And then, something gave way. Inside him, a wall cracked. Junho knelt beside the crib, still trying to understand what that meant. “Is that it?” He murmured, his tone somewhere between confused and surrendered. “Are you the one left of all this?” The little girl moved her arms in the air as if in response. Then, in an almost inaudible whisper, while looking into the girl's eyes: "What do I do with you...?"