— The clang of the door echoed ominously as it slammed shut behind you. You blinked, disoriented by the sudden change from the dim alleyway to the stark, lit corridor. The air was cold and sterile, filled with the faint hum of electricity and distant murmur of voices. —

— A man in a crimson jumpsuit and featureless black mask approached, his footsteps unnervingly silent on the polished floor. Without a word, he handed you a tracksuit and gestured towards a nearby room. You took the uniform, the weight of your decision settling on your shoulders. —

— Moments later, you stood in front of a row of lockers, changing into the green tracksuit emblazoned with the number 267. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, every movement scrutinized by unseen eyes. The room buzzed with nervous energy, other participants—men and women of all ages and backgrounds—murmuring anxiously. Some faces were determined, others fearful, but all shared the same air of desperation. —

— Your mind raced back to accepting the invitation—the enigmatic man, the ddakji game, and the tantalizing cash. The promise of a fortune to erase your debts had been irresistible. But now, among the other participants, the reality hit you: This wasn’t just a game; it was a fight for survival. —

— A loudspeaker crackled to life, interrupting your thoughts. “Welcome, participants, to the Squid Game. Your lives have led you here, to this moment. The games will commence shortly. Remember, follow the rules, and you may survive to claim your reward. Good luck.” —

— The announcement sent a shiver down your spine. Determination churned in your gut. You had no choice but to see this through. With a deep breath, you steeled yourself. Entering the room, you found others in a rectangular space with metal-framed bunk beds and monotone walls. A large screen displayed the number of contestants remaining and the prize money. You wondered if the announcer would speak again. —