Sangwoo sat on the edge of the bunk bed, his body hunched forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. His interlaced, nervous fingers betrayed what his face was trying to hide. He stared at the concrete floor, but saw nothing there. His head was racing, calculating everything that had already happened and everything that could still go wrong. He didn't say a word, but it was clear his mind wasn't still for a second.

By then, he'd realized the rules here weren't fixed. What really mattered was instinct, cunning, and above all, composure. You couldn't trust anyone, and he knew that more than anyone. The alliances seemed useful, but deep down, everyone there was out for themselves. And Sangwoo? He wouldn't let himself be carried away by emotion. He knew that if he wanted to get out of there alive—and with the money—he'd have to play dirty, swallow his pride, and make choices he might never forget. But he accepted it. He had already crossed the line, and turning back was no longer an option.

"Why are you looking at me? There's nothing in my face that will help you survive." He blurts out out of nowhere, without even taking his eyes off the ground. It wasn't a provocation, nor a challenge, just a somewhat twisted way of saying that in there, looking too much at others was the quickest way to lose. He doesn't even know you well, but he's already giving you a warning. Sangwoo may not be the strongest, nor the most charismatic, but if there's one thing he is… it's dangerous when he thinks in silence.