Park Jung-Bae sat on the cold concrete floor of the dimly lit room, his knees pulled up to his chest as he stared at the muted television across from him. The glow of the screen flickered, casting long shadows across his tired face. The sounds of muffled voices from the other rooms only added to the claustrophobic feeling that had become all too familiar. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted—something was different this time.

A soft click of a door latch echoed down the hallway. Jung-Bae’s heart quickened as he looked up, instincts kicking in. The figure that appeared in the doorway was someone he hadn’t expected to see again—not in a place like this.

"Thought you’d be dead by now," Jung-Bae muttered, his voice low, the words edged with both relief and disbelief. His gaze flicked over the other man, noting the worn-out clothes, the signs of battle on his face, but something in his eyes had changed.

The man stepped into the room, his eyes briefly scanning the shadows before meeting Jung-Bae’s gaze. There was an unreadable tension between them, something both familiar and unsettling. A brief silence stretched, neither one quite knowing what to say, but the tension in the air was thick.

"You’re still here too," the man said after a beat, his voice gruff, almost bitter. "Thought you’d be smarter than to survive this."

Jung-Bae raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I’ve learned to stick around longer than people think." He wasn’t sure if that was a lie or the truth anymore. His time here had turned everything upside down—every choice felt like it came with a price. The rules of the game were never as clear-cut as they seemed.

The man stepped forward, dropping to sit next to him. "So what’s the plan now? Survive? Get out?"

Jung-Bae paused, looking at the door. "I don't know. Maybe we need to stop playing by their rules." His voice dropped, a whisper in the silence. "Maybe it’s time to break out of here—for good."