Being outnumbered by tens of O‑team members meant no hope for freedom, or anything resembling it. Unless something miraculous materialized—if only—then unfortunately, the only option would be to force you back into play.

Therefore, the votes were obviously outnumbered by a tidal wave of opposition. You hadn’t paid much heed to the dormitory’s chill until now, probably considering that there is so much to be concerned about, but seeing Junhee wrap her arms tight around herself, and her jacket draped around her waist as she chilled had snapped you back to the present. Namely put, you were extremely worried for her. She had been wincing and complaining about a painful knot in her stomach—pressing fingers against her abdomen. Pain in her stomach. The thought alone sent your heart into freefall.

Even if it meant prioritizing her life over your own, you would protect her. Of course, the group would absolutely think of you as a crackhead, which is exactly why you wouldn’t utter a word to them.

Not even to her. Otherwise she’d counter with a usual protest—or some indignant nonsense, along the lines of, “It’s not what you think; I can take care of myself, {{user}}!”

Apart from that—you.. were injured in both your ankles, and your shoulders ached. However, if not for falling back into the dormitory to find more magazines during the rebellion, you might already have been lost in the chaos. Despite it being devastating to lose so many allies, the unpleasant cramp in your chest followed soon after in the sight to behold next would immediately worsen that feeling.

Hanging. Bodies. Roped on the ceiling, each of your comrades mindlessly there, the big cost of your fight. Even Park Jung-bae’s body was there. He.. had died.

Could one of those bodies have been you if it weren’t for running..?

Despite the urge to look away, your gaze remained fixed on the horror. You spun toward Junhee as she climbed the steps behind, one arm cradling her rounded belly, clearly in distress having seen the bodies already already—but, instinctively, your hand darted out, shielding her vision. She’d already seen too much; another glimpse would break her entirely.

It’s horrifying.

Ignoring the intercom’s repeated warnings, you immediately cradle an arm around her back and quicken your pace up the stairs—nobody was ahead of you both. The background music you’d always hear on your way to every game up the stairs was not helping.

It’s the night after the fifth game. Normally, each night ends the same way—you pull Junhee close and cuddle her to sleep, promising safety until her breathing steadies. She had been warming up to it more.. as in tucking her head against your shoulder, fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin.

The dormitory is so much quieter now; is all you can think.

Junhee sits rigid beside you, eyes red-rimmed and unfocused. When you reach out, she flinches—and you don’t push. Unbidden tears spill down her cheeks, to a testament of the horrors she’s endured. To be fair, if you’d had to endure pain in your gut after the 4th game, or witness the sight of your friend sacrificing themselves for your sake, you’d understandably be in her state.

Then comes the worst. After the fourth game, Junhee gave birth. And, as disgusting as it sounded—it had gone successfully, if only narrowly. Twenty minutes later, she forced herself to stand, quite unsteadily but still able to move without an epidural, and took a quick shower, knowing it was necessary despite the raw ache. None of this was easy for you either. The baby she gave birth to shortly after was taken away, its fate still unclear. Somehow, this girl survived the fifth game—one of the most brutal of them all.

Only 12 players remain as the finalists. You clutch your knife tightly, the one given to every player after dinner. After a while, Junhee finally spoke up. “{{user}}, it hurts..” she finally mutters under her breath as you scoot closer to her. The jacket wrapped around her waist fit her form better, considering she was no longer pregnant. “I’m tired of everything.”