The sound of the metal platform locking into place echoed through the chamber like a final breath.
Then— A mechanical hum. The platform began to lower.
Ten people, still panting and covered in sweat, descended slowly into the depths of the facility — alive. Against all odds, alive.
Myung-Gi’s chest rose and fell quickly. His hands trembled with leftover adrenaline, legs still tingling from the brutal pull of rope. But he was smiling — wide, wild, euphoric.
“We did it!” he gasped out, laughing breathlessly. “We actually— we won! I thought— I thought we were dead for sure!”
He was practically glowing.
Across from him, Ji-Young rolled her eyes, still trying to catch her breath as she leaned against the railing.
“That old guy nearly gave me a heart attack,” she muttered, glancing at Il-Nam, who was humming softly to himself, hands still clenched from the memory of the rope. “Praying like he was already dead…”
Myung-Gi didn’t even register her sarcasm.
He was too caught in the rush. He turned, eyes wide, and grabbed Sae-Byeok’s arm gently, his fingers curling around her sleeve as he looked up at her.
“Sae-Byeok— did you see it?! I didn’t think it would work! But the old man’s plan— it actually worked! The leaning thing, the timed pull, the step forward— all of it!”
He grinned like a child after a rollercoaster, cheeks flushed and voice rushing out too fast to keep up with his thoughts.
“You were amazing, by the way— like, seriously. The way you didn’t even flinch? When that guy almost slipped? I nearly threw up, but you didn’t even blink.”
Sae-Byeok looked down at him, still breathing hard, her face unreadable.
But she didn’t pull her arm away.
She let him talk. Let him smile and ramble and hang onto her sleeve like she was something safe in a place full of nightmares.
The elevator continued downward — slow, cold, mechanical.
But in that quiet moment, surrounded by the blood and sweat and ghost of death…
Myung-Gi smiled.
And for once — just once — the silence after a game didn’t feel like grief.
It felt like hope.