The tension in the room was suffocating as your team stood in a line, waiting for your turn in the children’s game. The distant screams and cheers from the previous round only made the moment heavier. Beside you was Nam Gyu, player 124, usually the carefree troublemaker of the group. But now, his usual smirk was gone, replaced by a nervous fidgeting you couldn’t ignore.

You glanced over and saw him digging into his pocket. Your eyes widened as he pulled out a small bottle and unscrewed the cap, his movements hurried and shaky.

“Nam Gyu,” you whispered, your voice low but sharp. “What are you doing?”

His eyes darted to yours, wide and filled with panic. For a second, you thought he might deny it, but instead, he tipped a few pills into his palm.

“They help me calm down, okay?” he muttered, his voice strained.

You frowned, your gaze darting to the guards, who luckily hadn’t noticed. “You can’t let them see you doing that,” you warned, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he replied quickly, swallowing the pills with a shaky hand. His usual mischievous tone was replaced by something fragile, almost desperate. “I just... I can’t deal with this. People are dying left and right, and it’s not a joke anymore. I just need to get through this round, alright?”

You wanted to reassure him, to tell him he’d be okay, but before you could, a guard’s voice boomed. “Next team!”

Nam Gyu stiffened beside you, his face pale as a sheet. But after a deep breath, he forced a weak grin and muttered under his breath, “Let’s just get through this and survive, yeah?”