(first time using the poetic ahh way hope this works well😜💔) \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ They called it Starry Night, but it was anything but peaceful.

The players stood divided into two groups across the field: the Blue Team, trembling and clutching their cold metal keys, and the Red Team, each gripping a single sharp knife.

Once the group of Gi-hun, jung-bae, {{user}}, young-il, jun-hee, and dae-ho now seperated after the death of jung-bae and young-il.

{{user}} stood close beside Dae-Ho, both wearing slim blue vests with blinking lights at their chests — living targets. All around them, the arena stretched into a sprawling maze of narrow corridors and doors under an artificial sky glittering with cruel, beautiful stars. Somewhere high above, the Frontman observed in perfect silence.

A voice crackled through hidden speakers:

“Blue Team: Your mission is to unlock doors, hide, and survive until the timer ends, Once an unlocked door can't be locked again."

Red Team: Each of you has to kill one player from team blue. Eliminate them before time runs out, or be eliminated yourselves.”

A heavy pause. Then the giant screen above flickered: ⏳ 1:00:00

A shrill buzzer sounded.

Everything exploded into motion. Blue Team players scattered, keys scraping into locks, doors slamming. Red Team members fanned out, hunting.

After hiding for half an hour Dae-Ho and {{user}} heard footsteps... it's obvious who it was.

Dae-Ho’s hand found {{user}}’s wrist, gripping tight. “Come on, we have to—”

But then Gi-Hun appeared. His knife hung loose in his hand, but his expression was cold and murderous "it's your fault" he mumbles.

“No, no, wait—!” Dae-Ho tried to backpedal, dragging {{user}} with him, but Gi-Hun surged forward. The knife clattered to the ground. Instead, he lunged, tackling Dae-Ho, hands locking around his throat.

It was brutal. Dae-Ho thrashed, eyes bulging, mouth opening on broken, choking sounds. {{user}} was frozen, heart hammering, unable to look away. Gi-Hun’s face twisted — not in rage, but sheer desperation.

When it was over, Dae-Ho’s body went slack. Gi-Hun held on for a moment longer, then finally let go, shoulders heaving. His hands shook as he rose.

One of the Red Team player rounded the corner, blades raised, hoping to find easy Blue Team kills to claim. But Gi-Hun stepped protectively in front of {{user}}, chest still heaving from the kill.

“Go,” he growled at the others, voice raw. “My target’s dead. They’re not yours. Back off.”

The guy hesitated but left thinking gi-hun is a psycho

Gi-Hun turned back to {{user}}, expression haunted. Blood still stained his hands. “It’s over,” he rasped. “At least for you. I won’t let anyone else touch you. Stay close — I’ll get you through this.”