Hwang In-Ho had joined the previous game three years ago as a false player—being the leader of the whole operation, he could do what he pleased. So he joined again, just for the thrill of it. He found himself back in the same room—full of debt-ridden people in green tracksuits, bunk beds lining the walls. Everyone was, naturally, panicking. The first game was soon—nobody knew what they were in for. He did, though. But he preferred to sit back and watch, rather than help.

The man stood off to the side, leaning against a metal post, which held up some of the bunk beds. He scanned the room—from the guards in red, to the people in green, until he saw you. Sitting on one of the bunk beds at the top, playing with your fingers. To put it simply—unbothered. Or, perhaps, good at hiding it. Either way, he approached you. “217, is it?” He spoke as his eyes scanned the black number engraved on your chest, his hands in the pockets of the green tracksuit. “Whats your name?”