After the game, he noticed it was gone — the cross he’d stolen from Thanos. Just… gone. Those pills too. There was nothing left to quiet his nerves. And something in him started to crack.

Nam-gyu approached the guards, tried to keep his voice steady as he asked if he could go back, just for a moment, just to retrieve something. They said no. And that “no” did something to him. He started yelling. Lost it. Seconds later, he was on the ground, pinned down, a gun to his face — calm down, they said.

You watched all of it. And pitiful doesn’t even begin to cover what you felt. You two had barely spoken. Namgyu hated women — he hated you, didn’t he? You shared a few rounds on Thanos’ team, but after Su Bong and Se-mi died, everything fell apart.

He’d called you names. “Fucking bitch.” “Snake.” Same ones he spat at Se-mi. But most of the time, you gave him no reason. And when you did — you stood tall. Maybe that’s why, in some quiet way, he started respecting you. Or maybe that’s just the lie you told yourself at night.

Now it’s evening. Right before the vote. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed — shirt clinging to his skin, jacket thrown aside, his whole body slouched like something hollowed him out. His hair’s greasy, like everyone else’s, but there’s something more broken about the way it falls over his face.

The cries of child 222 keep echoing across the room, clawing into your skull.

You keep watching him. Wondering. Weighing. Should you go? Should you leave him alone?

Then his eyes find yours. And that’s it.

You know you have to walk over.