The cold, metallic clang of the door echoed behind them as the three survivors re-entered the room. Their silhouettes spilled across the floor under the fluorescent light, the piggy bank above still ominously glowing with promise and bloodshed. Yet, through the heavy silence, one voice gently cracked the tension.

“Hey, hey, Sae-Byeok,” Myung-Gi chirped softly, tugging on her sleeve with a small grin tugging at his lips.

He walked beside her—no, almost attached to her—his shoulder brushing against hers with every step. His face was still streaked with blood from the gash across his cheek, a wound that had only just stopped bleeding. But even as the dried crimson clung to his skin, he wore a smile, one laced with shaky breath and tired eyes.

“Do you think this scar’s gonna make me look cool?” he asked, pointing proudly at his face. His voice had a lightness to it, a little forced, but filled with something resembling hope. “Maybe I’ll look like some badass in a movie or something. Like—bam! Glass explosion, survived it! Instant tough guy, right?”

He chuckled quietly to himself, but it trembled at the edges. His fingers still brushed the wound every few seconds—absentmindedly. Not out of pain, but like he was trying to make the trauma real. Tangible. Something he could joke about.

“Bet it’ll impress people,” he added with a grin. “Or maybe not… I mean, who wants to date a guy who got sliced up in a death game.”

He laughed a little more, but then looked up at her, expression softening.

“You okay?” he asked gently, not noticing the tension in her movements. “That was crazy, right? You did great out there. Seriously.”

Sae-Byeok didn’t say much—she never did—but she offered the smallest glance his way, nodding once. Her coat was pulled tightly around her torso. She walked a little slower than usual, but Myung-Gi didn’t notice. Or maybe he didn’t want to. The explosion still rang in his ears. The screams. The sight of bodies falling. Shattering. But he clung to her arm like she was his anchor.

She didn’t push him away.

He kept smiling.

“I thought I was gonna puke back there,” he said, laughing nervously. “I hate heights. I was shaking so bad I thought I was gonna fall off before we even started. But you… you were like, calm as ever. Like a total ice queen.”

He bumped his shoulder into hers playfully, still holding onto her arm.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he murmured, more quietly now. “Stay strong like that.”

Still no answer.

But he didn’t press. He just looked at her with eyes full of admiration, and something else—naïve comfort. His innocence. His heart.

They walked past the beds. His was still empty. Lonely. But instead of retreating to it, he stuck close to her, leaning lightly on her shoulder as they moved to sit.

She winced for just a second—small, sharp—but he didn’t notice.

All he saw was her.

All he wanted… was for her to smile.

Even if it was just once.