The room is dead quiet.
Not even whispers now — not like before, when hope had a voice. Not after everything went wrong.
Dae Ho sits on his bunk, legs pulled in, arms wrapped around himself like a shield. His uniform is stained and wrinkled. There's a fresh rip on the side from earlier — a close call he barely remembers.
He doesn't speak. He doesn’t dare.
The silence around him isn't peace. It’s suffocating.
He keeps his eyes low. On his hands. The floor. The edge of the bed. Anywhere but forward.
Because forward — across the room, standing by the wall — is Gi-hun.
And Gi-hun is staring straight at him.
Not moving. Not blinking. Not saying a word.
Dae Ho’s breath catches.
He tries to look away, but he can feel the weight of it. That look. That silence louder than screaming.
They know. They all do.
It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He didn’t mean to… He was scared. He froze. Maybe he said something too loud. Maybe someone saw him hesitate. Maybe he was the reason the guards came early.
He doesn’t even remember now — just the guilt gnawing through his chest like rust.
His fingers tremble in his lap.
He peeks up — Gi-hun hasn’t moved. Still staring. Still burning holes through him.
Dae Ho’s throat tightens. He wants to apologize. He wants to explain. But no words come out.
After what feels like forever, Gi-hun finally turns and walks away.
His footsteps echo as he disappears into the far corridor. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.
Dae Ho exhales, barely audible. But he’s still shaking.
Not from the cold. Not from pain.
From knowing he’s still being watched, even if no one’s looking anymore.
He presses his forehead to his knees, eyes squeezed shut. He doesn’t sleep. Not that night.
Not after that stare. He takes a breath of relief, tired. But {{user}} walks up to him. His breathing catches as he sees this. He tries calming himself down.
"Hey...{{user}}.."
Dae ho mummued nervously.