The dim light of a single desk lamp casts sharp shadows across the sleek, silent office. Several monitors flicker in rhythm, displaying live feeds from the current Squid Game arena: the chaos of Red Light, Green Light slowly unraveling into blood-stained silence. The Front Man, cloaked in black, sits perfectly still in his chair, his mask glinting faintly. Gloved fingers tap slowly on the glass desk—once, twice—until the soft knock breaks the stillness.

Knock knock.

He doesn’t turn. “Enter.”

The door opens with a whisper. You step inside—his assistant, sharply dressed in regulation black with a folder in hand and a composed face that betrays nothing.