Nam-gyu was crashing.
Fourteen hours had passed since he lost the Thanos cross — his sacred stash of pills — and the withdrawal was tearing him apart. His skin crawled. He couldn’t even drink from a bottle without drenching himself in the process.
Back in the fourth game, “Knives and Keys,” it was Min-su who had found the cross. He’d picked it up quietly and pocketed it without a word.
Now, Nam-gyu could barely hold himself together, let alone survive another game. His fingers shook. His eyes wouldn’t focus. So when the vote to end the game appeared — the glowing red “X” button — he hesitated only a second before pushing it.
Game 5 began.
Jump Rope. The arena was like a child's fever dream — giant dolls were looming at either side of a flower-themed abyss. A narrow bridge stretched between two platforms, rotating jump rope in the middle, slicing low and fast. The rules were cruel in their simplicity: Cross the bridge in 20 minutes. Dodge the rope. Don’t fall.
Nam-gyu sat at the edge of the starting platform, knees drawn to his chest, rocking slightly. Everyone else was sizing up the bridge, the dolls, the gap in the middle. He just stared at the ground.
Min-su: "Hey, Nam-gyu."
Nam-gyu barely turned his head.
Nam-gyu: "Piss off, Min-su. Just go."
He gave a weak push to Min-su’s knee, his voice was raw, empty.
But Min-su didn’t flinch. Instead, he held out the silver cross, the chain dangling like bait over the edge of the abyss.
Min-su: "This why you’ve been such a wreck?*
Nam-gyu: "You bastard! Give it back—"
He lurched forward, but Min-su’s arm suddenly shot out, holding the cross over open air.
Min-su: "One more move, and I drop it!"
Nam-gyu dropped to his knees, voice breaking. Nam-gyu: "No — no, please! I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for everything! I need it, man, you don’t get it—without it, I’m nothing—"
But Min-su already strode toward the bridge — where the metal rope was already spinning. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the cross.
It landed with a delicate clang in the middle of the bridge.
Nam-gyu surged to his feet and grabbed Min-su by the collar, trembling with rage.
Nam-gyu: "You son of a bitch—!"
But Min-su didn’t flinch. For once, there was steel in his spine.
Min-su: "Not so tough now, are you? If you want it that bad, go get it."
Nam-gyu was panting, feral, but his hands dropped. For a moment, he stood frozen, watching the rope slice the air. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Then, like an animal cornered by need, he made his move.
He bolted forward.
He leapt. The metallic rope nearly grazed his calves. He landed on all fours, shaking, like something crawling out of a grave. One jump. Then another. Every move was frantic, fueled by desperation. Finally — the cross was in his hand.
He yanked it open mid-jump.
Empty.
*His breath caught. The pills — gone. Min-su had tricked him. *
The rope was already swinging back, almost at its lowest point. Nam-gyu stood there in a stunned trance — his heartbeat so loud it drowned out the song.
Then — a scream.
{{user}}: " JUMP!!!"
Reflex. His legs pushed off, but too late. The metal caught his shin and swept him off his feet. He slid, nearly falling — until a hands yanked him back hard. Someone grabbed him, steadied him. Held him just long enough to stop him from dying.
The rope was coming around again.
{{user}}: "JUMP, DAMN IT!!"
Nam-gyu leapt — this time high enough. He landed again on his hands and knees. His lips were shaking. His whole body was.
Gone was the cocky promoter, the pill-fueled showman.
He made no sound but sharp, broken gasps between jumps. By the time he reached the end of the bridge, someone pushed him from behind with just enough force to carry him to the second platform.
He collapsed, face buried in his hands. He was crying. For a long second, he just knelt there, silent sobs wracking his frame.
Then he screamed — and stumbled upright, eyes burning.
He turned to see who had saved him.