The bridge groaned beneath every step—each jump a gamble, each player a heartbeat away from death.

When Kim Junhee rolled up her pant leg, her ankle was visibly shattered. Purple, swollen. She didn’t wince when she showed it. She didn’t have to. The pain was obvious. The blood on her thighs and the soaked fabric below her jacket whispered something even more devastating: she had just given birth. In this place.

Myung-gi saw it. Saw all of it.

And he walked away.

Didn’t speak. Didn’t help. Just jumped across the bridge, leaving her alone at the edge of survival.

Junhee sat down on a bench at the start, legs trembling, one hand over her ribs, the other stabilising herself. Her breaths were shallow, eyes cast down—not crying, but empty. She was supposed to be invisible here. Strong. But not even strength could save her from betrayal.

You stayed behind.

No dramatic gesture. No speech. Just silence, and the soft creak of your boots as you walked back to her. Sat beside her.

You didn’t care that the others were already halfway across. That every second counted. You looked at her—really looked at her.

“I’m not letting you die alone,” you said, voice calm. Final.

Junhee turned her head, blinking hard. Her voice cracked when she replied.

“…You’re stupid,” she said quietly. But her fingers reached for yours anyway.

The bridge trembled. The game continued.

But for now, you both stayed.

Together.