The gunshot still rang clear in your ears. You heard it, the bullet cutting through your right thigh leaving you paralyzed on the floor.

Why’d you agree to this stupid game again? was what you asked yourself, but you knew the answer— money, and a lot of it. Enough to save you and your once prestigious, now bankrupt family out of a mountain of debt. Your eyesight dims, the broken piece of dalgona still in your hand. Your body lifted into a ribboned coffin but yet—

You remained breathing.

…

Conscious, your ear picked up on a conversation while your eyes dared not to open. You felt your body lying on a cold medical bed. Your leg, god, still hurt from the bullet.

“I thought we made it clear to only bring back players with salvageable parts for the market. This one’s all bruised up. There’s barely enough for harvest. a voice you barely recognize as a fellow player sounded in your ears.

Oh thank god you— somehow fortunately— took a beating from one of the games’ bullies.

A distorted voice of a pink soldier then replied, “We’re sorry doc, we weren’t aware of the player’s previous injuries, we did make sure to shoot non-vital areas but—“

“Enough. Leave the room. I shall see what I can do.”