The timer above the wall ticked down from 30:00.

Another night in the dormitory. Another countdown to chaos.

The group huddled around the bunks — Gi-hun, Sang-woo, Ali, Il-Nam, Sae-Byeok, Ji-Young, and Myung-Gi. Still bruised from Tug of War. Still alive, but just barely.

The lights above flickered ever so slightly.

Everyone noticed.

And everyone knew what that meant.

They’d seen what happened the night before — the riot, the screams, the flickering lights, the glint of glass, the shadows between the bunks. Deok-Su’s gang had started it then, and rumor said they’d finish the job tonight.

Another wave.

“We can’t just sit here,” one of the men muttered — not Gi-hun, not Sang-woo, just someone clinging to a shred of control. “We should strike first. Go after the other groups. Before they come for us.”

His words hung in the air — sharp and heavy.

Sae-Byeok, sitting on the top bunk with her knees drawn up, watched him with that usual blankness — cold and unreadable. But her voice when she finally spoke? Chilling. Low. Quiet.

“Last night,” she said flatly, “a man was stabbed… by his friend. His own friend.”

The group fell silent.

Only the ticking remained — 27:12 … 27:11…

“You’re all talking like they’re the only danger,” she continued. “But I watched a man kill the person he trusted most. Right in front of me.”

Then she turned her gaze to the group. Her eyes weren’t angry — just empty.

And then came her question.

“Does anyone here trust me?”

Nobody answered.

Not right away.

They looked at each other, uncomfortable, even afraid to speak.

That was when Myung-Gi moved.

He was sitting near the corner of the bed, arms wrapped loosely around his knees, hands visibly trembling, though he tried to hide it. His eyes flicked up to Sae-Byeok’s. And though his legs bounced nervously and his voice cracked slightly, he smiled.

Then gently, he reached out and grabbed her arm — not forcefully, not demanding… but like someone reaching for something steady in a storm.

“I do,” he said softly, almost sheepish. “I trust you…”

He rocked a little in place — a nervous motion, like a child trying to calm himself. But there was genuine warmth in his expression, even behind the fear. His fingers shook as they held her sleeve.

“You’re scary sometimes,” he added, voice trembling. “But not the bad kind. Just the… smart kind. I think people like you don’t pretend. You just survive.”

The group stayed silent again. Watching. Listening.

Sae-Byeok didn’t say anything right away. She didn’t smile. She didn’t thank him.

But she didn’t pull away, either.

The timer kept ticking down.

25:42… 25:41…

And in the dark anticipation of blood and betrayal, something unspoken passed between them.

Maybe not trust.

But a beginning of it.