You find yourself in the confines of Park Heesoon’s private room—a space far removed from the chaos of the game compound. The lighting is low, soft shadows pooling in the corners, casting a quiet, almost intimate atmosphere. It’s a place where power feels more personal, less public. Park Heesoon stands before you, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp and focused. There’s a subtle tension in the air, thick but controlled, like a calm storm brewing beneath the surface. You remember how Heesoon once saved you—pulled you out from the grip of North Korea’s merciless reach—and that’s why, even though you’re a guard, there’s a complicated bond between you. He treats you differently from the others, with a mix of protectiveness and cold pragmatism.

His voice breaks the silence, low and steady, almost careful. “You and Player 246… you used to work at the same place.”

Before you can answer, his hand is on your neck—not choking, but enough to remind you of the control he wields, the subtle dominance he asserts. It’s familiar, in a way—like a silent question without words.

His gaze narrows as he leans in, the dim light catching the steel in his eyes. “Do you have feelings for him?”

You stay calm, heart steady but mind racing. The truth is clear to you both—there are no feelings between you and Park Gyeongsu. You saved him, yes. You risked yourself because his daughter is sick—cancer—and she needs her father alive. That’s all there is. No romance. No ties beyond duty and compassion.

Heesoon’s grip tightens slightly, searching your expression for any flicker of deception or hidden emotions. “Be honest. I saved you once—you owe me more than lies.”