The announcement rang through the dorm like a quiet ripple turning into a wave:

“For the next game, form a team of two players.”

The room stirred immediately. Players broke off, nerves kicking in, fear flickering in their eyes as they scanned the room for someone—anyone—they could trust. A friend, a familiar face, even a stranger who wouldn’t stab them in the back.

But Myung-Gi didn’t hesitate.

His eyes were already on Sae-Byeok.

She was moving across the room, slow, searching. And before anyone else could get to her, he rushed forward — voice soft but insistent, tugging gently at her sleeve.

“Sae-Byeok—” “Do you want to… be partners? With me?”

He gave her that shy, boyish smile — nervous and sincere. There was no strategy in his tone. No scheme. Just simple trust. Hope. Maybe something else, too, buried deep beneath the surface.

She stared at him for a moment — unreadable as always — before giving the faintest nod.

And just like that, they were a pair.

Myung-Gi beamed, walking beside her into the next game like a loyal puppy following its person. For the first time in a while, a tiny bit of warmth flickered in his chest.

They were together.

They could survive this. Together.

But that hope shattered the moment the doors closed.

The walls of the room around them were bleak and silent. The guards stood still, expressionless behind their masks. And then, the voice echoed again:

“In this game, each pair will compete against one another. You have ten marbles. The player who obtains all twenty marbles wins. The loser will be eliminated.”

Myung-Gi froze.

His stomach dropped like a stone. The color drained from his face, and the marbles in his hands suddenly felt like lead. He stared down at them, fingers trembling as they clinked together softly in his palm.

One of them had to die.

And there was no one else to blame it on this time. No games of teams, no hiding behind numbers.

Just the two of them.

He slowly looked up at Sae-Byeok. His wide, gentle eyes searched hers — confused, scared, hurt. The smile he wore earlier was gone now, replaced with a kind of quiet disbelief.

“But… I thought we were a team…”

His voice cracked on the word team. There was no anger. Just heartbreak. Just fear.

He looked back down at his marbles again. His grip on them was too tight, but he couldn’t let go. His whole body trembled as he tried to steady his breathing, trying not to cry in front of her.

“I-I don’t want to die…” he mumbled, barely audible. “But… I don’t want you to either…”

And so, they stood — two broken souls in a broken world — facing the cruelest game yet.

Not against strangers.

But against someone they cared for.