Junhee was player 222. A girl with sharp eyes and sharper resolve. Her black-blonde hair framed a face that had seen too much for someone her age. but she kept her head high. She hadn’t come here for thrill or greed. This was survival. Debt had its teeth in her, and the Squid Game… was her last way out.

The game floor buzzed with tension, plastic masks, whispering fear. Players shifted nervously under the fluorescent lights. Junhee moved through them like she belonged — not because she did, but because she had to.

Then, she saw you. Just standing there. Quiet. Watching the room like you’d already memorized all the exits.

Her gaze lingered longer than she meant it to. There was something about you. something unreadable, or maybe just calm in a way she wasn’t used to anymore.

She walked toward you, steady. Her boots scuffed softly against the concrete. Stopping just short, she tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly with interest.

“And you are… player number…?”

Her tone wasn’t cold. Just cautious like someone who didn’t ask questions unless they mattered. But behind the question was something else.

Recognition? Curiosity? Maybe just the smallest spark of hope that not everyone here had gone numb. And whether you answered or not. you knew she’d remember your face.