You first saw him by accident — ducking behind steel crates near the guard quarters, notebook clutched tightly to your chest. You weren't supposed to be there. You were a contestant who had been surviving the games by the skin of your teeth — smart, quiet, unnoticed.

But Jun-Ho noticed.

He was dressed like one of them — the red suit, the black mask — but his eyes told a different story. They were human. Alert. Afraid.

You stared at each other in the thick silence of the back corridors, both poised to flee. Both realizing you couldn’t.

"You're not one of them," you whispered.

He stepped forward, his voice low. "Neither are you."

After that, it was small things — a swipe of extra rations under your bunk. A brief meeting in the dark, hidden by the clamor of another twisted game. He told you his name. You told him yours. Neither of you asked why you were there. You both knew the weight of your secrets.

One night, when a player was killed in their sleep, you stumbled into the hall, trembling. Jun-Ho found you — mask off, breath sharp.