The sound of heavy boots echoing through your skull is the only sound that can be heard right now. You’ve drowned out everything else.
Your gaze is locked on the back of the head in front of you. The way the sweat dripped down their neck, the way their shoulders slumped with every step. It’s all you let yourself see. You didn’t want to look past anything else. You didn’t want to see the guards, their guns, or anything related to the next game where your life could very well end in a couple moments. Maybe if you don’t look, none of it is real.
Your feet keep moving, one after the other, like a meticulous robot.
The double doors open and you’re suddenly hit with a bright yellow light. The guards lead you into a circular room that seems to stretch out past where you can see it. As you take a closer look, you can see a giant red platform at the center of the room.
Your steps falter and become more unstable as you near the center. You can’t help but analyze the purpose of the red platform to give yourself an idea of what the game could possibly be. It looks like a carousel, the kind you’ve seen at a carnival before.
You can’t possibly bring yourself to look at anyone. You kept your eyes on anything but them. The nails digging into your skin, the shoes stained red from blood, and the dirt underneath your fingernails.
Then, that now-familiar voice booms through the loudspeaker.
“Welcome to your third game,”
You jolt slightly at the sound, catching you off guard. Everybody in the room freezes as they look upwards, as if they would hope to see where the voice was coming from. Of course, there’s nothing to see. Just blaring fluorescent lights.
“The game you will be playing is Mingle. Let me repeat, The game you will be playing is Mingle. All players, please step onto the center platform.”
Voices and murmurs could be heard through the crowd, spreading like wildfire. Others reflect on their past, how they’ve played this game before under different circumstances.
Your feet struggle to hold themselves up as you carry yourself to the center with as much strength as you can muster. The footsteps from the other players bore into your skull, making you feel lightheaded.
“When the game starts,” the voice continues. “The platform will begin to rotate, and you will hear a number. You must form a group of that size, go into an unoccupied room, and close the door within 30 seconds.”
All within thirty seconds? How could you possibly find a group of a specific size and run into an unoccupied room all under that time limit?
The voices among the players grew louder and more desperate as they began to exchange strategies. From your peripheral vision, you can see people grabbing the hands of others, latching onto their arms, preparing themselves for what’s to come. But you stay still. You can’t move. You don’t have anyone to fall back on. No one to grab your hand and pull you into a group.
For a moment, the room fades. The nonsensical arguing, the strategizing, the buzzing of the lights. They all blur into the background as the weight of your isolation presses down on you. This isn’t a game you can win.
You let out a shaky breath, your eyes fixed on the platform beneath your feet, your blood stained shoes. You’ve already accepted it. Your fate was sealed the moment you stepped into this room. You made it through the first two games with pure luck and adrenaline, but it won’t be the same for this one.
How did it end up this way? Were you this desperate to pay back your student loans?
You’re thrown off your weight when the platform underneath your feet begins to move. An eerie and nerving child’s tune begins to ring in your ears as the platform moves. You take a deep breath and attempt to calm yourself down, but you can’t seem to shake the feeling of tightness in your chest and throat.
“10.”
The number shatters what little composure you had left in your body. Screams erupt around you, your vision growing hazy and blurry as you’re pushed and thrown by players running to one of the various empty rooms. You have 30 seconds to somehow grab nine other players, sprint into a room, and close the door.
The lights flicker rapidly, which just adds to your anxiety about it all. You can’t move; you’re paralyzed. No matter how hard you tried to tell your body to move, you just couldn’t. You watch as the timer above the room ticks down, the way the players throw themselves into the rooms.
Before you could even take another step forward to attempt to rewrite your fate, you stumble backward.
You note the feeling of a strong grip clamping around your arm, yanking you backward. Your vision clears ever so slightly as you realize what is happening to you. In the blink of an eye, you’re being pulled, no, carried to an unoccupied room by another player.
Amidst the flickering lights and the screams by the other players, you find it hard to analyze your surroundings. All you can focus on right now is that unrelenting grip dragging you, and your feet somehow finding the purpose to push yourself forward.
You drown out your surroundings to focus on the mystery player. You catch a flash of dark, short hair, a tall frame, and the veins on their arm bulging.
That’s when you glance up and it finally pieces together.
It’s her.
Player 120.
You’ve seen her before in passing, mostly watching from afar at the dorms. It’s hard to miss someone like her; she has a very tall frame and exudes energy you just can’t name.
You first noticed her in the first game, Red Light, Green Light, where Player 456 told the group to stand behind somebody bigger than you. You scanned your surroundings, searching for someone you could hide behind.
That’s when your eyes found her. She turned slightly, just enough to flick her hand behind her back, signaling you to come. When the doll turned around, you ran as fast as your legs could carry you. You collapsed against her back, her tall frame shielding you against that doll. Only when you stood behind her was when you could really breathe. For the first time since you entered this nightmare, you felt safe.
It wasn’t just her height or presence you admired. It was something else, you couldn’t really name it. It’s the way she carries herself; quiet but strong. She is notably very anxious, with the way she absentmindedly toys with her fingers in certain situations. She’s like a gentle giant who doesn’t know her own strength.
Ever since the first game, your gazes on her side profile have always lasted longer than necessary. The way her brows furrow, the way her throat gulps when she’s nervous. You’ve always thought she was.. pretty. But you’d never let yourself dwell on it for too long. This was the wrong place to be thinking about things like that.
Now, with her hand gripping your arm, likely to leave a bruise, all you can think about is how easy this comes to her. Like putting people before her own well being is easy, like she’s done it before. It makes your heart ache. When has anyone cared for her in the way she does to others, to you?
She shoves you into the open room with her free hand, standing tall and strong at the door counting the heads that enter the room alongside you. Her chest rises and falls in quick breaths, beads of sweat dripping down her neck. Despite it all, she remains strong.
The last player slips inside, and she slams the door just as the timer hits 4 seconds.
You collapsed against the cold wall, sliding down. The room feels tight, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. It feels cramped. You can’t breathe. You know you should be thanking her for saving your life but you can’t find your voice.
You watch as she scans everybody in the room, until her gaze falls on you.
Slowly, like a human approaching a feral kitten, she approaches you and kneels in front of you. “You can’t freeze up like that,” She says, as soft as she can muster for you. There’s no anger in her voice, no ill intention. Just a quiet urgency that makes you feel guilty. “Not here. Not in these games where it’s your life on the line.”
Her hand hovers over your knee, hesitantly, before settling gently. Her touch is warm, comforting, and for a second you forget why she’s touching you like this in the first place.
Before she can open her mouth to continue, the first gunshots ring out. Your entire body flinches, your hands darting up to cover your ears to help drown out, but it’s no use. The sound is inescapable, the combined shouts and begs of other players before their body falls to the ground.
She flinches too. Hard to miss, but she does. Her dark eyes widened, her shoulders jolting at the sudden noise. Despite that, she still stood before you, her eyes snapping back to yours.
You thought it was over, but it wasn’t. The shots continue to ring as the screams descend into silence.
“I.. I know it’s scary,” She continues amidst the screams. “But you have to move, no matter how scared you might be. It’s the only way for you to survive.”
More screams, more gunshots. Her jaw tightens as she snaps her eyes shut. You shake your head, pressing your palms against your temples. “I can't do this. I just,” Your voice cracks as your throat clogs up. “I just want to go home.”
Her lips press into a thin line. She’s quiet for a moment. It’s almost completely silent as the shooting stops, and all that’s heard outside the room is the sound of boots clacking against the floor.
“I know,” She says. “We all do. But you can’t think like that, not right now. You’ve survived the first two games. That should count for something. Don’t let this one game take that from you.”
You shake your head weakly, your tears staining your cheeks. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I’m not… strong like you. Or anybody here for that matter.”
“You don’t have to be,” She rubs the cloth on your knee tenderly. “I can help you. Stay close to me. If it’s two, we stay together. Any more and we can figure something out. Do you understand?”
You swallow hard, your hands shaking just as violently as your voice. For the first time, the knot in your throat loosens up and you find it just a bit easier to breathe. Her words don’t erase your fear, but they make you believe. Even for just a second, that you’ll be okay.
—
True to her word, you made it out. Barely. You only had her to thank for that.
For the rest of the game, you stayed by her side, glued to her arm like a pest that wouldn’t go away. But she didn’t mind. Or, if she did, she didn’t show it. Instead, her physical contact with you never wavered.
Whether that be a grip on your arm, a hold on your hand, a push forward towards a room, she never stopped holding onto you.
At one point, during the final round, another player had run into you while crossing paths, knocking you completely off balance. The timer on the clock read 6 seconds, and you were still a ways away from reaching the room. In the blink of an eye you were swept off your feet, carried into the room thanks to her.
Fast forward to the dorm room, you’re not sure how you made it through. You could give your thanks to player 120 for giving you the final push you needed to get through it, but you also had to give yourself grace, too. You had given up before the round even started, fully expecting to die right then and there. It was only thanks to her words and her help that you made it out.
The large room is eerily quiet as the remaining players shuffle back into the room. You stare blankly at the floor ahead of you, your eyes trailing down to your clothes that are stained with blood. It’s not your blood, that’s for sure. The overwhelming metallic smell clings to your nose, making your head ache terribly.
Overall, you just felt exhausted and fatigued, like you could sleep for hours on end without ever waking up.
When you finally reach your chosen cot, you plop down onto it, sighing at relief your legs feel after standing for so long. You could feel Player 120 beside you.
“Hey. Are you okay?” She asks quietly, fidgeting with her hands.
You nod, numb and automatic. Your body is practically on autopilot at this point. You don’t know how to manage yourself after seeing so many deaths in so little time, some of which you indirectly caused.
She sits down on the floor in front of you, fidgeting with her hands on her thighs. For a moment, it’s silence. Like the events of the last game didn’t happen.
Finally, you find your voice. “Why do you care so much?”
She looks up at you from her gaze locked down on the floor, her brows furrowing. “What?”
“You don’t know me,” Your mouth thinks for itself before you can even stop. “I don’t have anything to offer you. I—I’m not good at most of these games. I would have died if it weren’t for you.”
She shuffles in her position, her jaw tightening.“You really think that?”
You shrug, indifferent. “I just don’t want to drag you down with me.”
You stare at the soft features on her face while she thinks about her answer. The way the adam’s apple on her throat moves, and the way she takes a deep breath through her nostrils.
“I don’t know the reason either, if I’m being honest.” She says slowly, and if you allow yourself to believe, it sounds a little like a confession. “Seeing you standing there motionless triggered something in me. I couldn’t just leave you there.”
For the first time since that conversation, the two of you lock eyes. It was like a silent promise between the two of you.
From then on, you decided to try. Try, if not for yourself, for her. She would want you to continue. You now had a reason to get out of there. For her.
“What’s your name?”
She blinks, caught off guard. A faint smile graces her lips as she looks down. “Cho Hyun-ju.”
You repeat the name on your lips. You give her yours in return, and she smiles at your own.
“I—I never got to thank you for saving me.. today and in our first game. So thank you, Hyun-ju. I’m glad we met.”
She looks at you, her gaze soft. “Really, it’s nothing. You can thank me by trying hard in the next one, okay?”
It’s silent again for a moment as her eyes dart to your clothes, down to hers. Blood stained, along with your skin as well. “Maybe we should get cleaned up? We’ve both got blood all over us.. I bet you don’t feel too good either.”
You agree. Ever since you stepped into the room you’ve wanted nothing but to tear your clothes apart and scrub every inch of your body.
“Would you like to join me in the bathroom?” She asks, her voice back to that shy and gentle tone you’re growing to adore. “I know it won’t be much but.. it’ll give us a break from this.”
Her eyes are downcast, fiddling with her fingers once again. You can’t help but want to coo, how nervous and gentle she is around you, like she’s afraid of asking for anything else. Deep down, you know the invitation is more than just to clean up. You might be delusional but maybe this is her chance to be alone with you. To have a normal moment with you in a place that’s anything but.
But, for now, you have this. You had her. Someone to fight for. And maybe that was enough for you to keep going.