CHAPTER FOUR. ／
RED LIGHT, GREEN LIGHT.

The crowd shuffled onto the dirt field, murmuring in confusion as they scanned their surroundings. Su-jin's eyes darted around the area, taking in the vast, surreal space. Ahead of them stood a massive, life-sized doll, its eerie gaze fixed on the players. Behind it loomed a lone tree, its branches stretching out ominously.

"Welcome to the first game," a woman's voice echoed from the PA system, crisp and detached. "All players, please wait a moment on the field."

The announcement repeated, its monotony adding to the unease. More players trickled in, their eyes sweeping over the peculiar setting. Su-jin noted the blue walls painted with white clouds, a mural of sunflowers lining the far edge, giving the illusion of an endless, idyllic outdoors.

A sudden metallic clank shattered the calm, reverberating across the field. Startled, Su-jin instinctively glanced upward, catching sight of a seagull flying overhead, its squawking barely audible over the echo of the heavy green doors slamming shut behind them. She saw several players flinch at the sound, some whispering nervously.

"The first game is Red Light, Green Light," the PA system announced with unnerving calm.

"Red Light, Green Light? Seriously?" Su-jin muttered under her breath, her eyes shifting back to the doll. It seemed harmless, absurd even.

"Cross the finish line without getting caught in five minutes. If you do, you pass," the voice continued.

"Easy," Su-jin told herself.

Suddenly, a man burst forward, his voice rising above the murmurs. "Everyone, listen up! Pay attention!" He waved his arms, desperation etched across his face.

"This is not just a game!" he shouted, his words trembling with urgency. "If you lose, you die!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" a woman snapped, scoffing. "We're going to die playing Red Light, Green Light?"

"Yes! That's right!" the man insisted, his eyes darting frantically between the players. "If they catch you moving, they'll kill you! The doll's eyes are motion detectors!"

Su-jin raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. 'Is this guy on drugs?' she thought, her gaze narrowing at his erratic demeanor.

"Stay on your toes!" he pleaded, his voice cracking. "If you get caught, you die!"

"Don't listen to him," Player 066 said dismissively, rolling their eyes. "He's just trying to scare us to get an edge for the prize money."

"That's right," another chimed in, shaking their head.

"Don't pull any tricks, asshole!" Player 444 barked at the man, glaring at him.

"You have to believe me!" the frantic man cried, his desperation growing.

Su-jin hesitated, glancing at him. "How do we even know if what you're saying is true?" she asked, her tone steady but curious.

The man's eyes locked onto her, and for a moment, he froze, as if her question had struck something deep within him. He stared at her, then at the number embroidered on her chest: 067. His lips parted, but no words came out.

A sharp mechanical whirr snapped everyone's attention back to the doll as its body shifted, its back now facing the players. One hand rested against the tree behind it, poised to begin.

The man's voice broke through again. "Do not panic!" he shouted. "No matter what happens, do not panic or start running."

"Let the game begin," the PA system announced coldly.

The doll's head turned slightly, and it began to sing in a high-pitched, mechanical voice: "Green light..."

The players hesitated for a beat before cautiously moving forward.

"Red light."

The doll's head snapped back around, its unblinking eyes scanning the crowd for movement.

"Freeze!" the man yelled, his voice sharp and commanding.

Su-jin froze in place, her heart hammering in her chest as the doll's eyes flickered, scanning methodically.

"Stay calm!" the man urged, his tone a mixture of panic and authority. "Move when it says green light, stop when it says red. We can survive together!"

The doll failed to detect movement, and its head whirred back toward the tree.

"Green light," it sang again.

The players began advancing cautiously, their movements jittery with tension.

"Red light."

Everyone froze mid-step, holding their breath as the doll's head swiveled once more, its eyes combing the crowd.

"Don't move! Stay still!" the man chanted, his voice ringing out like a lifeline.

The cycle continued: "Green light." They moved forward, inching closer to the finish line. "Red light." They froze, their fear palpable.
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"A bee?!" A piercing scream shattered the tense silence as Player 196 flailed her arms, desperately swatting at the bee that had landed on her neck.

She froze mid-motion. "Crap... I just moved," she said, laughing.

The laugh was cut short by a deafening gunshot. Her body crumpled to the ground with a thud, crimson pooling rapidly beneath her. The players nearby stood paralyzed in horror, their eyes fixed on her lifeless form. Su-jin tried not to look, squeezing her eyes shut to avoid the grim sight.

"Nobody move!" the frantic man shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of desperation. "You must not move!"

"Player 196, eliminated," the PA system declared in its monotone voice, the words chilling and final.

Su-jin swallowed hard, her throat tightening as panic began to bubble inside her. Her breath hitched as the chilling realization set in—this was no mere game; it was a fight for survival.

A sudden scream rang out from behind her, cutting through the uneasy silence like a knife. Another gunshot followed, Su-jin fought to steady her nerves, forcing herself to remain completely still, making no attempt to move. Chaos erupted as several players broke into a frantic frenzy, pushing and shoving each other in a desperate bid to flee.

Gunshots filled the air, one after another, as the system ruthlessly struck down anyone who dared to move. Bodies fell like dominoes, and the dirt field was quickly stained red. Su-jin stood frozen, her heart hammering in her chest as she fought the primal urge to run, knowing it would be her end.

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"Green light, red light," the doll sang, but the players remained frozen, paralyzed by fear after witnessing—or hearing—the brutal massacre moments earlier.

Su-jin stood rooted to the dirt beneath her, her mind racing yet her body unwilling to move. Her eyes locked on the doll, dread sinking deeper into her chest with every passing second.

"Green light," the doll's mechanical voice rang out again, but no players dared to move too shaken to take even a step.

Out of nowhere, Player 456 bolted toward the front of the group, shielding his face with his arm. "Red light." He froze in place just as the doll's head spun to scan the players.

"You will die if you don't make it in time!" he shouted urgently, his voice carrying a desperate edge. "That doll is a motion detector!"

The panic in his tone sent ripples of unease through the players, but his next words caught their attention. "But it can't detect motion that's out of its line of sight!" He waved his hand in a deliberate, exaggerated motion to demonstrate.

"Get behind someone bigger than you!" he urged, his voice hoarse but firm. "Think of it like playing Follow the Leader!"

The doll's voice cut through the tense air once more: "Green light." Spurred on by Player 456's advice, the players scrambled to form single-file lines, hiding behind taller individuals at the front.

Su-jin quickly positioned herself behind a taller woman with a sleek bob haircut. Her heart pounded as she exhaled shakily, trying to maintain her composure.

"Red light." The players froze once again, the doll's head swiveling methodically, scanning the field for movement.

"Player 188, eliminated," the automated voice declared, followed by a sharp gunshot.

"Player 244, eliminated," came another announcement. A second shot rang out, its brutal finality sending fresh waves of panic through the players.

The doll's head turned back toward the tree after confirming no further movement. "Green light," it sang again. Slowly and cautiously, the players advanced, their steps small and deliberate.

Su-jin followed the woman in front of her, mimicking her movements with precise care. Her breath hitched with every step, fear pressing down on her like a weight.

"Red light." Everyone came to a halt, the doll's unblinking gaze sweeping over the group.

"Do not move! Freeze!" Player 456 shouted from ahead, his warning cutting through the tense silence.

Suddenly, three sharp gunshots pierced the air. Su-jin flinched instinctively, her body jolting at the deafening sound. She froze in terror, but the tall woman in front of her acted as a shield, obscuring Su-jin from the doll's view.

The doll's head turned back toward the tree once more. "Green light," it announced again, its cheerful tone a chilling contrast to the scene unfolding on the field.

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Su-jin panted heavily, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath from the frantic sprint. Her legs felt like lead, but she forced herself to stand upright, her mind still reeling.

"Are you okay?" Player 456 asked, his voice steady but tinged with genuine concern as he turned toward Player 444, who stood hunched over, his breathing labored.

"Thank you," Player 444 muttered, his voice shaky, his breath uneven. He turned to Player 120, his eyes welling with tears.

"Thank you," he repeated, his voice breaking into sobs, gratitude pouring from him as he looked at the woman who had helped him moments earlier.

But before anyone could respond, the sharp crack of a gunshot tore through the air.

Blood sprayed across Player 456 and Player 120, warm and sickeningly vivid, as Player 444 collapsed to the ground in a lifeless heap.

"Player 444, eliminated," the cold, detached voice of the automated system echoed across the field, the announcement hanging in the air like a death knell.

The players froze, a collective shiver rippling through them. Any hope of composure was shattered as their wide eyes darted toward the lifeless body on the dirt. Fear clawed at their throats, but the sound of grinding gears above stole their attention.

The bright, artificial sky above began to darken, heavy mechanical panels rumbling into place as they slid over the open roof. The sunlit illusion was swallowed by a growing shadow, leaving only cold, industrial lighting to illuminate the field.

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The room was suddenly bathed in a blinding light as alarms blared, their shrill tones slicing through the tense silence. Chaos erupted among the players. Some dove under the beds, while others crouched behind them, fear etched into every movement.

The metallic clang of the doors opening reverberated through the room, silencing the frantic whispers. A group of masked guards strode in, their presence immediately commanding attention. This time, they carried guns, their black masks adorned with triangles instead of the circles seen earlier.

"Congratulations on making it through the first game," the square-masked guard announced, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Here are the results of the first game."

All eyes turned to a screen that flickered to life, displaying the updated numbers.

"Out of 456 players, 91 have been eliminated. 365 players have successfully completed the first game."

A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the room. "Congratulations again," the square-masked guard repeated, though the hollow tone of his words offered no comfort.

"Sir! Please don't kill us!" a trembling voice cried out, shattering the stillness. All heads turned to Player 149, who had stepped into the center of the room, dragging her son along with her.

"Please don't kill us! I beg you!" she sobbed, collapsing to her knees and clutching her son tightly. "As for my son's debt, I will do whatever it takes to pay you back!"

Her tear-streaked face contorted with desperation as she forced her son to kneel beside her.

"Please forgive us! Don't just stand there—beg!" she yelled, yanking his arm.

Player 007, overwhelmed by the woman's plea, dropped to his knees, hands clasped in front of him. "I'm sorry! Please forgive me! I'll pay it back—I swear I will!"

Their desperate cries spread like wildfire. More players fell to their knees, pleading for mercy, their voices merging into a cacophony of fear and despair.

The square-masked guard raised his hand, his voice cutting through the chaos. "There seems to be a misunderstanding." He waited a beat, but the frantic begging continued, drowning out his words.

"We are not here to harm you," he repeated, louder this time. "We are presenting you with an opportunity."

The players' cries began to subside, their attention shifting to the guard.

Before he could elaborate, Player 456 stepped forward. "Clause three of the consent form!" he shouted, his voice firm and resolute.

The room fell silent, the players' attention snapping to him.

"'The games may be terminated upon a majority vote,'" Player 456 recited. "Isn't that correct?"

The square guard inclined his head slightly. "That is correct."

"Then let's take a vote right now," Player 456 demanded.

"Of course," the guard replied smoothly. "We respect your right to freedom of choice."

The players all collectively sigh in relief.

"But first," the guard added, holding up a small remote, "allow me to announce the prize amount that has been accumulated."

The lights dimmed, and a mechanical rumble echoed above. All eyes turned upward as the ceiling parted, revealing the massive glass piggy bank suspended high above. Bright lights illuminated the structure as upbeat chiptune music played.

One by one, stacks of cash shot into the piggy bank, bills piling up in a mesmerizing display. Even those hiding earlier emerged to watch the spectacle.

"The number of players eliminated in the first game is 91," the guard announced. "Therefore, a total of 9.1 billion won has been accumulated."

Gasps rippled through the room.

"If you quit the games now," the guard continued, "the 365 of you can equally divide the 9.1 billion won and leave with your share."

"How much is that?" Player 100 asked cautiously.

"Each person's share would be 24,931,500 won," the guard replied.

Su-jin's ears perked up. She knew the amount would never cover her debt, nor would it help her and Bo-gum to live comfortably.

"Twenty million?" a purple-haired rapper scoffed. "You said 45.6 billion!"

"The rule is simple," the guard explained. "One hundred million won is added for each eliminated player. If you choose to continue and more players are eliminated, the prize will increase."

"And if you survive until the end?" an old man asked.

"The total prize for all 456 players is 45.6 billion won," the guard reiterated. "Whoever survives all six games will claim that amount in full."

Murmurs spread through the room as the staggering figure sank in.

"Forty-five billion? That's insane!" Su-jin whispered surprised by the amount said.

"As promised in the consent form," the guard said, "you may vote after each game to decide whether to continue or leave with the accumulated prize."

The tension was palpable as the guards rolled out a machine with two buttons labeled "O" and "X."

"If you wish to continue, press 'O.' If you wish to end the games, press 'X,'" the square guard instructed. "The vote will proceed in reverse order of player numbers. Player 456, step forward." Player 456 hesitated but stepped forward.

"It's all pointless!" a woman suddenly screamed. "You didn't choose to be born, and you don't get to choose when you die either!"

The room fell into an eerie silence, her words hanging in the air like a weight. She continued, her voice hard and unyielding. "Your death was decided by the gods the moment you were born. No matter what you do, you can't escape it."

Player 456 turned away from her, his gaze fixed on the voting buttons in front of him. Without hesitation, he pressed the "X" button.

A circle-masked guard handed him an "X" patch, which he swiftly attached to his chest before stepping aside.

"Once you've voted, attach the patch to the right side of your chest and move to the corresponding side of the room," the square-masked guard instructed.

One by one, players were called forward, each making their choice and moving to their designated side. The tension thickened with every vote cast.

"Player 333," the guard called.

A man stepped forward with confidence, pressing the "O" button without hesitation. A circle-masked guard handed him a green "O" patch, which he affixed to his jacket. He glanced at the scoreboard, noting the tally: 51 votes for "X" and 47 for "O."

Player 333 joined the growing group on the "O" side. The guards continued calling out names, the process repeating itself. Each vote, each patch, each movement to a side heightened the sense of dread that permeated the room.

"Player 230," the guard announced.

A man bounded forward with exaggerated steps, grinning. Upon reaching the voting machine, he leaned in, pressing the "O" button with his lips.

Su-jin rolled her eyes, waiting in the back with her arms crossed, her mind clouded with conflicting thoughts. She wanted to continue the game for the money, but she feared the consequences of doing so. If she had to die, she'd accept it—so long as it meant Bo-gum could live comfortably.

The scoreboard updated: 87 votes for the red side, 93 for the blue.

"Wait a minute!" Player 456's voice rang out, filled with a mix of desperation and urgency. "Everyone, stop! You can't do this! Come to your senses! Don't you see? These aren't just any games. If we keep playing, we're all going to die!"

He turned toward the remaining players who hadn't voted. "We have to get out of here now. With a majority vote, we can stop this madness!"

His plea seemed to have the opposite effect, sparking anger rather than agreement.

"Who do you think you are?" Player 100 snapped, stepping forward with a scowl. "Why do you keep egging people on like that?"

"You scared us into thinking they'd shoot us before the games even began!"

Player 254 added, accusingly. "That's right! He was going on about how we'd die, and I almost did because I got so nervous!"

Su-jin's gaze flickered, her thoughts scattered. She had no intention of getting involved. She just wanted to survive, to continue the game.

Player 225 narrowed his eyes at Player 456. "How did you even know they were going to shoot us? Are you one of them?"

"Yeah!" Player 100 chimed in. "Are you pretending to be a player just to mess with us?"

The old man stormed closer, stopping just short of Player 456. "Who is this guy, anyway? Did they plant him here to screw with our heads?"

"That's uncalled for," Player 390 intervened, stepping between the two men. "We wouldn't have made it through the game without him. He saved all of us!"

"And you!" Player 390 turned to Player 226, who had been trying to keep a low profile. "I saw you shaking like a leaf out there. You were terrified. If anyone should be grateful, it's you."

Player 226 snapped, his voice defensive. "And who the hell are you? Are you conspiring with him?"

"Rude. How old are you?" Player 390 retorted, arms crossed.

"Older than you. What are you going to do about it?" Player 226 shot back.

Before tensions could escalate, Player 140 stepped forward, her voice trembling. "Please!" she urged. "Don't do this. Listen!"

She turned to address the room, her tone desperate. "None of us would still be alive if it weren't for this gentleman. So enough with the greed! Let's put our lives first and get out of this place! Okay?"

Her words momentarily hushed the room, but the shouting soon resumed, growing louder as players debated whether to stay or leave.

Player 456, visibly flustered and overwhelmed, finally spoke. "I've played these games before!" he blurbed out, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions.

The room fell deathly silent, all eyes locked on him.

"I have done this before!" he repeated, voice cracking. "I knew about the first game because I had played it before!"

"I played these games three years ago," he confessed, his voice trembling. "And everyone I was with... they died here."

The weight of his words settled over the players, the room filled with nervous whispers.

"Hold on," Player 226 said, his tone skeptical. "If they all died, how did you survive alone? Are you saying you were the sole winner?"

Player 456 remained silent for a moment, then turned slowly to face Player 226. His gaze was steady, unwavering. "That's right. I was the final winner."

"If we continue the games, every single person here, just like all the people back then, will die in the end," Player 456 implored, desperation evident in his voice.

"Bullshit," the old man sneered, cutting through the tension.

Player 456 turned toward him, frustration written all over his face. "If you were the sole winner, that means you walked away with 45.6 billion won," the old man stated. "So why the hell would you come back here?"

"That's right!" a woman from the X side shouted. "He's lying! Stop with the nonsense!"

"He's a total nutcase!" another player accused.

"If someone like him can win, so can I!" another player shouted, emboldened by the idea.

Player 230 sauntered over to the old man. "If you really did win, you can give us some tips on how to beat these games," he said, his voice casual.

"That's right!" Player 100 yelled, rallying the O side. "We have a previous winner with us, so what do we have to worry about? Let's do this!"

Cheers erupted from the O side, their voices a wave of optimism drowning out the doubts.

"Please, I'm begging you!" Player 456 cried, his voice breaking. "We have to get out now! If we keep playing, more people will die. That could be you! We have to stop this now and get out of here!"

He suddenly grabbed Su-jin, shaking her slightly in his desperation. She looked into his eyes, seeing a deep, haunting fear, a knowledge of what he had seen.

The square guard leveled their gun at Player 456's back, the cold barrel just inches away. "Attention," the guard's voice rang out, calm but firm. "Any actions disrupting the vote will be met with force."

Player 456 released Su-jin as the triangle guard gestured with his weapon, forcing him back to his spot. The gun remained aimed at him, an unspoken threat.

"Let's resume the vote," the square guard commanded.

The room was silent as the vote continued.

"Player 228," the guard called.

Player 228 stepped forward, briefly hesitating before pressing the "O" button. He took his patch and joined the O side, where cheers greeted him.

"Player 067," the guard called.

The girl stepped forward, her fingers hovering over the buttons. She glanced at the glowing lights before decisively pressing the "O" button.

Su-jin's gaze flicked to the scoreboard, now fluctuating as the numbers shifted: 180 votes for X, 181 for O.

"Player 007," the guard called.

A man hesitated, his hand trembling as he hovered over the buttons. He glanced at the scoreboard, his breath shallow.

"Yong-sik!" Player 149 shouted, her voice sharp with panic. "Don't you dare! Don't get any stupid ideas!"

Yong-sik's hand wavered, the weight of his mother's words pressing down on him. With a soft exhale, he shifted his hand to the red "X" button. The buzzer echoed, and the tally evened out: 181 votes each.

The room erupted into cheers from the X side, while some of the O side groan loudly at the tie.

The vote continued until the score was once again tied at 182 votes for both sides.

"Lastly, Player 001," the square guard announced.

All eyes turned to the final player as he slowly approached the front.

"Everyone, shout 'O'!" Player 230 urged, his voice booming with excitement.

"O!" the O side cheered in unison, their voices rising.

"X!" the X side countered, equally determined.

The tie was broken—the O side surged ahead with 183 votes, leaving the X side at 182.

Su-jin felt a strange mix of relief and unease. The games would continue, but was it the right choice to pick "O"? Only time would tell.

Cheers erupted from the O side, their voices triumphant. Meanwhile, the X side groaned in frustration, their hopes dashed as they realized the game was far from over.

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