⡴ SWEET BUT PSYCHO ִ  ࣪ oh he's sweet but a psycho
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"please look into the camera and smile!"

taeha straightens his back, a flicker of annoyance washing over him as he brushes a stray lock of hair from his forehead. he forces a smile onto his lips, the kind that barely reaches his eyes ━ one he's perfected over the years for occasions just like this. a moment later, he hears the soft 'click' of the camera.

the masked people (who taeha now assumed were some kind of guards) had told them to follow once they finished signing the contract. they hadn't offered much else in the way of direction or explanation, only that they were about to play the first game.

the more taeha takes in the surroundings, the more unsettled he becomes. the place is a maze of staircases and doors, twisting and turning in every direction like a funhouse designed by someone with a sick sense of humor. the colors here are muted, softer than the cold, sterile room where they had awoken, yet there's something unnerving about it all, almost like a playground with a hidden, malicious edge.

the dissonance is enough to make him feel like he's losing his grip on reality.

"please follow the other players," a round-masked guard intones, his voice monotonous and empty.

taeha shakes himself out of his spiraling thoughts, realizing he's been standing still for too long. he steps forward, scanning his surroundings, trying to keep his focus, but his eyes inevitably drift to the right. and then he freezes.

there, standing just a few feet away, is myeong-gi ━ his ex-boyfriend. the shock on myeong-gi's face is unmistakable, eyes wide with disbelief, as if he never expected to see taeha here, in this hellish place. taeha, on the other hand, isn't surprised at all. he'd known myeong-gi was here. he had seen the familiar face in the lineup earlier, but part of him had hoped he wouldn't have to confront him. not here, not now.

but of course, life doesn't care about his preferences.

taeha quickly looks ahead again, avoiding myeong-gi's gaze. his feet carry him forward, following the others as they move down the labyrinthine corridors, but myeong-gi's presence lingers like an uncomfortable weight in the air.

then, myeong-gi calls out, his voice cutting through the tension.

"taehie!" the nickname hits him like a punch to the gut. taeha stops dead in his tracks, his pulse quickening against his will.

there it is, the reminder of a time he's tried to bury. he feels his chest tighten, a knot forming in his stomach. he hates how his body betrays him like this  ━  how hearing that voice, those two simple syllables, can send a surge of emotion he doesn't want to feel.

myeong-gi doesn't hesitate, stepping right beside him, forcing the other players to slow down and awkwardly shuffle to a halt. the noise around them fades as if the world is pausing just for this moment. rhe irritating robotic voice, the shuffle of footsteps, the hum of the fluorescent lights  ━  all of it fades into the background, leaving only the feeling of myeong-gi's presence beside him.

"taehie? fuck, it's really you. what are you doing here?"

myeong-gi's words come out breathless, as if he can't quite believe it. taeha can see the confusion, and maybe even a little guilt, flashing in his ex's eyes. myeong-gi places a hand on taeha's arm, gently turning him toward him, searching his face like he's trying to read something in it that he doesn't understand. the touch is soft, hesitant, but taeha recoils inwardly.

he doesn't want to be here, caught in this moment with him, but he can't seem to find a way to escape it.

myeong-gi looks at him the way a person would examine a painting after years of not seeing it, as if trying to memorize every curve, every line of his features, as if it matters. taeha feels his skin flush under the intense gaze, and the old wounds, the old feelings, start to resurface  ━  things he thought he had buried long ago.

but before he can process any of it, someone behind them impatiently calls out, their voice a harsh reminder of the time ticking away.

"move it! you're blocking the way!"

taeha's head snaps back to reality, and he grits his teeth.

"for the same reason as everyone else here," he mutters, his voice a touch too sharp, before starting to walk again, determined to put some distance between himself and myeong-gi.

myeong-gi follows, his steps quick and light as he stays close behind. taeha can feel his presence lingering like a shadow, the gap between them too narrow for his liking.

"ah... yeah..." myeong-gi's voice trails off, hesitant, unsure.

taeha wants to tell him to leave him alone, to stop trying to drag him back into something he's worked so hard to escape. but then he remembers where they are. in this twisted game, nothing is what it seems. they're both just players in a much bigger scheme, and whatever happened between them outside of these walls seems almost irrelevant now.

still, the bitterness that lingers from their past weighs on him like a chain. should he still be angry with him? should he lash out and demand answers for the way myeong-gi had treated him? or should he let it go, just for now, just to get through this?

part of him wants to ignore him, to pretend that myeong-gi doesn't exist in this place, but then that part of him  ━  the part that had walked away from myeong-gi in the first place  ━  tells him to do just that. to leave myeong-gi behind, just as he did before.

"how have you been since, uh—" myeong-gi glances away awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. "since the last time...?"

taeha looks at him out of the corner of his eye, the words hanging in the air, and he can't help but roll his eyes.

"absolutely great, actually. never been better," he lies, the words slipping out effortlessly, like they always have.

before myeong-gi can respond, the sound of a door creaking open cuts through the air, followed by the sudden rush of noise as the players begin to move forward. they've arrived at the first game.

taeha takes a deep breath as the scent of fresh air greets him. he looks up at the open sky above, the roofless expanse stretching out like a canvas. it's surreal. he hasn't been outside in what feels like an eternity. the breeze brushes against his face, cool and refreshing.

"welcome to the first game," the robotic voice announces. "all players, please wait a moment on the field."

taeha feels like he's standing inside a box. the walls surrounding them are painted with intricate murals of nature ━ lush green fields and wide open meadows stretching under a clear, blue sky. from where he stands, the scene looks almost serene, peaceful even. but the longer he stands there, the more suffocating the place feels.

it's as if the painted sky above is a lie, a perfect illusion masking the truth of their confinement. no matter how wide the sky appears, he can't shake the gnawing feeling that he's trapped in this strange, artificial world, with no way out.

his eyes scan the space ahead of him.

at the far end of the field stands a massive doll, standing still, towering over the others. taeha raises an eyebrow at it, his gaze lingering for a moment.

the doll is eerily lifelike, with porcelain skin and vacant eyes, its dress flowing like the wind is caught in it despite the stillness. he's seen dolls like that in horror movies, and it immediately sends a chill crawling down his spine. he doesn't know what to make of it, but something about it feels wrong. the whole setup is unsettling, leaving him no clearer about what kind of game they're about to play.

"what the hell is that?" myeong-gi mutters from beside him, his voice laced with the same tension taeha feels but doesn't vocalize.

"no idea," taeha replies with a shrug.

the loud slam of doors echoes behind them, snapping his attention back to the space around them. taeha turns instinctively, like everyone else, his gaze darting toward the source of the noise. the doors they'd entered through are now shut tightly, sealing them in.

"the first game is red light, green light," the robotic voice announces.

red light, green light?

so they're really just going to play some children's game to win an enormous amount of money? it's so absurd it almost seems like a joke. he looks over at myeong-gi, whose face mirrors his own, a spark of something in his eyes, an almost excited glint. taeha gives him a small, involuntary nod in return, a silent acknowledgment that they're both thinking the same thing.

this is going to be so fucking easy.

"cross the finish line in five minutes without getting caught. if you do, you pass."

"everyone!" a man's voice rings out from the center of the field. "everyone, listen up! pay attention!"

taeha winces slightly at the urgency in the man's tone. the shout is sharp, almost panicked, and it's the same guy who had spoken up earlier, the one who had asked about the vote and prize money.

"listen carefully!" the man's voice rises, his face tight with fear. "this is not just a game! if you lose the game... you die!"

taeha's brow furrows, his stomach twisting with a combination of disbelief and growing unease. what is this guy talking about? myeong-gi scoffs, rolling his eyes. taeha shifts his attention toward him, noting the way myeong-gi's lips curl in disdain.

"what is he talking about?" myeong-gi mutters, barely a whisper, but it's enough for taeha to hear.

taeha doesn't answer, but inside, his thoughts are spinning. is this guy insane? the whole thing feels like a bad joke. people don't die playing red light, green light. it's a game for kids. there's no way anyone would actually die, right? it's ridiculous.

unless... maybe it's not. his stomach tightens, unease creeping in like cold fingers wrapping around his spine. this whole situation is fucked up, and something tells him this isn't just a normal game. it feels... wrong. but he needs the money. he has no choice. he'll play, even if it doesn't make sense.

"hey! what are you talking about?" a woman snaps at him. "we're going to die playing red light, green light?"

"yes, that's right! if they catch you moving, they will kill you! they will shoot you from somewhere! that doll's eyes are motion detectors!–"

taeha's heart skips a beat at the mention of the doll's eyes. he hadn't even thought of that  ━  how they might be more than just creepy. his gaze snaps to the doll once more, its gaze unsettling, its large, unblinking eyes somehow even more menacing now.

"taehie," myeong-gi says quietly, his voice pulling taeha from his thoughts. "about, you know... what happened—"

taeha turns to look at myeong-gi, who seems almost hesitant, his words hanging in the air, unfinished. he's looking at taeha like there's something important he wants to say. taeha tilts his head, raising an eyebrow.

he knows that expression too well. myeong-gi is holding back, unsure of how to put his feelings into words.

"what is it?" taeha asks, his voice low.

he's not sure if he wants to hear what myeong-gi has to say. their relationship had ended on shaky ground, and this doesn't feel like the right moment to go digging up old feelings.

myeong-gi stutters, trying to find his words. "i wanted to tell you that i'm really—"

"let the game begin."

the words hang in the air, and taeha immediately shifts his gaze away from myeong-gi, his mind now focused entirely on the game. his heart pounds in his chest as the massive doll at the far end of the field suddenly turns its back to them. m

"green light, red light."

without hesitation, taeha takes a step forward, his muscles tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap. myeong-gi follows, just a breath behind him, their steps synchronized in the eerie silence. but the moment the doll's voice finishing its phrase, taeha freezes in place, muscles locking.

he remains still, his mind whirling as the weight of the situation presses down on him. his feet feel glued to the floor, like moving would invite disaster. out of the corner of his eye, he sees the rest of the players doing the same, frozen, holding their breath. no one dares to make a sound.

"well done! you just need to stay calm like this!" player 456, with his voice almost frantic now, shouts from somewhere in the crowd.

his words ring in the air, bouncing off the walls in a way that should sound reassuring, but instead, they stir something deep in taeha. the man is shouting instructions as though he's been through this before, but taeha can't shake the gnawing sense of distrust. there's something off about him, something that doesn't quite sit right.

the doll's head snaps back, its empty eyes now sweeping over the crowd.

"green light, red light."

the cycle starts again.

taeha takes a few steps forward, moving cautiously. myeong-gi is still with him, trailing behind, his breathing shaky. taeha can feel it ━ a heavy weight in the air. this game, this whole thing, it's too easy. ridiculously simple. move when they say 'green light', stop when they say 'red light'. they're really going to win 45.6 billion won just by playing children's games? it's absurd. ridiculous.

"don't move and stay still! just relax!" player 456 continues to shout, his voice growing more grating with every repetition.

the sound begins to claw at taeha's nerves.

the same process repeats over and over, again and again. no one's been caught, and no one has lost yet. deep down, something's eating at him. the more players who succeed, the less of that money he'll walk away with. taeha isn't a fool. he knows how this works. the fewer winners there are, the bigger his slice of the pie.

he doesn't want to admit it, but he secretly hopes someone messes up.

come on. just one slip. one mistake.

the moment the thought crosses taeha's mind, a high-pitched scream cuts through the air, followed by a sharp, sudden silence. taeha's body stiffens, but his eyes are already scanning the crowd, seeking the source of the chaos. he sees her ━ player 196, her arms flailing wildly, her body twisting in desperate panic. his heart skips a beat.

one less, taeha thinks.

and then, the gunshot.

it rings out with a deafening crack, and taeha's whole body jerks as though struck. his breath catches in his throat, and his stomach lurches violently. the girl's body collapses, crumpling lifelessly to the floor as blood blooms from the hole in her head. taeha's eyes widen in disbelief.

what the hell just happened?

she's... dead. no, that can't be real.

"player 196, eliminated."

the next scream follows quickly, then another gunshot. another life snuffed out in an instant.

"damn, he wasn't lying," taeha mutters under his breath, the words leaving his lips barely audible, as though saying them any louder would make it worse.

panic explodes around them

players scatter in every direction, screaming, pushing, and shoving, as if running will save them.

do they not understand? do they not see what's happening? they're running straight into death. taeha's heart races, his thoughts clear despite the chaos. they're idiots. they're all idiots. Moving means death. haven't they seen it? haven't they heard the shots? why would anyone risk it?

he glances at myeong-gi, still standing beside him. the smaller man looks like he's about to crumble under the weight of what's unfolding. his face is pale, eyes wide with terror, lips trembling, and taeha can feel his panic mounting as he stares at the bodies that continue to drop around them. his breaths are quick, shallow, the sound of them almost frantic.

"don't look," taeha whispers urgently, trying to keep his voice steady. "look away. you don't need to see this."

myeong-gi listens, his face twisted with horror as he squeezes his eyes shut, desperate to shut out the nightmare around him. taeha's chest tightens as he watches him, a painful ache forming in his heart. he wants to protect myeong-gi from this, but there's nothing he can do.

the gunfire is relentless, the shots punctuating the air like a heartbeat. one by one, players drop like flies, scattered like cattle in a slaughterhouse, their lives snuffed out without a second thought. taeha can barely keep track. he's losing count.

"let me repeat," the robotic voice echoes as the gunfire finally ceases. "you can move forward while the tagger shouts, green light, red light. if your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated."

eliminated. the word echoes in taeha's mind like a cruel taunt. so that's what it really meant. not disqualified, not removed from the games, but dead.

taeha's stomach churns as he recalls the word printed so plainly on the contract he signed. he should've trusted his gut when he first saw it  ━  should've walked away before it was too late. but he didn't. and now here he is. he swallows hard, the metallic taste of fear on his tongue.

if he moves  ━  no, if that doll sees him move  ━  he'll die. if it sees myeong-gi move, he'll die. the reality of the situation is stark, and it's clawing at the edges of taeha's composure.

"green light, red light."

no one moves. no one even dares to breathe.

"green light, red light."

again, not a single soul stirs.

"you'll also die if you don't make it there in time!" player 456 yells, his voice is strained, frantic. "that doll is a motion detector! but it can't detect movement that's hidden!"

taeha's instincts kick in immediately, overriding the fear that has been paralyzing him. his eyes dart to myeong-gi, who stood beside him like a trembling leaf in the wind. the smaller man looked utterly petrified, his wide eyes locked on the doll as though sheer terror alone would keep him safe. taeha's chest tightened.

if myeong-gi stayed behind him, the doll wouldn't see him. he could be shielded. he'd be safe... wouldn't he?

"get behind someone bigger than you! like you're playing 'follow the leader'! we're running out of time! we've got to move!"

"green light, red light," the doll turns its head again, and everyone starts moving cautiously.

taeha doesn't hesitate this time. the second the doll's head swivels away, he grabs myeong-gi's arm and yanks him behind him.

"stay behind me," taeha hisses, his voice low but firm, almost a growl. "i'm taller. that fucking doll won't see you."

myeong-gi opened his mouth to argue, his lips trembling as he tried to form words. he wanted to tell taeha not to do this, not to risk himself for his sake. if taeha died, myeong-gi couldn't live with the guilt. he didn't want to be spared if it meant taeha would take the hit.

but the words never came.

the moment of protest vanished as quickly as it had appeared, swallowed by fear and the unrelenting pressure of time ticking away. myeong-gi didn't have the strength to object, nor the time to argue. taeha's grip on his arm tightened, and before he could say anything, they were moving.

taeha led the way, each step measured and deliberate. he overtook several other players, his eyes never leaving the doll, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to snap. the second the doll's phrase ended, he froze, his body rigid.

the silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of shallow breathing and the occasional stifled whimper.

then, the voice came.

"player 188, eliminated."

"player 244, eliminated."

each announcement is punctuated by a gunshot. the sound slices through the air like a blade, cold and unrelenting. taeha fights the instinct to flinch, his body stiff as a statue. he doesn't move a muscle, doesn't let himself react. if he lets the fear in now, even for a second, it'll consume him whole.

his grip tightens on myeong-gi's hand  ━  no, wait. when had myeong-gi's hand slipped into his? taeha barely registers the smaller man's fingers interlaced with his own, holding on like a lifeline. somehow, it's enough to keep his trembling at bay.

"green light, red light."

the cycle begins again.

move. stop. watch people die. move again.

step by agonizing step, the participants inch forward, their breaths shallow, their movements calculated. with each red light, another set of gunshots rings out, and the ground becomes littered with the fallen. it's horrific, but no one dares to look down for too long. they can't. looking means acknowledging the truth of it, and the truth is unbearable.

eventually, the group adapts. a pattern forms  ━  one that feels more like a desperate gamble than a plan. they've started advancing in single file, a method designed to minimize the doll's line of sight. those at the front of the line are the most vulnerable, the first to be scanned by those unblinking eyes.

taeha is near the front. of course he is.

he doesn't know whether to curse his bad luck or accept it as some cruel inevitability. either way, it's a dangerous position, and the knowledge of it hangs over him like a guillotine. he keeps his head down, his focus sharp. it's all he can do to survive.

as the finish line draws closer, the air feels heavier. the death toll has risen drastically; taeha wouldn't be surprised if over two hundred people had already been "eliminated." the thought barely registers anymore. the sheer scale of it is numbing.

"green light, red light."

the doll's phrase snaps him back into action. his muscles burn with exhaustion, but he pushes forward. beside him  ━  or rather, slightly behind him  ━  myeong-gi keeps pace. his grip on taeha's hand hasn't faltered once, as if letting go would spell disaster.

taeha doesn't blame him.

the finish line is so close now. just a few more steps.

"green light, red light."

this time, taeha doesn't hesitate. he and myeong-gi break into a desperate sprint, their legs pumping with every ounce of strength they have left. the finish line blurs in his vision, but he keeps going, driven by sheer survival instinct.

when they cross it, relief floods through him like a crashing wave. the moment his feet hit the other side, taeha's legs give out, and he collapses onto the ground, his back slamming against the cold wall behind him. he doesn't care how undignified it looks. he's made it. he's fucking alive.

his breathing comes out in harsh, ragged gasps, his chest heaving as he tries to steady himself. everything around him feels distorted, like he's underwater. his vision wavers, the edges of his sight swimming with black spots.

a sharp sound drags him back. gunfire.

taeha lifts his head, his movements sluggish. three more players collapse just meters from the finish line. he watches, unblinking, as their bodies crumple to the ground, motionless. the scene unfolds before him like a twisted film, surreal and horrifying.

but his mind refuses to process it.

no, they're not dead. they can't be. this isn't real. this is all some elaborate trick, right? no one would actually kill people over a stupid game.

deep down, taeha knows the truth. they are dead. those gunshots were real. this entire thing is real. but clinging to denial feels safer, like a shield against the horror threatening to overwhelm him. if he accepts the truth now, he might never recover.

so he lies to himself. it's just a game. it's fine. he's fine.

and myeong-gi is alive.

"taehie."

the sound of his nickname pulls taeha out of his spiraling thoughts. the voice is soft but urgent, laced with concern.

"taehie, are you okay? are you hurt?"

taeha tilts his head up, his gaze meeting myeong-gi's wide, teary eyes. his ex is crouched in front of him, gripping his arm with trembling hands. the grip is almost too tight, but taeha doesn't flinch.

he watches as myeong-gi's expression shifts, the worry etched into every line of his face. his lips press into a thin line, his brows drawn together in distress. taeha can feel the fear radiating off him, see it in the way myeong-gi's shoulders shake ever so slightly.

for a moment, taeha considers pulling away. he could push those hands off, brush myeong-gi aside, tell him to stop fussing. but he doesn't have the strength to resist. instead, taeha exhales shakily and gives a faint nod.

"i'm fine," he mumbles, though his voice lacks conviction.

myeong-gi doesn't look convinced either, but he doesn't press further. he just stays where he is, hands still gripping taeha's arm, his presence grounding.

the reality of their situation weighs heavily on taeha's mind. he doesn't know what kind of hell they've stepped into, but one thing is certain: there's sure no way out.

for now, all he can do is survive.

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