The room was suffused with tension, as though the air itself had thickened, pulling everyone into a suffocating stillness. The dim, flickering light from a single hanging bulb cast long shadows, each one stretching like a silent observer of the chaos.

Dust motes hung suspended in the air, caught in the golden light, unmoving—like the breath held collectively by the room's occupants.

Chan-yeol stood tall and resolute, his gun aimed steadily at Sung-hoon, whose body slumped in a grotesque tableau of surrender and defiance. His face, a canvas of pain and resignation, was pale as death itself crept closer.

Gi-hun's gaze darted between the figures, his confusion mingling with a flicker of grim understanding. His body twitched with determination, ready to act but unsure how.

Jun-ho's silhouette loomed at the edge of the scene, his gun trained on Chan-yeol's back, his stance steady but his expression torn.

His dark eyes sought answers, darting to Y/n, who stood beside him, trembling but unyielding. Her presence was an anchor to Jun-ho, her face a storm of emotions—anger, betrayal, and the faintest glimmer of hope. She stood between her father and Jun-ho, a bridge between two worlds that felt as though they might collapse at any moment.

Woo-seok, wide-eyed and frantic, clutched at the edge of the table as if it might steady his unmoored spirit. His voice, high and stammering, spilled into the heavy silence like a stone dropped into a still lake.

"If you want to meet the person you were talking about earlier, the key's here, in my pocket," the words replayed in Gi-hun's mind, his lips forming the syllables as his gaze swept over Sung-hoon's lifeless form.

"Police! Hands above your head, now!" Jun-ho's voice was like a sharp crack against the tension.

Chan-yeol, startled but composed, dropped the gun with an air of finality and turned slowly. His gaze met Y/n's for a fraction of a second before darting to Jun-ho.

Y/n stepped forward, shielding her father instinctively.

"Appa—why?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried a world of anguish.

The silence was shattered by a raspy groan from Sung-hoon, who forced out his final words with a twisted smirk. "He's not your Appa." Then, with a shudder, he fell silent forever.

Chan-yeol spun back toward the corpse, his face contorted with rage. Jun-ho grabbed Y/n, pulling her back protectively, his arm a barrier between her and her father.

"Shin Chan-yeol, you are under arrest on suspicion of murder," Jun-ho began, his voice steady but strained. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say—"

"Jun, stop!" Y/n cried out, her voice cracking as she clutched his arm. Her plea rang with desperation, an unspoken demand for understanding.

Gi-hun broke the standstill.

"Hold on. Hey, hey! Wait!" His voice was sharp, almost frantic. The room turned to him, each gaze heavy with suspicion and fear.

Woo-seok babbled, trying to piece together the shattered fragments of his own understanding. He glanced between the recruiter's body, Chan-yeol, and Gi-hun, his words stumbling over his rising panic. His breakdown was as chaotic as the room itself, a frantic display of grief and confusion.

"Y/n," Chan-yeol began softly, his voice trembling like the faint rustle of leaves in a storm. He looked at her, his eyes filled with an unspoken apology. But the words faltered, caught somewhere between his guilt and his resolve.

Jun-ho, ever watchful, spoke again, his voice colder now. "Who was he to you, Chan-yeol?"

For a moment, the air itself seemed to pause. "My twin brother," came the quiet, measured reply.

Y/n stumbled back a step, her legs buckling as she sank onto a nearby chair. Her hands trembled in her lap, her mind a whirlwind of disbelief and shattered certainties.

Jun-ho's gaze flickered to Y/n, his worry plain, before fixing back on Chan-yeol.

"Why did you shoot him?"

Chan-yeol inhaled deeply, his voice low but steady as he answered. "I warned him years ago—I would kill him if he ever touched my family again."

There was no pride in his tone, only a quiet grief, a resignation that made the words all the more harrowing.

Y/n stared at her father, she wrestled with the duality of the man she had always seen as her protector and the stranger who now stood before her. She wanted to demand answers, but the lump in her throat held her silent.

Jun-ho's hand tightened slightly on his gun, but his gaze softened as it flicked briefly to Y/n. He stood frozen, caught between duty and the pull of his emotions, his heart aching for the woman beside him.

In the silence that followed, the room itself seemed to breathe, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths and unraveling fates.

The tension in the dimly lit room crackled like static electricity, heavy with unspoken truths and veiled intentions.

The faint hum of a flickering bulb cast wavering shadows across the cracked walls, illuminating fragments of a story too vast to be contained.

Y/n's heart thudded in her chest as her eyes darted between her father, Chan-yeol, and Jun-ho, whose expression was a tempest of concern and resolve. The air seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the storm to break.

Chan-yeol, his shoulders taut with the weight of his past, spoke with a voice like gravel softened by rain.

"We played a game, and he happened to lose... because of his belief in luck," he murmured, the words cutting through the silence like a blade.

His gaze lingered on Y/n, softening briefly, but there was a shadow behind his eyes, a storm brewing within.

Jun-ho's voice was sharp, urgent, like the snap of a bowstring. "Mr. Seong, Chan-yeol—are either of you saying you're still part of that game?"

His hand rested on the holster at his side, not out of fear but as a promise to protect Y/n at all costs.

Gi-hun's reply came with the force of a dam breaking, his determination flooding the room. "What I want is to stop the game once and for all."

Y/n's voice, soft yet trembling with the weight of unasked questions, broke through the thick air. "How?"

Chan-yeol turned toward her, his expression pained. The lines on his face told stories of sacrifices made in silence, of battles fought for the family he cherished above all else.

"There's someone I need to find," Gi-hun interrupted, his voice steel-edged. "The son of a bitch who ran the game under Oh Il-nam."

Jun-ho's eyes narrowed, his mind racing. "Do you know who he is?"

Gi-hun shook his head, frustration curling at the edges of his words. "The guards called him the Front Man."

Jun-ho's voice softened, almost unwilling to conjure the memories. "He always wore a black mask... under a hood. I never saw his face." His gaze flicked to Y/n, the unspoken promise between them as palpable as the charged air.

Gi-hun clenched his fists. "He sent me an invitation," he said, determination laced with a quiet fury.

"And if you find him?" Jun-ho asked, his tone tinged with desperation. "What then? Are you going to kill him?"

"Killing one person won't end this," Gi-hun admitted. "Oh Il-nam said he created the game to entertain his clients. The VIPs."

Y/n shivered at the mention of the faceless architects of their misery. "That's right. The VIPs. That's what they called them," she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of memory.

Jun-ho's jaw tightened.

"I saw one of their faces," he said, the words heavy with loathing. "We'll find them together." He glanced at Y/n, his eyes softening momentarily, a silent vow etched in his gaze.

From the floor, Woo-seok spoke, his voice raw and bitter. "Seong, listen to me. No cops. The cops never help us. They only make things worse."

Gi-hun's face twisted in frustration.

"Sorry about your brother," he said, glancing at Jun-ho, "but you need to let this go."

Jun-ho's voice was low, steady as the tide. "Were you able to forget?" His question lingered, echoing in the hollow silence.

"All the people they murdered?" Y/n finished, her voice a thread of steel wrapped in sorrow.

Jun-ho stepped closer, his presence a steady anchor in the storm. "With the mask on, we saw things you didn't. Whatever you're trying to do..." He hesitated, his words hanging in the air like a fragile bridge.

"We know we can help," Y/n said, her voice unwavering. Her hand brushed against Jun-ho's, a fleeting touch that felt like a lifeline in the chaos.

Chan-yeol's gaze fell upon his daughter, the woman she had become, and his resolve wavered. Yet in her strength, in her defiance, he saw a reflection of himself, a reminder of why he had fought so hard and so long.

The truth loomed over them, vast and unrelenting, yet in that moment, he knew there was no turning back.

Woo-seok's voice, raw and laden with bitterness, broke the silence, his words unraveling a past marred by betrayal.

"Can we please rethink our plan here?" he pleaded, his tone edged with desperation. "When I was young, I got scammed and lost my life savings. I was so pissed, I found the bastard and roughed him up. Barely touched the guy. But the police only arrested me and demanded I pay him a settlement. With what money? He'd already taken everything. The real kicker? They let him walk free. After that, I swore I'd never trust the police again."

As Woo-seok's words hung in the air like a lament, Gi-hun silently led the group into another room. The dim light revealed a shocking sight—a mountain of cash, its presence both mesmerizing and haunting.

"Holy hell," Woo-seok breathed, disbelief etched into his face. "You really did win. The game was real. You're not full of shit."

Gi-hun's voice was steady, tinged with sorrow. "

The money you see here," he began, gesturing to the grotesque monument of greed, "is the price of the lives lost in that nightmare. We're going to take it, and we're going to use it to fight back. If you decide to help me, I'll give you all the money you could ever want." His eyes flicked briefly to Y/n and Jun-ho, the unspoken question lingering between them.

Jun-ho's response was swift, his tone sharp with conviction. "I don't give a damn."

Y/n stepped closer, her voice a calm yet unyielding force. "We're not doing this for the money."

Woo-seok, despite his earlier bitterness, nodded in agreement. "Neither am I. That psycho killed the boss—Boss Kim was like a brother to me. I'll find whoever he answered to, make them play Rock, Paper, Scissors, and shoot every last one of them dead."

Y/n, ever practical, interjected, her voice cutting through the rising emotions. "There are armed troops on that island. A couple of pistols won't get us very far."

Gi-hun took her words as a cue, leading them into yet another room. The metallic gleam of weapons lined the walls, a formidable arsenal meticulously arranged. It was a sight that silenced them all.

"This is everything I've collected so far," Gi-hun said, his voice low and steady.

Woo-seok's eyes widened, his awe barely concealed. "Are they real? Mr. Seong, where did you even get all this?"

Jun-ho crossed his arms, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "I'm impressed. Maybe you do know what you're doing after all."

Gi-hun ignored the remark, turning to Woo-seok. "I need you to find a team to work for us," he said firmly.

Woo-seok nodded, his gaze still lingering on the weapons. "I've got it covered. I know a crew—best in the business." He chuckled, pointing to a particular firearm. "Is that a K2? Haven't seen one since my military days. Guessing these are black market. Do they even work?"

Gi-hun gestured to a door leading to a small shooting range, the faint smell of gunpowder lingering in the air.

"You can practice here whenever you need," he said, his voice carrying the quiet confidence of someone who had prepared for this moment.

"And..." Gi-hun hesitated, his gaze landing on Y/n and Jun-ho. "I think you two need to quit your current jobs if you're going to work with me."

The words hung in the air, a challenge and a promise intertwined.

Y/n looked at Jun-ho, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange. The world outside the walls of this room had faded, leaving only the gravity of this moment. This night, fraught with revelations and decisions, had turned into something far greater than either of them had anticipated.

Jun-ho's hand brushed against Y/n's, a fleeting touch that sent sparks down her spine. Amidst the chaos, they found solace in each other, an unspoken bond strengthening with every heartbeat.

And in the shadows, Chan-yeol watched his daughter, his heart heavy with pride and worry, silently vowing to protect her no matter the cost.

A/n 

ok so i did say longer chapter this time but um whoops! 

next chapter will be interesting i swear