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The guards directed the players down a winding hallway, its bright pastel colors—pink, yellow, and blue—giving it the unsettling air of a children's playroom. It clashed violently with the weight of anxiety pressing on the group.

Above, a robotic voice echoed over the loudspeakers:

"Attention all players: the first game is about to begin. Once your picture has been taken, please follow the nearby staff's instructions and proceed as directed towards the game hall."

The line moved steadily forward, punctuated by the sharp clicks of camera shutters. Yeon-Jin stood silently, watching each player step up to a pink block where a screen displayed their number. She caught glimpses of forced smiles and stiff poses before the players were shuffled along.

When her turn came, she stepped forward, standing in front of the glowing screen. Her number—453—flashed on it. A voice from the device instructed her to smile, but she only offered the barest lift of her lips. The camera clicked, and she moved aside, relieved to be done.

As she rejoined the flow of players, someone fell into step beside her.

"Not really your thing, huh?" a familiar voice asked.

She turned her head slightly to see him again—388. He was taller than she'd initially thought, his dark hair still tied back neatly, though a few strands now escaped to frame his face. There was something in his grin that was equal parts sheepish and sincere, like he was testing the waters.

"Picture day," he clarified when she didn't respond. "Can't blame you. Felt weird smiling for that, didn't it?"

"It's not a family photo," she said flatly, keeping her gaze ahead.

"True," he chuckled. "Although, depending on how these games go, this might be the only photo they ever take of us."

That earned a quick, involuntary glance from her, and Dae-Ho seized the moment. "Name's Dae-Ho, by the way," he said, giving a small, friendly smile.

When she didn't immediately reply, he added, "I know, I know—nobody here's in the mood for introductions. But I figured if we're stuck in this together, might as well try to be human about it."

"Yeon-Jin," she said after a pause, her voice cautious.

"Yeon-Jin," he repeated, nodding slightly. "Nice name. It suits you."

She raised an eyebrow at that, her skepticism clear. "You don't even know me."

"Fair," he admitted with a self-deprecating laugh. "Maybe I'm just bad at small talk. But hey, I'm trying."

His tone was lighthearted, and there was an almost boyish awkwardness to his delivery that softened his words. Against her better judgment, a faint smile ghosted across her lips before she quickly schooled her expression.

Dae-Ho noticed but didn't press. Instead, he glanced at the other players ahead of them. "So, do you think this first game's gonna be something easy? Like hopscotch or something?"

Yeon-Jin's lips twitched again, but she shook her head. "I doubt it'll be that simple."

"Yeah, me too," he said, his grin fading just a touch as reality set back in. "Guess we'll find out soon enough, huh?" She nodded but didn't reply, focusing on the corridor ahead.

Dae-Ho walked beside Yeon-Jin, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He didn't speak again, perhaps sensing she wasn't eager for more conversation, but every so often, she felt his curious gaze on her. She kept her eyes forward, focusing on the stairs, determined not to stumble.

Finally, they reached the top. The guards directed them through a narrow corridor painted entirely pink. The color was oppressively bright, like something out of a child's cartoon, and it made Yeon-Jin's stomach twist. That same robotic voice continued speaking as they walked "Attention players. Welcome to the first game. After you enter the arena, please stand near the entrances and await further instructions. Once again all players, please stand near the entrances and await further instructions."

"What is this place?" someone behind her muttered, their voice filled with unease.

"I don't think I want to know," another replied.

As the group shuffled forward, the corridor opened into a massive outdoor-like space. Yeon-Jin blinked, her eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden change in lighting. Above them, a painted sky stretched across the ceiling, complete with fluffy clouds. It was an uncanny imitation of the outdoors, the kind that felt more unsettling than comforting.

"What the hell is this?" Dae-Ho muttered under his breath.

The room was vast, with a flat, grassless field that stretched out before them. At the far end stood a towering robotic doll, its enormous, doll-like face eerily childlike. Its wide, unblinking eyes stared out over the field, taking in the new arrivals without so much as a blink.

Yeon-Jin felt her stomach drop. Whatever she'd expected, it wasn't this.

"What... is that thing?" a woman near the front of the group asked, her voice trembling.

The doors to the entrance they had walked through slammed shut, "Attention, players," the robotic voice from earlier boomed through the room, amplified by hidden speakers. "Welcome to the first game. You will be playing Red light, Green light. You are allowed to move forward when it says green light. When it says Red light, you must freeze. If your movement is detected afterward you will be eliminated."

"Eliminated?" Dae-Ho repeated under his breath, glancing at Yeon-Jin. "What do they mean by that?"

Yeon-Jin didn't respond, her gaze locked on the doll. "Players who cross the finish line within the five minute time limit without being eliminated will win this game." Just as the voice on the PA was silenced a man pushed his way through the crowd passing the line that separated the players from the field.

"Everybody, you need to pay attention!" he yelled waving his arms, "Hey listen up!" With that everyone quieted down. "I'm gonna tell you something and you gotta listen close! This isn't just a game, it's more than that. If you move after "red light," you're going to be shot!" With that everyone scoffed but Yeon-Jin's chest tightened at his words and she and Dae-ho shared a look.

"Excuse me, sir. What exactly are you saying? That we're all gonna die playing Red Light, Green Light? Really?" A woman said making others chuckle.

"Yes, that's right! If they catch you moving, you're going to be killed! They're gonna shoot you. There's guns in the walls!" The man yelled and Yeon-Jin could hear Dae-Ho inhale sharply from beside her.

"You need to pay close attention! If that sensor catches you moving, you will die! You see that big doll thing there? Look at it!" he said pointing behind him "It's eyes are like motion-tracking sensors!"

Yeon-Jin sighed at those words, "He's crazy..." she muttered, she expected Dae-Ho to have a quip reply or try make a joke but he was intently focused on the man as if trying to make sense of his words or decide if he believed him or not.

"I think he's just trying to freak people out. Then he wouldn't have to share the money. He could win all of it." A player called out earning some agreement from those around him.

"You gotta believe me, I swear I'm not lying!" The man called out and suddenly the doll whirred turning around with a mechanical grinding sound. She turned towards the tree before lifting up one of her hands and placing it on the tree.

"No matter what, do not panic! You can't afford to! Remember everything I told you! Stay as still as you can and don't try and run away!"

"With that, let the game begin." The voice on the PA interrupted. A number 05:00 flashed at the end of the field, what Yeon-Jin presumed was a timer.

"Green light." A doll-like voice spoke, people instantly began moving forward Yeon-Jin glanced at Dae-Ho who was quick to move she trailed slightly behind him. "Red light!" the doll called out and the man who had been yelling, player 456 raised his hands signaling for everyone to stop. "Now hold!" He yelled, the doll turned her head, her body unmoving from it's position against the tree. "Good job that's it! Keep nice and calm, just like that. You got it? Move steady as you go and then stop before red light. If we all do that we'll all get outta here alive!"

"Green light!"

The doll's mechanical voice rang out again, and Yeon-Jin took another careful step forward. Her chest rose and fell evenly as she stayed locked into the rhythm: step, freeze, breathe. The dirt underfoot crunched faintly, and the oppressive silence was broken only by Player 365's booming orders.

"Red light!"

Yeon-Jin froze, her body stiff as her gaze dropped to the ground. She stared at her scuffed shoes, willing herself to keep steady, her breath held as if even that might betray her. This game wasn't difficult—just strange. She didn't understand why people seemed so tense. Sure, the guards looked intimidating with their masks and guns, but it had to be a stunt, right? Some kind of elaborate intimidation tactic.

"Hold still!" 456 barked, his tone sharp enough to make her wince.

"Green light!"

The group moved forward again, the shuffle of feet blending into a hollow rhythm. Yeon-Jin stayed in step, her focus trained on the finish line ahead. They were almost halfway there. It was just a game.

"Red light!"

She froze again. The doll's head creaked, scanning the field with that dead, expressionless gaze. Yeon-Jin's shoulders tensed, but her confidence held. They'd all make it through. No one was going to "get eliminated." Whatever that even meant.

Then, it happened.

A girl squealed from somewhere near the back.

Yeon-Jin's stomach twisted at the sudden noise, her eyes darting to her shoes to keep herself steady. The sound cut off as abruptly as it began. For a moment, there was silence.

And then came the gunshot.

Bang.

The sound slammed into her chest, louder and sharper than anything she'd ever heard before. It wasn't a firecracker. It wasn't for show.

Yeon-Jin's breath hitched. Her head snapped up instinctively, her eyes wide, searching for answers, but she immediately regretted it. Somewhere far back, a body collapsed to the ground like a discarded doll.

Her mind blanked.

"Don't move!" 456's voice cut through the suffocating silence, but it barely registered. Yeon-Jin couldn't process what she was seeing, what she was hearing.

Bang.

Another shot.

Her whole body seized up, her legs trembling as the realization hit her like a freight train. This wasn't a game. This was murder.

"Stay where you are!" 456 shouted again, but Yeon-Jin's focus fractured as the screams began—raw, panicked, desperate.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

The shots rang out over and over, a cruel, deafening rhythm that seemed to shake the earth. Yeon-Jin's heart hammered wildly in her chest, her throat closing as nausea clawed its way up her stomach. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream. But her legs felt like lead, her body frozen in place by pure terror.

The last shot echoed, the sound lingering in her ears like a taunt.

A tear slid down her cheek, hot against her cold, clammy skin. Her lip quivered as she sucked in a shaky breath.

"Don't move! Don't react! Stay exactly where you are!" 456 called out, Yeon-Jin's stomach dropped, how did he know this was going to happen? "Please stay right where you are!" He yelled his voice sounding pained as the gunshots didn't let up.

"Hold still!"

"I will repeat the rules. You are allowed to move forward when it says, 'green light.' When it says, 'red light,' you must stop. If your movement is detected afterward, you will be eliminated."

Eliminated. There was that word again, hollow and clinical. Is that what they called it? A cold euphemism for being shot dead? Yeon-Jin's stomach churned as the reality of it gnawed at her. People had died for stepping too late, too early, or too much. Being killed for taking one step too many was no longer an exaggeration—it was the truth.

She fought the rising sob in her throat, her chest tightening as her eyes locked onto the finish line in the distance. That was her escape, her only hope. Nothing else mattered now. She couldn't let herself break. Not yet.

"Green light!"

For a moment, no one moved. The air felt thick, weighted by fear and indecision. Then she heard it—singular footsteps. Quick, frantic, like someone sprinting for their life.

"Red light!"

The footsteps halted abruptly, and the doll's head swiveled. Yeon-Jin didn't dare glance at the source of the sound, though her heart hammered painfully in her chest.

"Green light!"

The sound of running returned, echoing across the field. Yeon-Jin's breath hitched as her gaze flicked forward, spotting Player 456 a few steps ahead. He had taken his place at the front of the group again, his arm bent protectively over his mouth.

"Red light!"

The group froze, their fear palpable in the eerie stillness.

"If you don't cross the line in time, they'll still kill you!" 456 called out, his voice sharp and urgent. "Look at the doll's eyes! They're cameras—they scan the field for motion. But if you're behind something, it can't detect you!"

He demonstrated, moving his free hand behind his back, his fingers flexing open and closed. "See? It's blind if you're blocked! If you're short, get behind someone taller than you. Single file, like you're forming a conga line!" His voice grew more insistent. "Time's running out! Go at the next green light!"

Yeon-Jin's mind raced. Her fear threatened to overwhelm her, but 456's words lodged in her brain like a lifeline. She glanced at the players around her, her heart pounding in her ears. She needed to move smart, move fast, and stay hidden. Time wasn't on their side.

The green light rang out again, and the field came alive with movement. Players surged forward, footsteps urgent but cautious. Yeon-Jin stood frozen, her legs refusing to cooperate. The players behind her jostled slightly as they maneuvered around her, their panic palpable.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched them pass, blending into lines and using one another as cover. She tried to force her body to move, but fear had locked her in place.

Suddenly, a sharp bang rang out. A player in the distance collapsed mid-step, their body crumpling to the ground. Blood seeped into the dirt as a muffled scream broke out somewhere behind her.

The sight only made her legs feel heavier.

"Red light."

Everyone froze. The air was suffocating, thick with fear and tension. The doll's head creaked as it turned, scanning the field. Yeon-Jin held her breath, her entire body trembling.

When the mechanical gaze moved past her, she exhaled shakily. She saw him then—Dae-Ho. He was further ahead than she'd realized, his lean frame hunched slightly as he prepared to sprint. His hands were clenched tightly, but he turned his head as if sensing her presence.

His sharp eyes landed on her, narrowing in confusion. She felt his gaze burn into her as if willing her to move.

The robotic voice cut through the silence: "Green light."

The players surged forward again. Yeon-Jin's knees buckled slightly as someone bumped into her while passing by, but she remained rooted in place.

Another bang erupted, and a woman just ahead of her collapsed, her body falling like a ragdoll. Blood sprayed across the back of the player in front of her, who flinched but kept moving, his eyes wide with terror.

Yeon-Jin's breathing quickened, her chest tightening painfully. She couldn't do this. She couldn't—

Movement in the corner of her vision snapped her focus back. Dae-Ho had stopped mid-step. To her shock, he turned on his heel and began heading back toward her, weaving through the frozen players.

"What are you doing?!" she hissed as he drew closer, panic flashing in her eyes. "You'll get killed!"

"Not if we time it right," he replied, his voice low and firm. He stopped a few steps away, his sharp gaze locking onto hers.

"Red light."

He froze instantly, his body rigid. The doll's gaze swept past them, and Yeon-Jin felt her heart hammering in her chest.

When the doll's head turned away again, Dae-Ho exhaled sharply. "You need to move," he said, his voice steady but urgent. "If you don't, you're dead."

"I can't," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I can't move."

"You have to," he pressed, his tone softening. "One step. That's all it takes."

"Green light."

Dae-Ho didn't hesitate. He closed the remaining distance between them and grabbed her hand firmly. The warmth of his grip jolted her out of her spiral, anchoring her to reality.

"Come on," he urged, pulling her forward gently.

Yeon-Jin stumbled at first, but his steady pace guided her, keeping her moving.

Another shot rang out, the sound slicing through the air. She flinched, her head snapping to the side as a man just feet away crumpled to the ground, his blood pooling around him.

"Don't look!" Dae-Ho barked, tightening his grip on her hand. "Eyes on me."

"Red light."

They froze together, their breaths shallow and ragged. The doll's gaze swept over the field, lingering for an agonizing moment before moving on.

"Listen to me," Dae-Ho said, his voice quieter now. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his expression serious but kind. "I know you're scared. But you have to focus. Look at me, not them. We're getting through this."

Yeon-Jin nodded shakily, her grip tightening around his hand.

"Green light."

This time, she moved without hesitation. Dae-Ho led the way, his steps deliberate and measured, and she matched his pace, keeping her eyes locked on their joined hands.

The finish line drew closer, but the sounds of gunshots didn't stop. A young boy ahead of them screamed as he stumbled, and the next shot rang out, silencing him instantly.

Yeon-Jin's stomach churned, bile rising in her throat. But Dae-Ho's hand kept her moving, his presence an unyielding anchor.

"Red light."

They stopped again, just steps from the finish line. Dae-Ho glanced at her, his lips quirking into the faintest smile. "Almost there," he murmured. "Just a little further."

"Green light."

With one last surge of determination, they crossed the line together. The moment their feet touched the other side, Yeon-Jin's legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees.

Her chest heaved with each breath, her body trembling uncontrollably. She looked up at Dae-Ho, who crouched beside her, his own face slick with sweat.

"We made it," he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Yeon-Jin could only nod, tears streaming down her face. They had survived—for now.