Henlo I Want To Talk About Cod Mw Trilogy And Black Ops

your favorite crime. (Hwang In-Ho x Reader)

Plot: Given the age gap, you and In-ho had a lot of differences but one thing's for sure - you love each other so much it's destroying the both of you. As the relationship progresses, the fights progresses as well. In your last fight, you break up with In-ho. After two months of no contact, you and In-ho meet again in a local bar. But, he's with someone else this time.

Tags: angst, you and in-ho break up, in-ho finds someone new but still has feelings for you, on-off relationships, age gap, violence

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"God fucking dammit!"

You slammed the door to your apartment then went on to your knees, letting out the tears you were holding in from earlier.

He was unfair. SO UNFAIR. Sure, he spoiled you with a lot of things to make up for his absence. You wanted new shoes? He would wire over some money and send it directly to your bank account, or he would go out of his way to buy it and give it to you as a surprise. You wanted a new bag? He would give it to you in an instant, even those that needed to be shipped for a few days. You craved for something? He would either deliver it for you, cook for you, or just wire some money to your bank account for you to buy whenever he was busy.

That was the problem. He was always busy.

You've been singing at bars for awhile, something to start off with your music career. You've always been musically inclined as you learned a bunch of instruments since high school. You sang, played the drums, bass, guitar, piano - name it. It was fulfilling to be able to go out of your comfort zone, thanks to In-Ho who motivated you to start singing again.

But what happens if the one who motivates you couldn't even at least watch your show, at least once?

You respected his choice of continuing and working for the games. Despite you not being exposed to the games, you understood the concept of it. You shared ideals with In-ho, at least there was something similar between the two of you despite the age gap.

But what you couldn't understand was how he constantly missed watching your shows. Couldn't he at least spare a little of his time to support you? He argued that he overslept, the games were all he had to work on as he had to come up with new games or at least rotate the gameplays, he was tired, and he was still supporting you from afar even if he wasn't physically present.

You sniffed, wiping the tears away from your face. You proceeded to go to the bathroom to at least try and fix yourself up. As you looked at your reflection in the mirror, you couldn't help but miss the person you were before meeting In-ho. This person you're currently looking at, whose mascara and eyeliner were all over your eyes, your lipstick smudged - you vowed to never let a man make you look like this, or even put you in this state.

You sighed, opening the faucet to splash some water on your face, letting sadness take over as you replay the memory of you breaking up with In-ho.

"Y/N," In-ho said, touching a part of your shoulder trying to calm you down. Though he failed, as it made you angrier - knowing damn well what he was about to say again.

"I'm tired of your goddamn excuses," you said as you swatted his hand away from you. He looked at his hand as if he couldn't process the way you acted. He kept his stare at his hand, his jaw clenching. You knew he didn't like it when you become physically violent, or even just a tinge of pushing him away. But right now, you didn't care. You were mad. "What's your excuse this time? You overslept? Been working all night? Tired? You support me in other ways instead by buying me stuff? Treating me outside after my show to 'make up' for your absence? What, In-ho?!"

He glanced at you, his eyes becoming dark as he slowly looked to your eyes. You knew what his look meant - he was becoming angry too. If you had anger issues, he had it worse.

You were taken aback as he grabbed the glass of whiskey on the countertop and slammed it to the floor, its shards spreading around the floor. You didn't flinch, but you felt a glass graze at your leg. With your anger, you couldn't feel the pain yet. It was gonna sting for sure, but you were too angry to care.

But then he started coming towards you, his hand aimed at your neck. His grip wasn't tight enough to choke you, but he had that look in his eyes that if you triggered him once more, he wouldn't hesitate to grip it harder. You held his arm, gripping it with your nails as you tried to get away from him, but he was too strong.

His breath hitched as he continued to look at you with darkness in his eyes. He started to speak up, "You're ungrateful." His jaw clenched while tears started to dwell upon your eyes, but you held them back. "You think I love missing your shows? You think I don't try to at least watch one of them? As much as I want to give you a time, you know damn well that I couldn't. The demands of the games were so high, and it's not my fault that you schedule your shows whenever the games start!" His grip tightened more, this time, making you breathless.

"Then you could've at least made time!" You shouted as you removed his hand successfully, touching your neck. His hands felt like it was imprinted on you, not realizing how he gripped it tighter before letting you go. You coughed, collapsing to the floor as you tried to catch your breath. You felt your legs shake out of anger, feeling the sting of pain from the graze you had earlier. In-ho seemed to notice as your fingers went on to the wound, blood imprinting on your fingers. "If you think this could be fixed with sex, then you're not in luck. I'm done with you."

"What did you say?" He asked sternly, his fists clenching as his eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm done with you, In-ho," you finally stood up, looked at him in the eye as you did so. Your legs were still shaking, but you managed to walk to the door. You gave him a last glance, enough to tell him that you were leaving his life for good. "I'm fucking done with you."

His face hardened as you blurted out those words, his heart beating through his chest harder than ever. While on the other side of the door, you continued to walk away with tears streaming down your face. You hoped to at least hear the door open and for him to chase you and say that he was going to make up for his absence.

The door stayed still, unopened. Instead, you heard the door locked from the inside.

----

It's been two months since you've heard about In-ho. You and him didn't contact each other at all after the fight. Though last month, you noticed the salesman on the subway again, playing ddakji with a random person. You only looked at them for a bit, to which the salesman immediately noticed. He gave you a small wave, unbeknownst to the man he was playing with who was awfully paying attention to the game. Probably someone who's in bad debt that he was too focused on playing the game. The man had hand imprints on his face, knowing damn well that the salesman was winning.

You only gave the salesman a small nod. You didn't like being associated with anyone who's closely related to In-ho. He nodded back and focused his attention to the man he was playing with.

You've been doing fine for awhile. Though you didn't date anyone after In-ho. It's not because you couldn't find someone else, but you didn't have the energy to "market" yourself to other people. Even dating apps didn't work for you. You didn't like starting over again, having to tell your favorite color, food, or whatnot to someone else again. It was too tiring. You accepted the fact that you're gonna live alone for the rest of your life.

But you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't think about In-ho sometimes. You wondered how he was doing, or if there was anything new about the games. He may have not had time for you that much, but you always made sure to at least give yours for him. You would listen as to how he carefully crafts the new games, or how he rotates the games for more thrill. Which angered you more, thinking how unfair that you were giving all of your time to him but he couldn't at least give you his. Sure, he spoiled you with anything materialistic - he made sure that you get all the latest trends, but you wanted more of his time. Maybe it was your way of telling him that you loved him for him, not for his money. Time was all you wanted, yet for a man who had everything, he couldn't give you at least that.

You sighed on the balcony of your apartment, enjoying a nice cup of tea and enjoying the cold breeze outside. Despite you and In-ho's differences, you still missed the bastard dearly. You missed how his fingers touched your skin, touching your back in circles that made you fall asleep better. You were battling insomnia, and you couldn't help but feel that In-ho was the reason you were sleeping peacefully at night. Even though he missed your shows, he was always present after. It made you think if you were ungrateful, but it didn't matter. He still didn't come to your shows to at least show support.

You went back inside your room and decided to look for an outfit to wear outside. When you find yourself thinking about In-ho, you drag yourself to the bar where you two both first met. You don't expect to see him there, knowing damn well he didn't have the time to do so. You knew yourself that it was impossible for him to come there. Hell, he probably doesn't remember that it's where you both first met.

You hailed a taxi cab on the way to the bar. The bar was packed, but you knew the owner so he would just save you a seat on the bar counter. You entered the bar and was met by the smell of alcohol around, people conversing with each other, and the sound of glasses clinking with each other. You went over the counter, ordered your favorite whiskey, preferably on the rocks.

"You alone tonight?" The bartender asked, pouring you a glass of whiskey as she put the ice.

You gave her a small smile. "Yep. No more plus ones."

She chuckled. "I hear you." You gave her a nod and raised the glass to her, thanking her as your drank it in full. She whistled, pouring you another drink. "Someone's getting wasted tonight, huh?"

"You could say that," you chuckled, staring at your glass being poured. The bartender said something, but you couldn't decipher it that much. You were too blinded with the hurt, with the thought of In-ho, and with the emptiness you've been feeling for the past few days.

You looked at the seat beside you, remembering how In-ho looked as he sat beside you. Back then, he didn't realize you were there as he was in too much of deep thought. You were also sitting right where you are, finding no hope in the world as you drink your sadness away. You wished for a family to look after you, a friend to turn to for comfort, or just be with someone. You've always been financially stable and independent. You never knew who your parents were, all you know is they disappeared all of a sudden and never came back. You never approached people first, but with In-ho, you gathered confidence to talk to him. He didn't acknowledge you that much then, completely ignoring you whenever you talk to him.

What he didn't know is that him ignoring you was better as you were used to not talking to a lot of people that much. It didn't feel like talking to a brick wall, but he became more of an outlet for your feelings. It became a tradition for you to go to this bar every night, drinking your sadness away, talking to In-ho (or at least, speaking to him), then going home drunk. You wouldn't know exactly how you got home safe, but knowing you made it to your apartment is enough assurance for you already that you made it safely.

As for In-ho, as much as he doesn't speak to you that much, he still listened. Your voice became a white noise for his thoughts, but he remembered every detail. Suddenly, he found himself coming to the bar every night just to listen to you. He found you amusing but interesting. He couldn't complete his night without you, and he enjoyed every single time you blabbered to him about stuff. Sometimes when the alcohol starts to get on you, you slur at your words. The moment you do that, he knew it's time for you to go home. You may not know how you get home safely, but at least to him, he knew to take care of you. He was the reason you've been going home safe, unbeknownst to you how you taught him the way back to your apartment as he drove at dawn, while you laying on the passenger seat as the alcohol took over you.

A tear fell from your eye as your heart sank with the thought of In-ho. He was a man of few words, but still did a lot for you. The door opened and saw a man wearing a long black coat, his hands tucked in its pockets. His hair was slicked back with gel, a strand of hair down to his face. You thought it looked exactly like In-ho as you chuckled to yourself, looking away as you drank your glass, asking the bartender again to pour you another. You've been thinking about him too much, thinking you've been imagining things.

Wait, what?

You looked back to the door and looked intently at the man you saw earlier. You froze, feeling your heart drop with the realization hitting you that it was indeed In-ho.

God, you hated how good he looked.

In-ho looked through the crowd. You weren't in his line of vision, just glancing around. You were on the other side where the counter was. You looked to where he was staring and saw a stage set in front, with a microphone on stage with one stool chair. A guitar was placed on top of the chair, ready for anyone to play. It seemed like an open mic night is happening and would be starting anytime soon. You noticed In-ho looking there intently. Was he thinking of you? Did he remember you singing there?

You gathered the courage to approach him, fixing your coat as you stood. As you were about to take a step forward, In-ho looked back to the door and smiled.

Smiled.

At someone else.

He gave her a nod as a sign of greeting, his hands touching the back of another woman as he guided her to a table. You feel your body freeze, your hands running cold as you looked at how he held her. You saw how he sat properly, his back touching the chair as he talked to her.

He looked at her the same way he did to you. He touched her back just like he did to you. He took her to the bar where you two first met. The woman whispered something to him, which made him chuckle. His eyes were glued to the menu as the woman continued to talk to him, only giving her small glances.

You sat back on your chair, staring at their table. You couldn't believe your eyes. While it's true that the both of you haven't been in contact with each other for two months, but how can he see someone else already? Were you that easy to replace? You can feel your heart breaking into pieces as you realize how you begged for his time, while he easily gave it to someone else.

You drank your whiskey once more and asked for another pour. The stinging heat of the drink glided through your throat and felt your tears fall, your lips pressed as you sniffed.

"Good evening, ladies and gents," someone on the stage announced through the microphone. "Tonight, we're hosting an open mic night. Feel free to come here on stage if you'd like to sing. The guitar is here and free for you to use for the night. Please enjoy, everybody."

The host bowed before exiting the stage, earning small claps from the crowd. You glanced at In-ho again, who was now talking to the woman he was with. Normally, you would've confronted him right then and there, but you still had your dignity. You would rather break internally instead of making a scene with a random woman. She probably doesn't know, but still, she had your In-ho.

"Got something to sing?" The bartender spoke up as she wipes their bar equipments. You were a regular singer at the bar. You did it for free for the bar, as it was the first avenue that gave you a chance to sing. "You may want to sing your heart out. People are drunk already, they won't probably notice if you cry."

You gave out a small laugh. "Am I that transparent?"

"I poured your glass a few times already, I noticed it very much," she laughed and hovered her hand to the stage. "Go on. Sing your heart out."

In-ho, on the other hand, wasn't having a great time at all. He felt lonely, having no contact with you for over two months. As much as he wanted to contact you, he was scared that you wouldn't want to see him. You telling him that you were done with him was a constant reminder that he fucked up. He didn't mean to oversleep at times when you had your show, he was just simply tired. And when he sleeps, and even a short nap could take him hours. It was a bad habit of his, he knows, so he tries to make it up to you in ways that he can.

Though what he failed to realize is to meet you in ways that he needed to, and how you wanted to.

In-ho didn't know what occurred to him as to why he went on a date with this woman. He knew he was being more unfair knowing how you begged for his time then him giving his time for someone else freely. It was true that he never wanted to miss your shows. He became too invested and busy with the games that he failed to prioritize you at times. He couldn't talk to you when he travels to the island as signal was nowhere to be found in that area. He knew you understood that, but he also wished that he could give you more of his time.

And so, In-ho made a deal with Il-nam to at least give him more days off. He did so well for the games, serving it for years now. At this point, his mind was scattered. But all of it leads to you.

In-ho took his date here only for the fact that he wanted to remember you. Something he could still remember you. He wished so hard for his date to be you instead, finding you in others. But there was no one else like you. Hell, no one was as close as you. In-ho looks at his date's eyes, catching a glimpse of you in his mind. He knew he was just passing time in her arms, but would rather be in yours.

"Annyeong," a voice echoed to the room. In-ho froze, the familiar voice catching on to him. He immediately looked at the stage and saw you, holding a guitar as you continued to fix the microphone leveling it for yourself. "I'm Y/N. Tonight, I'll sing what my heart feels as I wish that someone in here catches of a glimpse of me in someone's eyes."

The crowd murmured with excitement, the environment becoming lively. Curiosity filled the room as they looked at you. The crowd claps for you, including In-ho's date who became invested on to what you were going to sing.

"That's a bold move," In-ho's date said, her eyes locked to the stage.

In-ho adjusts his seat, his eyes never leaving you. He picks up his glass of whiskey, turning the glass around. "It is."

You begin to strum your guitar, feeling lost to the tune as you let your feelings take over you. You closed your eyes, hearing its rhythm as the strings glided to your fingers.

Know that I loved you so bad I let you treat me like that I was your willing accomplice, honey And I watched as you fled the scene Doe-eyed as you buried me One heart broke, four hands bloody

You opened your eyes and saw In-ho, his eyes fixed on you. You looked at him intently as you carefully sang each line, pouring your heart out.

The things I did Just so I could call you mine

In-ho stiffened, remembering how much you put up with his shit for a long time. He hears his date saying something, but he deliberately ignores her. In his peripheral vision, he could see his date's smile falter.

The things you did Well, I hope I was your favorite crime

In-ho's job wasn't easy at all. Hell, it couldn't even be considered a real job. It's an actual crime, slaughtering countless lives as if he was the one who gave them life in the first place. You knowing about what he does make you an accomplice already. Still, you chose to be with him. Despite agreeing with the fact that it's wrong, the concept of running the games still made sense.

You used me as an alibi I crossed my heart as you crossed the line And I defended you to all my friends And now every time a siren sounds I wonder if you're around 'Cause you know I'd do it all again

A tear fell from your cheek, letting it flow freely as you continue to sing. In-ho still kept his gaze at you, but this time, his eyes softened. There was longing - something that both of you had for each other as you parted ways.

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do 'Cause I was going down, but I was doing it with you Yeah, everything we broke and all the trouble that we made But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

How bittersweet it was for him to finally watch you sing live. If only In-ho didn't have a date, and only you weren't broken because of him. If only he made more time. If only he could've been better.

Your voice broke as you sang, adding more emotion to the audience. They all watched you intently, but your eyes were only focused on In-ho.

Oh, look what we became....

You continued to strum your guitar and let your emotions take over you. As you finished the song, you looked at In-ho once again, his eyes still fixed on you. You saw him bit his lip as he looked down, his shoulders tense. You looked at the audience as they clapped, cheering for you. They asked for one more, but you politely declined, giving them a bow as you exited the stage. You could feel In-ho's eyes following you, but you hovered over to your seat fast as your glass of whiskey was waiting for you. You drank it with all your might, asking for a refill to the bartender once again.

You glanced at the door and saw the woman In-ho was with leaving. You looked back at In-ho's table, only for him to appear right beside you as you felt his coat brush against yours.

The two of you sat in silence once again right after the bartender finished pouring your drink. In-ho looked at you intently while you stared at your glass, turning it around as the ice clinked with each other along its whiskey.

Somehow, it felt comforting that he was right beside you. You gathered the courage to look up to him, and god, you wished you didn't.

His eyes were full of worry, as if he was on the brink of tears. He took a sip of his whiskey and placed it on the counter, not leaving his eyes on you. You felt his hands cup your face as you surrendered to his touch. You touch his hand as well, bringing it closer to your face as you took a deep breath, feeling more of his touch.

Without a second thought, his lips meet yours as his hands glided to your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your other hand held his arm, gripping on it as if you missed him.

You missed him so much, just as he did. Hell, he missed you more.

He broke away from the kiss, staring at your face as if memorizing it. He tucked your hair away from your face, "Y/N, I'm so sorry."

You pulled his collar and kissed him more, deepening the kiss. You felt him sniff, feeling a tear from his eye glide down your face. His hands were all over you, not caring if everyone sees the both of you.

"I love you."

----

A/N: This is my first fanfic of In-ho ever! I hope you guys like it. Also, I've been obsessed with writing fanfics based on songs, so feel free to request oneshots or series based on songs as someone who's a music lover. 🤗

>> REQUEST HERE

SEEING THIS ON HIS IG LITERALLY MADE ME SCREAM

Peekaboo.

prologue - just another player. (hwang in-ho x reader)

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A/N: I'm back! Yey! No more sad endings this time, I promise. 😅 Hope you'll like my new series!

----

The night fell in the games like a clenched fist. 

The low hum of the fluorescent lights buzzed inside Hwang In-ho’s skull, matching the stuttering beat of his heart. Blood, slick and sticky, pooled at his side where the jagged edge of a broken bedframe had ripped through his shirt and skin hours ago. He pressed his palm over the wound, more out of instinct than hope.

His wound wasn’t deep enough to kill him yet. But enough to slow him down. And in here, slowing down meant dying. 

The air reeked of sweat, fear, and iron. He leaned back against the freezing metal frame of his bunk, staring blankly across the dormitory where the others lay curled like dying insects, clutching stolen blankets, clutching each other if they had to.

His breathing stayed shallow. Any deeper and the pain would carve a new line through him. He barely noticed it now. Pain was just another part of the architecture—another brick in the wall he'd built around himself the moment he realized survival meant killing something inside.

His body screams to collapse. But he can't afford to listen.

Would it even matter if he survived?

The thought drifted through him, detached, like watching someone else drown through a pane of glass. If he died here, it would be easier. No debts. No shame curling in his gut like a parasite every time he thought about his wife sitting alone in a sterile hospital room.

He closed his eyes briefly, letting the numbness settle deeper. Hope was dangerous here. Softness was lethal. He had clawed and fought to stay alive through the first game, through the second, through the alliances and betrayals that had stripped everyone down to what they really were. And now?

Now he was just a body pressed into a corner, bleeding out slowly, wondering if the prize at the end was even real.

The blood slid down his side in slow rivulets. His fingers tightened reflexively, staunching it, but the strength was leaving him. He shifts, grimacing, dragging himself tighter into the shadow between two bunks. Just another faceless player trying not to die before morning.

Somewhere, a scuffle breaks out. A choked scream. The wet, final thud of a head hitting concrete. In-ho doesn't even flinch.

He can't afford to.

He wonders if this is how dying feels—not sudden, but slow. A gradual loosening from the world, like slipping under deep water where no one can hear you scream.

Maybe tomorrow, he would bleed out during the next game. Maybe he'd die here, alone in the dark.

Maybe, he thought distantly, it wouldn't be a bullet that took him out. Maybe it would be something stupid like an infection. Or bleeding out under the blank, indifferent gaze of a dozen pink-masked guards.

Guards who wouldn’t even flinch.

Guards who didn't see him as anything but a number.

Soft footsteps edged closer through the rows of battered bunk beds. He didn’t bother to open his eyes. If it was another player, they would slit his throat and be done with it. If it were a guard, maybe they would drag him out early. Spare him the indignity of dying like a stray dog in front of the others.

The footsteps stopped in front of him. A shadow falls across him as he squints up at you, someone with a mask and pink uniform blurring at the edges of his swimming vision. 

Your voice was low and close, like a secret pressed against his half-conscious mind. You knelt, against every protocol, and pressed something against his wound with pressure, making it firm and steady.

“If you live,” you whispered. “Don’t forget who you were before they made you fight.”

In-ho’s eyes snapped open, his hand brushing against yours as he tried to make sense of what was happening, on why the hell a guard was speaking to him in this manner. You immediately swat his hand away as you hurriedly tend to his wounds.

For the first time in days, Hwang In-ho felt something splinter deep inside the fortress he had sealed himself into. It wasn’t hope — more of the terrifying possibility that even if he lived, he might not be the same man who started the game. 

----

A/N: I'm so happy to be writing another series again! Squid Game started appearing in my FYP again (and yes, I've watched multiple edits of LBH again 😭). Anyway, we're like almost a month away from the new season of Squid Game, I'm so excited! 😆

As the saying goes... Don't forget to leave a comment in this prologue to be tagged on to the first chapter. :)

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CHAPTER 02 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

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The familiar scent of your apartment brought you back to your senses. The reality of being back to Seoul for good kicks you in day by day. Jun-ho placed your suitcase to the floor and looked around. Your studio apartment had a natural sunlight, as the glass door illuminated the light from the outside. Though the apartment still felt empty as you still lacked furnitures, but the memories it held was more than enough to say that you were indeed back home.

"Jun-ho, thank you so much for bringing my stuff back here," you patted his shoulder and smiled.

He smiled back. "No worries, noona. I'm so glad you're back. I wish we could talk more, but I got an errand to catch on."

You nodded, taking off your hand from his shoulder. "I see. Well, good luck and do good, alright?" Jun-ho nodded and grabbed his backpack. As he made his way to the door, you turned around and called out to him again. This time, you noticed how his body froze to your words, "If you ever see In-ho, let him know that I'm back, alright?"

His body stood still, much to your confusion. What was up with him? You understand how it might've been hard how In-ho had been missing for years, but your gut tells you that there was more to the story. As much as you wanted to ask, you knew In-ho preferred to always move and decide on his own. There's so much more in there, you knew it. But you were in no position to pry, at least for now.

Jun-ho looked back at you and only gave you a bow, then left. You turned your attention to the apartment, noting the stuff that you had to buy. A dining table, chairs, sofa, and a bed. Your wooden cabinet was still here, though it had built up dust already. You cleaned a bit inside before placing your clothes and other stuff there.

The sun was still out but it was setting already. You figured with little time you have left, you may as well shop for furnitures. You changed into another set of clothes, this time more casual and comfortable. You wore a black oversized shirt and grey sweatpants, slipping on some white sneakers. Once you felt ready, you grabbed your sling bag and went out, locking the door behind you.

As you walked down the road, you can't help but think of In-ho and how Jun-ho seemed to act strange whenever he was mentioned. You wondered why - did they fall out? Did something happen? Was In-ho gone for good? If yes, why would he leave his brother then? You tried to piece things together, but nothing made sense. It was out of character for In-ho to disappear without a trace, even if his wife passed.

It's impossible that he's gone for good, you thought. If his wife has passed, he would've made an effort to at least visit her in the cemetery. Though you didn't know where his wife was laid to rest, but in that case, maybe In-ho would've visited her at times. Guilt started to creep up to you, regretting every single second that you left here in the first place. As much as you knew it was for the best, you couldn't help but think that maybe you could've been there for In-ho when he was struggling. You could've helped him.

----

You swiped your credit card to the POS, confirming your payment for all the furnitures you bought. It would be deliver later, not later than 7pm at least. You needed a bed to sleep in for the night, and your apartment was more than empty except for the wooden cabinet you left years ago. You were surprised how it was still sturdy as ever. Kind of a blessing in disguise, actually.

You bowed to the cashier and proceeded to exit the store. You sighed as you felt the cold breeze hug you in. You looked for your vape inside your sling bag, inhaled it, and puffed a smoke. You didn't realize how tense your shoulders were as you exhaled. You thought the jetlag was getting on to you, adding up to the fact all the things you knew about the brothers.

You walked towards the subway, waiting for your train to arrive. This time, you didn't try hailing a cab as you missed riding the train. You wanted to savor the feeling of being in Seoul, finally back after long years.

You sat on one of the benches, minding your own business as you stared into space. You scrolled through your phone as you waited for the train, getting updated about your friends' life updates. You noticed an advertisement from a vlogger, MG Coin. It was the first time you stumbled upon this vlogger and read an article about them. Turns out he opened a new coin, Dalmatian, which he advertised to have everyone invest down to their last penny, guaranteeing instant investment. From the looks of it, if you weren't dumb enough, it was a scam for you. No one can get rich from truly investing, what more of getting a return of investment that fast.

"Dumb fucks," you muttered to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. You continued to scroll more until there was no news that was worth to read. You sighed and kept your phone inside your bag.

The sound of a tile being slammed shot you up, looking at the direction of the sound. There, you see a man in a fine suit, playing what seemed like ddakji. You adjusted your eyesight to see what was happening, and yes, it really was ddakji.

You chuckled, wondering what entered his mind to play such a kid's game in a random subway. He was playing with someone who seemed to be in... distressed? You looked at the man, seeing a hand imprint on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows, confused why he seemed so invested in the game.

You watched them as they played, earning a shock from you when you see the man with a suit slap the guy's face. Then, he started to speak. "Again, I'll give you 100,000 won if you beat me. If I win, you can pay with your body."

"So, he paid by slapping," you shook your head in disbelief, chuckling as you continued to watch them. When the guy finally won, you can see how happy he was but looked up to the man in a suit, seemingly wanting to slap him. As he bolted his hand to slap, the man in a suit grabbed the guy's hand, blocking the slap. It seemed like he gave him something, which the guy glanced at his hand as if he was reading something.

You averted your gaze when you see the man in a suit turn around, facing you. You tried to not meet his gaze, but to your surprise, a briefcase was right next to your seat. You were probably so invested in watching the game that you didn't notice the briefcase. Though it was a crazy idea, you wanted to try and play the game. Would you win the prize? Or would you try to spice things up a bit?

You faced the man in a suit, meeting your gaze. You gave him a smile and a nod, and surprisingly, he also did. He proceeded to place the ddakji papers but he stopped as you spoke, "May I?"

The man smirked, but you can see the confusion forming in his face. You had a feeling he was trying to keep up with a facade which boils your curiosity more. "You want to play ddakji?"

You nodded. "I heard that you can win 100,000 won if you win, right?" He nodded in agreement. You continued, "What if I give you 100,000 won instead if you win, and if you lose...?" You looked up to think, and see the man chuckling. He seemed to be enjoying this.

"If I lose, then you can slap me," the man said as he smirked, taking the papers away from the briefcase. This was it, it seemed that both of you reached to an agreement. You stood up, fixing your clothes as he hands you the red paper.

The blue paper sits on the ground, waiting for you to flip it. You took a deep breath as you motioned your hand up then aimed at the blue paper, flipping it perfectly. It was the man's turn, seeing as he fixed and unbuttoned his blazer before swinging his hand to flip the paper on the ground, only to fail.

You smirked when you see him realize that he lost. He straightened himself up and moved his face near you, a free aim for you to slap. You examined his features first, realizing how fine he looked. He looked like he might in his early 40s, with a strand of hair down his forehead. He seemed to brace to the impact as you motioned your hand for a slap, only to lightly tap his face, barely even a slap.

He looked at you confusingly to which you only chuckled. "Can't slap a pretty face like yours," you said.

He only looked at you coldly, then furrowed his eyebrows as if to examine you. You had a feeling that no one dared to do that to him before, and maybe no one ever gave him 100,000 won if he wins the game. His jaw clenched, but not the angry kind. He seemed to think and squinted his eyes, then proceeded to nod in defeat, chuckling to himself.

"I just wanted to try it anyway, see if I was still good at it," you fixed yourself, straightening your posture. He did the same, now placing the ddakji papers back in the suitcase.

You noticed his hand on your vision, giving you a brown card, like a calling card, with three shapes on it - triangle, square, and circle. You shot him a confused look but this time, he was smirking at you. "If you want to see if you're good at ddakji, then you may as well join more games."

You grabbed the card from him as he closed his briefcase, giving you a nod before turning away, seeing his back as he walked away up to the platform, leaving the subway. Your gaze turned to the card you were holding, its texture seemed... premium. You turned the card on the other side and saw a number, as if ready for you to call.

A rumbling noise of wheels echoed through the subway, indicating that the train has arrived. You tucked the card on your pocket as you waited for the doors to open, entering it and sat near the entrance. You picked the card again from your pocket, intently staring at it. There was something more in this card that you were curious about. What did he mean about having more games? Will there be a prize at the end?

There's no harm in doing so, you think?

----

"Lee Myung-gi ran a Youtube Channel named, 'MG Coin' promoted a new coin called, 'Dalmatian' that turned out to be a scam, losing over 15.2 billion won after promoting it to their subscribers," the salesman reported, a phone pressed on his ear.

In-ho continued working on his papers, a glass of whiskey sitting near his left desk lamp. His phone was placed near it, putting the call on loudspeaker. He went over the potential player's file, seeing more of the details of the scam. He shook his head in disbelief, wondering how did these people get themselves up to situations like this. "Trash. Pure trash."

"He fled to the Philippines to hide from those he scammed," the voice on the other line stated. "I also noticed someone calling his phone. Someone named Kim Jun-hee."

"What about this Jun-hee?"

"She's pregnant, sir," the salesman said. In-ho dropped the paper he was holding for a moment. A pause came in before the salesman continued again, "Not in debt. Just needed funds for her pregnancy."

In-ho sat back on his chair, placing his hand on his chin as if to think. Though he couldn't help but feel his heart drop for a moment, remembering his wife. He shook his head before his emotions take over, proceeding to speak again. "You played with her?"

"Yes," the salesman replied. "I didn't slap her, knowing how fragile she was." In-ho nodded, a sigh of relief escaping from him. He took a sip on his whiskey, but was caught off guard when the salesman started to speak again. "But someone else wanted to play voluntarily."

"That's a first," In-ho muttered. He wondered why someone wanted to play ddakji voluntarily. Then he scoffed, thinking how they probably heard about the prize. "Let them enter the games."

"Sir, with all due respect, are you sure?" The salesman asked, the shock evident in his voice. "She offered to pay 100,000 won if she loses the game."

In-ho nodded as his thoughts start to take him over, trying to decide if they would let this someone enter the games. In entering the games, one had to be in debt. By debt, as in bad debts. A debt that slowly kills you, feeling as though you were alive only to be taunted by your shitty financial decisions. In-ho proceeded to ask, "Do you know anything about this woman?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. My apologies," the salesman replied. "But she seemed to be carefree. I spotted her along a furniture store nearby the station, buying furnitures, like a lot of them. She beat me to playing ddakji, and said she just wanted to see if she was still good at it."

In-ho became more confused, trying to weigh if he was going to let this someone in. If he lets you in, then the games would be more interesting. That is, if you call the number. Maybe there was no harm in letting someone not in debt to play. Or maybe he can offer you something more than playing in a pool of humans drowned in their debts.

"I gave her a card in case she's interested," the salesman reported. "But you should know that someone's got a tail on me. Seong Gi-hun is after us."

In-ho nodded, rolling his eyes with the thought of Gi-hun. In-ho believed that Gi-hun wouldn't be able to take down the whole organization. If ever, he would let Gi-hun be, but it would all just be for show, just to make things interesting.

Make things interesting.

As if a light was shone on In-ho's face, his face brightened up with an idea. He could make Gi-hun come back to the games, and letting someone like you in the games to see the truth and evilness of this place. Will you regret ever being so curious? He smirked, finishing his glass of whiskey as he felt the booze heat his throat. "Let the furniture girl in, and let Gi-hun work on his delusions. This season's going to be far more interesting."

In-ho ended the call, holding his hands together. He stared into space, sinking away from his thoughts. It's time to level up the games, to let someone who isn't entirely in debt to enter the games. Additionally, it's time to let a previous winner back.

If Gi-hun's back, then so is he.

----

A/N: I had so much fun writing this chapter! What did you think about the twist of ddakji? I wanted to at least express how attractive the salesman is, and how the reader couldn't slap his pretty face, catching him off guard. Now, we get a glimpse of In-ho before starting the games. It's also my first time to write a perspective of a villain, I hope I did some justice to it. Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged on the next chapter! ✨

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TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez

This belongs to you, sir.

“this is for soap…" 

CHAPTER 15 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

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WARNING: 18+ content ahead. Read at your own risk.

——

The alley was silent, save for the slow dripping of water from a rusted pipe. The flickering neon sign of a half-abandoned pawn shop painted streaks of red across the pavement, casting an eerie glow over the lifeless body slumped against the grimy brick wall.

In-ho crouched down, his gloved fingers skimming the bloodstained fabric of the recruiter’s coat. The wound was deep —  clean but ruthless. The work of someone who knew what they were doing. Someone driven by more than just desperation.

Someone like you.

His jaw tightened. Even in the dim light, he could make out the faint smudges of shoe prints leading away from the scene. The fight hadn’t been long. The recruiter never had a chance. 

In-ho pulled out his phone, pressing it to his ear. “Clean it up,” he ordered, his voice cold and detached. “No traces.”

A curt response from the other end was received, then the line went dead. He pocketed the phone and straightened, his gaze sweeping the empty alleyway. The city was restless tonight— the streets hummed with distant car horns, the murmurs of late-night wanderers. But the shadows told him what he needed to know.

You were close, as if you were a ghost slipping through the cracks of the city, moving unseen, leaving only a trail of destruction in your wake.

He stepped out of the alley, his sharp eyes scanning the streets. Then, he saw her.

Jun-hee.

She stepped out of a nearby gas station’s convenience store, her figure framed against the glow of the automatic doors. She looked exhausted, dark circles smudging beneath her eyes, her hair slightly unkempt. But what caught his attention was the small bundle in her arms, wrapped in soft yellow fabric.

A baby.

His chest tightened. He lingered in the shadows, unseen as she adjusted the child in her arms, murmuring something softly before disappearing into the night. She thinks he was dead, and for the first time in years, that was an advantage.

In-ho remained in the shadows as he turned back to his car, slipping behind the wheel as he started the engine. He didn’t have time for her. He had more important things to find.

You.

The city stretched out before him, endless roads weaving like veins through the darkness. He drove without direction, relying on something deeper than logic — instinct and memory. He took long roads, passed by streets you used to walk, and places you used to go when you wanted to disappear. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, pulse steady but tense.

He knew you were running. But he also knew you were getting tired.

It wasn’t until he turned onto a quieter street, past dimly lit clubs and bars, that he found you. The bar was a rundown hole-in-the-wall. It was the kind of place that reeked of spilled alcohol, cigarette smoke, and bad decisions. Through the rain-streaked windshield, he saw you. Your head was thrown back, half-empty glass in hand, body slumped against the counter in a drunken mess. Even from the car, he recognized that recklessness, the barely contained fire burning in your veins.

In-ho sighed, pushing the door open. Your figure stilled recklessness, your posture feral like a wounded animal ready to lash out at anything that came too close. Your chair had been knocked over, glass shattered to the floor. Two men held you back, gripping your arms as you thrashed, trying to break free. The bartender looked wary, unsure whether to intervene.

“Let go of me!” Your voice was sharp, slurred but venomous.

“Calm down, lady,” one of the men sneered. “before you do something you regret.”

The moment your eyes met In-ho’s, something in it shifted. The rage, the fire— it was still there. But now, it burned with something else. The entire bar fell silent as in-ho stepped forward.

“Let her go,” he ordered. His voice was calm and cold — but final.

The two men hesitated, their grips tightening as they looked him up and down, sizing him up. In-ho rolled his eyes, pulling out a stack of cash, tossing it onto the counter.

“For the damages.”

The bartender’s eyes widened, nodding quickly before the two men finally released you, muttering curses under their breath as they backed away. In-ho stepped closer as your body wavered, your legs unsteady from the alcohol, and before you could fall, his hand caught your arm, steading you.

You flinched, your breath hitching at the touch. You managed to give him a glare despite your legs wobbling. “Let me go.”

He didn’t.

Instead, he guided you towards the exit, his grip firm but careful. The night air was cold against your flushed skin, and you sucked in a breath, trying to gather whatever scraps of sobriety you had left. But before you could twist free from his grasp, he opened the car door and ushered you inside. 

“In-ho,” you murmured, his name falling from your lips like an accusation, more like a plea.

He didn’t answer. He simply closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. You slumped against the seat, eyes hazy, fists clenching at the leather beneath you. As he started the engine, he spared you a glance. “Let’s go.”

The tires rolled over wet pavement, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as he drove. And for the first time in six months, you weren’t running.

The hum of the car engine filled the silence between you, a low vibration that barely reached the surface of your awareness. Your head lolled against the window, the cool glass pressing into your burning skin. You were drunk — far beyond your usual limit — but the fight, the chaos, and the exhaustion had drained what little resistance you had left.

And then there was In-ho.

Sitting there, hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Not saying a word. Not asking you anything. Just existing beside you, like he had been pulled from some distant memory and placed into the present.

The weight of it settled over your shoulder.

Six months of running, of hiding, of fighting against the inevitability of his presence in your life. Six months of trying to forget him, only to realize that forgetting was impossible. He had burned himself into your bones, branded himself into the very structure of your being, and no amount of running could erase him.

The streetlights outside passed in soft glows, streaks of golden light washing over his face in fleeting moments. You watched him through heavy lids, tracing the sharp cut of his jaw, the shadows beneath his eyes, the way his lips pressed together in a firm line.

He had aged. Not in years, but in burdens. And maybe, just maybe, you were part of that weight.

A bitter chuckle slipped past your lips before you could stop it. In-ho’s gaze flicked toward you for the briefest second, sharp and assessing, before returning to the road. You tilted your head back against the seat, staring up at the car’s ceiling as the alcohol in your system dulled your inhibitions, loosening your tongue.

“You know…” Your voice slurred, thick with exhaustion and liquor. “I thought about killing you too.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he didn’t react.

You laughed, hollow and tired. “I did. I planned it in my head. What I would say and how I would do it. What I would feel when it was over,” you turned your head, meeting his gaze with half-lidded eyes. “But the problem is…”

You swallowed hard, the words catching in your throat.

The problem was that you couldn’t.

Because despite everything, despite the betrayal, the pain, the war that raged inside you every time you thought of him —  he was still him. The boy who had once picked daisies for you, who gave you the paper ring, who memorized the constellations just so he could tell you stories about the stars, the one who taught you games, who had always found you, no matter how far you ran.

Your breath hitched, your vision blurring. Not from the alcohol, but from something much deeper, much more dangerous.

Your voice broke when you whispered, “I missed you.”

The words landed like a gunshot.

In-ho’s hands clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles going white. His breath faltered just for a moment, but it was enough. Enough for you to know that it hit him, that he had missed you too.

But he didn’t say anything. He just kept driving, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

You let out a soft sigh, a weary exhale as the weight of the night, the exhaustion, the emotions swirled into something too heavy to hold. Your body sagged against the seat, and before you could fight it, your eyelids drifted shut.

The last thing you felt was the car slowing, the warmth of the heater brushing over your skin, and the lingering presence of him. He was silent, unmovable, but he was there.

——

The weight of consciousness settled slowly, like a fog lifting from the shore. Your head throbbed with the unmistakable ache of a hangover, your body sluggish and warm beneath the silk sheets. A familiar scent lingered in the air — clean, crisp, and laced with something deeper, something that made your stomach twist before you even dared to open your eyes.

The air was thick with the distant hum of the ocean, waves crashing in a rhythmic lull. Then it hit you. The room, the sensation, the unsettling deja vu crawling up your spine.

You were back on the island. 

Your eyes shot open, darting across the dimly lit room. The sleek black walls, the opulent yet sterile furnishings, the single glass of water resting on the bedside table. The weight of reality settled in your chest, heavier than the remnants of alcohol in your system. You swallowed, throat parched, reaching for the water with an unsteady hand. The cool liquid did little to ease the heat rising beneath your skin.

Then, the sound of water ceased. The bathroom door clicked open, steam rolling out in thick tendrils, curling into the room like ghosts of the past. Then, In-ho stepped out.

Fresh from the shower, his damp hair clung to his forehead, his expression unreadable, controlled as ever. A dark robe hung loosely over his broad shoulders, barely tied, revealing the lean muscles of his chest, the sharp lines of his collarbones. Water droplets traced slow, lazy paths down his skin, disappearing beneath the fabric that barely clung to his waist.

Your breath hitched. You should have been furious, should have screamed, thrown the glass against the wall, demanded why he had brought you back here of all places. But instead, you sat frozen, pulse hammering against your ribs, fingers gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white.

He didn’t speak at first. He simply stood here, watching you, his dark eyes scanning every inch of you, reading you as easily as he always had. And despite everything — the pain, betrayal, the war waging inside your heart — your body betrayed you.

You hated how easy it was for him to affect you. How, even now, after everything, he still had this power over you. 

“In-ho…” your voice was hoarse, weak, a plea you didn’t mean to make.

He exhaled slowly, stepping forward. The air between you crackled, charged with something dangerous, something inevitable.

“You sad you missed me,” his voice was low and steady, but there was something else laced in it — something raw. “Do you still?”

You opened your mouth to deny it, to spit venom, to remind him of everything he had done. But the words never came. Because he was already there, standing over you, one knee pressing into the mattress as he leaned closer. The heat of his body seared into your skin, even through the thin sheets separating you.

In-ho’s hand found your jaw, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, and you trembled, but not from fear.

“You should hate me,” he murmured, and for the first time in a long time, there was something vulnerable in his expression. “Tell me you do.”

You didn’t.

And when he kissed you, you let him.

The moment his lips met yours, something inside you snapped. Anger, longing, grief, and something deeper — all of it collided as you reached for him, pulling down onto the bed. His robe slipped from his shoulders, pooling around his waist, exposing more of him to your hungry, desperate hands.

This wasn’t about forgiveness. It wasn’t about fixing what had been broken. 

It was about claiming what was left.

And neither of you held back.

His hands roamed around your body as his tongue battled yours, fighting for dominance. His grip was tight, but not enough to hurt you. Though you felt his tongue licking your teeth, earning a moan from you as motioned his body on top of you. He slid your shorts down along with your underwear, pulling away from you to look at the view in front of him as you removed your shirt off, his eyes darkening with lust as he removed your bra.

He spread your legs apart, revealing your wet entrance. He looked into your eyes once more, his eyes asking for consent. You gave him a nod before he pulled himself down, his face down your wetness as he grabbed your legs, putting them over his shoulder, squeezing it. You held your breath and looked up, ready for what was coming next.

His tongue swirled around your clit, much to your pleasure. You couldn’t help but let out a moan, much to his liking as he worked his tongue faster. He entered into you with his tongue, sending more pleasure down your spine, gripping the sheets as you cried. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer against him as his tongue continued, feeling your insides clench.

“In-ho…” You moaned out. “I’m close.”

Just when you were about to, he stopped, earning a whimper from you as he pulled away, looking at you intently as he leaned forward. “I’m not done.”

His lips crashed against yours once again, desperate and hungry, swallowing the soft gasp that escaped you. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, the solid heat of his body pressing into yours. You melted into the kiss, fingers tangling in his damp hair, the scent of clean soap and something distinctly him flooding your senses.

His hands roamed your body like he was relearning every inch of you, like he had spent every second of your absence memorizing what it felt like to hold you. A broken sound escaped your lips as his mouth traced fire down your neck, nipping and soothing, eliciting shivers that curled deep into your stomach. His name slipped past your lips in a breathless plea, and it was all he needed to hear.

In-ho answered with touch, with heat, with devotion. Each movement was reverent, slow yet burning with a passion that threatened to consume you both whole. He slid his bathrobe away, not letting go of you as he bulged his shaft down to your entrance, your wetness making it easy for him to enter. His manhood fit perfectly onto you, his movement careful at first as you adjusted.

His thrusts were slow at first, but you were too impatient. You clung your fingernails to his back, leaning your head forward as you whispered to his ear, “Faster.”

And with that, he thrusted faster. Harder. You felt your breasts jiggle as he noticed, cupping one breast with his hand as he continued to thrust into you and held your waist as if it was a handle. You closed your eyes, feeling the sensation of pleasure around your body only for him to grab your jaw, much to your surprise. “Look at me.”

You didn’t waste time. You open them, locking your eyes with his as you see him look at you with lust all over his face, his breath hitching with low moans. He trusted harder, enough to feel your cervix as he let out a groan, like an animal ready to shed its beast.

“Fuck,” he groaned, continuing his thrust. “You feel so good, baby.” He leaned forward again to kiss you, his tongue battling for dominance as you whimpered through his mouth, much to his pleasure.

He worshipped you, whispered your name like a prayer as if you were something sacred, something he had lost and was afraid to lose again. You felt his grip on your waist tighten, feeling his pulse down much faster this time. You could also feel your insides clench once more as you moaned louder, holding back your climax.

In-ho seemed to sense this as he circled your clit with his finger which made your back arched. “Cum for me.”

The smell of sex and sweat filled the air as you let out a whimper, with In-ho continuing to look at you with lust, biting his lip as you came, but that didn’t stop his thrust into you. Your legs shivered, feeling your insides come with pleasure, the sensitivity of your clit unbearable.

And then, at last, he came into climax, pushing one last thrust onto you enough to reach your cervix, spilling all his cum inside as he let out a moan. His head was motioned upward, closing his eyes as you felt his juices inside you.

You both finally shattered, tangled together beneath the dim light of the room, pleasure washing over you in waves, you realized something else.

No matter how far you ran, how much you tried to fight it —  you would always find your way back to him.

Because despite everything, you belonged to him. And he was yours.

——

The room was silent except for the lingering echoes of your shared breaths, the warmth of his body still seeping into yours. In-ho collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, his skin damp with sweat and satisfaction. The space between you felt heavy — not with regret, nor with shame, but with something deeper, something raw and unspoken.

Your fingers ghosted over your stomach as you lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch your breath. The heat of his presence was everywhere on your skin, in the sheets, in the very air you breathed. You turned your head to look at him, his profile sharp against the dim lighting of the room. His lips were parted, his expression unreadable as his chest slowly rose and fell.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. But then, the question, the one that had been burning inside you, finally escaped your lips.

“Why did you keep looking for me?”

In-ho didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh, his fingers reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was softer than you expected, almost hesitant, as if he feared that you would slip away again if he wasn’t careful.

“Because you were never meant to disappear,” he murmured, his voice deep and quiet. His thumb traced along your jawline, a gesture so tender that it sent a shiver down your spine. “I thought I could move on. That you had made your choice, and I had to respect it. But everywhere I went, I saw you. I felt you. You haunted me, even when I tried to forget you.”

His eyes, dark and full of unspoken emotions, searched yours.

“I thought I had lost you forever,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t accept that. No matter where I looked, I always hoped I would find you waiting for me.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You had spent nights watching him from the shadows, knowing he had been looking for you, feeling that same pull but never daring to step forward. You had chosen exile and revenge. And yet, here you were, right where you had sworn never to return.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, until you finally whispered the question that had been haunting you since that day.

“Then why did you shoot me?”

In-ho’s body tensed beside you. His expression didn’t change, but you could see the way his fingers twitched slightly against the sheets.

“You could have killed me,” you continued, your voice barely above a breath. “You pulled the trigger, In-ho. Why?”

His jaw tightened. He exhaled slowly, his gaze flickering toward the ceiling before he finally turned back to you. “I had to,” he said, his voice controlled but laced with something deeper — regret and pain. “They wanted you dead.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t look away. 

“I made a deal,” he continued, his fingers brushing over your wrist, as if grounding himself in your presence. “They saw you as a threat. The only way to prove my loyalty was to eliminate that threat. If I had refused, someone else would have done it. And they wouldn’t have stopped at a single bullet.”

A chill ran down your spine. “So, you—“

“I didn’t kill you,” he said firmly. “I made sure of it. The shot was meant to take you down, nothing more. It was the only way to buy time, to convince them that you were no longer a problem.”

Your fingers curled into the sheets. “And what was I supposed to do? Just lay there and bleed while you carried on with your life?”

“No,” he said quietly. “I was always going to come for you.” His hand slid to your waist, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “They gave me a choice,” he murmured. “Kill you or offer you something more.”

Your heart pounded. “And what was that?”

In-ho exhaled. “A place by my side,” he admitted. “If you had stayed, if you had chosen it… you wouldn’t have had to run.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, though it held no humor. “So, that’s what this was all about,” you muttered. “They wanted me to play their game. And you,” you swallowed, searching his gaze. “You wanted me to accept it.”

In-ho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I wanted you to live,” he corrected. “I still do.”

The weight of his words settled between you, heavy and unshakable. Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then, In-ho sighed and sat up, pulling you with him. “Come,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed. “I want to show you something.”

You hesitated before following, your legs still weak from exhaustion. He led you to a door on the far side of the room, pushing it open. The dim glow of the overhead lights illuminated a walk-in closet, spacious and meticulously organized.

At first, it seemed like nothing out of the ordinary. There were racks of suits in sharp, expensive cuts, neatly pressed dress shirts, an array of polished shoes lining the shelves. Everything was cold and precise, just as you would expect from a man like In-ho.

But then, your eyes drifted to the opposite side of the closet. You let out a small gasp.

It was yours.

Your clothes, perfectly arranged, as if you had never left. Dresses, coats, shoes — all in the styles and colors you used to favor. There were accessories, neatly placed in velvet-lined drawers. Even your perfume, the one scent you had stopped wearing long ago, rested on a mirrored tray as if waiting for you to pick it up again.

You took a shaky step forward, reaching out to touch the fabric of a coat you recognized from years ago. It wasn’t just new clothing, there were things from your past, things you had left behind. Trinkets, personal belongings, reminders of a life you had abandoned.

You turned to In-ho, your hands trembling at your sides. “What… what is this?” You asked.

He stood there, watching you with an expression that was impossible to read. His dark eyes flickered with anticipation. Finally, he spoke. “The organization was impressed,” he said, his voice even and deliberate. “Six months, and no one could find you. Not the recruiters. Not even me.” He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “You made yourself a ghost, slipping through cracks, killing off our men, leaving no trace but whispers in the streets. Do you know how rare that is?”

“They don’t see it as a threat?” You asked cautiously.

“They did,” In-ho admitted, tilting his head slightly. “At first. But then, they saw something else.”

You narrowed your eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“They saw potential,” he said. “The kind that can’t be trained, can’t be forced. You survived the games. You survived me. And then you disappeared into the world like you were never here.” He let the weight of his words settled before he continued. “So, they decided to make you an offer.”

“What kind of offer?”

In-ho exhaled slowly before stepping forward, closer than before. His hands slipped into his pockets as he studied you, as if gauging your reaction before saying the next words. “They want you to join the upper ranks,” he said. “Not just as another piece in their game, but as one of the overseers.”

Your breath hitched. “The overseers,” you echoed, as if saying the words aloud would make them more real. 

“Yes.”

You searched his face for deception, but there was none. Just the cold, hard truth.

“You want me to accept it.”

In-ho didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, fingers brushing against yours, a light touch that sent an unexpected shiver through your spine.

“You have nothing left out there,” he murmured. “You’ve been running for six months. And for what?” His thumb ghosted over your wrist, slow and deliberate. “You belong here.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “I belong nowhere,” you muttered.

“Then make this place yours,” he continued smoothly. “Take the power they’re offering you. No more running. No more hiding. No more being hunted.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking into your skin like ink spreading through paper. 

For months, you had fought against this, against him, against the very thing he was offering you now. But you had seen the world outside. And all you found there was blood, loneliness, and an endless chase that led nowhere.

This was something else. This was control.

And so, after a long, heavy silence, you lifted your chin and met his gaze. Your lips parted, and the single word that left them sealed your fate. “Fine.”

For the first time in a long time, a ghost of smirk touched In-ho’s lips. “You won’t regret it,” he murmured.

You weren’t so sure about that. But it didn’t matter anymore.

Because once you go in, there’s no turning back.

——

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A/N: The more I write, the more ideas this series gives me. Expect more updates as I have the others drafted already, yay! 😅 Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

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