CHAPTER 16 - Once You Go In, There's No Turning Back (hwang In Ho X Reader)

CHAPTER 16 - 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 dress fit like a second skin.

The silky fabric hugged your frame, every seam meticulously designed to highlight the slopes and curves of your body. Black as the midnight sea, the gown shimmered subtly beneath the dim, golden lights, catching on the angles of your hips as you shifted. The slit along your leg teased just enough bare skin to stir something dangerous in the air.

You traced your fingertips along the smooth material, feeling the delicate weight of it drape over you like liquid shadow. It felt expensive and… powerful. Like something meant for a woman who could command an entire room with a single glance.

You swallowed hard. This was not the version of yourself you once knew.

The past and present clashed inside you as you stared at your reflection. This wasn’t the same woman who had stepped into the games, trembling at the unknown. She had died the moment she was betrayed, died at the hands of the very man who had set all of this into motion.

And yet, here you were. In his world again.

The door behind you clicked open. Even without turning around, you could feel the shift in the air — the slow, burning warmth that accompanied his presence, filling every inch of the room like an intoxicating mist. The faint scent of cedarwood and smoke curled around you, familiar and unmistakably his.

In-ho didn’t speak right away. Instead, silence stretched between you that weighed. You could feel his gaze roaming over you, mapping every curve the dress accentuated.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

His voice was lower than usual, rough with something dark and restrained. A slow shiver trickled down your spine. You turned just enough to meet his gaze, and the sight of him sent something sharp and molten through your chest.

His eyes told you everything.

The intensity there made your breath catch — the dark, smoldering, filled with a hunger that had been starved for too long. He looked at you like a man standing on the edge, barely holding himself back from the fall.

“Is it too much?” You asked, feigning innocence.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but there was no amusement in it. Only something ravenous. “Too much?” His voice was a whisper of smoke. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, closing the distance between you inch by inch. 

Then, his fingers reached out, knuckles ghosting over the bare skin of your shoulder before tracing down the length of your arm. His touch was featherlight, but it burned, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Then, he tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to look at him fully.

“You look—“ his voice caught for a fraction of a second, the muscles in his jaw tightening as his thumb brushed over your lower lip. His eyes darkened, something flickering beneath them. “Dangerous.”

And then, without another word, he kissed you. It was deep and desperate, like he had been waiting years for this moment, like he was drowning and you were the only thing keeping him afloat.

His hands found your waist, fingers pressing into the fabric as he pulled you against him. Your bodies fit together seamlessly, your curves molding against the hard planes of his form as his lips moved against yours with bruising intensity. His was deep and consuming — each movement demanding and desperate, like he was trying to carve himself into your very soul.

Your fingers found the lapels of his coat, gripping the fabric as his tongue brushed against yours, drawing a quiet moan from your lips. He drank it in, pulling you impossibly closer. Your back hit the cool surface of the vanity as he pressed you against it, his lips never leaving yours, his fingers skimming down your spine.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he deepened it further, his tongue parting your lips, tasting you, drinking in the soft, shuddering sigh that escaped you. His hands slid down your waist, gripping you possessively, as though he feared you would disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

The heat of his touch burned through the silk of your dress, his fingers trailing over the fabric before slipping beneath the slit at your thigh, skin meeting skin. Your body reacted instantly, a sharp gasp caught between your lips as his fingertips traced higher, teasing you.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and edged with need. “Bend over for me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. 

You barely had the chance to respond before he pulled away and turned you around, his strength effortless as he bent you over to the closest surface — the sleek marble counter of the vanity. The cool stone bit into the warmth of your arms as he settled between them, his hands roaming, mapping, owning every inch of exposed skin.

He lifted your dress up, only to find that you’ve gone commando. You heard him let out a deep sigh. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

“Then don’t make me wait any longer.”

A dangerous smirk plastered across In-ho’s lips as he unbuckled his belt, hearing his pants come down as he positioned himself to your entrance, already wet. “As you wish.”

He thrusts into you deep, earning a whimper from you. His hands squeezed your butt cheeks, each thrust corresponding with the sound of slaps as he felt you in, much to your pleasure. He gripped on your waist like a handle, lifting his other leg on a chair as he thrusts into you more, your breasts pressing against the surface as you moved.

You aligned yourself to him, giving it back, which earned a groan from him, stopping his thrusts as he let you work on him. You turned your head to him from behind, seeing his head up in the air as his eyes closed, savoring each pleasure as you continued to ride him from behind, biting your lip as you felt his shaft reach your cervix, hitting the right spots.

The heat was unbearable. The feeling of him inside you, the scent, the way his body fit so perfectly against yours — it was dizzying. And in that moment, nothing else existed. No past. No games. Just him and you, too focused on the pleasure building within these walls.

In-ho’s fingers dragged down to your cheeks, his breath hitching as he continued to thrust. His eyes devoured the sight of you, dark and smoldering with hunger as he met yours. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above your shoulder. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, pressing a slow, reverent kiss along the slope of your shoulders. “Every inch of you… mine.”

He bit his lip once more as you moaned, hearing your satisfaction which made him thrust harder. His other moved to your shoulder, hammering you further as he groaned.

“You’re breathtaking,” his voice was filled with awe. “Every inch of you… so beautiful.”

He didn’t stop, much to your liking. You pulled him closer, your hands reaching for his waist taking it as a sign for him to go further. His breaths continued to hitch as he realized what you were doing, earning a moan from him.

“I need you,” he admitted, his voice raw, almost vulnerable. “More than anything. More than I should.”

“Then take me,” you whispered.

And he did.

“Fuck,” he groaned as his thrusts became harder and faster. “I’m cumming.”

“Please,” you whimpered. 

He thrusts one last time, his pace stopping as you felt him cum inside you. Your insides felt the warm juices he let out, much as your insides clenched as you reached your climax too. You let out one last moan before he pulled out, feeling your heart pound through your chest. 

The warmth of his body still lingered against yours, his breath slow and steady as he lay beside you, one arm lazily draped over your waist, as if afraid if you would slip away the moment he let go. 

After a few minutes, he began to move, sliding your dress down and fixing it. You stood up and straightened yourself, turning around and seeing him fix his pants, zipping it up as he buckled his belt once again. When he was done, his fingers traced mindlessly traced patterns along the curve of your hip, his touch featherlight yet possessive. You turned your head to meet his gaze, catching the way his dark eyes softened as he studied you. He looked almost… at peace. A rare sight for a man like him.

He held your hand as he led you out of the closet, stepping out of the bedroom as your eyes widened slightly. The living quarters were nothing like you remembered. The sterile, minimalist design had been completely transformed.

The living room now boasted deep leather furniture, dark marble accents, and walls lined with bookshelves filled with carefully selected literature. The kitchen had been expanded, outfitted with sleek, top-of-the-line appliances, and an elegant dining area stood just beyond it. There was even a glass bar stocked with premium whiskey and aged wines.

Your fingers trailed along the polished black marble countertop, taking in the sheer luxury of it all. This wasn’t just a place to stay — it was a place of power.

“I take it you like it?”

You turned to find In-ho standing behind you, fully dressed in his signature black attire, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“This wasn’t here before,” you said, your voice carrying a note of suspicion.

“That’s because it wasn’t. This is the overseer’s private residence,” his eyes glimmered with warmth. “Our private residence.”

You managed to make a small smile, though you couldn’t deny his words settled over you like a weight. Before you could say anything, In-ho motioned for you to follow him, leading you to the elevator down to the management area.

For hours, In-ho guided you through the intricacies of your new role, showing you each room of the organization. He taught you the protocols, the meticulous rules that governed the games, the chain of command, and the delicate balance of power that had to be maintained.

He walked you through security measures, how to control the masked men, how to issue commands with precision, and how to wield fear without the need to raise your voice. And most importantly, he taught you how to make the hard choices.

“The games are not just about entertainment,” he explained as you stood in front of a large screen displaying various surveillance feeds. “They are about control. Order. Equality. Without structure, the world falls into chaos.”

His voice was calm and methodical, but you could sense the weight behind his words — the years he had spent becoming what he was now. You listened carefully, absorbing everything, but deep down, you wondered if you would ever be able to see it the way he did.

After what felt like an eternity, In-ho finally motioned for you to follow him again. “There’s one last thing I need to show you.”

He led you down a long hallway, stopping in front of a set of heavy double doors. You held on to your mask, feeling the heat behind it. Without a word, he pushed them open, revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond.

At the center stood a tall figure, dressed in a sleek black uniform, a mask covering his face, the one you’ve seen before — the mask of the Frontman. The figure turned slightly at your approach, his stance relaxed yet authoritative. Then, he spoke, his voice carrying an eerie familiarity.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

You stiffened. Something about the way he said it, the tone, the cadence. Your breath hitched as he slowly lifted his hands, pulling the mask away. 

And there, standing before you, was someone you never expected to see again.

“Surprised?”

You couldn’t speak as your mind raced, trying to process what you were seeing, but no explanation made sense. 

How?

Why?

What the hell happened to him?

You turned to In-ho, searching for answers, but he simply watched you with quiet intensity, as if waiting for your reaction.

“I have to admit,” the frontman murmured, his voice almost taunting. “I never thought I’d see you here.”

“Gi-hun,” you started, stepping forward, but his expression darkened.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he cut in, his tone sharp enough to make you pause. “Not when you’ve made your choice.”

The weight of everything —  your past, the games, the choices you had made — came crashing down on you all at once. You had been ready to embrace your new role.

But now? You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

Your fingers twitched slightly at your sides, though whether it was from unease or the remnants of last night’s indulgence, you weren’t sure. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier.

Gi-hun stood before you, no longer the man you once knew. His hair was still the same, yet he had grown slightly, falling messily around his face. The tired desperation you last saw in his eyes had been replaced by something sharper, something calculated.

A man molded by survival. A man who had seen the truth and had chosen to become part of it.

Your throat was dry, but you forced yourself to speak. “How?”

Gi-hun’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but not quite a sneer. “You mean how I became the frontman?” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly, as if amused by the irony of it all. “You already know the answer.”

Your gaze flickered to In-ho, who remained quiet, his expression unreadable. Gi-hun followed your glance and chuckled. “Of course, he hasn’t told you everything, has he?”

Gi-hun took another step closer, and this time, there was no mistaking the anger beneath his gaze. “Do you know what I realized after the rebellion?” His voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “That there is no ‘winning’ in the games. Not really.”

You swallowed.

“I tried,” he continued, his jaw tightening. “I tried to fight back, to take them down. But you don’t fight something like this without becoming a part of it. And when I had the choice…” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I took it.” He looked up at you then, truly looked at you, and there was something almost resigned in his gaze. “Just like you did.”

You clenched your fists. “I didn’t—“

“But you did,” he interrupted. “You let him find you. You let him bring you back here.”

Your stomach twisted again, but before you could say anything, In-ho finally spoke. “She didn’t come back to be questioned,” his voice was calm, but there was an undeniable edge to it. “She came back to take her place.”

Gi-hun scoffed. “Her place?” He turned back to you, tilting his head slightly. “So, tell me, is that what this is? Have you decided to become part of the machine too?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Gi-hun stepped even closer, his voice dropping. “Tell me, when they made their offer, did they promise you power? Control? A way to make sure the games run fairly?” His mouth twitched. “Or did he tell you it was the only way to survive?”

You clenched your jaw. “I don’t expect you to understand,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “Not yet.”

Gi-hun exhaled sharply through his nose, his smile humorless. “No,” he murmured. “I suppose I don’t.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with too many unspoken things. Then, just as you thought the conversation was over, Gi-hun leaned in slightly, his next words barely above a whisper. 

“When the time comes, and they ask you to prove your loyalty, what will you do?”

A chill ran down your spine. You knew exactly what he was asking.

And you didn’t have an answer. 

Not yet.

The silence between you and Gi-hun stretched long enough that the weight of it settled deep in your bones. He was waiting —  waiting for an answer you weren’t sure you could give.

You felt In-ho’s presence beside you, steady and unwavering. Yet there was something almost expectant in the way he stood, as if he was waiting to see what you would say,

Your fingers twitched at your sides, realizing that Gi-hun was right. The games had no winners — only survivors. And here you stood, standing in the space between the two men who had survived alongside you — one who had risen to control it, and the other who had surrendered himself to it.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” you finally said, your voice even.

Gi-hun let out a soft breath, almost in disbelief. “I suppose you don’t,” his eyes then flickered over to In-ho. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t regret this.”

The threat in his voice was subtle, but it was there. In-ho shifted slightly, just enough of his shoulder to brush against yours — a silent reminder of where you stood. “Are you done?” He asked, his tone calm but firm.

Gi-hun held his gaze for a long moment before exhaling sharply. He stepped back, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the invisible tension. “For now.”

Then, without another word, he turned away, striding toward the door. You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until it closed behind him. The silence left in his wake was thick and suffocating.

You felt In-ho’s gaze on you before you turned to meet it. “You don’t have to let him get inside your head,” he murmured.

You felt a lump in your throat. “He’s not wrong though.”

In-ho’s jaw tightened, but he paused for a while. Instead, he reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours with quiet uncertainty. “You made your choice,” he said. “Now, you see it through.”

You weren’t sure if that was meant to reassure or warn you.

——

The following weeks were grueling yet fulfilling. 

In-ho wasted no time in thrusting you into the depths of the organization, stripping away any illusion that this was anything less than a meticulously crafted empire. You learned the structure, the power dynamics, and the unspoken rules that dictated every move behind the curtains. And more than anything, you learned how to become something else entirely.

In-ho didn’t go easy on you. If anything, he was harsher than you expected, demanding precision, discipline, and complete detachment. Yet he was like that during the day, but completely different when the training was over. You understood that he needed to do it.

Still, you played your part well. It became your nature — the way you stood, the way you spoke, the way you carried yourself. The mask you wore became seamless, indistinguishable from the person you once were. This was the life you accepted, the life they had given you. You were at the top — you just had to figure out how long you can survive it.

The new season of the game came by quickly. This time, it had a new set of rules, and new players. The games had changed, and so did the players. This time, it was less cruel, but enough to make a person inside the game to go crazy and desperate. All in the test of human greed and the true unraveling of human nature — just like how you saw it in the past game you were in.

Gi-hun stood before you, his face unreadable, the mask of the Frontman now absent but its presence still lingering in the air between you. He had taken In-ho’s old position, and in a cruel twist of fate, you had taken his place as someone trapped within the very system he had once tried to dismantle.

And then, there was In-ho — calm, composed, the ever-calculating overseer. His expression betrayed nothing, but you knew him well enough to recognize the quiet weight behind his silence.

“You’re late,” In-ho said evenly, stepping forward near In-ho with measured grace. “The new games are already being prepared.”

Gi-hun smirked. “I’m not here for the games.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. Then why was he here?

In-ho watched him carefully. “Then what do you want?”

Gi-hun exhaled slowly, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You know exactly what I want, In-ho.”

He turned his gaze to you and something flickered in his expression. Your grip on your own mask tightened. “You can’t expect me to believe you came all the way back here just to see me.”

Gi-hun’s smirk faltered slightly, but he didn’t deny it. Yet you wondered why was he invested in you, why you were his… target. You were gone for six months — what could you have possibly done? Was it because you chose to hide? Did you ruin the rebellion?

The three of you stood in a delicate balance, a triangle of power where no one truly had the upper hand. Gi-hun had the experience of a player — the raw survival instincts of someone who had clawed his way out of hell and returned stronger. While In-ho had the control, the authority, the understanding of the system. The calculated mind of a man who had long abandoned morality for necessity.

And you? You were the variable. The piece neither of them could fully control that made you the most dangerous of them all.

“Whatever your reason is, Gi-hun,” you said carefully, stepping closer. “It doesn’t change the fact that you put yourself back in their hands. You think they’ll let you walk out of this a second time?”

Gi-hun chuckled, much to your surprise as he shook his head. “You think I care?”

That caught you off guard, knowing he meant it. Gi-hun had nothing to lose and that made him a threat to both you and In-ho. The silence stretched between the three of you, a cold realization settling over the room. 

This wasn’t just about the games anymore. This was about control — none of you were willing to give it up.

You and In-ho stood in the control room, overseeing the first round unfold through a wall of monitors. The massive, sterile space was silent, except for the occasional flicker of radio chatter and the quiet hum of the surveillance equipment.  Below, the contestants — new players, all wide-eyed and trembling — were led into the first game. The tension in the air was thick enough to suffocate. You watched them shift nervously on their feet, eyes darting around the colossal playground. They didn’t know yet or understand.

Then, the crack of gunfire came. The first round of eliminations. Bodies collapsed like ragdolls, blood soaking into the sand. The screams echoed against the walls of the arena. You remained impassive, even as In-ho glanced at you from behind his mask. This was your first official trial as an Overseer. Would you flinch? Would you hesitate?

But you didn’t. You simply stepped forward, your gaze fixed on the screen. The moment of hesitation in your chest had passed. As the game continued, you excused yourself from the control room. In-ho let you go without a word, his trust in you silent but absolute. 

Your heels clicked against the pristine white floors as you made your way down the winding halls of the facility, your long cat flowing behind you. The organization had spared no expense in making sure the island remained impenetrable, a well-oiled machine that would continue to devour the desperate and the damned.

You tried to ignore the slight dizziness that washed over you as you walked, the strange wave of nausea that had crept up on you over the past few days. Brushing it off, you steadied yourself with a hand against the wall, forcing yourself to breathe evenly. It was nothing — just the stress and exhaustion. Nothing more. 

Eventually, your path led you to the lower levels — the organ harvesting room.

The air was thick with the stench of chemicals and decay. Metal tables were lined with bodies, each corpse stripped and gutted with surgical precision. The underground trade had continued, a secret that the organization pretended not to notice.

You stepped forward, weaving through the dimly lit space, and then you heard a sound. A wet, grotesque noise. A sickening squelch of movement.

Your stomach turned before your brain even fully processed what you were seeing.

A guard — one of the masked enforcers. He was hunched over a lifeless body, his gloved hands gripping at cold flesh, his breath ragged and frenzied. The corpse beneath him was unmoving, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. The guard didn’t even notice you at first, too lost in whatever twisted pleasure he was indulging in.

You felt the rage, pure seething rage coiled inside you, dark and boiling. The guard barely had time to turn his head before your pistol was drawn, the barrel pressed against the back of his skull. “Disgusting fuck,” you hissed.

He didn’t even have time to beg.

The gunshot rang out, deafening in the enclosed space. His body slumped forward, his own blood staining the lifeless flesh beneath him. You didn’t move for a long moment, your grip tight around the handle of your gun. Your heart was pounding — not out of feat or shock. Just out of unfiltered disgust.

Slowly, you exhaled and stepped back, holstering your weapon. The other guards in the room had frozen, staring at you in stunned silence. None of them dared to move.

“Dispose of this trash,” you ordered coldly, nodding toward the body of the disgraced guard. “And if I catch any of you doing the same…” You let the threat linger, your voice sharp as a blade. “You’ll wish I killed you this easily.”

The guards scrambled to obey, dragging the corpse away with frantic urgency. You lingered for a moment longer, staring down at the mess of bodies, the grotesque remnants of human lives reduced to nothing more than profit.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and left the room, but that nausea returned, a sharp tug in your gut. You barely made it to the nearest empty hallway before doubling over, your breaths shallow.

You swallowed hard. No, it couldn’t be. You refused to entertain the thought, the possibility. Not now. Not here.

But deep down, you already knew. You had felt it lingering in the back of your mind for days. You pressed a hand to your stomach, fingers trembling slightly. You were showing signs — signs you couldn’t ignore forever. But now, you pushed the thought away, straightened yourself, and walked back into the shadows.

——

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A/N: I'm debating on whether I'll end this series for only 20 chapters or extend it for more. 🤔 More ideas come into my mind whenever I finish writing so we'll see how this goes. 👀 Feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

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