The lights in the dormitory flickered as the metal doors clanged shut. The survivors—just 187 now—stood still, breathing as if they had forgotten how to. Some stumbled. Others collapsed. No one spoke.
Lee Joon-hwa sat at the edge of his bed, elbows on knees, staring into the distance. He was Specter again, but here, no one knew that name. No one could guess. He preferred it that way.
The silence was oppressive. But then came the whispers. Then the sobs. The human need to process horror by talking, by crying, by clinging to one another.
Not him.
---
Lee Da-bin (077)
She wiped a streak of blood off her cheek. It wasn't hers. She had watched a man explode beside her, skull fragments hitting the dirt like hail. And yet, she had not screamed. Not even once.
She kept glancing toward 021. The way he moved, his quiet steps, his calm face—it unsettled her.
"That boy doesn't panic," she whispered. "That boy doesn't feel."
And yet, something in her gut said she might need him.
---
POV: Kang Seo-yun (067)
Seo-yun sat on the floor, her back against cold concrete. Her fingers were still blood-stained.
She watched everyone. It was instinct. Growing up in a world of danger teaches you to read a room fast. Who could snap. Who was breaking.
Her gaze landed on 021. His face gave away nothing. He looked... bored?
Or was it focused?
"He's not here just to survive," she muttered. "He's studying this."
---
POV: Nam Do-yoon (187)
Do-yoon was pacing. Laughing a little too loudly.
"Did you see that guy's head pop? Hah! Crazy, right?"
No one responded.
His laugh faded.
He sat down against the wall, knees pulled to his chest. His eyes darted around. Then settled on Specter.
"That one. He knew when to move. He knows something."
---
Hwang Min-jae (015)
Min-jae hadn't moved from his bunk.
His hands were trembling. He couldn't stop seeing her face—the woman he tried to save.
But he had a reason to live.
Ara.
He pulled a crumpled, hand-drawn picture from his pocket. Stick figures. A sun. His daughter's smile.
He looked at the ceiling.
"I'm not dying here."
---
I counted seventeen players already forming groups. Alliances. Safety in numbers.
Smart. But also dangerous.
This isn't about friendship. This is about mathematics. Resources. Predictability.
A crying man in the far bunk sobbed about wanting to go home.
Can they really leave? I wondered.
Or was that part of the lie too?
Above, the piggy bank filled with fresh stacks of cash. Blood money.
The tension in the room snapped.
A man screamed. Another cursed. Someone began laughing.
Joon-hwa remained still. Calculating.
They'd just learned the second rule: death had value. And to some, that meant opportunity.
---
They were beginning to break.
The dormitory was thick with the stench of sweat, iron, and fear. Some players gathered in corners, forming whispers and alliances. Others kept to themselves, too numb or too shattered to process anything.
I sat quietly on my cot. My body still. My mind racing.
I replayed every frame of what I'd witnessed.
The precision of the gunfire. The delay between "Green Light" and the shots. The AI's facial recognition system. The audio cues. The exact distance that seemed safest to move—1.3 meters. A delay of 0.7 seconds after "Red Light."
This wasn't just brutality. It was a game wrapped in a simulation. A machine, cold and perfect. But I wasn't scared.
I was intrigued.
But the deaths—those were real.
I'd never seen anyone die before. Not in person. My hands had ruined lives digitally. Emptied bank accounts. Toppled minor government sites. But today, I saw skulls split. I saw bodies drop like puppets with cut strings.
And that was... new.
I looked down at my fingers. They trembled for a moment.
Then stopped.
Not weakness. Just... calibration.
---
Kang Seo-yun (067)
That boy didn't cry.
Not once.
Not even when the man beside him exploded like a melon. Not even when blood mist sprayed across his shirt.
Seo-yun lay on her side, curled near a wall. She'd seen hardened gangsters weep tonight. Veterans. Ex-cops. But not 021.
She narrowed her eyes.
In her old life, she'd survived by knowing who to trust. That face he wore wasn't real. It wasn't blank—it was rehearsed.
He's playing a deeper game, she thought. He knows more than he shows.
She wasn't sure if she wanted him as an ally or a target.
---
Nam Do-yoon (187)
The silence of the dorm scared Do-yoon more than the gunshots.
He paced again. Then stopped. Then laughed.
"Shit, shit, shit…"
He finally approached 021. The calm boy. The quiet one.
"Hey," he said, sitting awkwardly on the neighboring bunk.
Specter didn't look at him.
"I saw you," Do-yoon continued. "You moved perfect. Not too fast. Not too slow. You knew."
Specter finally turned his head, eyes sharp like glass.
"I guessed."
"Bullshit," Do-yoon grinned nervously. "You're one of those smart types, right?"
Specter gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "We're all going to die here unless we start learning. Fast."
That shut Do-yoon up.
---
Lee Da-bin (077)
She cleaned her boots with a torn sleeve from her jumpsuit.
Blood had dried near the sole. Her stomach churned, but she kept moving. Kept cleaning. The motion kept her from thinking too hard.
Across the room, she saw 021 talking to the loud boy—187.
She didn't trust either of them. But she knew she'd need one.
Da-bin was a fighter. The streets of Incheon had taught her how to use elbows and knees when fists weren't enough. But survival here wasn't just about strength. It was about... reading the map before others knew there was one.
And 021?
He looked like he had the map memorized.
---
Park Jae-hyun (036)
Jae-hyun didn't cry.
But only because the tears had dried hours ago.
He sat beside the bunk of his brother-in-law—well, his ex-brother-in-law now. The man hadn't made it past the first minute of the game.
"What a joke," he muttered. "He came here for the money. Said we'd fix everything."
He looked up at the camera on the ceiling. Middle finger raised.
"Screw you."
He had nothing left. No wife. No daughter. Only debt. And now... no fear.
"I'm not dying in Round Two," he whispered.
---
Hwang Min-jae (015)
He saw the woman again.
Every time he blinked.
She had fallen in front of him. He could've reached for her. Pulled her back.
He didn't.
Now her blood was on his shoes.
Min-jae sat hunched over, drawing little circles on the floor with his finger.
He missed Ara. Her drawings. Her voice.
He wouldn't let her grow up alone.
Not because her dad died for money.
No. If he was going to die, it would mean something.
He looked at Specter from across the room.
Maybe... he could help.
---
Night fell fast inside the compound.
The piggy bank loomed overhead. It buzzed, then glowed—and another clump of cash fell into it, thudding like meat onto the glass floor.
Some players cheered.
Others cursed.
I stood and looked around.
Already, six groups had formed. Rough estimates based on proximity, shared trauma, desperation. Not all would last.
One group—mostly thugs—was already whispering about picking off the weak.
Another group was too quiet. Calculating.
A third, mostly women, sat in a circle and prayed.
I didn't move toward any of them.
"Hey," a voice said behind me.
I turned. It was Da-bin (077).
She didn't smile.
"You're smart. I'm not stupid either. Watch each other's backs?" she offered.
I tilted my head.
"You're asking for an alliance?"
"I'm offering something better. A temporary contract."
I almost laughed. "Fair. But only until it's no longer beneficial."
Her eyes didn't flinch. "Exactly."
I nodded.
The first move.
---
Game Observation Room – (Unseen)
Behind one of the many hidden screens, faceless watchers reviewed the footage.
021's profile remained mostly blank.
No known records. No public digital footprint.
But his movements?
His decisions?
He was already marked yellow.
"Keep an eye on that one," a voice said behind the screen. "If he starts manipulating group dynamics, flag it."
"For what?" asked another.
"For entertainment."
---
Back to Specter
The lights dimmed. A chime echoed overhead.
"Rest well, players," the robotic voice rang out. "Your next game begins in the morning."
Rest?
No one would sleep tonight.
But me?
I closed my eyes.
And smiled.