The room was suffused with a heavy silence, broken only by the soft shuffle of feet and the occasional stifled sob. Rows of voting booths lined the far wall—sleek, white, and sterile—each a small chamber that promised a monumental decision. Two buttons, green and red, glowed faintly under the harsh fluorescent lights: “End” and “Continue.” The choice was deceptively simple, yet the consequences were life and death.
Seong Gi-hun’s hands trembled as he stepped toward the booths. The synthetic fabric of his green tracksuit clung to his damp skin, the coarse texture rough against his fingers. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat a thunderous reminder of the stakes. Around him, the other players moved with hesitant steps, faces etched with exhaustion, fear, and fragile hope.
The air was thick with tension. Whispers fluttered like restless ghosts—pleas to quit, arguments to persevere, desperate rationalizations. Ali’s large hands shook as he approached the booth, his eyes wide and pleading. “I want to go home,” he whispered, voice cracking. “My son needs me.”
Sae-byeok’s gaze was cold and resolute as she stepped forward, fingers hovering before decisively pressing the red button. “I can’t give up. My brother is waiting.”
Gi-hun hesitated at the threshold. Memories of Ga-yeong’s innocent smile and his mother’s weary face flooded his mind. The prize money—the towering stacks of crisp bills he had glimpsed moments before—beckoned like a distant lighthouse in a storm.
With a trembling breath, he pressed the green button.
The sound of the click echoed in the chamber, a small but irrevocable act.
One by one, the votes were cast. Some players hesitated, their hands shaking as they weighed the impossible choice. Others pressed their buttons with grim determination, sealing their own fate.
The room held its breath as the votes were tallied. The tension was palpable, a collective heartbeat suspended in time.
When the final count was announced, the majority chose to continue. The nightmare was far from over.
A collective exhale rippled through the survivors—relief, despair, and renewed determination mingling in equal measure.
Gi-hun stepped back from the booths, his heart still pounding. The path ahead was dark and uncertain, but the fragile thread of hope remained.
Around him, faces reflected the same mixture of fear and resolve. The game would continue, and survival would demand everything they had.
The weight of choice was heavy, but it was theirs to bear.