The cold, sterile corridors of the compound seemed to close in on the survivors as they were herded toward the next game. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting long, jittery shadows that danced like specters on the concrete walls. Every step echoed hollowly, a grim reminder of how many had already fallen—and how many more would soon follow.
Gi-hun’s legs ached with exhaustion, his muscles still trembling from the brutal Tug of War. Yet, beneath the physical pain, a deeper, more gnawing terror took root. The faces of the fallen haunted his every thought—their screams, their lifeless eyes staring back at him from the abyss. The prize money, once a distant dream, now felt like a cruel mirage, shimmering just beyond reach.
The survivors gathered in a vast, dimly lit hall, the air thick with tension and the metallic scent of fear. The game masters, faceless behind their black masks and magenta uniforms, moved silently among them, their presence a chilling reminder of the rules that governed this deadly arena.
A voice crackled over the intercom, cold and unfeeling: “The next game is Marble. Each player will be paired. You will receive thirty marbles. The objective is to win all your partner’s marbles. The loser will be eliminated.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd—confusion, disbelief, and the creeping dread of what lay ahead. The survivors exchanged wary glances, the fragile alliances forged in desperation now tested by the cruel twist of fate.
Gi-hun’s heart pounded as he scanned the crowd for a familiar face. His eyes settled on Ali, whose broad frame seemed to sag under the weight of exhaustion and fear. Sae-byeok stood nearby, her expression unreadable, the hidden pain beneath her jacket a silent testament to her resilience.
The pairing process began. Names were called, and players stepped forward, their footsteps heavy with uncertainty. Gi-hun’s name was called last. His breath caught as he searched for a partner, his gaze locking with a young man whose eyes were wide with terror.
The game was simple in its rules but devastating in its consequences. Thirty marbles each, a test of luck, strategy, and trust. But in this place, trust was a luxury few could afford.
Gi-hun’s hands trembled as he held his marbles, the smooth glass spheres cold and unforgiving. The weight of the game pressed down on him, each decision a matter of life and death.
As the matches began, the room filled with the soft clatter of marbles and the sharp intakes of breath. Some players tried to bluff, others played with desperate sincerity. The tension was palpable, every loss a silent death sentence.
Gi-hun’s match was a battle of wills. His partner, a gaunt man with haunted eyes, played cautiously, his every move calculated. Gi-hun forced himself to focus, to block out the chaos around him. Each marble won was a small victory; each lost, a step closer to oblivion.
The game stretched on, a cruel dance of chance and strategy. Around them, players fell one by one, their faces etched with despair.
When the final marble slipped from his fingers, Gi-hun’s world tilted. The cold realization of defeat crashed over him like a wave. His partner’s eyes were filled with tears—relief, sorrow, and the unbearable weight of survival.
As the losers were led away, Gi-hun’s gaze met Sae-byeok’s. In that fleeting moment, a silent promise passed between them—a vow to endure, to fight, to survive.
The nightmare was far from over.
But in the depths of despair, a fragile hope remained.
And Gi-hun clung to it with every ounce of strength left within him.