The massive steel doors groaned open with a grinding screech that echoed through the cavernous arena like a death knell. A cold, artificial light spilled out, revealing a surreal landscape that twisted childhood innocence into a nightmarish trap. The players shuffled forward, their footsteps muffled against the synthetic grass that stretched out like a vast, pastel-colored carpet beneath their feet.
Before them stood a towering figure—a gigantic doll, nearly thirty feet tall, with porcelain cheeks flushed rosy pink and twin pigtails tied with bright red ribbons. Her eyes, glassy and unblinking, were painted a pale cerulean blue, but beneath the surface, subtle mechanical whirs and servo clicks betrayed the cold machinery within. Her lips, painted a soft coral, were frozen mid-smile, a grotesque mimicry of warmth.
The doll’s head slowly rotated on hydraulics with a hiss and a creak, scanning the field of players assembled before her. The arena was a twisted playground: candy-striped hopscotch grids stretched across the turf, giant gummy bears loomed like sentinels, and oversized lollipops swayed gently on metal poles anchored to the ground. The air was thick with the faint scent of artificial raspberry and bubblegum, a sickly sweet perfume that clashed horribly with the metallic tang of fear.
A distorted voice boomed from speakers hidden behind the doll’s massive frame: “Green light: move. Red light: freeze. Five minutes to cross.” The words echoed with mechanical precision, devoid of mercy.
Gi-hun’s heart hammered in his chest, each beat a thunderous drum in his ears. His breath came in ragged gasps, the cold sweat on his forehead stinging his eyes. He glanced sideways—Deok-su, the thug with the dragon tattoo, cracked his knuckles and sneered, already sizing up his prey. Sae-byeok’s dark eyes were narrowed, calculating every movement, while Ali clutched his photo tightly, whispering a prayer under his breath.
The game began.
“Green light,” the doll’s voice rang out, and hundreds of players surged forward, their feet pounding the synthetic turf with desperate urgency. Gi-hun’s legs pumped furiously, the muscles burning with lactic acid as he pushed himself forward. The synthetic grass beneath his sneakers was springy but unforgiving, each step sending vibrations up his spine.
Suddenly, the doll’s head jerked sharply, the servo motors whining as her eyes flashed a vivid red. “Red light!”
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Every player froze mid-motion, muscles taut like drawn bows. Gi-hun’s breath caught in his throat, his chest heaving. The doll’s gaze swept the field with terrifying precision, her sensors scanning for the slightest twitch.
A sharp crack split the air—a sniper’s bullet. Player 112, a grandmother with silver hair and trembling hands, collapsed instantly, a crimson bloom spreading across her temple. Blood sprayed onto Gi-hun’s sleeve, warm and sticky. The scent of iron filled his nostrils, mingling with the synthetic sweetness of the arena.
Panic surged. Some players stumbled, others screamed, but the doll’s voice was relentless. “Green light.”
The survivors bolted forward again, bodies weaving through the pastel playground. Gi-hun’s mind raced—every second counted, every movement could mean life or death. He spotted Sang-woo crouching behind a giant Tootsie Roll statue, his expression unreadable but eyes sharp and focused. Sae-byeok pressed against a blue slide, counting the doll’s rotations like a metronome: three seconds per turn.
Ali, carrying the frail old man Il-nam piggyback, whispered encouragements, his voice trembling but resolute. The old man’s bony fingers dug into Ali’s collar, his eyes gleaming with a strange mixture of fear and amusement.
Deok-su shoved Player 070, a nervous teenager with wire-frame glasses, into the path of the doll’s gaze. The boy froze, terror etched on his face. The doll’s eyes flared scarlet, and a bullet tore through the boy’s chest. His body crumpled like a ragdoll, blood pooling beneath him.
Gi-hun’s muscles screamed in agony as he lunged forward, every fiber of his being screaming to survive. The doll’s head rotated again, sensors scanning. He held perfectly still, sweat stinging his eyes, heart pounding like a war drum.
Time slowed. The world narrowed to the doll’s unblinking gaze and the pounding of his own heart. One wrong twitch, one breath too loud, and the cold kiss of a bullet would be his end.
With seconds left, Gi-hun grabbed Il-nam’s wrist, pulling him across the finish line as the klaxon blared. Behind them lay a field littered with bodies—friends, strangers, victims of a merciless game.
The guards in pig-mask helmets moved swiftly, dragging away the dead with clinical detachment. The survivors collapsed, gasping for air, the taste of blood and fear thick in their mouths.
Gi-hun’s eyes burned with tears he refused to shed. The game had begun, and the nightmare was only just unfolding.