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In-ho was on the verge of losing his mind.
Everything Gi-hun did was a challenge meant to push him beyond the point of sanity. Every single thing Gi-hun did.
(And it didn't help that In-ho was no longer remotely observing from the control room through the cameras, or from his office when his people — whom he assigned to stalk Gi-hun after Gi-hun's first game — came and reported to him about what the former winner of the game was up to.)
In-ho didn't know what he expected, but he must admit to himself that he was, for once, a fool if he thought disguising himself as one of the Players and befriending Gi-hun, getting close to him, would help with... these feelings he'd been unable to banish ever since Gi-hun came into his life.
He didn't remember the first time he laid eyes on Gi-hun. Because Gi-hun was just another Player. Back then. In-ho had watched and observed hundreds — thousands of Players just like Gi-hun (just like what Gi-hun was supposed to be) try and fail and die. And he remembered none of them. They were all numbers. He supposed it was only rational that he thought Gi-hun was like the rest of those numbers, just data to be collected (they all ended up in report files he never bothered to read). How wrong he was.
In-ho hated being wrong.
There was something about Gi-hun. Gi-hun was, it turned out, different. Not just another winner (In-ho had been keeping an eye on the previous winners, to make sure they didn't rebel). Gi-hun's little rebellious behaviors, the threats he promised, wasn't even the reason Gi-hun was different. Special. To In-ho.
(Yes, the threats Gi-hun promised made him different if In-ho was talking about the system. But the threats Gi-hun promised didn't make him different to In-ho. In-ho was used to threats. Something else about Gi-hun made Gi-hun different to him.)
And no one was different to In-ho before. To be precise, his wife was. Different. In-ho did remember when he first met her and how he knew, from the beginning, she was different. Special. She was an ordinary woman to most people, but she had always been different to him.
But then she was dead. And no one else... no one else was different to In-ho again. Until Gi-hun.
Unexpectedly and with no permission, Gi-hun forced his way into his life and made himself the subject of In-ho's thoughts. It was frustrating.
Different. Stubborn.
You see, In-ho remembered his own words, what he — as Young-il — told Gi-hun, my wife is stubborn. I've never been able to change her mind about anything. Out of all the things Young-il said, this was... this was not a lie.
Different and stubborn, that was who In-ho's wife was, and in the end her stubbornness got her killed.
Gi-hun was different and stubborn.
Because if Gi-hun wasn't stubborn — if he wasn't different — he would have gone on that plane years ago. And In-ho would have forgotten about him. He would still have had his men keep tabs on him, just like how they were keeping tabs on the other winners. But he would not have been thinking about him.
If Gi-hun wasn't stubborn or different. If Gi-hun wasn't special, In-ho would not have been wearing a Player uniform and sitting here, under a false identity, pretending to be a desperate husband struggling to save a wife and an unborn child who had been dead for years. Pretending to be... kind and friendly.
This was only part of the job, In-ho told himself. Observing Gi-hun as a fellow Player was nothing more than a ploy, a ruse to stay one step ahead. Because Gi-hun was a threat to the game. The system. He wasn't doing this to satisfy... that itch that he sometimes felt in his crotch, and in his chest, some other times. (The variety of where it presented depended solely on his mood).
Lying in his bed in the dormitory and feigning his sleep, In-ho thought he'd known everything about Gi-hun's life. Thought he'd studied it all. The past years spent doing nothing but order his people to find and dig up every little detail they could obtain about Gi-hun.
He'd learned about Gi-hun's relationship with Sang-woo, after Sang-woo's death (And as Young-il, he even parted his hair the exact same way Sang-woo did, because Gi-hun liked Sang-woo). Knew Gi-hun had been alone since surviving and winning his first game.
Knew Gi-hun had since spent his every waking moment searching for him.
And knowing that gave In-ho a surge of pleasure. Something In-ho could never quite put a name to. He'd thought... In-ho wouldn't know what, exactly, he expected to gain as Young-il, besides a too-sweet opportunity to sabotage Gi-hun's plan to take him down, but he thought he — no, Young-il, he thought Young-il would be the only friend Gi-hun had in the game.
That way Gi-hun would have to depend entirely on him.
(And you crave that, don't you? The control. The dominance. The knowing that Gi-hun depends his every breath on you and only you.)
The existence of Jung-bae in the game was not in In-ho's plan. The existence of Jung-bae in Gi-hun's life was not in In-ho's plan at all.
Jung-bae, it turned out, was a friend of Gi-hun. Had been a friend of his since before the game, apparently. And Gi-hun was talking, smiling — Gi-hun's attention had mostly been devoted to Jung-bae.
While In-ho's gaze lingered on him, Gi-hun's eyes and attention seemed to have found their home with Player 390.
Is he different to Gi-hun? Is Jung-bae special to Gi-hun?
Why does it matter how Gi-hun feels about a Player that's not you? You're not here to observe Gi-hun's personal life and relationship. Your only role here is to sabotage his plan to stop the game.
Gi-hun was doing this on purpose, In-ho was certain of that.
To mess with him.
Every single thing Gi-hun did was a challenge meant to push In-ho beyond the point of sanity.
That must be... that must be why he never looked back when In-ho looked at him. Why his eyes were on someone else instead.
He's doing this to drive you insane. The worst part was that it was working.
No. In-ho must not allow this to continue.
Gi-hun may be a threat to the game. But Jung-bae... Jung-bae was a threat to In-ho.
Once game three's over, let's get out of here. We'll knock back soju like the old days, was a promise Jung-bae gave to Gi-hun. They thought no one was listening, thought everyone was asleep.
In-ho didn't even mean to spy this time. The knowing that Gi-hun was talking and giving his attention to someone else was, for some unknown and frustrating reasons, more than enough to keep him awake at night.
You cannot allow this to go on. You must take back what's yours.
Gi-hun's attention. It was yours before his little reunion with Jung-bae.
"You can buy me soju when we get out," In-ho — as Young-il — said. Words came out of his mouth ever-so naturally because —
Because he had to say that. Had to take back what was his. If Jung-bae thought he could claim Gi-hun with stupid soju...
Fuck. Who, really, are you up against, In-ho?
Are you up against Gi-hun because he's threatening to end the game and take you down, or are you up against Jung-bae because he's threatening to take Gi-hun away from you?
And Gi-hun is letting that happen. No, Gi-hun was the one choosing that man over you.
During the coup, in the midst of open fire, I'll go with Jung-bae, Gi-hun's words were, for In-ho, louder than the chaos breaking loose around them. Jung-bae, let's go. And before In-ho knew it, he was watching Gi-hun leave with someone else, leaving him there.
Like the past years of Gi-hun's attempt to search for him meant nothing. Like Gi-hun forgot about all of that now that he had Jung-bae.
In-ho heard, like pouring salt on the wounds, over the radio, Jung-bae's question to Gi-hun, Why'd you take me along instead of Young-il?
Why, indeed. In-ho may have only been partly aware of himself clenching his fist around the radio so tight he might have broken the device when Gi-hun said to Jung-bae, because you're my best friend.
Because Jung-bae was Gi-hun's best friend.
Because suddenly In-ho was no longer his priority.
If Gi-hun thought he could abandon In-ho — Young-il...
In the end In-ho killed Jung-bae in front of him. The consequences of Gi-hun's actions, the chaos he inflicted.
He walked away to the sound of Gi-hun's cry and did not turn around. Young-il would, but Young-il was dead.
Gi-hun killed him.
______________________________
What happened after the coup, after Gi-hun's surrender, was not as smooth a road as In-ho may have hoped.
Gi-hun had been... unreasonable, for lack of a better word. In-ho didn't put him back to the dormitory with the rest of the surviving Players. That'd be too risky. He couldn't kill Gi-hun either. He could technically kill him. But what then, would be the purpose of his life if Gi-hun was dead?
"Keeping him alive is just as reckless. Risky," said one of his Soldiers, Guard 011.
In-ho did not know her actual name (nor did he care to go through her files and find out), and he did not remember asking for her opinion. Did not remember asking anybody for their opinion. To be precise. Her voice did surprise him nonetheless, none of the other Guards spoke to him unless they were directly spoken to.
In-ho, with his face now behind the Front Man's mask, turned to look at her.
"Guard 011."
"Player 456 is unpredictable. He's caused far more casualties than necessary. His life poses a threat to the game," she said, voice stern.
"Are you questioning my decision, Guard 011?"
"When there is a reason to, yes, sir. I'm afraid I am."
In-ho raised his brows behind the mask. Either she was extremely brave, or she was begging for a bullet to the head. In-ho decided to listen to what she had to say, just for now, just because there was no one else in the room to see her challenge his authority and did not immediately get gunned down, and because he was curious. He'd see where this was going. "And what would that reason be, Guard 011?"
"Your decision to kill Player 390, sir."
That man again.
"Player 390 was not the only Player who broke the rules and faced the consequences, he was not the only Player who paid for his crime by his life."
"But he was different, wasn't he?"
"Why would you think that?"
"Because Player 456 cares about him. You didn't kill Player 390 because he broke the rules. The others, yes. But you only took his life because of his relationship with Player 456."
"Because Player 456, too, needed to face the consequences of his action. Breaking him down by killing Player 390 was only... appropriate. He needed to know there were consequences for everything."
"But Player 390 could have been your bargaining chip, to make Player 456 cooperate. If you're not going to kill him. Now you're keeping him alive and you have nothing to hold against him, because the only person he cared about here is dead. You're keeping him alive despite knowing you gain nothing from his being alive, despite knowing — by not killing him now that you have the chance — you risk another coup. By keeping Player 456 alive, you risk your own life, as well as the safety of the game."
"So you disagree with my decision. You think I was being reckless by killing Player 390 —"
"I think you were being jealous when you killed Player 390."
In-ho's breath was caught in his throat. "Guard 011, are you accusing me?"
"That depends. Were you jealous?"
"I have no reason to be jealous of Player 390. His death was due to his own actions, and the actions of Player 456. Gi-hun — Player 456 needed to learn his lesson."
"For the chaos he caused? Or for daring to give his attention to someone that's not you?"
"I do not want Player 456's attention. I am only doing what needs to be done. Killing Player 390 is a justified means to teach Player 456 a lesson of what happens when you threaten the game."
"Is that really the reason you pulled the trigger?"
"I will be very careful with what I say next if I were you, Guard 011."
"You are obsessed with Seong Gi-hun," she said, matter-of-factly.
Isn't that the worst thing about it all? Her tone. The fact Guard 011 did not say her words in a manner that suggested a baseless accusation, but rather... she was simply stating facts.
In-ho thought he opted to reach for his gun now. His hand would not move. His muscles would not move. Guard 011's words somehow paralyzed him.
She walked out the door before he could kill her, or come up with an excuse. A lie to convince himself she was wrong.
______________________________
In-ho could only avoid Gi-hun for so long.
If you won't kill Gi-hun, eventually you will have to face him.
He held the mask in one hand, his whiskey in the other. Considering his options, In-ho could either go to see Gi-hun with his mask on, his face remained hidden, or he could go see him as Young-il. Maskless. He supposed his old self would have preferred the latter, yet another chance to further break Gi-hun down by revealing to him who Young-il really was.
In-ho took another sip of his drink and placed the glass down on the tabletop by his side — going to see Gi-hun as Young-il and laying bare to him his real identity felt wrong now. Not because of the danger showing his face to Gi-hun might cause, once Gi-hun knew who the Front Man was, but rather...
Young-il was dead. I'm sorry, Gi-hun. It's over. Young-il was dead, and with Young-il, whatever bloomed during his time with Gi-hun as Player 001. The smiles. The laughter.
They were never real to begin with.
Why, then, the pain in your chest?
In-ho unconsciously brought a hand to where his heart was. He hadn't felt any hurt there since... since the day your pregnant wife and unborn child died. A lifetime ago.
No, he told himself, you cannot be mourning Young-il now. Let Gi-hun mourn him.
Or perhaps Gi-hun was too busy mourning Jung-bae to think about Young-il.
Anger burnt somewhere within him next. Jung-bae is dead, but he's still haunting you. Still brought out of In-ho anger so red it made him clench his hand into a tight fist.
Or maybe it was never really anger. In-ho wished it was anger. Anger was easy. Anger was shallow. Meaningless. He'd always been consumed by it even before he first met Gi-hun. He feared what this was was something else. Jealousy.
Jung-bae is dead, but he's still taunting you, making you jealous.
Do you wish you were the one Gi-hun cared about the most?
You are obsessed with Seong Gi-hun, Guard 011's words never actually left his head. No matter how much he drank in hope alcohol would help banish her voice.
In-ho put on his mask and made his way to where Gi-hun was kept.
______________________________
"Player 456," In-ho said, with a modulated voice and a mask shielding his face, stepping into the windowless room.
Gi-hun sat on a plain white bed, the same model provided in the dormitory, with his legs hanging off of it and his face facing him. He didn't seem surprised or startled to see In-ho — the Front Man (or, as Gi-hun had said, the Masked Man). It was almost disappointing. In-ho didn't know what, exactly, he expected Gi-hun to react, but he could not gain an ounce of Gi-hun's attention if Gi-hun acted as though he did not exist.
"Why haven't you killed me?" Gi-hun said. Finally. Some reaction.
I don't know. was the truth In-ho caged behind his teeth. (Not 'I don't know why I haven't killed you' but 'I don't know what the purpose of my life will be if I lose you.') "Death is too easy for you," he said instead, approaching Gi-hun's bed.
Gi-hun was not restrained. After all, it was In-ho who ordered his men to keep chains and handcuffs away from Gi-hun, only a lock on the door. He supposed he would have liked to see Gi-hun handcuffed or chained, but now wasn't the time.
The point, Gi-hun was not restrained. In-ho ordered his guards to wait outside the room and to not interrupt. While Gi-hun was unarmed, there was nothing stopping him from lunging at In-ho and trying to strangle him with his bare hands.
A part of In-ho almost hoped Gi-hun would do that. Fight. Anything that'd mean Gi-hun was giving him his attention the way he used to do when he was living in that crappy motel and In-ho — the Front Man, the Masked Man — was the only thing on Gi-hun's mind.
Gi-hun did not lunge at him to try to strangle him. Gi-hun barely acknowledged his presence at all.
In-ho stopped once he was looming over his head. His shadow swallowing him whole. Do something. Wrap your hands around my neck. See me.
"You have lost," he said. "Accept that."
Slowly, Gi-hun tilted his head backward to look at him. "On one condition," he said, after a small pause. It wasn't exactly what In-ho expected. (In-ho expected Gi-hun to keep fighting, keep pushing back. He'd spent years trying to get Gi-hun to give up, the thoughts of Gi-hun possibly having given up now terrified him, and it terrified him that he didn't know why they were terrifying.)
"Enlighten me," he said, standing tall over Gi-hun's frame.
(Gi-hun was taller, in comparison. And while In-ho would never admit it, it did annoy him. Maybe his choosing to be on his feet while Gi-hun sat on the edge of the bed helped make him feel... bigger. Or maybe he just needed GI-hun smaller, even if it was an illusion.)
"You tell me exactly why you killed Young-il and Jung-bae."
In-ho reflexively tilted his head to the side a little. "Isn't the reason already obvious, Player 456?"
"No," there suddenly was fire in Gi-hun's eyes — the murderous way he was looking at him. Finally some emotion. "The rest of them, yes, it's obvious why they died. There's something more about Young-il's death. About Jung-bae's — you," Gi-hun paused, licking his lips, "it was personal, wasn't it? Why you killed Jung-bae."
"You cared deeply about Player 390. It is important you were taught a lesson, the consequences of your actions, his death served as that. As I've previously told you."
"And I don't believe a word you've said," Gi-hun leaned forward, like he was trying to get closer to In-ho that way.
Believe whatever you want. "What would you make of it then? Why do you think I killed Player 390?"
"You know..." Gi-hun leaned back against the wall, chuckling wryly. "I never knew why before. I mean, sure, I had my suspicions, but I told myself they were crazy. Until now."
In-ho stood still. Wordless.
"All things considered, after everything you've done. You take. That's what you do. You take. But for some reason, it's me you want to take from. Doesn't matter if I don't have anything to give, you'll find something to take from me. I thought you wanted from me. But after Young-il. After Jung-bae. I began to realize. Maybe you never actually want from me. Maybe, as fucking insane as it sounds, maybe you want me."
"That is absurd."
"Then why haven't you killed me?" Gi-hun leaned forward again.
"You're trying to manipulate me into killing you and freeing you of this prison that you asked to be in. That is not going to work, Player 456."
"Why do you want me?"
"I do not want you."
"Then why haven't you killed me?"
"I need to see you suffer," In-ho said, at least that didn't feel like a lie.
Gi-hun nodded. "But not because I threatened to end the game."
"Your suffering is the comeuppance for what you've done."
"What is it that I've done?"
He's messing with you on purpose. "You threatened the game, your actions have led to the deaths of Players who, because of you, will never get a chance to fight and win in their game. You've —"
"Cut the bullshit," suddenly and with no warning, Gi-hun was on his feet. Standing tall right in front of In-ho. And suddenly Gi-hun was bigger — taller than him again. "We both know that's not the reason I'm alive right now. Yes, I'm the one leading those people. Yes, I'm the one coming up with the plans. But I've studied you. I know you. This was supposed to be about the system. The game. But if it really was about that, then you would have killed me long ago. The longer I am alive, the more dangerous I become, and you know that. No, this is personal, isn't it? For you, it's personal. You want me and you get off on my misery, but it is personal. Grow a fucking ball and admit that."
"You are wrong," In-ho said, keeping his posture collected. Didn't matter if Gi-hun may be right (it did matter, but In-ho couldn't afford to think about that right now. He could not lose his cool, not in front of Gi-hun). "We are all simply following the rules of the game here, Player 456."
"Are we? Is this still just a game? Take off that mask, then look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't kill Jung-bae because you knew you could never be him and you knew no matter what you did, how many men you killed, you could never have me."
In-ho's hand was on Gi-hun's throat before he knew what he was doing. He was throwing Gi-hun down onto the bed, straddling his waist before he knew what was happening, how he was reacting out of pure instinct and triggered words. "Maybe I should just break your neck right here."
"Do it then," Gi-hun didn't fight or struggle. "Either kill me, or keep me a prisoner forever. But you'll never have me."
In-ho's hand shook around Gi-hun's throat. He could feel himself fighting, struggling for self-control. He did not mean to lose it and be the first to attack, revealing to Gi-hun his sore spot in the process. But he feared Gi-hun's words hit a little too right. Like when Player 230 mocked him about his dead kid.
He let go. All of a sudden. Like it burnt. Stumbling off Gi-hun but still staying on the bed with him. Gi-hun, still on his back, looked at him. And then there was... something, In-ho could see it, something twisting in Gi-hun's eyes, a flash of recognition. Realization. It was making him nervous.
In-ho rarely ever was nervous. He had to bite his lips to keep himself from asking Gi-hun what it was.
"I actually thought I was losing my mind," Gi-hun said then, like a whisper, almost like he was mostly just talking to himself. "Even up until seconds ago, I thought it was crazy to even just... test my insane theories. But you would never have reacted the way you just did if it wasn't true."
"What wasn't?"
Gi-hun moved back up into sitting, facing In-ho. He looked at him, but not... not in the way Gi-hun used to look at the Front Man in the past. Something had changed, and it was killing In-ho because he didn't know what did.
"Are you... are you in love with me?"
In-ho looked at him. Eyes widened behind his mask. Shocked and at a loss for words. For real this time.
He couldn't even bring himself into denying it even if he tried (and In-ho did try).
He could feel the beginning of panic churn uneasily in his stomach, making waves of nausea course through his veins. Why can't you deny?
"Take off your mask," Gi-hun commanded.
"I cannot do that."
"Take off your mask." Gi-hun wasn't holding him at gunpoint, wasn't holding a knife to his throat. Gi-hun was only a captured, wounded man with his words. Yet Gi-hun's voice held power in a way In-ho could never begin to understand, and it scared him.
In-ho's hand moved leisurely toward the mask. Almost like he was hypnotized somehow. You can't do this. You must not do this. He knew that, but he also knew... killing Gi-hun right here would be the right thing for the Front Man to do. He still had his gun with him. But he knew he wasn't going to pull it out and blow Gi-hun's brain off. Knew Gi-hun knew he needed him alive as much as he needed air for his lungs.
He unclamped the strap holding his mask together just as slowly. Like a death row inmate walking on his own two feet towards the execution chamber. Scared and fully aware of what was happening, of himself walking right into his own doom, but he was left with no other choice.
In-ho could only run from Gi-hun for so long. He realized that now.
(He thought he was the one holding the leash, at first, that the collar was around Gi-hun's throat and he could yank it and make Gi-hun heel anytime he wanted. He'd never been so wrong.)
He lowered the mask then, and slowly turned to face Gi-hun.
Silence crept in. It felt like it lasted forever. Then, "Young-il?"
"My name is Hwang In-ho," he said, like he was confessing a crime. A sin. He'd never been so ashamed of saying his own name before.
Gi-hun looked at him, and it was too much. In-ho averted his eyes. He'd been through betrayal, was the one betraying people who loved him. The picture of Jun-ho on the edge of the cliff, looking at him with pain on his face still kept In-ho awake at night. And it was the same look Gi-hun was giving him now. Lost. Betrayed. Even now that In-ho was no longer looking at Gi-hun, he could still feel... the hurt.
It's never anger.
In-ho realized. He would have preferred anger. Anger was easy. Anger was shallow and meaningless. In-ho understood anger like it was a part of him.
Anger means they don't love you.
But pain....
He should never have cared about how Gi-hun felt. His sole goal when he first wore the skin of Young-il was to trick, beat and defeat Gi-hun, breaking him down. And In-ho did that. He did exactly that.
Why then the pain in your chest?
"Why?" Gi-hun asked.
"Don't be so surprised, Gi-hun," said In-ho. "You should have known the masked man would ensure the game continued. You cannot expect him to simply put you back in the game unsupervised, knowing what you planned on doing and what you were capable of doing."
"It was always you."
In-ho did not answer. His eyes remained on the mask on his lap that suddenly felt too heavy. Too hot it began to burn through him.
"Look at me," Gi-hun said, and In-ho did.
There were tears in Gi-hun's eyes. And it took at least five seconds for In-ho to realize why his own vision was suddenly blurry.
"The masked man."
"I prefer Front Man," In-ho aimed for a mocking tone. He only sounded defeated instead. Why?
Everything has been going exactly according to your plan. You've won.
What are these feelings then?
"So it was all a lie? Young-il. Everything you've said. Every —" Gi-hun paused, then, "us?"
"Not all of them." It bothered In-ho that all of a sudden he started to sound like Young-il, the way he was talking. The way he was looking at Gi-hun. "What I said about my wife was true. Only that it was too late. I was too late. She's dead. That, and..." he trailed off, "when I told you I was sorry, that was not a lie."
"You didn't kill Jung-bae because you wanted to teach me a lesson. You killed him because I chose him over Young-il — over you, and you could not live with that."
In-ho averted his eyes again.
"Why?" Gi-hun asked.
"Why what?" Haven't you already figured everything out?
"Why — me?"
For a moment In-ho's mind instinctively went to the safest route and tried coming up with a lie, anything to keep himself from getting hurt, he supposed. But he realized he'd been maimed by the lies he weaved since he first approached Gi-hun as Young-il. Realized, with terror in his heart, something did happen during his time with Gi-hun as Player 001. Something unexpected. And he could not — did not want to lie to Gi-hun anymore. "You remind me of my wife," he said, without looking at Gi-hun. "Different. Stubborn. Special. I didn't see it at first, and I don't know when I began to see it, but... but it's there. Nobody was special to me again after she died. But then there's you." He turned to look at Gi-hun again, and was met with... something he couldn't quite describe. The way Gi-hun was looking at him.
"I bet it's killing you, isn't it? These feelings you have for me. I bet it terrified you."
"You have no idea," In-ho admitted. He was done lying.
"I bet you want to get rid of them."
"More than anything."
"Then pull out that gun and get it over with. Kill me. That's the only way you can escape your feelings, Youn — In-ho."
In-ho looked at him, a longing smile tucked lightly at the corner of his lips. "I lost my wife, Gi-hun. I cannot afford going through another grief."
"Then you're a selfish bastard."
"Maybe I am."
"You don't have me. You'll never have me."
"I know that," In-ho paused then, feeling a surge of pain in his chest and having to take a deep breath in. "But I still can't lose you."
Gi-hun only looked at him.
"I love you," In-ho added, "and I'm sorry for that."
He excused himself next. On his way out the door, a part of In-ho hoped Gi-hun would call after him. Gi-hun remained silent.
He put the mask back on, and retreated back to his room where he could lick his wound alone.