Chapter Text
In the transition of night to the midnight of Gayeong’s birthday, the first call announced its presence by a low ringtone, almost inaudible, originated from the room Gi-hun shared with Hye-won. The house was large, with enough rooms for both of them to sleep separately and have space left over in case his daughter wanted to visit him; but soon after buying and organizing the property, Gi-hun placed her crib next to his bed. A single sleepless night with Hye-won in his arms and watching seven men become willing to kill a newborn for their own gain was enough to create in him the fear of leaving her alone.
Frequently, the images of the pink guards disturbed his sleep, especially those with triangle masks who in his dreams wielded weapons at him, threatening to use them if Gi-hun refused to hand Hye-won over to them. A cruel way to punish him for his acts of revenge, his heroic fantasy. Seven months of peace don’t mean a lifetime of peace; after all, the promise that they would both come out of the games safely doesn't mean that it would last forever.
However, earlier his mind had followed a different line of dreams.
Gi-hun found himself back again in the games dormitory, staring at the blood red beds left empty as the finalists bodies were placed in the black coffins. In the background, Sae-byeok’s voice trying to convince him he wasn’t a murderer was replaced by In-ho’s, who repeated his words from when Gi-hun first won the games.
“Just think of it as a dream,” In-ho held Gi-hun's trembling hand, stopping the knife used to cut the players throats from falling to the floor. As In-ho spoke, the air between the words was blown into Gi-hun's ear, which, together with the pressure of the other man's chest on his back, sent shivers down his body. “It wasn't a bad dream for you anyway.”
Gi-hun looked down at his body bathed in blood and woke up. There was no scream, no sweat-soaked sheets, not even a tremor like usual. He simply sat up in bed, stared into the darkness of the room as the haze of sleep faded, then got up and left, first going through the kitchen in search of a bottle of liquor and a pack of cigarettes, then going to the living room where he sat on the floor against the sofa until the call.
The sound of the ringtone lasted for a few more seconds before stopping and leaving the house in silence only to return again. The process was repeated two more times before stopping completely. Gi-hun took a sip from his glass of whiskey and, grimacing, rested his head against the furniture behind him. He'd never liked the taste of the drink or the sensation of it burning his throat, but he forced himself to drink.
In-ho had offered him a glass of whiskey when they met before the final game. To make conversation easier, he said. Gi-hun had refused, believing it to be a distraction from his goal of killing the Captain, but now he wished he'd accepted, drank, and discovered if the bottle tasted as hot and bad as the one he'd bought or if it was something more sophisticated. If, after the rebellion, In-ho had gone to his office, grabbed one of his bottles and drank while watching Gi-hun try to get the soldiers to shoot himself. Would In-ho have done the same thing when Gi-hun killed the finalists? Or when the nightmares became too much for him?
Knowing that even after everything, Gi-hun continued to think about In-ho made him hate himself even more.
Gi-hun put out the cigarette butt in the ashtray next to him and proceeded to take the third of the night inside of the half-empty pack. He placed it in his mouth, groped the floor searching for the lighter but didn't find it. Gi-hun rummaged uselessly the jacket pockets, the space behind him and the sofa until he gave up and took the cigarette out of his mouth. The lighter must have fallen under the furniture, but Gi-hun was too tired to search for it.
It was kinda funny, all the overtimes in Dragons Motors or in the others jobs Gi-hun got for pay the bills didn't let him so exhausted as now, where his days were spent in just taking care of Hye-won, send short messages to his daughter and deciding whether he would lie in bed or drag himself around the house.
The clock struck seven past midnight and not even ten minutes after the missed calls the phone started ringing again. Gi-hun felt like ignoring the call again until whoever it was on the other line of the phone hung up. When the morning arrives, he could look to who was calling and, maybe if it was someone important, he could call back and excuse himself for forgetting the phone on silent mode. However, through the door of the bedroom Gi-hun saw Hye-won slightly moving in the crib, so he put the cigarette back in the pack and got up with difficulty, cracking his back. With slow and groggy steps, leaning on the walls preventing to fall, he entered the bedroom.
Of all the rooms, this was the only one that stood out among the neutral decor of the house. It was simple, with small glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling; a royal blue-colored wardrobe and dresser royal blue next to each other; and two photo frames on top of the first piece of furniture, the first picture was of Ga-yeong at eleven years old and the other of Gi-hun and Hye-won, taken in Pink Motel three months ago. Between the photos, a lamp and a stuffed tiger fought for space.
Fortunately, the house was bought already furnished, otherwise Gi-hun would have lived in an empty space for the next months following the purchase. He didn't care with the property’s aesthetic, its decor, much less its location. Gi-hun could’ve purchased a mansion in the most luxurious area of Los Angeles or a small house in a simple neighborhood and still wouldn’t have liked the place. Decorating the house to his taste was nothing, but a futile and useless attempt to prove himself wrong.
Gi-hun stopped at the front of the dresser, stared into tiger’s big green eyes of the tiger and walked over to the crib where Hye-won was sleeping. The phone kept ringing on the bed, the white light of the screen contrasted the dim yellow light of the lamp and the green of the stars as he watched the baby make sucking movement, undisturbed by the noise and his index finger running over her chubby cheek.
Sometimes he would spend hours watching her sleep, placing his hands on Hye-won chest and feeling her heartbeat, following her breathing, the way she inhaled briefly and exhaled long; her small expressions and the open mouth even when he tried to close it. Those little things made him feel safe, sure that she survived. He almost lost himself in the moment, feeling the warm and softness of Hye-won’s skin, but suddenly the phone ringing disappeared.
Gi-hun walked away from the crib and took the cellphone, went back to the living room in the same slowness as before and sat at the sofa. Although he thought it unlikely, maybe it was Ga-yeong or even Jun-ho calling, but the number found wasn’t any of his saved contacts. Gi-hun frowned. For what reason would someone he doesn't even know be calling him that late? Maybe he shouldn't even answer, but still, Gi-hun clicks on the green icon and puts the phone to his ear. For a few seconds he heard the sound of the telephone waiting music, until it was replaced by a statistical noise.
“Hello?,” Gi-hun said. “Who is it?”
In the background, muffled by the noise, someone gasped, but didn't answer. Gi-hun waits a few more seconds before repeating his question, but again silence. He started to get irritated, either it was a misdialing or a stupid prank call. He pulls the phone away from his face, about to hang up when he finally hears something.
“Gi-hun.”
Nothing but his name is spoken, and yet Gi-hun immediately recognizes the voice.
In-ho.
For months, since he left the games with a new bank card placed at his throat and a baby in his arms, Gi-hun had been imagining the words he would say to In-ho if he ever saw him again. He rehearsed speeches advocating for the good of humanity, hit him, asked questions nonstop, and cried. But now, when the moment finally arrived, Gi-hun did none of those things. Everything that had been running through his mind for the past few months went away. He stood frozen, just like when the Captain, the mind behind the games, took off his mask, revealing himself to be Young-il and later Jun-ho’s brother.
"Gi-hun," In-ho said again. His voice was strange, shaky, as if he were trying his best to keep it steady. "I--"
Gi-hun hung up.
He blocked the number, and tossed his phone aside. He leaned down, picked up the glass, drank it all in one gulp, and went to grab a cigarette from the pack, but then remembered the lighter was missing. He rested on the back of the sofa, dropped everything on the floor, and in the background he heard Hye-won crying, woken by the sound of the glass breaking.