This is the first part of the fiction I started to write. I'm trying to write a little slow burn, as far as it's possible since the events take place during the game in season 2 and it only lasted three days so far, so let's see where it goes.
I'm not a native speaker, I hope it doesn't sound super weird. Hope you enjoy it.
PS: I know, Player 132 is some random guy in season 2, but I just ignored that fact.
Chapter 1 - Player 132 (below)
Chapter 2 - Games and Nightmares
Chapter 3 - Whispers of the Past
Pairing: In-ho x f! y/n (3rd person)
Summary: In-ho first notices you during the vote after the first game. After he spoke to Gi-hun during the first night, he decides to approach you.
Words: 1,569
Content Warnings: attempted suicide, drug abuse
Chapter 1 - Player 132
In-ho entered the room through a side entrance. The lighting was dim. It felt strange to move without a mask. All the players were preoccupied with the voting, so no one noticed the newcomer. Some stared blankly into the void, while others whispered excitedly to each other, but no one paid him any attention. In-ho's eyes landed on his green suit with the number 001 and then shifted to the voting board in front. He was one of them again. He would play again. A faint smile crossed his lips. This time, it was different.
The voting had started in reverse order on his instruction, giving him enough time to blend unnoticed among the other players. In-ho observed the white numbers on the green suits. For a brief moment, his gaze lingered on the number 456. Bringing Gi-hun back had been a risk. However, he was the first known winner in the history of the games to return. That would undoubtedly increase the game's appeal…
Player 004 made their way to their seat. A tie.
When In-ho was called to vote, he moved slowly and almost silently at first, then quickened his pace. The other players stared at him. His fluid movements were reminiscent of a predator deliberately approaching its prey. Since he had kept himself hidden behind the other players, he now had to cross almost the entire room. The other players began cheering for him, trying to pull him to their side. Halfway across the room, he suddenly felt like he was being watched. One of the gazes in the crowd felt different. He tried to look around without slowing down or turning his head. His gaze met that of a young woman.
Player 132.
For a fraction of a second, he froze, just long enough not to arouse suspicion.
Player 132.
For years, it had been his job to observe the players, to know their backgrounds, and to collect data on them. It had become something of a ritual for him to pay special attention to this number—perhaps out of nostalgia, perhaps out of connection; he couldn’t quite tell. He tried to recall what he knew about her, but for some reason, his mind failed him.
Player 132.
His jaw tightened. For a brief moment, his breath caught. He felt as though he were moving in slow motion. A stabbing sensation in his chest made him uncertain whether something was breaking free within him or whether something was embedding itself deeper, something he thought he had long since forgotten. In-ho’s dark gaze met a pair of eyes carrying the same pain shared by anyone who agreed to the terms of the games, but also a melancholy and restlessness that stirred something deep inside him—a part of himself he had buried long ago. It took effort to refocus on his goal and continue toward the voting podium.
When he finally reached the console, he hesitated. Not now, not here. These words swirled through his mind, attempting to silence whatever had just occurred. It couldn't happen. He had meticulously planned everything, removed every obstacle, accounted for every scenario—except this. If he allowed the cold fog creeping into his mind to take hold, it could mean his downfall. Perhaps it was already too late.
He knew all eyes were on him, and he didn’t have much time to make a decision. He thought briefly, then pressed the green button.
-
In-ho tried to sneak back to his bed as quietly as possible after speaking with Gi-hun. He glanced around to ensure he was unobserved and then wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
The weight of unanswered questions pressed coldly and heavily on his chest, just as the shared fate between him and Gi-hun did. They both had won, yet their victory had come too late. The memory of failing to save what they had risked their lives for connected them and, at the same time, led them down paths that could not have been more different.
Suddenly, he heard a faint humming. It was a melody he had never heard before. He wasn’t sure whether it was the memory of his family, which he had just shared with Gi-hun, or the gentle sound of the voice, but the song deeply moved him. A shiver ran through his upper body, leaving behind a painful burning sensation, yet it oddly soothed him. He drew a sharp breath and looked around. Across the room, a woman sat on her bed, her legs pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them.
Player 132.
In-ho didn’t know why he followed the melody, but for some reason, he couldn’t turn away. He slowly descended a staircase between two bunk beds and then sat on one of the steps next to Number 132. When she noticed him, she fell silent.
“Please, don’t stop…”
The woman looked at him questioningly, but his smile convinced her to comply. It didn’t quite match the rest of his expression, but she sensed it was genuine. There was something questioning and quietly desperate in his eyes. 132 closed her eyes and began the song again. For a while, they simply sat next to each other, letting the melody transport them to a world beyond this island—away from the games, away from fear and death. When the song ended, they sat in silence for a moment.
“I saw you during the vote. Why did you decide to stay?” she finally asked.
In-ho didn’t answer immediately.
“And you?” he countered, gesturing to the green circle on her jacket.
He caught a brief glimpse of the long scar on her neck, but she seemed to notice, as she pulled her jacket’s zipper higher. Then she let her arms drop so that her hands now rested gently and soft on the mattress.
“You’re trembling,” he noted.
He resisted the sudden urge to place his hand over hers. After a few moments, she quietly began to speak into the silence.
“It’s a rare neurological condition. I was a pianist. Music was my life, but because of the disease, I couldn’t take on any work anymore.”
She lifted her trembling hand as if to demonstrate.
“The pain comes in waves. Normal medications don’t help, and the doses doctors prescribe me are a joke. So, at some point, I started obtaining sedatives on my own.”
She paused for a moment. Now In-ho remembered. He had read in her file about her spiraling debt due to drug abuse, about the measures she had taken to get money, and how he had judged her for it. He swallowed.
“Over time, I needed more and more of the stuff to get through the attacks, until I finally decided to quit. The drugs are gone now, but the pain remains. And so do the debts.”
She smiled at him through the silence.
“May I ask your name?” she asked quietly, averting her gaze as if uncertain whether the question crossed a line, since she was clearly younger than him.
“My name is In-ho—” he hesitated, then continued, “But the others here know me as Young-il. I… I’d appreciate it if not everyone here knew my real name, if you understand…”
She nodded.
“I’m Y/N.”
Why had he told her his real name? He knew it wasn’t an accident. He wasn’t supposed to trust anyone—trust made him vulnerable. And yet, for some reason, he didn’t regret his decision, even though he knew how dangerous it was.
“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. You should get some rest,” he said abruptly, standing up.
He was about to leave when she lightly touched his arm to stop him. Her touch took his breath away for a moment, spreading warmth and softness over his entire body. He didn’t dare move, hoping to prolong the moment.
“In-ho,” she said, so quietly only he could hear it. He turned back to her.
He swallowed. Only now did he realize how long it had been since he had heard his name spoken aloud. Here, he was Young-il or The Frontman—never In-ho. The last person to call him that had been his brother, just before falling off the cliff. Hearing her voice say his name unsettled him yet comforted him at the same time. He looked at her. Now it was he who trembled.
“Are… are you all right?”
There was something about her that drew him in, and that scared him. It was pointless to deny it. Perhaps it was her sharp intuition, her gentle voice, or the quiet despair in her gaze that seemed to seek refuge in him. For a while, he remained silent. He had already lost everything once on this island and wasn’t ready to take that risk again. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away from her presence. In-ho tilted his head slightly to the side, trying to appear as unaffected as possible.
“Why do you ask?”
Y/N looked down at her knees, as if hesitating to answer. Then, slowly and seriously, she continued:
“Your eyes. They look like you’ve been through a lot. More than most of the people here.”
In-ho looked at her for a long moment. He knew she already knew the answer. Finally, he smiled, turned, and walked back to his bed without another word.
Just realized while writing on Mingle that the configuration of its set is that of a reversed panopticon. REVERSED. PANOPTICON. It was not made for the guards in the central room to have a look at the players inside the stall rooms, it was made for the players/prisoners to have a wide and broad look at the entire massacre happening in the central room after the count is down to 0. That's why the peephole at the doors is so large.
So we're navigating between the horse theme with this round stable and the merry-go-round, and the prison theme with that inversion which does give a sense of comfort to the players once they have reached their rooms and are locked in there, but does little to actually reverse the roles, as the players are still prisoners of a massacre they have to watch - massacre perpetrated by the authority in place, the Pink Guards.
And that's why we have this scene where the locked players not having the right number of people inside the room, full of a false sense of security, are shocked by the rifle of one of them going through the hole, literally invading the space they thought they were safe in - to shoot them.
I mean, that's why it works so well, because we watchers are in the players' shoes at the moment it happens. Being given a false sense of security, the luxury of being able to watch, as if we could control anything... to see that being snatched from us the moment you feel the safest. As if they didn't watch, too. As if they didn't know. As if the eyes of the guards weren't already everywhere.
Squid Game spinoff needs to start with Gi-hun being alive and texting In-ho (who still thinks he’s dead and is mourning/blaming himself) from his number, that hasn’t been used for so long, this photo without saying anything
In-ho getting a text from Gi-hun’s number at 4:56 in the morning after years have passed since Gi-hun’s death (Gi-hun’s not dead, but In-ho doesn’t know that) and it’s this. fucking. picture. And he’s fully believing he’s being haunted by Gi-hun’s ghost.
Imagine how epic this would be if the teaser/trailer of the spinoff started with this.
