Lines We Cross ||Front Man x Reader||

We were back in the bunk area, and people were already breaking off into small groups, clinging to whatever sense of familiarity or comfort they could find. It was loud as hell in here, voices overlapping, arguments sparking, and people whispering in corners like they were already plotting something. I didn't care about any of that right now. I had one person in mind: Player 456.

I spotted him sitting a little ways off with another guy. His head was bowed, his face set in this grim expression, like he'd just aged ten years in a day. The other guy, whoever he was, kept talking to him, probably trying to lighten the mood or some shit. I didn't care. I was on a mission.

I walked right over and stood in front of him, hands on my hips. "You said you played these games before, huh?" I stared down at him, waiting for a response.

He looked up at me, his expression weary, like he'd just been called out in class after pulling an all-nighter. "Yeah," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

"Great," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "Here's the thing. I'm a detective. Private investigator, to be exact. And these fucking games? They've been my case. Now, thanks to your buddy the Front Man, I'm caught up in this bullshit. Had a lovely chat with him, actually, and now he's punishing me for it."

That got his attention. His eyes widened slightly, and he straightened up a little. "You did what?"

I didn't let him off the hook. "Yeah, you heard me. I talked to him. Real charming guy, by the way." My voice dripped with venom. "So now I'm stuck here, and you? You're my ticket out. I know damn well no one comes back to this shit voluntarily, so whatever your deal is, I'm gonna need you to help me shut this whole thing down. I'm guessing you're here for that same exact reason too."

I stretched out my hand to him, keeping my eyes locked on his. "Y/N," I said simply.

He hesitated, like he was running calculations in his head, trying to figure out if I was serious or just insane. After a moment, he sighed and reached out, gripping my hand. "Gi-hun," he said.

"Pleasure," I said, pulling him to his feet.

The guy sitting next to him, perked up at the interaction. "Are we a team now, guys?" he asked, a nervous but hopeful grin on his face.

I looked him over, he had one of those faces that practically screamed I don't belong here. He looked more like someone's accountant than someone stuck in a death game. I smirked a little. "If you want to think of it that way," I said with a shrug.

He took that as a yes and grinned. "I'm Jung-bae," he said, holding out his hand.

I ignored the handshake and turned back to Gi-hun. "We need a plan. And fast."

Gi-hun nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah," he said. "You're right. We don't have much time."

Jung-bae chimed in, his enthusiasm almost comical given the situation. "Alright, so what's the plan?"

I sighed, glancing around the room. "First step? Stay alive. Everything else comes after that."

They both nodded, and for the first time since this whole nightmare started, I felt like maybe, I wasn't completely alone in this mess.

It wasn't long before the announcement blared through the speakers, telling us to form groups of five for the next game. The room turned into chaos. People scrambling, whispering, pulling at each other to join their little cliques. It felt like we were kids in a schoolyard, picking teams—except instead of dodgeball, it was a matter of life and death.

I stayed close to Gi-hun and Jung-bae, scanning the crowd for anyone worth pulling in. That's when I noticed someone walking toward us, moving with this steady, almost deliberate pace.