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〇△▢

I sink into the couch, Junho pressing in beside me. He doesn't say anything at first, just studies me before flicking his gaze toward Gihun, who sits across from us. My fingers lace together in my lap, my expression unreadable. Across the room, Choi Wooseok, one of Gihun's men, scrubs blood from the wall, assisted by Jinwoo and Kyungsoo, who I called in to help. They already know all about the games as I told them about it when we got closer and would want to know about my sudden meeting with Gihun again. They keep stealing glances at us, but I ignore them.

"Hwang Junho," Gihun mutters, examining the ID in his hand. "I remember you showing up at my house."

I turn to Junho, my voice as level as ever. "You did?"

Junho gives me a slow blink, the kind that makes me feel like I've missed something obvious. A dull ache tightens in my stomach, making me shift subtly, pressing a hand against my abdomen. The discomfort is fleeting, but it leaves an impression.

"We've met twice, actually." Junho's voice is flat, almost indifferent. "Once in front of your house... and once on the island."

Gihun stiffens, his complexion paling. His eyes meet mine, but I avert my gaze before he can search for answers.

"Remember the night of the riot? When the masked men intervened?" Junho continues, his tone casual yet pointed.

Gihun's fingers twitch toward his gun, but I react first, my hand closing over his wrist. A small shake of my head stops him. "He wasn't one of them."

"You're lucky she's here," Gihun says, eyes locked on Junho. "Why were you there?"

"I found the same card my brother had—on Nayeong," Junho says, eyes flicking to me. "That night, I followed her. She was acting different." He pauses, something unreadable in his expression. "And I'm glad I did."

Gihun tilts his head. "Your brother... Hwang Inho, was it? Was he in the games?"

I shake my head, a slow, calculated movement. "No, he wasn't."

My attention shifts to my blouse, the blood spatter stark against the fabric. I feel dried flecks on my cheek and begin rubbing at my skin, irritation prickling at me. Junho's hand suddenly covers mine, stilling my movements.

"Who was the man you killed?" he asks simply. His voice is steady, but the question lingers.

"We didn't kill him," I answer without hesitation. "He just lost the game."

Junho releases my hand, exhaling through his nose. "You're still involved, aren't you?"

"No." I glance at Gihun. "We've decided to end this. Put an end to it all."

A small smirk tugs at Gihun's lips. "Then let's start by finding the man who worked for Oh Il-nam."

I exhale quietly, my fingers tapping against my thigh. I haven't told them everything—haven't told them about my conversations with that man. If Gihun knew, he'd hate me. He'd blame me for not speaking up sooner, for all the deaths that could've been prevented. And Junho... I don't want him tangled in this. What if the same thing happens to him as to what happened to my mother? My father told her and now she's gone.

"They called him 'Captain,'" Junho says. "The man in black."

Gihun leans forward. "Did you see his face?"

Junho shakes his head. "No. He wore a black mask." He looks away, a fraction of hesitation betraying him.

I know when he's lying.