Was this it then?
Kang Saebyeok liked to think of herself as a survivor. She was willing to do anything it took and then some more to stay alive, to keep her family alive. Or what was left of it anyway. That’s why she played with the salesman, why she dialed the number in the card, why she came back to the games after playing Red Light, Green Light.
She would do it all again to protect Cheol, to see her family reunited.
The place in her abdomen where the glass shard was encrusted was leaking blood, but she knew it would only get worse once she removed it. A small voice in her head wanted her to ask for help, but she knew there was no way to get it inside this place. The only person she would trust with it was dead already.
Her heart did a double take when she thought of Ji-yeong. Sae-byeok wanted to blame the pain, the circumstances, the immense stress of participating in the games, but she knew better. She knew that if she had met Jiyeong one day before the games, she would’ve never come here. She knew that if she had one wish right now, it wouldn’t be to have her mother hold her hand while she slipped into the darkness, she’d want Jiyeong to make it out of here. She knew that if Jiyeong asked her to go anywhere, she’d follow her to the end of the Earth, to hell and beyond.
Sae-byeok knew better than to have such thoughts. There was no place for anything but survival in the games, least of all a crush.
She took off her jacket and t-shirt, opened the faucet, and splashed cold water on her face to focus. She starred at the mirror without seeing anything; the specks of blood on her face barely registered.
Cheol was alone in the orphanage. Maybe his room was cold, maybe he couldn’t sleep, maybe he missed their mother. Saebyeok needed to keep going, push a little harder. Soon, they’d be in their new home, eating their sorrows away.
She took a deep breath and gripped the glass shard with her left hand, willing enough strength into her trembling hand. With the next inhale, she pulled and soft whimper left her lips. Immediately, warm, thick blood poured from her wound, dripping to the floor. Saebyeok pressed the washcloth she was given to clean up firmly against the wound in a clumsy attempt to stop the blood flow.
She was breathing heavily, unconvinced she hadn’t taken her guts out along with the glass. Saebyeok’s fingers felt around the wound, assessing the damage. The cut wasn’t big, but it was deep enough to pulsate blood out of her. This was bad.
Quickly, she ripped a strip off her discarded t-shirt and wrapped it tightly around her waist. Saebyeok was a survivor, hardened by the life in the North, tempered alongside the iron extracted in her hometown. She would win these games if it was the last thing she did.
She rinsed the blood of her hands, scrubbing hard under the running water until her hands felt raw, then washed her face as well as she could. Saebyeok stared at her reflection for a second too long, but she didn’t let herself linger on the scratch down her chin. She opened the box the masked men gave her and blinked her tears away. She still had one more game to play.
Apart from the music playing in the background, dinner was a quiet affair. It had to be.
Saebyeok was focusing all her strength in staying upright, with varying degrees of success. She wasn’t hungry but she needed to eat if she wanted to make it to the last game. She couldn’t stomach more than two bites; the tender meat wasn’t cooked enough for her liking and, for a second, Saebyeok thought she was chewing her own flesh.
The masked man who took her plate away left the knife on the table. She had thought about slipping it into her pocket before, but she was afraid that’d disqualify her. Here it was, her key out. Saebyeok only needed to ration her strength for a couple more hours. She would stab 218 and 456 in their sleep and return home with the prize, to Cheol. Home.
She seized the handle as tight as she could, willing her trembling hand into submission. There was no room for weakness now. Saebyeok’s shirt was sticking to her wound, pulling at her bandage as she slipped her hand away from the table.
Absentmindedly, she noticed 218 do the same. 456 kept his eyes on his old friend and followed suit.
The classical music in the background ended in a flourish as the masked men rolled the remnants of dinner away.
The bed she had in the games was as comfortable as the one she slept at home. She would prefer her battered cot in a dirty shared flat, the cold breeze keeping her awake at night. At least there, she could reach under her pillow and look at the one picture she had of her family. It would be enough to help her follow through her plan.
Saebyeok was tired. The kind of exhaustion you felt deep in your bones, the kind that made every move an exercise in resilience. Not for the first time, she wondered if she would’ve been able to pull the trigger on Jiyeong. If Jiyeong had made it this far, would Saebyeok be ready to get rid of her with the same coldness she thought about the other players?
It wasn’t coldness, she realized. It was survival. Saebyeok was a survivor and she would do anything to reunite her family.
Jiyeong though? Her chest constricted at the idea. She could’ve loved her, in another life. She would’ve fallen in love easily; the way schoolgirls crush on their best friends before they realize there’s something wrong with them.
She could her voice in her head still: you got a reason to get out of this place. Saebyeok wouldn’t let her sacrifice be for nothing. She took a deep breath and pushed every thought out of her mind, her pulse was loud in her ears.
She didn’t hear 456 approach, focused on staying alive a little longer, her eyelids heavy as lead.
“Saebyeok.”
His voice was low, but in the silence of the room it echoed like a gunshot. She let out a shaky breath and struggled to focus her eyes on him, her hand trembled when she brandished the knife.
“You’ve been dozing off. I’d have killed you already if I wanted to,” he reassured. Saebyeok believed him. 456 -Gihun- was a good person. He was naïve and optimistic, stupid and reckless, but in his heart, he was good.
He showed her his knife; it looked scrubbed clean of grease and meat, yet it upset her stomach. “I have this with me because of Sang-woo there.” Gihun tilted his head to signal his old friend. Clearly, he thought he’d need it. It was confirmed when he added, “protection, you know.”
She slowly drew her hand back; she could see 218 was still in his bed, watching them carefully. Saebyeok’s breathing came in ragged exhales at irregular intervals. If she wanted to do something, it had to be soon, she wouldn’t have the strength to do it any later. She had to believe the game makers would give her medical attention if she won, it was the only way she would leave this place.
Gihun sat on the floor next to her bed. Any moment before, she would’ve sent him away, but it required too much effort to be worth it. “You’re not holding up too well, huh?”
“No, it’s okay. I feel fine.” But she heard herself clearly. She was anything but fine.
“So how come you barely touched your food earlier?”
“It wasn’t very well cooked, that’s all.” It wasn’t a lie, but her soft gasp didn’t help the situation. The tingle in her wound informed her the blood was still flowing freely out of her body.
“Stop lying, please.”
Saebyeok almost felt bad when she replied, “And if I’m hurt? Are you gonna try to treat it?”
Her mouth tasted like blood and wine. She had never drunk red wine before. She figured Jiyeong would find it amusing. She’d say: we can go to Jeju together. Drink mojitos by the beach, red wine before we sleep. Sae-byeok swallowed, a feeble attempt to taste rinse her mouth of the taste of death and decay.
She heard Gihun speak, but couldn’t make out the words. Saebyeok could barely string a few words together to tell him to leave her alone.
Her mother used to make delicious miyeok-guk for her birthday, the meat would be perfectly cooked, the right amount of sesame oil, not a drop of soy sauce out of place. Saebyeok wanted to have a plate when she got home. She’d invite Jiyeong to come over, she just got out of prison, who knows when was the last time she had good miyeok-guk?
“Hey, Kang Sae-byeok? We should stick together. We can beat him. Whatever the game, we’ll help each other get through this as teammates.” Saebyeok focused her eyes on the blanket in front of her. If she spoke right now, she would sob. She would not make it out of here.
Gihun mentioned a little girl and her heart tried to push blood a little harder. A child. Cheol.
“How old is your daughter?”
“She’s ten.”
“That’s also how old my little brother is.” It was barely a whisper, but Gihun understood, he asked where his brother was next.
“I promised that he’d get out of there soon. Our mother is stuck in the North right now. I said I’d get her once I was able to make enough money, and I’ll get us all a house.”
She could see it in her mind: a house by the beach, a big backyard for Cheol to run. Her mother would keep the living room tidy for visitors. They’d make friends. They’d live a quiet, uneventful life.
“There’s so much in there. I think even with half, you’ll have plenty.” She glanced up at the piggy bank. Saebyeok would never see that money.
“Hey, Gihun. I think you and I should make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
Saebyeok considered it. There was only one answer that felt right. “Just in case either of us… can actually make it out of this hellhole somehow, we’ll look after each other’s loved ones, okay?”
“Don’t say that. Come on. We’ll beat Sang-woo, and then, we’ll get out of here together.”
Saebyeok glanced at him. Naïve, optimistic, stupid.
“I still want you to swear, though.” A sob escaped her lips before she could stop it. She needed to make sure he understood. “I need you to swear that you’ll look after him.”
Gihun shushed her as he looked at 218 nodding off across the room. She was exhausted, tired enough that the pain in her abdomen wasn’t enough to keep her eyes open. It was comfortable, finally closing her eyes. It was like a mother’s hug.
She felt more than she saw Gihun stand up, carefully making his way to 218. Sangwoo? Why did she remember that name now?
“Don’t do it. You’re a good person at heart.”
Jiyeong’s smile was bright behind her eyelids. Saebyeok thought she’d never see it again. She wanted to be the reason for that smile. For once, she wanted something selfish, she wanted to stay wherever that smile was.
Saebyeok’s mother used to make japchae with oyster mushrooms instead of shiitake, two eggs per person. Sometimes she added green pepper and garlic chives. Cheol loved garlic chives.
Cheol was a strange, melancholic kid after their mother was captured and sent back to the North. Once, when they established in the South, Saebyeok took him out for lunch, she bought japchae and asked for extra garlic chives. Cheol didn’t touch them, he said he wanted their mother to cook him the real deal.
She didn’t understand then, but she got it now. Their mother’s food was calling to her from the other side.
There was a thump she belatedly recognized as her own body falling. Strong hands seized her, searching for the cause of her fainting spell. She couldn’t tell the person it was too late; her mother was stir-frying the vegetables already. Soon, she’d mix them with the noodles, then season them with soy sauce, sugar and sesame oil.
“What happened? When?” His frantic tone made her worry. Did something happen to the food? Jiyeong would be here soon. They didn’t have time to start cooking from scratch.
Cheol’s voice rang in her ears: I don’t want to stay here. Where’s mom?
“Mister,” she mumbled, unsure if she was saying the words or dreaming them. “I think I wanna go.”
If she didn’t hurry, her family would eat without her.
“I’d like to go home now.”
She hears the echo of a voice, soft and cheerful. She can hear it say: I’m honored that we were partners.
Saebyeok feels a pull towards Jiyeong’s voice, towards the ocean beyond. In the darkness, her shadow searches blindly for the source.
“Kang Saebyeok?”
She is home.