No Way Out (Squidgame s2 x child reader)

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🌃🌃🌃

As the sky above us was swallowed by metal panels, sealing us in, a heavy weight settled in my chest. It felt like the last bit of freedom was being stolen away, the last piece of normalcy locked out of reach.

For a brief moment—just a few fleeting minutes—the game had felt fun.

I had almost forgotten where I was, almost let myself believe I was just a normal kid playing outside, laughing and running like any other teenager. But reality had a way of shattering illusions.

Now, there was no sky.

No escape.

Just cold, artificial light and the scent of fear clinging to my skin.

We were led back to the dormitory—a massive room filled with towering bunk beds. Some of them were empty now, their previous occupants never coming back. Those beds weren't just vacant. They were graves.

I didn't want to be one of them.

So I stayed close—always close—to Gi-hun. And when he wasn't within arm's reach, I stuck near Jung-bae. They were the only familiar faces in this nightmare, the only things keeping me tethered to something that felt real.

The room was eerily quiet, heavy with unspoken grief.

Above us, the golden piggy bank glowed ominously, a grotesque symbol of the price we were paying.

I hated looking at it.

People's lives were going to fill that thing up. I should have known better. I should have realized sooner.

If I die...

The thought lodged itself in my throat, too terrifying to swallow.

What would happen to Eomma?

Where would she go?

Would they even tell her? Or would they just cut the cord and leave her to rot in a hospital bed, alone and forgotten?

I bit my lip, blinking rapidly. No. I couldn't die. Not here. Not like this.

I shifted slightly, leaning into Gi-hun, our knees touching as I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Gi-hun..." My voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. "That doll... the one with cameras in its eyes... what was that?"

He turned his head, his gaze soft, though his exhaustion was clear.

"It scanned us for movement," he explained. "There's a team of guards up in the walls."

As he spoke, his hand found the top of my head, his fingers tracing slow, careful circles against my scalp.

My throat tightened.

Eomma used to do that too.

Not on my head, but my hand, my arm, my back—wherever she could reach when I needed comfort.

I loved it.

I also hated it.

Because I didn't know if I'd ever feel her gentle fingers on my skin again.

Jung-bae's voice broke through my thoughts. "How do you know that?" He was watching Gi-hun with suspicion. "Have you been here before?"

He had a point.

Gi-hun had known about the doll.

He had been on edge before the gunshots started, before he had any proof we could die.