No Way Out (Squidgame s2 x child reader)

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🌃🌃🌃

"The game you will participate in today is the Six-Legged Pentathlon," the monotone female voice announced, her words echoing through the enclosed space.

I blinked, tilting my head slightly. Pentathlon? I knew that word... probably. Just not in Korean.

"At each ten-meter interval on the track, one member of the team will play a mini-game. If that player wins, the team may advance to the next challenge. The mini-games are as follows: Game one, Ddakji. Game two, Flying Stone. Game three, Gong-gi. Game four, Cham Cham. Game five, Spinning Top. And finally, Game six, Jegi. You will have five minutes."

A lump formed in my throat. That wasn't a lot of time. Less than a minute per game? There was no room for hesitation or mistakes. Out of all the games listed, the only ones I had any confidence in were Cham Cham and Gong-gi. They were the games Eomma used to play with me when she was too weak to leave her bed, her soft voice guiding me through the motions.

"To win, you must complete all six mini-games and cross the finish line before time runs out. Now, please decide which player will be assigned to each mini-game."

I turned toward 222, my eyes silently asking the question. She could play Gong-gi, right? It was one of the most common games for girls. If she could take that, I could handle Cham Cham. I was decent at it, at least.

"It's good we got two girls, after all. You play Gong-gi and Cham Cham, right?" Jung-bae asked, looking between me and 222 as if it was obvious.

She shook her head.

I felt myself shrink a little, embarrassment creeping in.

"I can play Cham Cham," I said quickly. "I could do Gong-gi if we have no other choice, though." I didn't want to make 222 feel bad, but I also wasn't sure I trusted myself to win at it under pressure.

"I don't get it," Jung-bae muttered. "Do girls not play Gong-gi anymore?"

His question wasn't even directed at me or 222—it was more like he was asking Gi-hun or 001, as if they held the answer to some universal truth.

"No, not even once," 222 admitted.

I turned to her, eyes widening slightly. Not even once? I knew not everyone played as a kid, but never? Even when my family was at its poorest, I still had my makeshift set—five tiny rocks I'd painted when I was small, my fingers barely big enough to hold them all in my palm. It wasn't much, but it had been mine.

"Um... I can do Gong-gi," Dae-ho offered hesitantly. "I mean, I can play it."

Jung-bae raised a brow, amused. "A Marine who knows Gong-gi?"

A surprised laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it. Jung-bae always had the funniest expressions—right now, he looked just like a chubby cat, his eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. It was adorable.

But my laugh quickly turned into a cough, the burning in my throat finally catching up with me. I turned my head, covering my mouth, but it didn't stop the raw scratchiness from making itself known.

222 placed a gentle hand on my back, her fingers light but steady.

"You shouldn't get close to me," I murmured between coughs. "I could get you sick."

She hesitated for a moment before slowly withdrawing her hand.

"For the rest of the games, we should pick what we're best at," Gi-hun said, his voice steady. Then, he turned to me. "You're okay at Cham Cham, Eunha?"