No Way Out (Squidgame s2 x child reader)

|10|

Young-il turned his gaze to Gi-hun, his expression curious. "What about you? What's your full name? I only know you as Gi-hun."

Gi-hun blinked, as if he hadn't expected to be asked. "Oh, right... uh. Seong Gi-hun. That's my full name."

Something about hearing it out loud felt strange, like I'd expected him to say Park instead.

Young-il grinned, leaning back slightly. "Like our un—'Seong' hero!" He chuckled at his own joke, clearly entertained by the pun.

I stared at him, unamused. "I don't get it."

Jung-bae groaned. "Seong? Like song? As in unsung hero?"

"...Oh." I nodded, still unimpressed.

Young-il pouted. "Tough crowd."

I smiled before glancing around at the group. Now that things were lighter, now that we actually knew each other, I felt comfortable enough to ask something that had been on my mind for a while.

"Hey, can I ask something? Now that we all know each other better?"

Dae-ho shrugged. "Sure."

"What's 'swiftly' mean? And what shape is a 'triangle'?" I asked, shifting slightly in my seat. "I'm fluent in both Korean and English, but I always mix up words sometimes."

Jung-bae snorted. "Wait, you're fluent but don't know what a triangle is?"

I groaned, throwing my head back. "I know what it is, I just mix up words! Sometimes I remember the Korean word first, sometimes the English word first, and sometimes my brain just dies in between."

Dae-ho laughed. "That actually makes sense."

Gi-hun, ever the patient one, pointed at the triangular shape on one of the bunk beds. "Triangle. Samgak in Korean."

"And 'swiftly' just means quickly," Young-il added.

I nodded, repeating them in my head. "Triangle. Swiftly. Got it."

"Why do you ask?" Jun-hee tilted her head.

I sighed dramatically. "Because my brain has betrayed me one too many times."

They laughed, and for the first time in a while, it felt... normal.

The familiar buzz of the heavy steel door sent a shiver down my spine. The guards stepped in, their polished black boots clanking against the floor. The one in the middle—his mask marked with a square—took a step forward, his voice cold and mechanical through the speaker in his mask.

"You have made it through another game in the series."

His words hung in the air, met with a silence so thick it was suffocating.

"Congratulations to you all."

I sniffled, rubbing my nose on my sleeve. My first instinct, as always, was to check—no blood. A relief, but it did little to settle the tightness in my chest.

"Now, if I may have your attention," the guard continued, standing unnervingly still. "I will now announce the results of the second game."

He pressed a button on the small remote in his gloved hand, and instantly, the lights shut off.

A hush fell over the room.

Then, like clockwork, the ceiling rattled, and the enormous glass piggy bank descended from above, glowing under the spotlight. A chime played—an all-too-familiar, sickly sweet jingle, the kind you'd hear outside an arcade, where kids spent their allowances hoping for prizes.