Sae-byeok x fem!reader
L/n Y/n, a broken sixteen-year-old girl, signs up for a slaughter house disguised as children's games to win money to escape her abusive father and to give her younger sister a better life than what was handed to them. There s...
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WARNING(S): BRIEF MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE, LANGUAGE
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I don't think I'll ever get used to waking up with classical music slowly playing in the background. I sighed, rubbing my sore eyes as I sat up, glancing around. I was dressed back into the same green tracksuit, 406 stitched on the back and pockets of the jacket. The mattress under me was just as hard as it was before, the room just as cold.
"You're finally awake," a voice said to my right and I turned, finding Sae-byeok casually sitting on the edge of my bed, leaning against the metal bars as she gazed around her surroundings.
"And you're still awake," I countered right back, remembering her plan to stay conscious during the ride back to this facility. When she said nothing, I continued, "Did you stay here all night?" I narrowed my eyes at the dark bags adoring her face.
Sae-byeok shrugged. "Someone had to."
"You should've woke me up," I grumbled, tossing the blanket off my legs.
"You needed the rest," she replied, tilting her head and finally turning towards me. Her dark eyes traced over my jaw where I knew a large, purple bruise shaded my skin. "It will help with your...injuries." She said the word like it was hard to choke out.
I huffed and didn't bother to respond. My attention darted over towards the screen that rested above the entrance of the room. "There was a lot of people that came back," I murmured. 187 players had apparently returned.
"Did you think they wouldn't?"
"No," I answered, shaking my head. "Just the hypocrisy in humanity sometimes catches me off guard." I paused and hurriedly pointed to a familiar player—212. I grabbed Sae-byeok's arm and shook her lightly. "Look! See? There's that woman that said that she hadn't even named her baby!"
Sae-byeok followed my finger where 212 was hurriedly bouncing around, spouting about something. "I doubt she even had a baby, Y/n," she said.
