Breaking Ice || Front Man/Hwang In-ho

Chapter Two: Sweet As Honey

A single gunshot fired, ringing throughout the room. Nari's ears ached at the sound; she had heard more gunfire in that day alone than she had in her entire life. Outside in the field, the sound had room to travel; back in the player room, it was forced to bounce off the walls endlessly until it eventually faded away, leave damage in its wake.

Her head was already hurting before the gunfire restarted due to the other players screaming at and threatening the guards. Nari and Player 232 stood close together toward the front as the others yelled, her hands holding onto one of his arms.

She felt screaming at the ones in charge — and the ones with weapons — was pointless. She didn't dare join that crowd. Player 232, too, remained silent in the commotion.

All of the players that were screaming shifted to cowering in fear, staring with wide eyes at the guards, after the gunfire ended. Then, the rules were explained once more; the guards must've been tired of repeating themselves.

Nari looked next to her as they did, watching the elderly man as he listened. She was grateful to of found him in the Hell they were in, viewing him as a form of light — a form of comfort. Maybe befriending someone in a situation like the one they were in wasn't smart, but Nari felt otherwise. Player 232 would be her support, as she'd be his, and she refused to dwell on the possibilities.

Sensing her stare, he looked at her with a soft smile. She stared at it a moment. At least he's okay. She offered him a smile back before looking ahead.

A chubby player with the numbers 010 on his back stepped closer to the stage, his hand raised in a point. "Didn't rule three say the games could be terminated if majority agrees?!" The guard nodded, explaining they could cast a vote.

"Yeah! We want to vote!" someone yelled from the crowd, earning cheers from other players at the idea.

Clashing with the cheers were words of disagreements. There was more than a handful of players disagreeing with a vote, stating they didn't need to and that the games should continue.

As the players bickered, Nari watched the guards step out and return minutes later with a podium. Players were then ordered to stand on one side of the room and come up, one by one, to place their vote — an easy way to single out those in favor or against.

83 players went before Nari, with 53 of them voting yes. She stepped up to the white podium, looking down at a red X and green O button. Her eyes flickered between the two, uncertainty settling in her chest.

When her hand lifted to the red one, she hesitated.

Should I? She was taking too long; someone behind her cleared their throat. But her decision wasn't an easy one to make — no, not at all. To stay and chance winning while risking her life, or to leave empty handed back into a world that had already been scraping her hands raw?

Nari knew very well to not complain about her life, but, in that moment again, she hated the cards she had been dealt. It wasn't fair; it wasn't fair she was risking death in some competition because it beat staying alive to die at the hands of her mother and brother.

Life wasn't fair.

She knew that. She bitterly knew that.

Her hand shifted and pressed down, the green light peaking between her fingers.

She was mindfully aware that no matter what, either way, death was unavoidably close. Outside of this place, she wouldn't amount to anything. The games were her only chance at changing that.

Turning, she joined the players who had voted. Behind her, Player 237 voted yes.

Player 232 went next, pressing yes in an indifferent manner. Nari didn't know whether to be confused or not. To her, he shouldn't be in games like this to begin with. He should be at home with his family, living securely and safely. Instead, he was here.