Breaking Ice || Squid Game Front Man

Chapter Four: Don't Forget Me

NARI AND PLAYER 232 WERE EACH HANDED A SMALL BAG, THE CONTAINMENTS CREAKING AND CLANKING. Nari assumed it was marbles, her fingers squeezing the bag and rolling the circular objects around. Around her, players were walking by with their partners to find a spot in the game room. Walls were painted like houses, and walls in the center of the room mimicked a maze of a neighborhood. Together, Nari and Player 232 walked through the neighborhood-like room with the sand sifting under their feet. They settled toward a back corner, by a fake tree and a blue building with three concrete steps leading to the fake door. Player 232 gave Nari a thankful smile as she helped him sit down on one of the steps before she sat down in the sand in front of him.

"Todays game is Marbles." So, she had assumed right, but the confirmation gave no leeway on what the game could be precisely. "Each player has been given ten marbles. The first player with all twenty wins and the other will be eliminated." A coldness struck Nari to the core, sending her stomach dropping as her body went rigid. No. "It does not matter how the winner collects all twenty as long as there is no violence." Tears pricked at her eyes and a tightness gathered in her throat. She looked over at Player 232 and he watched her with gentle eyes. "Ten minutes to collect all twenty begins now."

The timer clicked down on seconds, but Nari paid it no mind. She felt so stupid for choosing him as a partner; why hadn't she thought of that? Of course it would end this way — of course it would. What other way would it end? Oh, God. Nari scuffled closer to him, her knees digging into the sand. "Sir, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, sir," she pleaded in a whisper, voice trembling as it was on the edge of catastrophe. A nauseous feeling was sweeping through her while her hands grabbed his.

His worn hands grabbed hers back. "Do not apologize for what you cannot control," he reassured, his voice calmer than the situation allowed. She looked at him through tear filled eyes, and he brought a hand, trembling with a lifetime of memories, up to wipe away one that had slipped down her cheek. "What is your name?"

"Jeong Nari." She had to swallow back a sob in order to cough the words up.

A sweet smile spread across his face, and he then looked on the brink of tears as well. "My daughter was named Nari. I picked it out, my wife loved it. It means lily. A beautiful name. You reminded me so much of my daughter, too. For allowing me to feel like a father again, I thank you." Nari couldn't hold back and began to cry into his lap. It hit her than that he reminded her of her own father. His quiet yet thankful nature, constantly reassuring her in their troubled times, even the way he spoke. Had she not been crying, she'd of thanked him for making her feel like a daughter again. "I've lived a long and lovely life, and I could not life any longer if I do not give you these." He stuffed the bag of marbles into her hand, patting the top before resting his hand. "All I ask is for you to never forget me, because I will never forget you."

"Never," was all she could choke out before the sobs overcame her once more. Her heart ached. Everything ached. His frail hand lifted from her hand and to her hair, brushing it gently.

Footsteps approached. Player 232 looked up at the sound and his hand fell away from Nari. "It's time, dear." It hurt to move. She lifted her head and looked at him, then at the guard. A striking difference in their faces; Nari, eyes red with tears on her puffy face next to Player 232's soft and appreciative face, staring up at a guard's blank mask. His head was tilted toward the two. "She has all of my marbles, sir."

Please. Please, God. One more time. Please, just once more.

Player 232 stood, gently moving Nari to the side. Her tear ridden eyes watched as he walked toward the guard, then the guard raise the gun. She ducked her head into her hands, holding her palms roughly over her ears. No amount of effort, though, could blind the sound of the gunshot.