𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

❜ ─ 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑭𝑰𝑭𝑻𝒀

ＣＨＡＮＣＥ

❛ ━━━━━━━━･ ❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━━━ ❜

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒑𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒃𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏

THE NEXT TIME (Y/N) AWOKE, SHE completely had no idea how much time had passed since she had fallen unconscious due to her wounds, now pressing her hand against her side with teeth grit as she sat up, finding herself in that same golden-themed bedroom Woo-jin and Jung-hoon had taken her to freshen up during the fourth game.

And also where they had fucked her.

    What the hell?

    I'm surprising I'm not dead at this point.

    I wonder if the sixth game has already happened? Probably not, though...

    "How are you liking your room?" An almost mechanized voice asked from beside her, she whipping her head in the direction of the sound to find the Front Man sitting in a plush chair just staring at her.

    "What...?"

    "Your room?" He gestured to everything around him. "How are you liking it?"

    "It's fine..." she answered, eyes narrowed as her muscles tended, finding that both her shirt and jacket had been discarded to leave her in nothing but her bra due to the lumpy bandages now around her waist to heal her stab wounds, also meaning that both her knives were taken away. "Why am I here? Why didn't you just let me die like everyone else?"

    "Because," the Front Man said as he stood and approached her bed side, gloved finger tracing down her face. "You're too important to let die."

    She almost couldn't believe him.

    For someone so focused on equality and fairness, the favoritism he showed her didn't suit him at all.

    Her gaze glided over his dark suit and geometrical mask, finding that just like the other masks that the guards had to wear, she couldn't see anything past it. But his mask wasn't what she was paying attention to, instead looking toward his right shoulder which he seemed to carry stiffly, along with how the clothing seemed to bunch up around it like he too was sporting bandages.