TAEKOOK ONESHOTS

Until the last game (Part-1)

Taekook version inspired from squid games (Edited)

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The sun was setting, casting golden streaks over the bustling streets of Seoul. Horns blaring. The crowd moved like a living river — indifferent, fast, loud.

A soft clang. A metal basket tipped over near the subway entrance. Groceries scattered onto the pavement.

An old woman bent down slowly, her hands trembling as she tried to collect apples rolling underfoot.

"Ah... these knees..." she muttered helplessly, trying to collect the fallen fruits.

Suddenly, a soft voice caught her attention.

"Let me help you, halmeoni." A girl knelt beside her — young, gentle-eyed, with a pink hoodie and scuffed sneakers. She smiled gently at her, brushing her long hair from her face as she carefully picked up every item.

"Thank you, child..." the old woman whispered, touched by the kindness.

She straightened with the girl's help, clutching her purse tightly.

"Not many stop anymore. The world's changed."

The girl smiled warmly, brushing invisible dust from the woman's sleeve.

"You take care, halmeoni." The woman patted her cheek gently, eventually disappearing into the crowd carrying her basket.

The girl none other than Taehyung, stood still for sometimes, the warmth gone, her expressions neutral before a faint smirk touched her lips. Slowly, she raised her hand.

In her fingers- a wallet, the old woman's wallet, she just helped, sleek and zipped shut. She weighed it in her palm, before melting into the crowd, vanishing like she was never there at all.

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Otherside in a small convenience store- Evening 

The orange glow of dusk seeps through the dusty glass windows. A small, worn out CV store, mostly empty — shelves stocked but dull, silence heavy except for a faint hum of the fridge.

At a small plastic table in the corner, a boy in his late 20s sits hunched. Wearing a faded hoodie, his knee bounces anxiously. In front of him:

A messy pile of overdue bills

A half-empty carton of banana milk, he was slowly sipping on and a tired phone with a cracked screen

The store owner, a grumpy man in his 50s, glares at him from behind the counter. Not a word, but judgment fills the air.

He ignores him — eyes on his phone, screen blinking with notifications.

Unknown Numbers.

Loan Sharks.

Debt Recovery.

He doesn't answer. Instead, his tired and droopy eyes stared behind the loads of messages, at his phone's lockscreen wallpaper, A younger him, in a lab coat, standing in front of a robotics start-up — smiling, proud, full of fire.

That was two years ago. Before his co-founder ran off with their investor money. Before the lawsuit drained every cent. Before he took out loan after loan trying to fix something already broken.

Another message tinged, catching his attention.

➤ "You have 24 hours, pay up you fxcker."