𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐄 | нwang ᴊunнo

2

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AFTER THE FIRST GAME of green light and red light we took all players back to the huge, austere hall, resembling a gigantic, deserted sports hall. Around them stretched rows of metal beds. The ceiling was high, and the light was bright and cold, falling from huge, motionless lamps that illuminated the entire space.

"Please! Please don't kill me! I don't want to be a part of this! I want to go home! Please!" - one woman started shouting.

Others began to cry out, begging for mercy. "I don't want this money! I don't want this game! I have children! Please don't kill me!"

With each passing moment, more people joined in. The screams and pleas began to intensify. There were more and more of them, those who had been together a moment ago now began to kneel on the ground, begging for help.

"Please don't do this! I'll do anything! Just let me go back to my family!"

"We have nothing, we don't need this money! Please, give us a chance!" another player shouted, his voice cracking with tears.

I felt the tension in the room grow. Every single one of these players was terrified. Some were crying, some were pleading, but at that moment, nothing mattered except one thing: the game was going on, no matter what these people were feeling. There was no room for mercy in this game, but that didn't stop the players from looking for some glimmer of hope.

Suddenly, amidst these desperate pleas, I heard a voice that stood out from the crowd.

"Clause three of consent form: The games may be terminated upon a majority vote. Is that correct?" the voice of number 218 rang out. It was determined, calm, but full of confidence. It broke the noise of pleading.

"That is correct." Square confirmed.

"Then let us take a vote. If the majority wishes to quit, you will have to let us go." 218 said.

"As you wish,we will take a vote on whether or not to terminate the games, but before we vote, we will reveal the prize amount from the first game."

High on the ceiling hung a gigantic metal figure—a huge pig, its eyes glowing with a cold light. It stood there motionless, as if it were merely an ornament to this brutal world. But now, as the light dimmed, something had changed.

Money began to fly from its interior, through a specially hidden pipe on the ceiling. Banknotes of various denominations fell slowly. The money that reached the pig through the pipe had its own, eerie rhythm, as if it were part of some mechanism that was supposed to cause chaos.

The players, initially surprised, looked at it with growing distrust. It was a reminder of what this game was—a mechanism in which the lives of the players and their choices were unimportant in the face of this ruthless machine.

Most of the players did not move, knowing that this money was part of the system, part of this brutal reality in which they found themselves.

But despite these words, the sight of money pouring into the metal pig had its power. It was a reminder that this game wasn't about survival, but about who would lose their humanity in pursuit of illusory rewards.

Players looked at the money, at the machine that swallowed it.

"The number eliminated in the first game, 255. Allocated price money for each player, 100 million won. Therefore a current total of 25.5 billion won has been accumulated into the piggy bank. If you quit now, the 25.5 billion will be sent to the families of the eliminated players, 100 million each."

"However, all of you will return home empty handed." The guard explained, then a woman spoke out.

"Excuse me, if we make it through all six games, how much do we get?" she asked loudly.

"There are 456 players. So the total is 45.6 billion won. We will begin the vote."

However, I, as a guard, knew that this decision could change everything, and if the vote was held, it could mean the end of this cruel game. But it could also cause even more chaos, because this game was not about who was right, but who would survive.

"You can see two buttons in front of you. If you wish to continue, press the green button with an O. If you wish to cease press the red button with an X. Once you finish voting,move to the other side of the white line."

They walked past each other, pressing buttons on the screens, their choices recorded live. Everyone looked at each other, uncertainty in their eyes. Their votes were the last chance to stop the game or stay in it forever. Each choice could mean a change in the course of events, but no one knew what would really happen when the voting ended.

And finally the moment came when the last player approached the booth. It was number 001 – an older man whose presence stirred mixed feelings among the other players. Although his steps were slow and his face was lined with years, there was no fear or panic in his eyes. Instead, there was a strange, almost calm certainty about him, as if he knew that nothing could surprise him anymore.

He stood over the screen for a moment, as if considering every possibility. No one spoke, everyone watched him in silence. Time seemed to stop, and the players' breathing was almost inaudible. Finally, slowly, he raised his hand and selected "X".

There was silence for a moment. Decisive, calm, as if this choice had significance not only for him, but for the entire game. In the silence that followed, everyone knew that nothing would ever be the same. The players stood in silence, surprised, but also hoping that 001's decision would change the course of this brutal game.

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