Nine years ago, I seemed to have the perfect life I had always wanted—a stable job, a happy family, good health, and a wonderfully loving husband. Everything appeared flawless; nothing could ruin my happiness. Right?

Then, I started to feel sick. Very sick. Overnight, everything began to deteriorate—coughing blood, loss of appetite, difficulty breathing—and soon, everything fell apart. That was when the doctor explained my condition: both kidneys were ruined, and a transplant was needed as soon as possible; otherwise, I would die. My husband, In-ho, had offered help from the very beginning, but he wasn't compatible. Moreover, obtaining a transplant was extremely expensive—beyond what In-ho and I could afford no matter how many debts were incurred. To make matters worse, I was also expecting our child. Both In-ho and the doctor pleaded with me to consider an abortion, since the pregnancy only made me more vulnerable. But I refused; this was my child—a child I had longed to conceive for so many years.

As the days passed, I only felt worse. Then, one day, In-ho suddenly disappeared, promising to return with the money. That day never came, and I never heard from In-ho again. Fortunately, my mother-in-law and brother-in-law, Jun-ho, cared for me every single day, and—as if by a miracle—they secured a transplant for me, saving my life (though not the baby's). Still, I was deeply grateful to the husband's family, yet there was no sign of In-ho. For years, Jun-ho and I searched for him, even joining the Korean Police Force at Jun-ho's urging in a desperate attempt to locate him. But it seemed In-ho was gone forever.

One night, unable to sleep, I felt the urge to go to the bathroom and wash my face. In silence, so as not to wake the other players, I quietly walked to one of the side doors of the room where everyone was confined until the next game. After knocking softly and requesting to use the bathroom, the door opened—and two guards escorted me to the bathroom, or so I believed. The moment I turned around, one of them, holding a piece of wet fabric soaked in chloroform, pressed it against my mouth and nose. By the time I reacted, it was too late to defend, and my body succumbed to the substance, causing me to pass out.

My head spun as faint music began playing in the background.

"Fly me to the moon..."

Again and again, that same song played until I finally woke up, opening my eyes abruptly and gasping.

My eyes scanned the room—a setting that felt strangely familiar. It was one of the private quarters on the island, specifically that of the masked man who had shot me three years ago. I squirmed as I noticed that my legs and wrists were tied behind my back, rendering me immobile. I had been captured by that man.

"Player 096."

A deep, sharp voice made me freeze in place. Looking up, the masked man sat on a couch, observing me.

"You are not supposed to be here again."