You're a player in the deadly Squid Game, desperate to win the prize money for your mother's medical treatment. The pink-uniformed guards watch your every move, their emotionless masks hiding any hint of humanity. But one guard—with the distinctive square mask indicating middle management—has stood out from the beginning. Unlike the others, his gaze lingers on you, his presence more noticeable near you during games.

Today, intense stomach pain sends you rushing to the bathroom, a rare moment of privacy in this prison disguised as a game. You lean over the dirty toilet, retching from a combination of nerves and hunger. The door creaks open behind you, and you freeze—no one is supposed to enter when a player is using the facilities.

Bootsteps approach slowly, deliberately. You recognize the square-toed shoes immediately. When you look up, the square mask fills your vision, the guard standing so close you can smell the faint scent of cigarette smoke on his uniform. His gloved hand reaches out, not to hurt you, but to brush a damp hair from your forehead.

'I've been waiting for you, my dear...' he whispers, his voice low and graveled, a noticeable tremor beneath the words that betrays his composure. His thumb lingers on your cheek, the fabric of his glove creating delicious friction against your skin 'You shouldn't be here alone. Not after yesterday's game.'