Work Text:
He has received the envelope a week ago.
He knows that if he is to play with him, he needs to up the stakes, because Gi-hun is out for him. Out for blood. Out for his skin as revenge.
The idea brushes past him, refuses to leave. Death as both a price and a prize. After all, Gi-hun did beat it, out of 456 players. As for him, he gives it away, dominates it.
It's only fair it ends up this way, isn't it?
But the truth is, he just likes to play. Wants to play. With him. Again.
Just like the old times, and at the same time, completely differently.
Because they’re both different now.
He has seen his true face, and he finds himself dying to witness how much he has changed now. How much of the lesson he has listened to.
Maybe not that much, then, because he still chases him.
It’s sufficient to say that he’s still trash.
Poor people making poor choices.
Nonetheless… he has survived.
He has won.
There are no cheaters in the Squid Game. The Frontman keeps everything fair and square, he knows it firsthand.
The question replays in his mind over and over: what did he have to survive this and come forward as the winner this year, when he was so pathetic in the first place? What made him the winner?
He can’t find anything, outside of...
Pure dumb luck, then.
He doesn’t like to think about this, dismisses it as 'nothing', because in a way it is true, he had nothing more than everyone else, nothing more than the other trash he just put into the dumpster. Luck is nothing, it vanishes out of thin air as soon as it appears. You can have a streak of it, but no one has that much luck, nor can anyone control it, except if you’re the one ruling the game.
And he’s not.
It kept singing in his mind, like a prayer never answered.
Do you believe in Jesus?
He remembers he doesn't.
Personally, he never cared to. He is now God, giving his mercy to the pile of trash bags he encounters every day on these rotten cities. As the master of his low-scale games, he controls the amount of luck people are allowed to have.
It’s like an itch that pains to be scratched.
He wants to test his luck.
Push it further.
Watch it fall.
And then, as always, the last move-
Kill the losers.
But the orders are blunt, and the envelope he keeps in the pockets of his suit jacket at any time, a remainder of the mission he has been commissioned for.
***
Every night he replays their moments together. The funny surprised face he’d made when he saw him at the subway station, caught red-handed in his work.
Fancy hair, he’d have taunted.
But ultimately, it’s his favorite color on him.
***
He took the time to watch an opera before revealing himself to Gi-hun’s little crew. How amusing that he’s employing so much people just to search for him. He feels flattened, an interesting warmth blooming in his chest.
He wants me that bad ?...
Well, he knows that’s probably not really him he’s after, but he pushes that thought aside. He’s in a good mood and nothing can stop this.
The excellent lyrical composition he listened to this evening inspires him. The plan unfolds in his mind like a red carpet, soon ready to welcome his steps. He takes the time to fine-tune every detail, but also reserves a few moments for improvisation - because without a bit of chance and chaos, nothing would be as exciting.
Oh, the show he’ll put on for him. As a reward for the ardor he put in his tailing, he tells himself.
He feels really theatrical, these days. Maybe it is this mission, maybe it’s excitement again.
Rejoice! For Jesus is born, says a street preacher when he’s out again to make some necessary purchases. He’ll save us all from our sins. All it takes is to believe!
He smiles.
***
Stalking is easy. No one knows he’s there, watching them, because he’s not there. Not physically, at least.
He’s everywhere.
His stare runs behind every outdoor surveillance camera, reaches beyond the screens and the microphones, yet he does nothing with it, does not signal his presence, lets himself go unnoticed and listens. Watches. Takes notes. Keeps tabs.
Every step they take, every move they make, every hallway they cross, searching for him…
He knows.
***
He can’t keep himself from keeping an eye on him.
It’s so simple, after all, to infiltrate in someone’s private network systems. It was not even protected by strong firewalls. A child’s play, really. Gi-hun’s henchmen are really something, aren’t they?
Sometimes, his programs indicate he’s not alone on the line.
The identity of the other presence is well-masked, - he can’t even see his IP address - but of course he already knows who it is.
The Frontman would say he can’t keep his hands to himself. And it is true. He used to find it as boring as it can get, but now he understands why his superior likes to keep tabs on the winners.
He fades away when he sees him connected, but returns as soon as his back has turned.
What he sees is pretty and pitiful at the same time.
Remorse and revenge, hand in hand.
Endearing.
What a shame he shed his red hair, though.
***
He has chosen the songs he’ll play on both occasions. They remind him of different operas, and they’re destined to different people too. One will be for the pair he selected, he one he can play God with, and one will be meant specifically for his duel with Gi-hun.
***
You’d think an obsessed man would study the mannerisms of his object of passion only to mimic and replicate them. To feel his own face smiling when he’s smiling, - now he’s not smiling much anyways - hurting when he’s hurting, twinge when his nightmares wake him up breathless and scared.
He doesn’t.
No. He watches, closely, intently. He lets his gaze wander, take everything it can, retain it, until it feels bloated, heavy with weight.
And then he plays the song.
A smile blossoms on his face.
He really looks forward to play with him.
***
Reality turns out to be even better than the plan he’d so carefully designed, as if fulfilling all of his wishes. As soon as the two fools have stepped one foot inside his trap by repeatedly choosing to follow him, as they were told to, like good little pets, he knows his real target will be lured in.
He didn’t mean to hit the head of the oldest one that hard, but it had to be believable, after all.
He wants Gi-hun to chase him. And, more than anything, he wants him to feel the thrill of the hunt just so he can feel it, too. He wants him to believe he’s this close to catching him, almost at arm's reach… yet not knowing how close they really are.
And he watches him. At every stage of it. Relentlessly.
It’s beautiful.
***
He didn’t expect the oldest one to sacrifice for his employee. But even a minor disturbance as this can’t bother him now that he has the bigger game in mind.
If he asks Choi Woo-seok his info about Gi-hun’s whereabouts, it’s not out of determination.
It’s nothing more than a mere test.
He’s nothing more than a security. Something he can exchange in case Gi-hun refuses to play.
Which he can’t, because he was chosen.
He had to make sure there would be no escape from this, nor for he, neither for him.
The youngest’s pleas look convincing. Teary and pitiful, just as this first state of Gi-hun he crossed paths with, tickling his instincts to just hit and hurt.
Eventually, he’s hit the jackpot today.
Even though the boss's history with Gi-hun would have made up for an interesting moment of reunion, the older one wouldn’t have been as cooperative.
It’s good he eliminated himself.
Got rid of the trash.
And now, he’s on his way to the luckiest of them all. Anticipation runs in his every breath, so he makes it a point of honour to be more in control of himself than ever before.
Calm down. Focus.
It is really easy to shut the man up, tie him, blindfold him and put him on the trunk of the car. He decides not to play the song, just to make it feel special then.
The wait is excruciatingly long before the long-awaited finalist arrives.
***
At last, they get to play.
He’s so impressed. He didn’t even need to play the hostage card - it’s lying, useless, on one of the beds at the fourth floor.
The song plays in the background. The gun spins on the table.
He can’t stop himself from smiling. Gi-hun’s face is so dramatic. Why so serious?...
It’s so easy to make someone believe the most unhinged things when they are in a life-or-death situation.
He couldn’t have dreamt of a scene less satisfying, though. It’s a true performance.
He savours everything.
This time, there can only be one winner.
***
Time to say goodbye
After taking one blank bullet each, he knows he has to up the stakes again. He could change the game’s rules, reversing the odds, but his earlier wording explicitly prevents him from it - what would be the point, anyway?
Paesi che non ho mai
He finds himself overwhelmed by a spike of lust emerging from nowhere, sending his mind spiraling and his head spinning, rendering each turn more exciting and unpredictable than the last.
Veduto e vissuto con te
It's like he can't wait, an impatience he felt sometimes as a kid when he was told to sit down and behave while he wanted to play with a new toy he was offered by the Christian charity.
Adesso, sì, li vivrò
He draws the gun into his mouth in an outburst of overflowing joy, letting himself free of his unshakable control, and defies Gi-hun, relishing in every second of it, every reaction he can draw from him, just like a vampire sucks out the blood of his victims, just like a murderer reaps the souls of his preys, just like a rapist claims the bodies he covets.
Con te partirò
And he claims. He watches Gi-hun watching and listening to his claim.
Su navi per mari
He watches him acknowledge how desperate he is for him, what he'd do for him. He watches him acknowledge how he resents himself for being this submissive to a man that did nothing to merit every inch of the chance he's giving to him.
Che, io lo so
Even the teasing lull of his voice is designed to convince him, to make him follow his every movement, to draw his complete and utter attention on him, on the show he prepared for him.
No, no, non esistono più
He watches him tremor, the veins of his neck surging brutally when the trigger is pulled by a swift move. The satisfaction is there - he has caught him, finally! - yet it's not enough. He feels like he's starving, cheving on an empty bone, so hungry that he doesn't know how to move further, apart letting the tension fade away with the shot that could end it all.
It's time to say goodbye
Letting go.
Shooting blanks.
Because hey, it's just a game. They're here to have fun, to push their luck. It's not that serious. Or is it?...
He doesn't know what he believes in anymore.
As he shoots himself and nothing comes out of it, he is forced to release the weapon, to give it to his opponent. Part of him wants to see if he's able to top that, but he knows that eventually, he has to comply with Gi-hun's rules too.
He wishes the man had that kind of crazy, just like him, just enough to keep things interesting.
Quando sei lontana
It's not his style.
Sogno all'orizzonte
And then, as Gi-hun shoots himself another time, as it draws another hollow sound - a blank -, as he's met with the final result - he loves me, he loves me not. He loves me... -
E mancan le parole
The Truth hits him.
E io, sì, lo so
He loves him.
Che sei con me, con me
He's obsessed by him.
Tu mia luna, tu sei qui con me
It devours him.
Mio sole, tu sei qui con me
He pulls the gun to his chin.
Con me, con me, con me
It's time to say goodbye.
So this is it. A Romeo and Juliet ending, then.
He doesn't know why he's surprised. After all, he had wanted to put his fate into Gi-hun's hands, hadn't he?
Well, surprised isn't exactly the right word. More like impressed. He just puts on a hesitant front for the show. Because to believe in the entirety of an act, one must go all the way without faltering.
He managed to do well until now. He has no doubt this will be his little secret until the end.
Their little secret.
One Gi-hun will certainly keep thinking about, maybe wondering what he could not see and finally noticing in the silence of his mind, late at night, after a nightmare, how much he loved being the last one he played with. The last one he saw before death.
And now is the time to accomplish the deed. To put the song to its final climax. To give him his best impression, one that will last forever. To grant him his wish. He relishes in the last notes before the finale. The lyrics are sung to him by one and a million different voices in his head. He does recognize each and everyone of them, even the ones he'd forgotten for so long it feels like another lifetime.
At the corner of his eyes, shadows are dancing, shaping in the silhouettes of his last victims, the ones that have fallen prey to his games.
It's their turn to claim him.
They won't take that from me.
He knows he's hallucinating, but a shiver runs down his spine nonetheless. He focuses on the man facing him, waiting for the turn to end. He looks at him as he has always since they'd been playing: extremely sharp, unblinking, unmasking.
Because his death is his, and the last revelations are overwhelming to bear alone.
His face tremors, one side exhilarated, one side finally expressing something he thought he didn't have anymore.
Something this survivor brought in him.
Fear.
Love.
Sadness.
Disgust.
He offers him everything in one long, lasting glance - a last gift that he sees is seriously considered by the man in front of him.
Con te partirò
Seong Gi-hun.
Su navi per mari
His life and death.
Che, io lo so
It's too much at once.
No, no, non esistono più
And deep down, he knows.
Con te io li rivivrò
He loves me not.
Con te partirò
But if it’s with him, I can leave in peace.
Io con te
The trigger clicks.
BANG.