1. The Ambush

Against all expectation, a siren went off.

Right in the middle of sex with Number 3.

Jiwon was still on the rooftop.

He’d come up when the sun was high overhead, yet when he came to, the sun was gone. The sky had gone pitch-black.

It looked like rain could break any minute.

Lost in hallucination, the entire Crew didn’t stop having sex even at the siren’s blare. They acted like they couldn’t hear that thunderous noise.

Number 3, who’d been driving his cock hard, stopped moving.

His face twisted.

“Sorry. I’m pulling out.”

He said it and withdrew.

Shlupp. Something huge slid free, yet his insides still throbbed as if he were still holding it.

Why are you pulling out?

He was about to ask, but didn’t.

Because the speakers exploded into noise the instant the minute-long siren ended.

We will begin Hide-and-Seek now. Crew, leave the rooftop immediately and return to your quarters. Put on the clothing and gear provided there, then leave your quarters at once.

What are they even saying?

Jiwon’s ears rang so hard he couldn’t make out the words.

You have thirty minutes. Hide well. Hide where the seekers cannot find you. Run where not even a strand of hair will show. The winner of this game will receive a prize of 100 million won.

The siren blared again.

Even louder than before—his whole head vibrated.

[1800, 1799, 1798, 1797....]

They began counting down from 1800.

One number per second.

Just as the speaker said: thirty minutes granted.

As “1800” boomed, Security in black hoods poured onto the rooftop. They started prying apart the naked, knotted-up Crew. Wherever they found a Crew—water or not—they rushed in and dragged them out.

Those who moved of their own accord were left; otherwise, a guard stuck to each person and marched them to the elevators as if arresting them, or herded them toward the emergency stairs.

“Let’s go.”

Number 3 grabbed Jiwon’s hand—then hoisted him over his shoulder.

It happened in the time it took to gasp out an oh, and he had no chance to resist. Honestly, Jiwon didn’t even understand what was happening.

His head simply spun tight, and all he wanted was more sex.

Number 3 headed for the emergency stairs. Black-clad guards flanked the narrow, steep run to control movement. The stairs were so tight he brushed the guards no matter how he tried to avoid them. With Jiwon over his shoulder, Number 3 had to practically grapple every black uniform on the way down.

After a hard slog, Number 3 reached Jiwon’s door in a blink.

He couldn’t open it with Jiwon slung there, so he set him down. Before Jiwon could catch his breath, Number 3 seized his wrist and pressed it to the handle. The moment the blue light blinked, he shoved Jiwon inside.

Then he kissed him.

A pill slid into Jiwon’s mouth.

He gulped it down without knowing what it was, and Number 3 smiled.

“B... na....”

He left that one broken word and exited the room.

Jiwon was alone.

B... na....

P, was it?

What starts with a b...? Or was it a p...?

Outside? “Meet me outside”?

No, was it a p-sound?

P... °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° pa, pi, pu, pe, po.

He snickered.

Po?

Fork and knife.

Like autocomplete, the words flashed and vanished in his head.

Fork and kn...ife?

Knife. Fork. Fork and kn...i...

Pocketknife!

Ah! That’s right.

Staggering, Jiwon moved to the bed and bent to slide his hand under the mattress.

Don’t!

A shout came from somewhere.

That froze his hand halfway. He faked a gag and perched on the bed’s edge.

Instinctively he looked up at the ceiling.

Nothing happened. He was about to lie back as if nothing were wrong—when something caught his eye.

A one-piece suit—part spacesuit, part diving suit—and a flashlight lay on the bed.

Only then did the voice from the speakers on the rooftop click into sense.

Ah. They’re going to run a game.

They said they’d give clothes and tools.

What the hell is this.

He clicked his tongue at their exaggeration: calling it “tools” when it was only a flashlight.

The material was like a wetsuit; the color was water-blue. If you fell in the water wearing it, it might be impossible to tell person from pool.

Inside the suit were pads to protect the chest and genitals. The groin made sense—but the chest? He looked down at his nipples and thought, obviously I have to protect these.

Protect what’s precious.

These are for The Host—you don’t treat them carelessly.

He felt no resistance to the thought.

It’s just a game.

Nothing serious.

He got a little lax.

[1567, 1566, 1565, ......]

The numbers were dropping fast.

He grabbed the suit and slid his feet in. With his whole body slicked in semen and oil, getting it on wasn’t hard. A normal wetsuit is tough to zip alone, but this one had a long pull-cord at the back so you could do it yourself. It even had a dedicated pocket on the outside of the right thigh for a knife or flashlight.

Like a real diving suit, it clung seal-tight and squeezed him all over.

The chest pad pressed his chest so hard Jiwon groaned. The groin pad felt less like protection and more like stimulation—just as uncomfortable.

But this wasn’t the time to quibble.

The game had begun—he had to move.

Win the game and you get 100 million, right?

Wait—what game again?

He couldn’t remember what kind of game it was.

Even so, he knew where he had to go.

Counseling.

It felt completely natural.

He was zipping up and about to head out when he remembered he hadn’t taken the “tool”—the flashlight. And the pocketknife.

Pocketknife.

Did Number 3 really say that?

He cocked his head.

There was no way Number 3 knew he’d received a knife.

What Number 3 must have said was “meet me outside.”

He was the one who heard it as “pocketknife.”

Once the thought of the pocketknife lodged in his head, he couldn’t shake it. He wanted it with him no matter what.

In the end he lunged for the flashlight and, half-falling, sprawled forward, pretending to hold back a gag as he slid his hand under the mattress. He made a whole scene just like when he’d stashed it, and his fingers closed on a small shape.

He stood up, clutching the thing—smaller than the flashlight.

Handy, the suit had pockets. He slipped in the flashlight—and the pocketknife.

Facing the mirror, it looked like he only had the flashlight. The knife didn’t show at all. At least to Jiwon’s eyes.

He finally stepped out.

The speakers kept chanting numbers.

[1388, 1387, 1386....]

Jiwon strode straight into the corridor opposite.

He knew exactly where to go.

Counseling. HQ’s rooms.

If he got there, he’d be safe.

Safe? What wouldn’t be safe?

A crooked thought flickered and vanished.

You only get the 100 million if you win the game.

Can you still get it if you go to Counseling?

He wasn’t even greedy for money, yet he was acting like a miser.

As he walked, he saw Crew in the same suits bursting out of their rooms.

Team 2, who always wore gags, threw them off; Team 1, who always wore police caps, tossed them aside. Both had short hair, both wore the same color and cut—he couldn’t tell who was who.

Is that Choi Minjae?

Gwak Chan?

Jiwon had never thought those two looked alike; he widened his eyes.

Everyone’s face looked the same.

He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them—same result.

“Not going? You must be feeling confident.”

Son Geonwoo brushed by him and said.

Or was it Choi Minjae?

Nah. That was Gwak Chan.

Or not?

With that damn countdown booming through the building, it was hard to catch the character of a voice.

He passed the Crew quarters and reached the room where HQ stayed.

Just before stepping up to the door, he tried to recall the knock code.

Blank. His head felt fogged, like packed with mist.

He lifted his hand to jolt the memory—someone yanked his hair.

A scream tore out of him.

“Who is it?”

He tried to turn, but the grip on his hair tightened so hard he couldn’t. The strength of the hand in his hair felt like it would rip his scalp.

“What are you doing. You should be hiding.”

“Geonwoo?”

It was Park Geonwoo.

“It’s Hide-and-Seek.”

“Huh?”

“Hide. And. Seek.”

Park Geonwoo hammered each syllable.

“Hide. And. Seek.”

He shouted it again. Right in Jiwon’s ear, very loud.

Amazingly, Jiwon snapped to. Not because his hair was being yanked hard enough to pull it out, but because of that one word: “Hide-and-Seek.”

The game was Hide-and-Seek.

A strange feeling swept him. He couldn’t shake the sense he was forgetting something crucial.

When Hide-and-Seek starts....

Go to Counseling....

Jiwon shook his head.

When Hide-and-Seek starts....

What did they say?

“Let’s go.”

Park Geonwoo moved.

“Hey, Geonwoo—can you let go of my hair... ow.”

“Why would I trust you.”

He kept Jiwon by the hair and moved.

If he didn’t go with it, the pain was unbearable, so Jiwon scurried after him.

In the middle of it, he remembered the knock code.

And Gwak Chan’s words:

“When Hide-and-Seek starts, escape.”

But a surge of resistance rose.

He didn’t want to follow Park Geonwoo.

He didn’t want to play Hide-and-Seek.

He had to go to Counseling. He had to stay here.

“Geonwoo, I’m staying he—aaagh.”

Every time he spoke, Park Geonwoo’s grip tightened.

At this rate I’m going to go bald, Jiwon thought, and kept his eyes on the floor, scurrying.

He could easily take Park Geonwoo in a fight—he had the background. He’d been a taekwondo athlete. He had a jiu-jitsu black belt. Hair grows back; losing some strands was nothing.

But he couldn’t even try.

The clearer his mind got, the more painfully he felt how he had no strength at all.

His legs shook so hard he thought he might crumple. He was scraping up the last of his baby strength just to stay upright.

No wonder: it wasn’t an exaggeration to say he’d been taking Number 3’s cock for almost twenty-four hours. In between, he’d gone berserk in the Waterpark and the Infinity Pool, running back and forth. He’d already spent everything—to the point that Number 3 had to carry him out—and still he’d kept on like a madman until the siren.

Oh right, he’d had Developer Class too.

Developer Class, and then a sensitivity test. He’d forgotten how they’d toyed with his nipples with every device.

Late, he remembered the needles jabbing his thigh. His chest flared, to the point of death.

Fuck. That hurts like hell.

Thinking of Developer Class, a subtle revulsion crept up his skin.

He had the eerie impression someone other than Number 3 had sucked his nipples.

Not the Professor. The Professor only used devices.

Then who?

A hallucination?

Sure, it must be a hallucination.

It had only been him, the Professor, and the Assistant.

Below the cliff. Perfect darkness.

Ugh—he gagged.

Anyway, he had no strength to attack Park Geonwoo. He could barely walk.

Above all, he was empty. For over thirty-six hours he’d had nothing but water, alcohol, and Number 3’s semen.

Wasn’t Park Geonwoo starving too?

So why is he this strong—

Jiwon, tears leaking from the pain in his scalp, struggled to keep pace with him. Bent at the waist, head ducked, dizziness swarmed him. Nausea rose.

“Geonwoo.”

He’d only said his name, and Park Geonwoo clamped down on his hair again. The pain was so sharp tears streamed.

Park Geonwoo stopped.

“Geonwoo.”

Jiwon wasn’t the one who called him.

Who—?

“Take him.”

The hand in his hair let go.

Jiwon twisted his head in that instant and slipped free of Park Geonwoo’s grip. He lost some hair, but he finally got away.

Gwak Chan stood in front of him.

Was he always that big?

“Gwak Chan. Take this bastard. I can’t go—I’m done.”

Park Geonwoo spoke with a sigh.

“Cut the weak talk and keep up. I’ll take care of Jiwon.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

While Jiwon was still blinking, a hand clamped his nape.

Instinctively he tried to slap Gwak Chan’s hand away, but missed the chance.

Just like Number 3, Gwak Chan hefted him up in a fireman’s carry.

“First we’re getting outside. After that, do whatever you want.”

Gwak Chan started running with Jiwon on his back.

[1111, 1110, 1109....]

That’s what Gwak Chan had said.

“When Hide-and-Seek starts, escape.”

Back then, he hadn’t understood. He hadn’t wanted to.

Why would I escape? Do you know what it took to get in here?

He had things he had to do here, so he’d let it in one ear and out the other.

Until Kim Hansoo said “Hide-and-Seek” again—until he nearly died at Park Geonwoo’s hands.

Ah. I almost died because of Park Geonwoo.

The fog cleared; memories came back, one after another.

And a hazy fact surfaced: he wanted to live—desperately. He didn’t yet know why. His memory was still tangled.

But he was at least sane enough to think it was lucky he’d met Gwak Chan before Kim Hansoo. Whether he escaped or not was his choice; he could decide later.

On Gwak Chan’s back, Jiwon looked to see if Park Geonwoo was keeping up.

Park Geonwoo hadn’t moved more than a few steps from where he’d been. The same man who’d had such strength yanking Jiwon’s hair doubled over and emptied himself. But he’d eaten nothing; only liquid came out.

“Geonwoo! Come on!”

Jiwon shouted.

Still bent, Park Geonwoo raised his head.

Go first.

Park Geonwoo said.

[1083, 1082, 1081....]

The numbers kept dropping, but he didn’t move. Couldn’t.

He stayed there, bent, like a man who’d spent every last bit of strength.

Park Geonwoo vanished from sight in moments.