The Light That Binds Us-Hwang Inho

The tension in the air was thick as Rae-a and Young-il trailed behind the rest of the players. The chaos of the group trying to figure out the next game had already begun. The buzz of frantic voices, the sound of feet shuffling, and the inevitable squabbles were all palpable.
Young-il, his voice barely cutting through the noise, turned to Rae-a. "What do you think it is?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual, but the uncertainty in his voice betrayed him.
Their relationship had shifted overnight. A mutual acceptance had formed between them, and neither could deny the growing enjoyment they found in each other's presence. Rae-a felt truly understood, while Young-il found himself appreciating the unique dynamic they shared.
Rae-a glanced over at him, her gaze piercing. "Not a good one," she muttered. She had a sense, a gut feeling that told her this game would be like no other.
As they neared their destination, the intercom crackled to life, booming over the crowd. "Form groups of twelve," it instructed. The sound of panicked footsteps intensified, and the players scrambled to form clusters of the required size. Rae-a and Young-il exchanged a surprised look.
"A team game?" Gi-hun asked, voice low with surprise.
"Doesn't bode well," Rae-a replied, more to herself than anyone else. As players jockeyed for positions, Rae-a didn't hesitate. She had no intention of being left behind. Her eyes scanned the crowd for an ally, and it was then that she spotted Hyun-ju.
"I've got this," Rae-a said firmly, her tone final. Young-il gave her a questioning look, but Rae-a merely walked off toward Hyun-ju, pushing through the disorder of the players. When they locked eyes, Hyun-ju understood immediately, and the two quickly formed an alliance.
"Stick together," Rae-a whispered as they clasped hands in mutual understanding. The other players, notably Gi-hun's group, seemed to share the same idea, greeting each other with enthusiastic yet cautious gestures.
Young-il, on the other hand, moved quickly, gathering a few other players to round out his team. After a tense few moments, the group finally settled, and the timer blared.
The groups were given their numbers, and Rae-a's team was designated Group 6. A square guard approached the front of the room, pulling numbers from a box. "Group 4," he called, sending them to Zone A. Then, "Group 7," who were sent to Zone B.
Everyone was eager to see what this would mean.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Group 9, Zone A." The call was clear, followed by the announcement, "Group 6, Zone B."
Rae-a's stomach dropped as she heard her group's name. Zone B. She couldn't quite place it yet, but she had a terrible feeling that this game would test them in ways they hadn't anticipated.
Rae-a and her team walked into their designated zone, their feet echoing against the cold, hard ground as they crossed into the massive room. The space felt unnervingly vast, like they had entered the cavernous belly of a machine that was both alive and indifferent to their fate. The walls stretched high above them, making them feel insignificant. The room, almost entirely square, had a sterile, metallic quality to it, with no distinguishable features other than the enormous structures looming ahead of them.
As they walked deeper into the zone, Rae-a could feel the weight of their surroundings. At the far end of the room, to her right, she saw the dam marked Zone B—a towering, menacing structure, blocking any escape, standing directly before them.
Looking upward to her left, Rae-a's breath caught in her throat. There, perched high above them, at least 10 metres, was Zone A's dam, its dark, jagged silhouette towering above the room. The sheer size of it was staggering. Beneath Zone A's dam, there was something else. A large, ominous valve sat just below, closed, its metal surface glinting ominously in the dim light of the room. 
A river flowed beneath the valve and towards Zone B's dam, dividing the room in half. The water was swift, dark, and treacherous, its relentless current roiling from the bottom of Zone A into Zone B. Rae-a couldn't help but feel the creeping sensation of fear stir in her chest. The river wasn't just a barrier; it was a threat, a reminder of how precariously they were positioned. It was clear this game was going to test more than just their physical endurance—it would demand everything from them.
A small bridge stretched across the river, offering a precarious path between the two zones. Rae-a eyed it warily, wondering just how reliable it would be if things went south. The surface was slick, and from the way the water churned beneath it, the bridge didn't seem like it could withstand much pressure. 
On either side of the riverbank, the landscape was chaotic—rocks, debris, and mud were scattered everywhere, making it difficult to navigate. She saw sticks and broken branches piled up along the edges of the water, likely remnants from the rising current. Tall columns jutted up from the ground, their surfaces slick with moisture, and tall trees lined the outskirts of the river, their thick trunks standing like silent sentinels in the murky gloom.
Rae-a swallowed hard, her stomach turning. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. The way everything was set up, the river, the dams,—it all pointed to one terrifying conclusion. Her instincts screamed at her, telling her that this game would involve water. And with the valve controlling the flow, they were at a massive disadvantage. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine as her phobia of water resurfaced, unbidden and uncontrollable.
Then, as if on cue, the intercom crackled to life. The voice that came through was cold and emotionless, announcing the game with an unfeeling clarity.
"Game Three: Bossaum. Dam Wrecking."
Rae-a felt her breath catch in her throat at the name. She knew, without a doubt, what this game would entail. The room had been set up in such a way that only one thing could happen—Zone A had the power to flood Zone B, and their survival depended entirely on how quickly they could stop it. They were caught in a trap. If the water reached them, there would be nowhere to hide.
The voice continued, detailing the rules of the game. "Players in Zone A will eliminate players in Zone B or destroy their dam before the timer runs out. Players in Zone B must survive or protect their dam until the timer ends.'
The announcement over the intercom echoed in the vast, hollow room, and the words lingered in the air like a death sentence. "You will have 1 hour to build your strategy and defend your zone. Then Zone A will have 30 minutes to control the water valves."
A cold shiver passed through Rae-a's spine as the reality of their situation set in. Everyone in Zone B froze, the weight of the situation sinking in. This was a suicide mission. The sense of dread was palpable. Zone A had the power to control the water valves—the very valves that could flood their zone in an instant. Their survival rested on the whim of the opposing team, and in a twisted way, Zone A could decide how slowly or quickly they wanted to drown them.
Rae-a stood there, her body stiff, her thoughts in turmoil. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides, and she could feel the cold sweat beading on her skin, but she didn't move. Her eyes were fixed on the dam looming above them, the closed valve a threatening presence in her peripheral vision. She felt as if the walls were closing in on her, like the water would rise at any moment. She couldn't breathe. The fear, too familiar, crept up on her with insidious force.
The memories came rushing back—unbidden and brutal. The suffocating sensation of being submerged, her lungs burning, the sound of her own frantic gasps swallowed by the water. The loan sharks who had raised her, using waterboarding as one of their methods to break her spirit. It wasn't just a fear; it was a visceral, ingrained response. Her heart pounded in her chest as if it were a drum, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out the sound of water lapping against her skin. She was drowning before the game had even begun.
Young-il, noticing the change in her demeanor, glanced at Rae-a, concern flickering in his eyes, aware of her phobia that she just discussed last night. He watched her intently, trying to make sense of what was happening. She wasn't physically reacting, but there was something in her posture, something in the blankness of her expression. He could tell she was lost in a memory, locked inside her head. He didn't know exactly what she had been through, but he could feel her distress like an electric current in the air. 
He couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty. After all he is the reason this game is here, and having to go through with the game knowing what she said last night? Safe to say he did not sleep at all last night.
Rae-a blinked rapidly, her gaze snapping back to the present. She forced her hands to stop trembling and took in a deep, steadying breath. It was now or never. The rest of the group had already started murmuring among themselves, the tension palpable. They needed a plan. They needed a leader.
Her eyes met Young-il's for a brief moment, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. She could feel his curiosity and concern, but he didn't press her, he just subtly moved closer as if to reassure her. He knew enough not to ask but that didn't satiate his curiousity. Rae-a gave him a slight nod, signaling that she was pulling herself together.
Breaking through the growing buzz of chatter, Rae-a's voice cut through the noise with a sharp edge. "Can anyone not swim?"
The question hung in the air. A few murmurs rippled through the group as they exchanged confused glances, and then, almost in unison, they responded, "No."
They were all capable swimmers—at least, that was what they thought. But Rae-a wasn't asking out of curiosity. She had a reason, a terrible, gut-wrenching reason.
She took a slow step forward, her gaze moving over her team, each face marked with fear, but none of them truly understanding the danger they were in. "We're in a box," she said, her voice steady but tinged with the underlying anxiety she was trying to suppress. "If the dam doesn't break, the water will rise. We're not just fighting for survival here; we're fighting for air."
A deep silence followed. Her words hung in the air like a cold mist, and the gravity of her statement sank in. If the dam didn't break, they would be trapped in this room as the water continued to rise, flooding them slowly. They would be forced to watch their death creep toward them, suffocating them under rising water until there was nowhere to escape.
The group exchanged nervous glances, the weight of her words settling over them. The realization hit like a wave. They weren't just defending their dam; they were fighting for their lives against a force that was beyond their control.
Gi-hun, Jungbae, and Dae-ho all turned their attention to Rae-a, their expressions a mix of concern and apprehension. They knew from last night how she feared, but they also knew her strength. Rae-a wasn't one to let fear dictate her actions. Yet now, in this moment, there was no denying the battle she was fighting inside.
Gi-hun opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. He knew Rae-a's history wasn't something she shared lightly, but he could see it in her eyes. The battle she was facing wasn't just physical. It was a fight against herself, and they needed her to win that fight if they were going to survive.
Jungbae shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his eyes flickering nervously between Rae-a and the others. He wanted to say something encouraging, but the reality of the situation was too much to ignore. They had one hour to fortify their defenses, to plan their strategy, but all Rae-a could think about was the looming threat of the rising water and the pressure of the valve that could flood them all at any moment.
Dae-ho, the youngest of the group, looked up at Rae-a with wide eyes. This wasn't a fight against another person. This was a fight against the very thing that had haunted her for years. He didn't understand all of it, but he knew enough to know that Rae-a needed them as much as they needed her. They couldn't afford to lose her now.
Rae-a swallowed hard, trying to push down the knot in her throat. "We need to work quickly," she said, her voice low but firm. "We need to fortify the dam, secure our position, and prepare for whatever they throw at us." She looked each of them in the eye, determination slowly replacing the fear that had clouded her thoughts. "But if the water starts to rise, if that dam doesn't hold, we'll need to get to higher ground. We need to be ready to move. Fast."
The group nodded, though their faces were still clouded with fear. The clock was ticking. They had an hour to make their plans, and then Zone A would take control of the valves. Rae-a didn't know if they could survive the flood, but she was determined to fight until the very end. She couldn't let the water drown her—not again.
The team quickly sprung into action, rallying around their dam to fortify their position with whatever they could find. Wooden planks, metal scraps, stones, and even large tree branches were hauled in to reinforce the barrier. The sounds of frantic work filled the air as each player did their part, some digging into the mud, others securing loose debris to create a makeshift defense. Rae-a, however, remained focused on the bigger picture. She stepped away from the others, her gaze scanning the room for any hidden details, any loopholes, any possible advantage.
She paced along the edge of the dam, trying to measure how much time she had left before the water would rise. The pressure of the moment pressed against her chest, but her sharp mind pushed through it, determined to find something—anything—that could give them a fighting chance.
As she turned back toward the others, Young-il approached her cautiously. He studied her, his eyes narrowing with concern, but he masked it well. He did not know Rae-a's past, and he understood that this moment could bring her back to places she wasn't ready to revisit. His voice was low and careful when he spoke, "How are you doing?"
Before he could get another word out, Rae-a cut him off, her tone slightly sharper than intended. "I'm fine."
Her eyes flicked toward the horizon, her hands working to mask the slight tremor that had returned. She didn't want to acknowledge it. She didn't have time to let herself falter.
Young-il watched her for a moment longer, then nodded. He didn't press the issue, knowing that Rae-a would keep her emotions close to her chest. Instead, they both turned their attention back to the surroundings, eyes darting across the terrain.
As Rae-a continued to explore, she noticed something—a slight indentation in the wall on the far side of the zone. She made her way toward it, and upon closer inspection, her heart skipped a beat. It was a tunnel, barely large enough to crawl through, but it seemed to lead upward toward Zone A. There was a steep climb at the entrance, but it would be much easier to slide down from the other end. Rae-a's mind raced as she realized the potential of the tunnel—it could provide them with a way to infiltrate Zone A, bypassing the direct confrontation with the opposing team.
She didn't linger long, instead heading back to regroup with the others. As she approached, Young-il raised an eyebrow at her return. Rae-a nodded slightly, motioning for him to follow her a little farther from the group.
"I found a tunnel," she said in a low voice, her gaze darting back to the others to make sure no one could overhear. "It leads from Zone B up to Zone A. It's a hard climb, but easy to slide down from."
Young-il processed the information quickly, his brow furrowing, but lip twitching into a smirk as he considered the implications. "Infiltration. That could be useful."
Rae-a hesitated for a moment, her mind weighing the options. "The team up top has the advantage. They might hesitate to attack us directly. But if we can sneak in, it could level the playing field."
Young-il nodded in agreement, his eyes narrowing as he considered the best approach. "We can't let them see it coming."
As they rejoined the others, Rae-a's gaze swept over the group, noting their anxious faces. The team was doing what they could to prepare, but Rae-a could see that they lacked a solid plan, a real strategy. Time was running out.
Gi-hun spoke up first. "It's true. Zone A's team is in a better position, but they're more likely to hold back, to avoid risking too much. They don't want to waste resources attacking if they can avoid it."
Rae-a nodded, agreeing with his assessment. "That's exactly why we need to move quickly. If we can sneak into their ranks, we'll catch them off guard. They won't expect it."
Hyun-ju, who had been mostly quiet until now, stepped forward, her eyes glinting with determination. "I have military training," she said confidently. "I can handle the infiltration. I've done more than my fair share of covert operations."
The team turned their attention to her, some nodding in agreement. Hyun-ju had been one of the more resourceful players. It would not be surprising for her to have had military training. She seemed the obvious choice for the mission.
One of the other players, a man identified only as Player 316, also stepped forward. "I'll go with her," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Backup. She won't be alone."
Everyone in the group nodded in agreement. The plan was forming, and there was a sense of purpose now, a thread of hope in the midst of their dire circumstances.
Rae-a turned to the group, her mind still racing with details, but she couldn't ignore the urgency of their situation. "When the water starts to rise, we need to climb the columns and the trees. It'll be easier once the floodwaters fill the room. The weaker swimmers, the ones who aren't as strong with holding their breath, they need to be prioritized for higher ground."
Her words were met with hesitant nods, but the message was clear. Survival would come down to more than just strength—it would come down to positioning. The rising water could make escape more difficult, but if they could climb high enough, they might just have a chance.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The intercom crackled to life, its voice ringing out over the tense silence of the room. "The timer has begun. You have 30 minutes to control the water valves. Let the game commence."
The clock started ticking, and the players scrambled into their positions. Rae-a's team had prepared as best they could, though the weight of the looming flood was heavy in the air. The weaker swimmers—those who had less experience with water—were directed toward the taller objects, the columns, and the trees. These elevated positions were their only real hope if the water rose too quickly.
The rest of the group took up positions near the dam, their eyes fixated on it. They would need to keep a watchful eye on any changes, ready to respond at a moment's notice.
Rae-a stood with the others, her hands clenched by her sides, though her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The water started to trickle in, seeping slowly across the room, but it wasn't enough to cover their feet yet. Still, the steady advance of the water brought a cold sense of urgency. The weight of what was to come pressed heavily against Rae-a's chest, threatening to pull her under. She swallowed hard, but the rising tide was still far from the panic she was fighting to suppress.
The loud hiss of the water valve being opened echoed across the room. The ground beneath them began to tremble as the floodgates opened fully, and the water surged forward.
At first, it barely reached their ankles, but the current quickly gained strength. The ground beneath Rae-a's feet grew slippery as the water spread out, filling the room with an undeniable sense of dread. She had to push aside the sharp pang of fear threatening to choke her. Focus. Focus.
Young-il, who had been standing beside her, noticed the slight stiffness in her stance, the way her body was wound tight with tension. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he leaned in just a little, his hand falling lightly on her shoulder. The contact wasn't forceful—just a grounding touch. It was subtle, but Rae-a could feel it.
"You're fine," he said, his tone low but direct, no softness. "Don't think about it too much. We're in this together."
It wasn't a reassured pat on the back. He didn't sugarcoat things. But there was something about his voice, steady and unshaken, that seemed to pull Rae-a from her spiraling thoughts—if only just enough to keep moving.
Rae-a didn't respond, but she appreciated the reassurance. She simply nodded, her eyes never leaving the rising water. It felt like a waiting game now—an agonizingly slow one. The seconds ticked by like hours, each moment heavy with the unknown. She took slow, controlled breaths, trying to keep herself steady, trying to suppress the waves of fear threatening to overwhelm her.
Hyun-ju and Player 316, meanwhile, were already making their move. They had slipped quietly toward the tunnel, the only clear route into Zone A. Rae-a watched them go, their figures fading into the murk of the rising water, their mission set in motion. She had to trust them.
The rest of the group remained vigilant, watching the water's slow advance, eyes darting back and forth as they kept one ear on the distant sound of the tunnel entrance. Every movement felt like it could tip the balance. Every second stretched out in long, tense moments.
The water crept higher, its icy coldness pressing in on them, but Rae-a refused to look away from the rising tide. The current was strong, but not enough yet to be dangerous. She kept reminding herself of that. Not yet.
Young-il's hand remained on her shoulder, a steady reminder that, no matter how uncertain the situation, she wasn't in it alone. It was a small comfort, but for the moment, it was enough to keep her grounded.
Time was running out. The pressure in the room grew, a quiet tension that could break at any moment. But for now, all they could do was wait. The game had started, and it was now a matter of survival.