Inho

Ever since Gi-hun won the game, his life has changed. He’s become a symbol. He’s become “the only one who got out.” But for all the publicity and the piles of money he suddenly has, one thing has never changed—In-ho is still watching him. Never letting go. Never really leaving. Even after the mask came off. Even after the game was over. Even after he offered Gi-hun a way out—which, of course, the man flatly refused with a stupid grin.

“I don’t need a guard,” Gi-hun had said then.“I’m free now.”

But tonight proves otherwise. The autumn wind bites as Gi-hun opens the door to the luxury apartment he barely lives in. The key falls out twice before he manages to turn the knob. His white shirt is open to his chest, his neck smells of cheap alcohol, and there’s a smudge of lipstick on the corner of his jaw. A short laugh escapes his lips as he turns on the light—but it quickly freezes. Someone is sitting on the couch, legs crossed, one hand on his knee, the other holding an untouched glass of red wine. His black suit was neat, his tie didn't move an inch. His gaze was cold, nailing Gi-hun instantly.

“In-ho…” Gi-hun muttered, half laughing, half holding back vomit. “Are you still stalking me?”

There was no answer. Only a slow movement when In-ho stood up and put the glass on the table, almost silently. His steps were calm, precise. Every inch of his body seemed to light up with the tension he was holding back.

Gi-hun stepped back. In an instant, his body floated. “Oh my—”

He was carried, like a bride. In-ho's arms held his back and thighs without wavering, as if carrying something fragile but very much his.

"Put me down, idiot… people will see you later…" Gi-hun complained weakly. But what answered him was only a sharp breath. In-ho walked quietly towards the room. The dim lights turned on automatically. The smell of expensive soap and wood perfume replaced the smell of alcohol from Gi-hun's body. But there was no gentleness in the movement. As soon as he reached the edge of the bed, In-ho threw Gi-hun's body onto the soft mattress. The man’s back hit the pile of blankets, making him groan softly.

“Crazy… what the…”

Gi-hun tried to sit up, but In-ho’s hands were already holding his chest. Their eyes met. The black gaze left no room for defense

“You think I’ll let you destroy yourself?” In-ho’s voice finally came, deep and low. “You think you’re free?”

Gi-hun laughed dryly. “I have my own money. My own life.” In-ho lowered his head. Their faces were only inches apart. His gaze burned like poison under the skin. His hand touched Gi-hun’s face—gently, yet with pressure—as if marking his territory.

“Your money comes from me. Your life too. You’re here because I let you live.”

The mattress beneath him still vibrates as Gi-hun tries to get up, but In-ho’s body is already pinning him down with precision, like a shadow claw that leaves no room for escape. In-ho’s eyes trace his face — red from the alcohol, but also from something much deeper than just being drunk.

His baritone voice seeps like cold smoke into Gi-hun’s head.“Are you enjoying this?”

Gi-hun bites his lower lip. Doesn’t answer. His eyes are a little dull, but he doesn’t refuse. In-ho’s hands slowly creep to the half-open buttons of Gi-hun’s shirt. He doesn’t undo them gently. He rips them off. One quick tug, and the buttons fly into the air and fall to the floor. The thin cloth was pulled apart, revealing Gi-hun's chest that rose and fell due to his crazy heartbeat.

"Back then, you said you were free," In-ho whispered as he bent down, kissing Gi-hun's jawline to below his ear."But look at you now..."

His tongue darted out, hot, wet, licking the curve of Gi-hun's throbbing neck. The man winced, squirmed, but didn't really fight back. In-ho's grip tightened around Gi-hun's waist, then went deeper. His right hand circled behind Gi-hun's neck, pulling his hair roughly to make his face tilt back, revealing a naked and fragile throat. His kiss came quickly—deep, full of pressure, not to calm, but to claim. His tongue explored Gi-hun's mouth without compromise, making the usually careless man choke on his breath and finally could only surrender, opening wider. A small moan was heard, hidden behind the clink of rain outside the window. In-ho traces every inch of skin with a sharp, militant touch, never just touching — but marking, tearing, etching an unnatural sense of ownership

The sky outside the window was cloudy, and the room was filled with the sound of In-ho’s laptop typing rapidly. Sitting in front of his desk, the man was fully focused—his eyes narrowed as he read the digital report, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped down his stress by sipping on his black coffee without sugar. Meanwhile, Gi-hun stood still in the doorway. Silently. Barefoot, wearing only In-ho’s thin shirt that hung loosely on his body, and… his underwear. His eyes were mischievous, full of evil intentions wrapped in a smile that pretended to be innocent. He walked slowly, approaching from behind. Then he leaned on the back of In-ho’s office chair. His nose touched the man’s hair.

“Are you working all the time, hmm? I’m bored…”

In-ho didn’t answer, just scrolled through the document pages on the screen. But Gi-hun knew, the man heard him.

“Well… I feel sorry for you, you’re always stressed.” Gi-hun slowly got down, sitting on In-ho’s thigh—dragging himself into that lap. In-ho’s eyes finally turned, but he remained silent. The black gaze glared sharply, as if saying “don’t even try.” But Gi-hun challenged me.

“Can I help you a little?” he whispered, then bent down and… licked the side of In-ho’s neck slowly. The wet and warm touch made In-ho immediately stop typing. His hands gripped the back of the chair, his jaw tightened.

“Gi-hun.”

The voice was heavy. Firm. But the jerk just smiled, moving his hips slowly, deliberately teasing.

“I’ll help you relax, like that,” he said spoiled, his lips tracing In-ho’s jaw, his tongue naughty tracing the skin. In-ho hissed softly, his hand raised to pull Gi-hun away, but the man grabbed his collar instead.

“If you want to be angry, just be angry,” he said, his voice low and soft. “But my gaze won’t leave you, Hyung.”

In-ho couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up suddenly, lifting Gi-hun in one swift movement and slamming him onto the sofa. His face was close, his breathing heavy.

“Never play around if you’re not ready to face the consequences.”