Chapter Text
“Lastly, Player 001,” the masked guard calls.
The room explodes in a torrent of noise. Shouts of ‘X’ and ‘O’ ring out. In-ho ignores them; he knows how he’s voting, and their pathetic opinions won’t sway him. It takes everything within him to stride past Gi-hun, the man who has fascinated him so, without a second glance. As he’s about to pass the last grouping of players who have already voted, someone gasps.
“Hyung?”
The voice sends a pang of longing through In-ho, who stops and turns to the sound.
“Jun-ho?” he exclaims, pretending to be shocked at the sight of his younger half brother. Jun-ho’s face is a heartbreaking blend of familiar features, combined with a vacant look of uncertainty. His brother grew to be the most handsome member of their family, and even in his grief, he carries himself well. The eyes that once brightened whenever they saw In-ho now search for answers, making him feel a mix of guilt, responsibility, and anguish for being an invisible tormentor. But everything will be alright. In-ho will fix the damage he wrought. “What are you doing here?”
He’s not actually surprised his brother is here. Granted, Jun-ho voting to continue the Games was a pleasant surprise. In-ho had worried that the deaths in the first round would discourage his moralistic, honorable brother from wanting to proceed; if so, he would have found a way to discreetly remove him, but it would have been disappointing.
The younger boy… man, he’s a man now, and has been for a while, unconsciously rubs his left shoulder. There’s no accusation in his gaze, though. His older brother standing before him once more has not triggered his brain to remember who put the bullet in his arm. “Eomma is… she's sick. The doctors say she needs surgery to live. And it’s… it’s expensive, hyung. Really expensive. But they say without it, she won’t have much longer.”
In-ho suppresses a wince at how distressed his brother sounds. Because his claim is not entirely true… and by that, he means it’s a bold-faced lie.
Four years ago, his brother worked for Ssangmun-dong Police Department as a detective. Somehow, Jun-ho ended up infiltrating the Squid Games. A rush of pride had flooded through In-ho when he realized who the intruder was… mixed with frustration, of course. Despite their sixteen-year age difference, Jun-ho always found a way to get involved in his older brother’s business. After extracting the familiar, unmistakable bullet from Guard 28's head, In-ho should have realized immediately that there was only one specific cop who could have placed it there. The showdown with his brother on the top of the cliff hadn’t gone the way he would have hoped; Jun-ho refused to come with him. To protect the sanctity of the Games, to protect his brother from being unveiled to the island’s occupants as the intruder, In-ho shot Jun-ho in the shoulder, sending him over the edge of the cliff and into the ocean below.
Unwilling to let his brother die, the Front Man’s most loyal boatmen ferried a wounded Jun-ho to a hospital on the mainland. In-ho then spent the next four years covertly observing his sibling from afar. Physically, Jun-ho survived relatively unscathed. Although he was in a coma for a week, the only visible reminder of the ordeal he endured is the scar on his shoulder from the bullet wound. In-ho even arranged to have his brother's medical bills paid off by a ‘new grant’ the government had given the hospital for injured police officers… and when Jun-ho refused to accept the money, claiming that there were ‘thousands of officers’ more deserving, he’d gone ahead and paid the debt off anyway… or at least a substantial portion of it. To make up for the difference, In-ho had one of his men hack half a dozen different companies to subtly lower the cost of Jun-ho’s various bills. It was a pain in the ass to coordinate, but worth it.
Mentally, though? The fall from such a height and his time underwater left Jun-ho with nearly total amnesia regarding the incident; without his phone to spark his memory, which remains somewhere on the ocean floor, he was unable to recall why he’d ‘gone rogue’ or what happened during the days he was missing. It also meant he couldn’t remember who shot him. It was more than In-ho could have ever hoped for. However, to his immense displeasure, Jun-ho did not return to his previous life. While he could not consciously recall what what happened to him, his subconscious relentlessly tormented him with nightmares and snippets of flashbacks that made no sense. For reasons In-ho doesn't fully understand, Jun-ho demoted himself to a Traffic Cop and essentially withdrew from society, only occasionally visiting his mother at her insistent request.
In-ho did everything he could think of to help; as soon as Jun-ho finished the paltry amount of therapy required of him by the police department, he stopped going. Unimpressed with this decision, In-ho had his best hacker flood his brother's computer with ads for affordable mental health care, but Jun-ho made no move to contact them. The package left randomly on Jun-ho’s doorstep, filled with his favorite foreign snacks, resulted in a call to the bomb squad. It was then 'donated' to them for their troubles. Sporadically cutting off Jun-ho's internet and cable did not encourage him to leave his house, as was the intended goal. It only made him find a book to read instead (his hacker adamantly assured him that this was better than ‘doom scrolling’ on social media). During the months the Games were not running, he sent his most attractive female - and a few male! - guards to flirt with Jun-ho to bolster his confidence. Since the island doesn't have many 'full timers', In-ho didn't have a large pool to pull from, but he doesn’t think it would have made a difference anyway. He watched live from hacked Cctv footage, as his brother politely rebuffed every single one of them. Even out of uniform, Jun-ho remained professional and distant, his expression never showing a flicker of interest. It was maddening!
Left with no other choice, In-ho concocted his boldest, most ambitious plan yet - he would rejuvenate Jun-ho’s interest in life by inviting him to participate in the Games. He’s not a betting man, but the likely result of his scheme is obvious; similar to Seong Gi-hun, the winner of the 2020 Games, Jun-ho will probably (naively) be inspired to dedicate his life to dismantling the contest. Less likely, but also the best case scenario, his reaction will be similar to In-ho’s own, the winner of the 2015 Games. Maybe if Jun-ho is a player ‘strapped for cash’ this time around, rather than a spy who snuck in and found himself way over his head, he will finally understand the benefit the Games provide to society. Maybe he’ll even agree to stay on the island with his brother. Working together, side by side, watching proudly as Jun-ho becomes more immersed in his role… it’s a pipe dream, though that doesn’t stop In-ho from thinking, maybe, just maybe… after all, crazier things have happened (like Gi-hun being the winner of the 33rd installment)! Or who knows? Maybe Jun-ho will simply return to ‘real life’ with newfound appreciation for what he has, with or without the 45.6 billion won prize money.
Even if it sparks his brother to embark on some self-righteous, virtuous crusade to stop the Games, that is still better than wasting his life away! Obviously, given how Jun-ho managed to infiltrate the island entirely on his own volition and went days without detection, he should not underestimate his brother (after realizing who precisely that old fat fuck VIP had been feeling up, In-ho had to restrain himself from going back and beating the man to death). However, unlike Gi-hun and Jun-ho, In-ho has vast resources at his disposal, which go far beyond money and access to a police database. He’ll let Jun-ho have his fun, of course, because he’s a good big brother. But his little sibling is an easily thwarted threat.
Getting Jun-ho back to the island was not easy. The biggest obstacle of all? His younger brother was not in debt. What interest did someone as frugal as Hwang Jun-ho have in 45.6 billion won? Admittedly, kidnapping and drugging his stepmother wasn’t ideal, but in In-ho’s defense, the older woman had skipped out on going to the doctor for years. He's honestly doing her a favor. Fortunately, the covert operation went off without a hitch. Gassing her house, having some of his sneakiest men remove her from the property, and then finishing it up with another team to eliminate every trace of evidence. In and out, no wasted time. Playing the role of concerned neighbor, In-ho’s former employee, Yeon-hee, told Jun-ho a sob story about how she grew worried when his mother missed out on their book club meeting without calling ahead to cancel. Going over to check on her, she found the older woman collapsed on the porch and immediately called for an ambulance. Conveniently, one of the doctor’s on In-ho’s payroll was assigned to her case, and within an hour, he had devised a list of treatable conditions totaling a whopping 1 billion won.
The thought of his brother in turmoil pained In-ho, but it would be too suspicious if someone tried to recruit Jun-ho to the Games right as he left the hospital. Before he even put his plan into motion, he knew how tormented Jun-ho would be over the fate of his mother, who remained in the hospital in a coma (medically induced, though her son didn’t know that). Worse, to Jun-ho's knowledge, she was the only close family member he had left, as their father had passed away over a decade ago due to heart issues. Normally, In-ho has patience in spades, but this was undoubtedly the most difficult part. Waiting. For the next week, Jun-ho drove himself spare trying to find a solution to his sudden money woes. Banks turned him down for personal loans, using every excuse in the book to get him out of their door. Having discovered his mother ‘forgot’ to renew her health insurance policy, companies refused to sign her up for a new one without her being present. Having pushed all of his friends away in recent years, and with his older half-brother nowhere to be found, Jun-ho was at a crossroads.
To further ensure his plan would be a success, In-ho sent his most conniving, ruthless, and best looking recruiter to entice his brother into the Games (granted, he wasn’t informed that the target was his Captain’s brother, only that the young man was a ‘high profile recruit’, who would add ‘great intrigue to the Games and impress the VIPs’). Due to the persona he took on while recruiting, the man was dubbed ‘the Salesman’ by former-contestants and guards alike. Beginning as a Worker, the lowest of the guards, the teenaged Salesman moved his way up the ranks over the years. Eventually, he garnered the attention of Oh Il-nam, who recognized his potential. The elderly man assigned him to work outside of the Games, and since 2016, the Salesman has dutifully recruited contestants every year. With his mystifying success rate, he's proven Il-nam was right to trust him.
Faced with his toughest job yet, the Salesman managed to pull through; Hwang Jun-ho agreed to participate in this year’s Squid Game. The news had come as a relief to In-ho, who hadn’t been able to watch their interaction from base. A few minutes after the Salesman struck up a conversation with Jun-ho, the camera at the subway station cut out. His brother’s successful recruitment was confirmed later that night when Jun-ho called the number on the back of the card.
Something peculiar happened the next morning.
The Salesman randomly asked to be a participant. His reasoning? He wanted to 'prove himself'. Ah, but In-ho saw right through his bullshit excuse and immediately deduced his true motivations; he was gunning to be the next Front Man. It was the only thing that made sense. Rather admirably, the man had climbed from the very bottom, to near the top of the food chain through hard work alone. What was left? Front Man and Host, two positions that were currently held by one person; In-ho (it surely must have irked him how quickly In-ho rose from winner of the Games to the top spot in the organization).
The request left In-ho with quite the conundrum. He had no problem with the man playing. After all, In-ho himself will be participating now that Gi-hun is back - someone will need to keep an eye on that silly, ridiculous man, and who better than In-ho himself? But the Salesman insisted he wished to be a ‘regular player’, claiming he did not need special treatment to win - he accepted the consequences that came with joining. Which begged the question… was In-ho willing to lose his most successful and faithful recruiter? He wasn’t sure. Loyalty took time to build, and it did not come free. In the end, he decided the Salesman had no authority to tell him what to do - a subordinate does not give orders to his superiors. Unbeknownst to the Salesman, In-ho instructed the Pink Guards to shoot him non-fatally if he lost a game, and to intervene if he’s overpowered by another player.
Overseeing the first of six games from the control room, In-ho eagerly observed his brother’s reaction to the chaos of Red Light, Green Light. Gi-hun, the absolute pain in the ass that he was, had warned everyone in advance about the deadly nature the children’s game would take. From the very beginning, Jun-ho was one of the few who took him seriously. Following Gi-hun’s instructions, Jun-ho covered his mouth with his arm and commanded his fellow players to line up behind him. He would protect them. His brother’s predictable do-good nature and innocence amused In-ho. It was the Salesman’s actions that gave him pause. He did not keep to himself, as In-ho expected, nor did he add to the mayhem, like that purple-haired thug, Thanos. No, he positioned himself at the head of the pack, directly in front of Jun-ho. As soon as the doll turned around again, a small scuffle broke out; Jun-ho was not amenable to hiding behind someone else. In the end, In-ho’s stubborn, altruistic sibling won the bizarre pissing contest. Relenting, the Salesman stood beside Jun-ho, rather than in front. Several players lined up behind the tallest man in this year’s Games, though the Salesman paid them no mind.
It was curious.
In-ho doesn't like when people subvert his expectations of them.
(Except for Gi-hun, but that frustrating man always proves to be the exception to the rule, doesn't he? That’s part of what makes him so interesting to In-ho.)
After crossing the finish line, the Salesman’s lip curled when the pregnant girl, Player 222 (one of the few contestants In-ho ever had second thoughts about allowing to participate in the Games), profusely thanked him for sheltering her behind his tall frame. A harsh comment was on the tip of his tongue. In-ho had spent enough time around him in the last few years to see it coming from miles away. Finally, he was going to do as expected of him! But at the same moment, Jun-ho caught the Salesman’s eye. And in spite of the horrific scene he had just witnessed, the younger man smiled. Sure, it was a mere quirk of his lips, but it was definitely there. And how did the Salesman respond? His tense shoulders relaxed, his jaw unclenched, and before walking off to join Jun-ho… who was, of course, already in deep conversation with Gi-hun, sigh… he gave her a polite nod.
The surviving contestants of the first round gathered in the bunker to vote on continuing the Games. When the guards called for Player 13, there was an uproar as dozens of the players recognized the man who recruited them. Gi-hun pushed his way to the front of the defectors. Suspicion burning in his gaze, he demanded to know what the Salesman was doing there.
With a mocking smile playing upon his lips, the infamous recruiter shrugged. “You of all people should know how easy it is to fall into debt, Mister Seong… especially if you suddenly find yourself working under a new boss, who turns out to be a power-hungry dick. Winners receive an exorbitant sum, but as an employee, the pay is less than stellar.”
The guards overseeing the vote rightfully tittered at that. Upon taking charge of the Games, even prior to Il-nam’s death, In-ho had done a total overhaul of the salary and benefits package. When the elderly man amusedly inquired about his reasoning, In-ho explained that the most loyal workers were the ones who felt they were well-taken care of. Training the Pink Guards, regardless of rank, took time and effort. Losing them, whether it be through careless mistakes or their personal decision to leave, meant expending even more resources to replace them. The smartest thing a company can do is invest in its staff. How does that expression go? It's a hill In-ho is willing to die on.
Never one to let anything go easily, Gi-hun spoke to the room at large when he said, “Do not trust this man! Without batting an eye, he led you all into this game, where losing results in forfeiting your life.” Not as cheerful and idealistic as he was during his first Games, Gi-hun called for a show of hands as to who knew what losing entailed, prior to playing the first game. No one, including In-ho, raised their hands.
“Oh, there seems to be a misunderstanding,” the Salesman crooned. “I am merely a messenger for this establishment. I did not -”
“Liar!” Gi-hun growled, poking the Salesman in the chest. It ignited a spark within In-ho. He relished seeing the aggressive side of the man who intrigued him more than he’d ever care to admit. It never lasted long, which made each glimpse all the more special. “You told me you became a guard at a young age! How could you not know?"
Over the last two years, Gi-hun relentlessly hunted the Salesman, in hopes of finding the allusive Front Man himself (no one had ever put that much effort in pursuing In-ho before…). He spent a fortune to do so too, hiring goons to search the subway stations for months-on-end. Well aware of the past-winner’s scheming, In-ho forbade his recruiters from entering the subway stations. On September 1st, he lifted the ban for the Salesman only. In-ho convinced himself it was because recruiting the Youtuber Crypto kid, who became a recluse after his troubles with the law (and because his former-fans wanted to tear him limb from limb), was crucial for the success of this year’s Games; his participation would inject layers of captivating interpersonal drama that the VIPs would eat up.… and that was true! But mainly, he wanted to see how Gi-hun would react if he was finally thrown a bone in his fruitless quest.
Well-prepared to handle an ambush, the Salesman easily dispatched a pair of Gi-hun’s thugs who were tailing him. It was the events that followed which were the most astonishing. Gi-hun had the Salesman’s untimely death within reach. They were on the sixth round of Russian Roulette. One pull of the trigger remained. It was the recruiter's turn. And when Gi-hun realized the younger man fully intended to take his own life, as per the rules of the game, how did he respond? He smacked the gun out of the Salesman’s hands, which resulted in it accidentally going off. Fortunately, the lone bullet lodged into the wall of the shoddy motel Gi-hun had been hiding out at, rather than in someone's body. There was still some violence (which In-ho would pay a small fortune to see); Gi-hun went on to smack the stunned man several times in the face, before demanding a meeting with his boss.
This far-fetched tale was relayed to In-ho over the phone the same night it occurred. Admittedly, In-ho was skeptical regarding the legitimacy of some of the events, but he didn't have time to voice his questions; the Salesman informed him that Gi-hun vehemently wished to speak with him in person. And who was In-ho to deny Player 456 what he so desperately wanted, especially after he spared the life of his best recruiter? He arranged for the meeting to take place on October 31st, Gi-hun’s birthday. It felt poetic. It was also vindicating to be right about why Gi-hun wanted to speak with him so badly. Stop the Games? Pfft. Yeah, no.
The Salesman laughed airily at Gi-hun's posturing. “Forgive me, Mister Seong.” He ran a hand through his wind-swept hair. In the background, several women swooned. In-ho’s lip curled in disgust. “You are right. I am a liar. Only, I was lying then, not now. See, during our little… tête-à-tête, shall we call it?... I was merely trying to impress you with that fabricated, heroic tale of how I rose through the ranks. In reality, I was hired to recruit players to a series of children’s games, where they could win prize money. I did not know what became of the losers. If I had, would I be here now?”
“You are full of shit! I know you knew precisely -”
Looking at the camera in the corner of the room, In-ho tilted his head to the side. Seconds later, the Manager overseeing the vote interrupted the quarreling, calling for order. Deomcracy continued.
And now, it is In-ho’s turn, though the guards don’t interrupt when he pauses to speak with his younger sibling. They are under the strictest of orders - nobody is to hurt Jun-ho, staff or contestants alike. Should he lose a game and covert removal from the playing field is not an option, he's to be shot non-fatally. Then, they are to summon the doctor on staff at once. Should anything unsanctioned happen to Player 12, well… that wouldn’t be very fun for anyone, the VIPs included (it does amuse In-ho to think about how many of his staff are going to lose their personal bets - before entering the Game, his right hand man, Song-Min, had wearily informed him that the prevailing theory on the island was that Jun-ho is their boss’s long-lost son… the few who knew the truth kept their mouths shut and abstained from participating, as was fair).
“Jun-ho, I am sorry to hear -”
“Where have you been, hyung?” Jun-ho interrupts, his big brown eyes hungrily drinking in his older brother's face. “It’s been years since we last saw you -”
“We can discuss it later.” In-ho’s grimace isn’t feigned. “I am sorry to have failed you, Jun-ho, it will forever be my deepest regret.” It is the truth too, though he will do anything in his power to make up for his past mistakes, regardless if his brother remembers the full extent of how profusely In-ho has wronged him.
Gripping the older man's forearms, Jun-ho furiously shakes his head. “No, hyung, you have done no such thing.” There is the Jun-ho he remembers. Always quick to make excuses for his older brother, always so willing to think the best of him. Guilt, an emotion so unfamiliar, it takes In-ho a moment to identify it, rises up within him, impossible to ignore. He hasn’t felt anything close to this since his own Games in 2015, when he truly came to understand the depravity and despicableness of the world they live in. “I am sure there is a reason for your absence. Go now, we will talk later.” There’s no smile for his older brother, no warm embrace, just a resolute nod.
Jun-ho releases him and takes a step back. In doing so, he accidentally bumps into the person behind him. Once he realizes it’s the Salesman, he relaxes. Neither of the two men move away from the other. Worse, when In-ho’s soon-to-be former-employee meets his gaze, the man’s eyes sweep up and down his frame. Assessing. Slinging a possessive arm over Jun-ho’s shoulders, the recruiter smiles thinly at In-ho. Challenging. The audacity nearly leads to In-ho breaking character.
Revealing your identity during the Games is explicitly forbidden. But once they're over, and a majority of the staff leaves, those months have more relaxed rules. Even so, only on rare occasions has the Salesman seen In-ho’s face, and there was almost always a haze of alcohol clouding their senses. He’s certainly never told his subordinate his name! But the Salesman had watched the 2020 games from his sky-rise apartment in Seoul. He knew who player 001 had been. There’s no denying his intelligence and cunningness either, it’s what makes him good at his job. Surely, the Salesman put two and two together, and recognized In-ho as his boss. In hindsight, perhaps it’s unwise of In-ho to trust the employee gunning for his job to keep his identity secret. But how could he have predicted this ‘alliance’ between the man who recruited people to games where the cost was their life, and his much younger, virtuous cop brother?! It makes no sense!
In-ho will need to find an opportunity to discreetly remind Player 13, Park Hyeon, of the rules. If he truly wants a shot at winning, he better keep his mouth shut… and his hands away from Hwang Jun-ho!
Marching up to the voting console, In-ho slams his hand down on the ‘O’. There’s no waiting, no building up of the suspense over the decisive vote. Ripping the patch out of the guard’s hand, he slaps it on his chest and joins the others who voted for the continuation of the game. If In-ho just so happens to elbow his way between Jun-ho and that craven, Park Hyeon, in the process, it’s a coincidence.
After they receive their meal for the night, In-ho approaches his younger brother. “Jun-ho, may I speak with you, please?” He glares at the Salesman, who is still looming over Jun-ho. The taller man smiles serenely at him, which makes In-ho seethe. “Alone.”
“Of course, hyung.” Ever polite, Jun-ho tells his unwanted shadow he’ll be back. In-ho leads his brother to a corner of the room, as far away from the slimy recruiter as they can get. “It’s good to see you again -”
“Jun-ho, you need to stay away from that man,” he interrupts, agitation seeping into his voice. “He is bad news, and you should not get involved with someone like him.”
‘Bad news’ is obviously a massive understatement. It’s evident the recruiter is trying to use In-ho’s trusting brother as a pawn against him. How he found out about their connection is unclear, but the Salesman has worked in the Games for nearly as long as Jun-ho has been alive. He must have friends among the guards who are willing to risk their necks to give him insider information. In-ho will launch an investigation as soon as he’s able to. Hopefully, he'll discover that someone tipped off the Salesman regarding the upcoming games, which is grounds for an execution. An utter waste of talent, of course, but alas.
“Oh, you know Hyeon-hyung?”
In-ho’s mind comes to a screeching halt. “Pardon?”
“Hyeon-hyung,” his brother repeats, as if that clarifies anything. It does not. In-ho stares blankly at him. “Park Hyeon, Player 13… how do you know him?”
Jun-ho does not use honorifics loosely, especially ‘hyung’. Growing up, he remained formal with everyone, except for his closest friends. He certainly never called any of his older brother's friends ‘hyung’, including In-ho's partner on the force for ten years. Sang-guk was close enough to attend Jun-ho’s high school graduation (something their own useless father missed), but he never earned the ‘hyung’ title.
“I think the better question is how do you know him?” In-ho counters, trying to keep the edge out of his tone.
Recruitment for this year’s Games took longer than anticipated. Jun-ho, Player 12, was recruited nearly seven weeks before the last player was, which was more than double the usual time. Supposedly, the Salesman fell ill for two weeks, leaving his duties to his less successful colleagues. It was surely a power move, a subtle reminder of how valuable his skills are to the organization.
By the way his brother’s expression closes off, In-ho fails in his objective. “I’m not staying away from him, hyung. He’s important to me -”
“He’s old enough to be your father.”
“No he isn't!”
A thirteen-year-old fathering a child isn’t common, sure, but it's still a possibility!
“I am your hyung, Jun-ho, you are to listen to me!”
Rolling his shoulders back, Jun-ho straightens his spine and steps closer to In-ho… uhh, when did he get so tall? He should have stopped growing years ago! Regardless, In-ho cocks his head to the side, as if to say, ‘Really, you are trying to intimidate me? Please.’ It appears their years apart have made Jun-ho forgetful. That’s okay; love for his brother won’t prevent In-ho from knocking him down a peg or two to teach him a lesson.
“Why should I listen to you, In-ho?”
“Would you like to try that again, little one? I seem to have misheard you."
Jun-ho shifts from foot to foot, betraying his nervousness. But his brother has always been incredibly hardheaded, so In-ho isn't surprised when he holds his ground. “You’ve been gone for years, you don’t get to boss me around anymore!”
“I am not bossing you around, as you so eloquently put it. I am advising you to stay away from a scumbag, because I am older and wiser to the ways of people like him. He will play with your feelings, Jun-ho, for however long it amuses him, and then when he gets bored, he will discard you like you’re nothing more than trash -”
“Did you two date?”
“... come again?”
“Did you two date?”
“Ew, what?" In-ho's stomach rolls at the thought. He's as straight as they come, but if he ever were to date a man, it wouldn't be the guy who looks like he spends all day gazing at his own reflection. He has much more refined taste than that. "No, of course not!”
Not bothering to hide his skepticism, Jun-ho asks, “Really? You sound like a jilted ex.”
“And you sound like a bratty teenager! I gave you -”
“Don’t you dare use the, ‘I gave you a kidney, so you have to do what I say’ line!”
Okay, in In-ho’s defense, it sounds cruel on paper, but he always used it jokingly following their surgery:
‘I gave you a kidney, you have to wear the outfit I picked out for your school picture day, hyung knows more about fashion than you do.’
‘I gave you a kidney, you have to go to bed when I tell you to.’
‘I gave you a kidney, you are not dropping out of college because it’s too hard. Swallow your pride and get a tutor.’
If anything, ‘I gave you a kidney, which means you cannot put it in danger by hanging around that contemptible, corrupt, ruthless man’ deviates from their usual lightheartedness. That’s how Jun-ho should know he’s being serious!
“Hwang Jun-ho, do not take that tone -”
“I don’t think it’s fair for you to interrogate me like this, hyung! I’m not the one who went missing for years.” Regret swells within In-ho’s heart. He told himself it would be better for Jun-ho in the long run if he kept his distance. In-ho is not an arrogant man, so while it doesn't happen often, he can admit when he’s wrong - he was wrong to distance himself from his brother. “I thought you were dead, and you don’t… you don’t even care how your disappearance affected me, do you?” Jun-ho laughs humorously. “Fucking hell, I’m such an idiot. Did you know I looked for you, hyung?” Yes. “I searched for you for so long, but I never found a trace. I thought you must be dead in a ditch somewhere, because why else would you not come home?”
It’s probably telling that the first thing In-ho thinks is, ‘I am dead, though. That’s why you never found me.’
The truth dawns on him then, bright and painful. He kept his distance for entirely selfish reasons. Shame for shooting his brother was only part of it. How could In-ho keep Jun-ho in the dark forever? Gi-hun surviving the Games for a second time is more likely than his brother accepting, let alone agreeing, with In-ho's life choices. After winning the Squid Games in 2015, the horrific scenes he witnessed and the realization that he was too late to save his wife dulled most of his emotions into nothingness. Those that remained were carefully tucked away behind layers of defenses, in the recesses of his mind. Jun-ho has a way of laying every single one of those bare. To protect himself, In-ho began distancing himself for Jun-ho even before his brother infiltrated the island.
“You’re right, Jun-ho, I’m sorry -”
“Don’t lie!” his brother hisses. “You’re not sorry, because here you are, at this shit show circus of death, looking hale and whole, harassing me about who I’m friends with like everything is fine between us!” Jun-ho suddenly shoves In-ho in the chest. Surprised, he stumbles back a step. “But it’s NOT fine, nothing is fine, because you left! You fucking left me, hyung, you left me alone, and when I needed you most, when everything around me was falling apart, when I was… you weren’t… you weren’t there.”
Filled with false confidence, Jun-ho pushes him again. Prepared this time, In-ho doesn’t move an inch. So what does the brat do next? He takes a swing at him!
Dodging the hit, In-ho warns, “Do not attempt to test my patience, Jun-ho. You won’t like the results.”
“FUCK YOU, IN-HO!”
Oh, hell no.
His brother is a worthy opponent. Jun-ho has greatly improved his hand-to-hand combat skills in recent years. But his emotions make him sloppy. And regardless, In-ho is simply better.
Fortunately, the guards don’t interrupt. He likes to think it’s because they’re confident in their boss’s abilities, but it’s possible they just don’t want to offend him by intervening in his ‘family dispute’. Jun-ho does have to tell his new best friend to fuck off and mind his own business though, which the Salesman doesn’t take well. Worse, the distraction caused by Player 13 results in Jun-ho finally managing to land a hit on his older brother, a brutal haymaker to the jaw that will surely result in a bruise by morning.
Minutes later, when he has Jun-ho flat on his stomach, In-ho coldly asks, “Are you done with these childish antics?” Legs secured around his brother’s waist, he locks his arms around Jun-ho’s neck to cut off any remaining avenue for movement. He doesn’t apply pressure, though he might have to if his brother keeps trying to buck him off. “Stop this, Jun-ho, you’re going to hurt yourself!”
In-ho winces when Jun-ho lets out a primal, animalistic scream.
Good god, what a pair of lungs!
Once he (finally) runs out of air, Jun-ho goes slack underneath him. “Yes, hyung.” Carefully, in case it’s a ruse, In-ho slowly releases his brother and moves off him. Jun-ho is quick to haul himself into a seated position, but he doesn’t strike again. “Sorry.”
“Sorry you got your ass kicked, you mean?”
“Aren’t you almost fifty?” Jun-ho grumbles. It’s a good thing he isn’t looking at his older brother; it’s hard for In-ho to keep his expression blank at the endearing sight of his petulant, pouting sibling.
“Yes. Hopefully you now see why you’re supposed to listen to your elders.” Lifting his brother’s chin up, In-ho smooths out his furrowed brows. “It was not my intention to accuse you of anything, Jun-ho, or to make light of your feelings. Nor did I mean to worry you.” And that’s not a lie either! It’s ‘Hyeon-hyung’ who is at fault, and it’s ‘Hyeon-hyung’ who will pay. In blood. Violence is a core part of the Games, but In-ho doesn’t revel in the gore like some do. However, if his fears about the Salesman using his brother are confirmed, there might be another ‘first’ in this year’s Games. He’ll find a way to drag it out too, making it as painful as possible. The Salesman will be a prime example of what happens to those who move against the Front Man. “I’m sorry, Jun-ho, truly.”
The remnants of Jun-ho’s anger crumbles. “Did I… did I do something wrong, hyung? Is that why you left?” His voice cracks on the last word, his chin trembling from the effort of keeping his tears at bay.
The bond between siblings is an interesting one. Some people are incredibly close to their brothers and sisters, while others can’t bear to be in the same country, let alone the same household. Yet, for most people, whether they get along with their siblings or not, there remains a sense of loyalty and duty towards them. It’s challenging to articulate, even to someone who has a younger sibling of their own, just how impactful this bond becomes if you’re nearly an adult when they’re born.
With their sixteen-year age difference, an absentee father who prioritized work over family, and his scatterbrained step mother, In-ho quickly found himself caring for his younger brother as if Jun-ho were his own son. Thankfully, it wasn’t too difficult to balance his school work with his brotherly duties. Jun-ho was an excellent baby, who rarely cried or fussed whenever In-ho was around. He even took the toddler to some of his college lectures, which delighted both his peers and his curious, nosy sibling. In-ho’s military conscription was hard for both of them, but the moment his enlistment ended, he moved into an apartment within walking distance of his family home. In retrospect, perhaps In-ho spoiled his younger brother rotten. But in his defense, Jun-ho was a great kid! He deserved the extra treats and attention In-ho showered him with.
So, when the calm, mild-mannered Jun-ho randomly ‘caught an attitude’ - with everyone, his older brother included - and it didn’t abate within a few days, In-ho was convinced there was something legitimately wrong with him. Ignoring his parents, who chided him for being a worrywart, he took his brother straight to the emergency room. It was a rare instance where he loathed being right. One of Jun-ho’s kidneys was failing, and if he didn’t receive a transplant in the coming weeks, it would ultimately lead to his death. In-ho, their parents, and a few extended family members underwent testing to see if they were a match; within an hour of receiving the call, In-ho was at the hospital, signing the consent forms for the procedure. Yet literally until the anesthesiologist put him under, people constantly asked him if he was sure he wanted to go through with it. Even their own parents questioned his choice, ‘There’s still time to look for another match, In-ho. This surgery will impact your life forever.’ Okay, and? As a police officer, In-ho risked his life every day for total strangers. So, why wouldn’t he do whatever he could to give his brother the best chance for a healthy, successful future? It’s why on the cliff’s edge, he couldn’t kill Jun-ho, his little one, the boy who carried a piece of In-ho inside him. Donating a kidney to his brother was love in its purest form.
Life experience, combined with seeing the worst of humanity take center stage in the Games year after year, means there’s an undeniable truth In-ho would be foolish to ignore; love, in any form, is a weakness. An exploitable weakness.
But it is one thing to cause Jun-ho distress in the abstract. It is another thing entirely to visibly see how upset his brother is, grown man or not.
Uncaring of the propriety of it, of what anyone who sees them might think, the older man bundles his distraught sibling into his embrace. “No, no, Jun-ho, you did nothing wrong, okay? My absence was my fault, and it had nothing to do with you. Times have been… hard… and I was embarrassed of my struggles, so I left until I could become someone you’d be proud of again.”
An image flashes to the forefront of his mind, of Jun-ho’s horrified expression when In-ho removed the Front Man mask. It’s ironic, isn’t it? Hwang In-ho has more power, money, and influence than he knows what to do with. He highly doubts his brother would be proud of him for it.
“I wouldn’t have judged you,” Jun-ho murmurs, resting his forehead on In-ho’s shoulder. He’s lying, In-ho knows he is, but he can’t fault his brother for it. “And I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I would, hyung. Everyone faces difficulties at some point in their life. Everyone has secrets they’re ashamed of. I would be a hypocrite to hold them against you.”
What do you have to be ashamed of, Hwang Jun-ho? In-ho thinks ruefully to himself. You have always been the perfect son, the perfect brother, the perfect student, the perfect cop, and some day, you will be the perfect husband, and the perfect father.
Unsure what else to say, In-ho squeezes the younger man as hard as he can. Jun-ho’s body cracks in so many places, he legitimately worries he might have hurt him.
“Jun-ho, you are much too tense for someone your age!” In-ho lectures sternly, leaning back to look his brother in the eye.
“Uhhh, did you forget we’re in a competition, where losing means instant death?”
Uhhh, no, you brat, I did not.
“You’re not dying anytime soon, Jun-ho. Hyung won’t allow it.” He frowns when his brother starts massaging his temples, a pained expression on his face. “Are you alright?”
Hands dropping down like he’s been caught doing something ‘bad’, Jun-ho smiles reassuringly. “I’m fine, hyung.”
Pfft, like that’s enough to fool In-ho? For the most part, Jun-ho can maintain an excellent poker face, even under duress. But all it takes is a little pressure from In-ho to get his brother to crack, and then Jun-ho will spill anything and everything (sometimes too much, because there are things In-ho does not need, nor want to know).
A sudden commotion startles them apart.
In the center of the room, Gi-hun and the Salesman circle each other. The former looks apoplectic. The latter looks delightfully entertained. The vexing younger man says something unintelligible. Without preamble, Gi-hun backhands him with such force, it sends the Salesman’s head whipping to the side.
Good god, how unexpected! In-ho feels his own face flush, as if he was the one who was slapped. Times like these, he misses his Front Man mask.
Raucous cheers and applause erupt from the other contestants, like Gi-hun did something heroic. He even looks mildly impressed with himself, though that pride evaporates when the Salesman lunges for him. Luckily, he dodges the first blow… he’s not as lucky with the second.
“Aish, come on,” Jun-ho mutters to himself. Without a look back at his actual hyung, he rushes away to separate the two lanky men wrestling on the ground.
Self-awareness is crucial. Although it nettles him to not have answers to his many, many questions, In-ho makes the mature decision to forgo further conversation regarding his brother’s unsavory acquaintance tonight. The last thing he wants to do is ostracize Jun-ho. Besides, there are less confrontational ways to reach enlightenment.
Begrudgingly leaving his brother to fawn and fuss over the fuming Salesman (who, in In-ho’s expert opinion, deserved worse than a slap to the face), he seeks his own entertainment elsewhere.
“I assume that wasn’t how you won the first Games?” In-ho asks with a trace of laughter, handing Gi-hun a wad of paper towels.
“No.”
It’s such a curt, cold response from the normally chipper man, In-ho is mildly offended. Gi-hun doesn’t even know who he is!
“You’re getting blood all over your clothes,” he tuts. Sitting beside Gi-hun, In-ho none-too-gently pushes his head forward. “Tilting your head back is not the proper treatment for a nosebleed. You’re supposed to lean forward.”
“Did you run out of college kids to beat up or something?”
In-ho rolls his eyes. “You must not have any siblings, Mister 456. And for the record, my brother is thirty-three, he graduated college a decade ago.” Out of his peripheral vision, he notices Player 388 openly observing them from his perch on his bed. In-ho catches his eye. “Are you done eating?” The kid timidly nods, like he’s afraid he’ll be shouted at if he speaks. “May I have your tin, please?”
“Oh, so now you want to help me?” Gi-hun huffs, his gaze focused on the ‘O’ patch on In-ho’s jacket. Surprisingly, despite the sass, he obediently follows In-ho's plan, letting the blood gushing from his nose drip into the container. In retrospect, the only use for those flimsy paper towels will be to clean off Gi-hun's face... In-ho makes a mental note to switch to a higher quality in the future. Granted, that's assuming the bleeding ever stops. Did Gi-hun start taking blood-thinners at some point, and In-ho missed it? The older man does look rather haggard. He wrote it off as stress of the Games, but now he's wondering if it's indicative of an underlying health issue. In-ho makes a second mental note to follow up with his best hacker. That kid will be able to figure it out. “Bit late for that, huh?”
In-ho shrugs. “I’m quite the fan, sir. I pushed the ‘O’ button because of you. Honestly, I was scared. I wanted to quit and leave. But you made me think maybe I could play just one more game.” He doesn’t smile at Gi-hun’s distraught expression. That would be petty, and potentially raise his suspicion. “Especially with the added benefit of your expertise.”