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Hwang In-ho felt no remorse as he shot the two, watching as their bodies hit the ground gracelessly. He felt no remorse as he stared down at 015’s slowly bleeding out body, gargling out his last labored breaths. And he certainly felt nothing when he finally ended his misery with a single gunshot wound.
He had all the money in the world , and yet feeling is something he cannot afford to have.
Atleast that’s what he tells himself.
He didn’t feel anything when he killed 015 and 047, not when he ran out of bullets and had to use the magazine Gi-hun gave him –He stared at it for a bit, gently swiping a thumb over one of the bullets– He didn’t feel anything as he put the radio over a dying man’s mouth, and he was definitely numb when he heard the voice on the other end of the radio, desperately calling out a false name.
“Let’s wrap things up.”
What he and Seong Gi-hun had –what connection they had– it’s a farce, a mockery of a relationship. Something In-ho forged because he wanted to understand why someone who went through hell would willingly return to it.
He joined the games to understand his motives, watching him closely plan out his next move. But on more than one occasion, he caught himself focusing on Gi-hun as a person instead of a project. Glances that went on for a little bit too long, the way In-ho found himself gravitating towards the taller victor any chance he gets. Hell, even when he tried to put some distance between them by siding with Gi-hun’s friend during Mingle, he’s was thinking about Gi-hun.
He was kind, something In-ho hadn’t seen or felt in a long time. The kindness was directed at him, and to everyone else. Which is why he was compelled to protect him even when he knew that his death would make his job a whole lot easier than keeping him alive. But Gi-hun also made him feel –in a way that consumed his thoughts and his actions.
That is precisely why he’s holding a gun to Gi-hun’s head, surrounded by pink guards, donning the infamous Front Man mask.
“Player 456.”
Gi-hun’s eyes met his, and it’s just as fierce as that day back on the limousine.
“Did you have fun playing the hero?” Click.
“Now witness the consequences of your little game.”
In-ho then turns the gun and shoots at 390 without a second thought.
Gi-hun’s pained wails echoed throughout the purple walls. The Frontman retracted his gun, refusing to finish the job, hiding under the pretense that it was because Gi-hun needed to be taught a lesson and not because In-ho couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“Player 390 eliminated”