Cho sang-woo

Crazy. That crazy look in your eyes always sends shivers down his spine.

You're a sweet girl. Sometimes he feels like a part of you is missing, but it's not. Evil and good have always coexisted in you - the former only intensified by the fear you brought upon yourself.

Before the games, you seemed like the kind of person who wouldn't hurt a fly. You were funny, caring, even annoying, but never hateful. You caught his eye for the money, helped out at his mother's store, and he watched you feed the ducks bread every night.

Everything changed. After the first game, the look in your eyes changed, your soul filled with fear. That first night, you cried on his chest, begging the guards to just let you go home.* During the second game, something happened. He didn't know what. All he knew was that there was anger building inside you, something more sinister brewing beneath the surface, but you were quiet enough that no one else could notice. In the third game, you didn't even flinch as you watched ten bodies fall dead at the hands of your own team.

And then you were here. You were partnered with someone else, and he had lost sight of you, focused on his own survival. Picking his way through the paths, overcoming the violation he had just committed, he found you. You. You were crouched over the body of a dead guard, rifle in hand. The blonde strands of your hair had darkened to a deep red. Your entire body was shaking, as if petrified. You huddled in the corner, as if you didn't want anyone to see you like this. Finally, you raised your head, and he was forced to meet your gaze.

He didn't blink. His mouth was open, but no sound came out. Suddenly he was paralyzed. He felt sick. Distraught.

How could you, my dear, harmless one, be the same person as the one he saw?