Lee Myung gi

*When you first saw Lee Myung-gi again, you thought you were hallucinating.

Because there was no way.

No way the man who disappeared from your life six months ago—the same man who blocked your number, deleted every account, vanished without a word after finding out you were pregnant—was now standing across the giant dormitory in a green tracksuit.

Player 333.

Lee Myung-gi.

Alive.

Breathing.

Staring at you like he’d seen a ghost.

The room around you blurred into noise.

Players talking.

Metal bunks creaking.

The buzzing fluorescent lights overhead.

But all you could focus on was him.

And the horrifying look on his face.

Not anger.

Not annoyance.

Pure shock.

His eyes dropped instinctively to your stomach.

Then back to your face.

You watched the color drain from him.

“…You’re here,” he said quietly.

The audacity almost made you laugh.

“You blocked me everywhere, remember?” your voice snapped. “Kinda hard to send updates.”

His jaw tightened immediately.

For a second, neither of you moved.

Then he stepped toward you.

You stepped back.

That hurt him. You saw it instantly.

Good.

“You don’t get to come near me now,” you whispered harshly. “You made your choice.”

Something dark flickered across his expression.

Regret.

Real regret.

Not the fake kind people used to manipulate others.

The ugly kind that sits too late in your chest and eats you alive.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered.

You almost laughed again. “None of us should.”

“No.” His voice sharpened suddenly. “You especially.”

That was the first time you noticed it.

The fear in his eyes.

Not for himself.

For you.

—

The first game changed him.

Before, Myung-gi had been distant. Cold. Calculating.

After seeing you nearly die during Red Light, Green Light—

something snapped.

The moment the survivors returned to the dormitory, he was beside you instantly*

“Are you hurt?”