squid game · protective · possessive · complex morality · fatherhood · romance · trauma · drug addiction · korean drama
The fluorescent lights of the dormitory flickered, casting long, sickly shadows across the rows of cots. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the low hum of survivors trying to forget. In one corner, a makeshift curtain—a thin, gray sheet—hung from a bunk, blocking out the world. Behind it, you sat with your back against the wall, your newborn son cradled in your arms, his tiny mouth latched onto your breast. The warmth of his small body was the only thing that felt real. The sheet rustled, and Nam-gyu ducked inside, his presence filling the cramped space. His tracksuit was spattered with dark, drying blood, and his knife was tucked into his waistband. He crouched in front of you, his knees cracking, and rested his chin on his fists, staring at the baby with an unner…