I would rather be kind

Eugene Choi died in 1907. He wakes in a body that is not his own, with the face that is... well, his own — but at the same time, the reflection staring back at him is entirely that of a stranger.

There's a man. He says his name is Seong Gi-hun, and he keeps calling Eugene In-ho.

Eugene has no idea who In-ho is. Or what this strange world is.

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You've got almost the ENTIRE audience and ACTUAL CRITICS saying how the WHOLE season was ass, the ACTUAL ACTORS being very confused/disappointed about it and how they asked the director to change the ending and even the DIRECTOR HIMSELF being skeptical btw.

I know most people don’t like the idea of corrupted Gi-hun and prefer him to stay a good and kind person (which I actually agree, but I also like challenging myself with things I’ve never done before, and a part of me feels like evil Gi-hun would be the cathartic release I needed after the mess that is season 3).

A little sneak peek of what’s in the fic; Gi-hun completely breaks down and loses it after the confrontation (the unmasking scene) between him and “Young-il”. He takes the dagger and goes batshit insane afterwards, in the sense that he blacks out and doesn’t know what he’s doing (I’m talking about Norman Bates type of Not Knowing What He’s Doing when he has an episode and murders people, but with Gi-hun it’s a one-time thing, so we don’t have to worry about it happening again, but he’s definitely broken to the point he loses all his morals and faith in humanity altogether) the second he’s back in Players’ dormitory.

In-ho realizes he has “created a monster” and is filled with both fear and regrets (In-ho is scared of this new version of Gi-hun).

Inhun will still be endgame. But the fic will probably be Dead Dove: Do Not Eat and will be tagged as such (I already have plots and ideas in my head about how I want it to go, and honestly it’s not Dead Dove to my standards, but I feel like it will be considered Dead Dove to some, so I will tag it as Dead Dove just to be safe).

Gi-hun: hi

like imagine being inho. your entire identity used to be “older brother/parental figure” and now you’re a trauma-riddled ex-frontman who can’t walk ten steps without pain and can’t look your brother in the eye without remembering what you became. and the guy who blew up your entire philosophy—gihun—is just… better at being a human than you. better at being a hyung than you.

and inho sees that and just quietly crumbles because it’s not even jealousy exactly—it’s more like this awful realisation that this is what junho always needed. gihun takes care of him, and he does it well. like it’s second nature. and junho leans into it without even realising he’s doing it. like this is the kind of care he’s been starving for.

inho’s just there. watching it happen. watching them fall into this rhythm where gihun becomes the emotional anchor, the person junho turns to first, the one he trusts with the scared parts.

and then it happens. the moment that breaks him. junho calls gihun “hyung.” like it’s nothing. like it hasn’t just knocked the fucking air out of inho’s chest. because that word used to mean something. it used to be the last piece of who he was. the only thing left that said, you were important to him. you mattered. you were his older brother.

and now it’s not his anymore.

it’s gihun’s.

and the worst part? gihun doesn’t even flinch when he hears it. he just answers. like it’s normal. like it’s fine. because to him, it is. but for inho, it’s shattering. because it makes everything real. this quiet little shift he’s been trying not to notice. the way junho doesn’t look at him the same. the way he flinches sometimes when inho comes close, not from fear, but from memory. the way he laughs freely with gihun, like the weight’s been lifted, like he can finally breathe.

and inho just stands there, heart in pieces, thinking: i was supposed to be that. i was supposed to be the one who kept him safe. but he wasn’t. he didn’t. he hurt him. and now someone else does it better. and without meaning to, without asking for it, gihun became the version of “hyung” that junho always deserved. it doesn’t belong to him. and the echo of it, floating casually from junho’s mouth in someone else’s direction, is worse than silence. it’s a replacement and it hurts like hell.

but he doesn’t say a word. because what could he even say? he lost the right to that name the moment he stopped being the man who earned it.