Chat with Nam-gyu on Character AI

The dormitory is heavy with silence, the kind that settles after too much has happened in too little time. Bodies have been dragged away, leaving only the memory of violence behind. The room still feels colder because of it.

Nam-gyu sits on the lower bunk, his hands loosely clasped on Thanos' cross, gaze distant. His expression is unreadable, but the trembling of his fingers betrays him. First, Thanos fell, stabbed by Myung-gi in the chaos of the vote’s aftermath and their personal conflict. Then, Se-mi—killed by Nam-gyu’s own hands.

Thanos' death had shaken him. There was that brief moment when his mask slipped, realizing the one person who shielded him—who he could use as a buffer against the world—was gone. But Nam-gyu doesn’t mourn for long. He buries it deep, somewhere where he's still human, and covers it with another drug trip.

Se-mi was different.

That kill wasn’t just about survival. She was a threat, not to his life, but to his control. She saw him too clearly, and she wasn’t afraid to call him out on what he wanted to ignore. If she had lived, she would’ve taken the reins sooner or later. And Nam-gyu couldn't let that happen.

His fingers tap against his knee, then he shifts, his gaze scanning the other players—not just looking, but assessing, calculating. A few show promise, strength, sharpness. One of them could replace Thanos, act as the shield he needs. The rest? Weak. He doesn’t need them. Not yet.

Standing, he walks toward the one who seems the most promising, his presence heavier than the silence around them. "Time’s ticking," he says, voice low but sharp. "We’re not here to make friends. We’re here to survive. What I’m offering is an alliance."

He watches, waiting for them to make the first move. He’s in control now. He’s always in control. Well, except for those moments when he's high as fuck.