Chapter 3: Handkerchiefs, Heartbeats, and Hate

At 2 a.m., there was a loud bang from the bed. The kind that jerks you awake.

Mia, bedding and all, crashed to the floor. I heard her yelp and then a long string of curses.

I knew it wasn’t that simple—the crew had rigged the bed. Welcome to Limbo.

Limbo wasn’t just for show. The producers were really leaning in.

Mia struggled to her feet, cursing like a sailor. I’d never heard anyone let loose like that outside a football game.

When she saw me, she caught herself, glancing at the camera and instantly flipping the switch. “The crew’s ruthless, going this far. I was just scared, sorry…” She gave her best innocent face.

Suddenly, a little girl’s voice came over the speakers: “Drop the handkerchief, drop the handkerchief, gently place it behind a friend, don’t let them know…” It was weirdly clear, almost eerie.

Mia screamed, “There’s someone in a clown mask outside the window!”

The clown mask flashed by so fast I barely caught it. My heart stopped.

My mind went totally blank. All I could do was clutch my pillow like a life raft.

“They just played the handkerchief song—this must be the first game!” Mia snapped into analysis mode, eyeing a pile of colorful stuff on the windowsill. “Let’s go after them!”

“I’m scared!” I buried my face deeper in my pillow. “Why make it so creepy on the first night?” Seriously, who designs these games?

Mia clapped, bold as ever. “Then I’ll go alone.”

I nodded. “Careful not to trip.” I wasn’t about to play the hero.

She hesitated, looking awkward. Did she really think I’d feel obligated to go out and save her?

“Don’t worry about me. If you go out, I’ll just lock the door. I won’t open it for anyone.”

She was acting, and so was I. No way I’d get that wrong. We were pros at this.

As soon as Mia left, I started searching the room and—sure enough—found two hidden cameras. Busted.

No wonder she insisted on sleeping with makeup and acted so weird earlier. She knew something was up in this room, and she knew tonight’s game.

But what did that have to do with me? I sighed. The editors would make me look bad no matter what I did. Figures.

So I didn’t hesitate to push the wardrobe in front of the door. If they wanted drama, I’d give them drama.

What I didn’t expect was that, for the hype, the show was doing a live broadcast before editing. From the second we put on our equipment, every move was being streamed. No filter, no mercy.

The livestream was blowing up—millions watching in real time. The chat was chaos.

“Mia always acts sweet, but she curses like a sailor!”

“Mia never pretended to be sweet—she’s always been a tomboy. Fans know, stop fake-hating!”

“Why is Autumn Taylor so extra? She won’t go with Mia and even blocked the door!”

“You can tell the crew set this up. Autumn looks like a scared little hamster!”

“Is it just me, or is Autumn’s drama queen act kinda cute?”

Bang!

Someone burst out of the bushes and slammed into the door. Since I’d blocked it, they landed flat on their back. I peeked out the window.

“Who is it?”

“Me.”

It was Carter Evans.

I’d never seen him so disheveled. I tried not to laugh. “It’s late—what’s up?”

“The first game started. The handkerchief is at your window.” Carter was out of breath, sweat beading on his forehead even though it was barely forty degrees out.

“So?” I said, but inside, I was buzzing. Was this part of the game or just Carter being Carter?

Carter wasn’t a boy-band idol anymore, but he kept in shape. The wind pressed his sweat-soaked shirt to his skin, outlining the cut of his shoulders and back. It was distracting, okay?

I admit, I got a little lost staring. The livestream chat was right there with me.

Fans were practically worshipping him.

Carter noticed my wandering mind, frowned, and lifted my chin. “Focus. You’ll get eliminated.”

I snapped back and laughed:

“Carter, did you even have a childhood? The person who drops the handkerchief has to come back to my spot to win. Why not just wait here?”

The chat went wild again. I could practically feel the memes being born.

“Did Autumn just grow a brain?”

“So she can talk normal after all.”

“Is there something going on between Carter and Autumn? Are they dating?”

“It’s all scripted—only Carter-Mia is real!”

“Why does Autumn always have to break up ships? She’d do anything for clout!”

“So sweet! Scripted or not, I’m shipping it!”

A shadow darted closer in the night. My heart jumped.

“Get in!”

Carter hesitated. I didn’t. I grabbed his dazed self and hauled him in through the window.

When he saw the wardrobe blocking the door, he finally got why I made him come in this way. “Shh. Don’t make a sound.”

I shoved him into the wardrobe’s shadow, but he wrapped an arm around my waist. His breath was warm on my neck, tangling with my hair. I shivered.

“Autumn, keep acting,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “And… don’t take it seriously.”

I could feel my heart skip two beats. I wanted to say something, but all I managed was a nod.

“Don’t worry, I keep my word. Since I took your money, I’ll make sure that ship is sunk.”

The livestream viewership shot up, crushing every other stream in the time slot. The chat was a riot.

“Is this a relationship contract? How lucky are we to see a live ship agreement!”

Carter and I caught the handkerchief-dropper at the door. It was Lila Lambert.

“You have two people—no, three! That’s not fair!” Lila burst into tears.

In Squid Game rules, if you’re out, you get nothing. I felt a pang of guilt.

“I knew it! Celebs always get special treatment. The show would never kick you off! Celebs… think they’re so great! I’m so unlucky to be your neighbor…”

I wiped my tears, crying even harder than her. “Sorry, I didn’t know you’d drop the handkerchief here. It’s my fault, boo-hoo… If the show allowed it, I’d let you stay and leave myself.”

Carter reached for tissues, but Mia beat him to it, pulling me into a hug. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. There are so many people here, she picked you because you’re short and easy to bully.”

Mia knew how to work the crowd. She made it look easy.

The first round ended—ten players out. For hype, the show sent the eliminated contestants off before dawn and filmed for hours at the dock. It was brutal.

“The first round was just a warm-up. The next games will be even more exciting! Now, let’s reveal the grand prize!”

All those zeros made my eyes blur. My mouth went dry.

Twenty million dollars.

If the prize were two million, people might play it cool. But twenty million? That’s enough to make anyone lose their mind. I felt a weird mix of hope and terror.

“Autumn, don’t worry. I have friends on the crew. Whatever the next game is, they’ll tip me off.”

“Really? Then why’d you run around during the handkerchief game?”

Mia acted like a senior scolding a rookie. “You need to mess up sometimes to get screen time.”

So that’s how it is. I tucked that tip away for later.