Who Is The Masked Officer In Squid Game 2 นิยาย & เรื่องราว

We were surprised when suddenly people in masks in black sharks painted on the back of the jacket they were wearing. "Where is Ian Mercado?" They asked entering the place. I stared at them as I held the arrow pointing to them. What do they need from Ian, what is his connection to them? “Sucks the Rogue Sharks,” Feline whispered and rushed the intruders. "What do you need from Ian?" I asked the masked men who rushed to us. I pulled Feline to my back and faced the Rogue Sharks! They are Nate Guevarra's staff, you can see it on what they are wearing.

He asked. "Yes yes sir." The recieved said with a shivering voice. "You know who is speaking right?" He asked again and the head of department replied with an overly excited and shivering yes. "Good, I need you to do something for me." He said and relayed a set of instructions to him before hanging up. "Now that's how you treat your wife well." He said as he unties the masquerade mask and placed it on the cabinet in the kitchen. As he did the dishes, Edward hummed to the song his favourite song and did a little saying around.

One of the security personnel rushed in and smiled warmly at seeing their intruder. “He fell for it as you assumed, Mr Grey”. Just when he thought he had deceived the security personnel, they had intentionally allowed him in; so silly of him, he thought inwardly. “Unveil yourself!!” Adrian commanded. He gently put down his left hand, removed his mask and turned his eyes to Adrian. “What! Rowen Hickson! Aren't you supposed to be bedridden?”

The timestamp in the corner reads 1:53 PM. At first, nothing happens. Then, the door opens, and my heart leaps to my throat as Miles appears, his blue dinosaur sweater clearly visible. He’s walking normally, not running, and he’s holding hands with someone—a tall man in a dark hoodie with the hood pulled up. The man’s face is largely obscured, both by the hood and what appears to be a surgical mask covering the lower half of his face. “Who the hell is that?” Arthur growls, leaning closer to the screen.

Now, alone, I clutched the tiny microphone hidden in my collar. “I hope you’re hearing this, Justin,” I whispered. “Because I’m scared out of my mind.” A soft footstep echoed. Then another. From the shadows, M appeared. Tall. Slim. Dressed in a hooded coat, face hidden behind a sleek mask. “You came,” he said, voice mechanical. “I’m here. Let Katatrophe go. Let us go.” He tilted his head. “Still brave. Admirable. But foolish.” I stepped forward. “You’re not as clever as you think.”

He was talking about himself. Impossible. The men formed a line quick, their nerves stinking like sweat. One by one they stepped up, Silas handing each one a phone. When it came to me, his eyes lingered. He gave me mine, the screen was waiting for a finger print confirmation. I Pressed my thumb to the sensor. The fake print on my hand matched instantly, the device chiming open. I gave him subtle nod before stepping away. I looked at the message on the phone as I walked away. My mission was to extract someone, and bring them alive. Me and another low-level recruit, with an Overseer.

He said and hung up. **** Later that morning, Adrian’s security chief, Marcus, walked into his office. He carried a single black folder. He placed it on the desk. “The masked man has been identified,” he said. Immediately I heard that, and I stepped closer as Adrian opened the black folder. The photo inside wasn’t a stranger. It was Silas. Adrian’s lead archivist. The man who had managed our private records for four years. I couldn't believe my eyes. Adrian just sat there with no words; he kept looking at the photo. “He still works with you? " Adrian finally asked.

Inspector Kenneth asked from far. “Sir they have found the body” the officer yelled back. Hearing his words both the senior officers hurriedly ran towards them. The scuba divers tied some ropes around the body and then it was pulled by the others on the river bank. As soon as the body came out of the water, Inspector Kenneth’s eyes widen seeing the hooded body with the mask still on its face. It was indeed the killer. They laid the body carefully on the bank and pulled off its mask. “Oh my God!” Inspector Kenneth said as he saw the face of the killer.

“Noted.” As the tension ebbed, Emerson and I exchanged a glance. The unspoken question was hanging in the air: who would do this? “Sebastian,” Emerson said, lifting the phone, “do you have any idea who—” The screen suddenly glitched. Sebastian’s image stuttered and dissolved into static. “What’s—” I started. But my question was interrupted when a figure appeared on the screen. His face was obscured by a sleek black mask. “Welcome to my game,” the man said, his voice deep and distorted by a voice changer. “Emerson Williams. You’ve stepped into the forbidden zone.”