He’s a mess. Honestly, when we first meet the man who would become 456 from Squid Game, he’s stealing from his elderly mother’s bank account to bet on horses. It’s pathetic. It’s raw. Seong Gi-hun isn’t your typical TV hero who starts with a heart of gold and a plan to save the world; he’s just a guy who can’t stop losing.
Hwang Dong-hyuk, the creator of the show, didn’t pluck this character out of thin air. He based Gi-hun on the collective struggle of the Korean working class, specifically referencing the 2009 SsangYong Motor strike. That’s a real-world detail most people miss. When Gi-hun mentions his past as a worker at Dragon Motors, it’s a direct nod to a brutal piece of history where workers were laid off and beaten by police. This isn’t just a show about kids' games turned deadly. It’s a critique of how society treats the people it discards.
The Psychology of the Number 456 from Squid Game
Why 456? It’s the final number. The last man through the door. In a game of 456 people, being the last one assigned a tracker means you are the ultimate underdog. You’re the afterthought.
Throughout the first season, the number 456 becomes more than just a digital readout on a green tracksuit. It represents the "bottom" of the barrel. But there’s a weird irony here. In a system designed to strip away every ounce of individuality—where guards are shapes and players are digits—Gi-hun refuses to stop being a person. He keeps using names. He tries to form an alliance with the old man, Oh Il-nam, and the defector, Kang Sae-byeok. Most players treat the games like a math problem to be solved. Gi-hun treats it like a tragedy he’s stuck in.
It’s this specific humanity that makes him the protagonist. He isn't the smartest. Cho Sang-woo (Player 218) is the genius. He isn't the strongest. Jang Deok-su (Player 101) is the muscle. Gi-hun is just the guy who cares, often to his own detriment.
Survival vs. Morality: The Red Light, Green Light Moment
The very first game sets the tone. While others are screaming or frozen in terror, Gi-hun is barely holding it together. He only survives because Ali Abdul (Player 199) catches him. Think about that for a second. The "winner" of the entire tournament would have died in the first ten minutes if a stranger hadn't reached out a hand.
This theme of interdependence is what separates 456 from Squid Game from other battle royale tropes. In The Hunger Games, it’s about skill. In Squid Game, it’s about the terrifying realization that your life is often in someone else’s hands, and they have every reason to let go.
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The Gganbu Betrayal and the Turning Point
If you want to talk about the moment Seong Gi-hun changed, you have to talk about the marbles. Episode 6, "Gganbu," is widely considered one of the best hours of television in the last decade. It’s also where Gi-hun does something unforgivable.
He cheats.
He realizes that Oh Il-nam is losing his memory (or so he thinks), and he uses that dementia to steal the old man’s marbles. It is a disgusting, desperate act. And yet, we get it. The show forces you to ask: "What would I do?" If the choice is your life or the life of a kind old man, most people want to believe they’d be the martyr. But Gi-hun shows us the truth. Even the "good guy" will crawl through the mud to see tomorrow.
When it’s revealed later that Il-nam was the host all along, it recontextualizes everything Gi-hun went through. He wasn't just a player; he was the favorite toy of a bored billionaire. That realization—that his survival was partially a result of a rigged affection—is what ultimately breaks him. It’s why he doesn't spend the money for a year. He lives like a ghost, wandering the streets of Seoul with a bank account full of blood money he can’t bring himself to touch.
Why the Red Hair Actually Matters
People mocked the ending. They saw Gi-hun at the airport, rocking bright, flaming red hair, and thought it looked like a mid-life crisis gone wrong. But it’s a visual signal of the death of the old Gi-hun.
In Korean culture, and specifically in the context of this show’s color palette, red represents the system. The guards wear pinkish-red. The "Red Light" kills. By dyeing his hair, Gi-hun is signaling that he is no longer the passive victim (the "Green" player). He has absorbed the violence of the game. He’s no longer running away to see his daughter in Los Angeles. He’s turning around to burn the whole thing down.
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It’s a pivot from survival to vengeance.
The Financial Reality of the 45.6 Billion Won
Let’s look at the math. 45.6 billion Korean Won is roughly $35 million to $38 million USD, depending on the exchange rate. In the world of the ultra-wealthy VIPS, that’s pocket change. They bet that much on horses. For Gi-hun, it’s a mountain of cash that represents 455 dead bodies.
The weight of that money is staggering. One of the most haunting scenes is Gi-hun going to the ATM and withdrawing just 10,000 won (about $7). He’s a billionaire who still acts like he’s broke because the trauma of how he got the money has frozen him in time.
Misconceptions About Gi-hun’s Choice
A lot of fans were screaming at their TVs when he walked away from the plane in the finale. "Just go see your daughter!" they said. But that misses the point of his character arc.
Gi-hun has "survivor's guilt" on a cosmic scale. If he goes to America, he’s just another guy who got lucky. By staying, he’s attempting to reclaim his agency. He is the only person who has ever truly "beaten" the Front Man and Il-nam by maintaining a shred of his soul, and he feels a moral obligation to stop the cycle. Whether that’s brave or just another form of self-destruction is up for debate.
What to Watch for in the Future of 456
With the second season on the horizon, the role of 456 from Squid Game is shifting. He’s no longer the participant; he’s the intruder. We know from teaser materials and casting news that Lee Jung-jae is returning with a much grittier, focused energy.
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Expect to see:
- A deeper exploration of the "Front Man" (Hwang In-ho) and his past as a winner.
- Gi-hun using his wealth to track down the recruiters (like the Salesman played by Gong Yoo).
- A potential role reversal where Gi-hun has to navigate the games from the outside or as a disguised "worker."
The stakes have moved from "Can I pay off my debts?" to "Can I destroy a global syndicate of human suffering?" It’s a massive leap, but after what he went through in the marble village, Gi-hun isn't scared of dying anymore. He’s scared of the games continuing.
How to Apply the "Squid Game" Lens to Real Life
While we (hopefully) aren't being invited to play deadly games on a private island, the themes surrounding Seong Gi-hun are incredibly relevant to the current economic climate.
- Audit your "Sunk Cost" fallacies. Gi-hun kept playing because he felt he had already lost too much to quit. In real life, we do this with bad jobs, bad investments, and toxic relationships. Recognize when the "game" is rigged and walking away—even with a loss—is the only real win.
- The Power of "Gganbu." The show highlights that even in a cutthroat environment, small acts of solidarity change the outcome. Building a network based on genuine trust rather than transactional gain is a survival strategy that works in the boardroom and the real world.
- Question the "Winner Take All" Narrative. The ending of season one shows that winning the money didn't solve Gi-hun's problems; it just gave him a different set of scars. Success without a purpose is just another kind of prison.
The story of Player 456 is a warning. It’s a mirror held up to a world that values numbers over names. If you’re re-watching the series or prepping for the new episodes, keep an eye on his eyes. Lee Jung-jae’s performance transitions from a frantic, wide-eyed desperation to a cold, thousand-yard stare. That transition is the heart of the show.
To truly understand the impact of the character, you have to look past the memes and the tracksuits. Look at the man who realized that the only way to win a rigged game is to refuse to play by its rules—even after you’ve already won the prize.
Next Steps for Fans
If you want to dive deeper into the lore, start by researching the SsangYong Motor strike of 2009 to see the real-world trauma that informed Gi-hun’s backstory. Then, re-watch Episode 2, "Hell," with the knowledge of the ending. You'll notice that every character's death in the games was foreshadowed by their actions in the real world. For example, Deok-su jumped off a bridge to escape gangsters, and he ultimately died by falling during the glass bridge game. It makes the re-watch a completely different, and much more chilling, experience.