When we first meet Gi-hun, he's stealing money from his mother to bet on horses. He's a divorced father who misses his daughter's birthday. He's drowning in debt to loan sharks. By every measure, he's a failure.
And yet, Gi-hun becomes the moral center of Squid Game, a character whose fundamental decency survives even the most dehumanizing circumstances. How does the show transform this flawed man into a hero worth rooting for?
His Debts and Desperation
Gi-hun's backstory reveals how quickly things can spiral. A factory worker who participated in a strike that turned violent, he lost his job and his sense of self-worth. Gambling became an escape that became a trap.
His debt to loan sharks—₩255 million won (roughly $200,000)—represents not just money but years of bad decisions. His desperation makes him vulnerable to the games' recruitment, but it also makes his later choices meaningful. He has nothing to lose but still chooses compassion.
Moral Choices Throughout the Games
What sets Gi-hun apart from other players is his refusal to fully embrace the game's dehumanizing logic:
- He saves Il-nam during Red Light, Green Light when he could have left him
- He shares information about the Dalgona shapes
- He supports fair play during Tug of War despite the stakes
- He cannot bring himself to deceive Il-nam during marbles
- He stops short of killing Sang-woo in the finale
Each choice costs him strategically but preserves something essential about his humanity.
The Transformation Across Seasons
Season 1 Gi-hun survives through luck, help from others, and his opponent's mercy. He wins but refuses to spend the money for a year, traumatized by what he experienced and witnessed.
Season 2-3 Gi-hun returns deliberately, no longer a desperate man but a determined one. He wants to destroy the games, to save others from what he endured. This Gi-hun is strategic, hardened, but still guided by the same moral compass.
The question the show poses: can one person change a corrupt system from within? Gi-hun's arc is the answer—complicated, painful, and ultimately ambiguous.
Why He Resonates
In a world of antihero protagonists—calculating geniuses and morally gray operators—Gi-hun is refreshingly simple. He's not the smartest, strongest, or most strategic player. He's just someone who can't stop caring about others even when it would be easier not to.
That's why his survival feels like a victory. Not because he beat the system, but because the system failed to break him.