Chapter 93

Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual

Meanwhile, The Drenched One was experiencing the emotion of sheer disbelief in full force. And this despite being a Water Wraith—a being closer to a concept, with a self that was thoroughly twisted and tangled.

To summarize, the state was this:

'Why are you taking their side...?'

She had come down out of boredom. That much was true.

These ones seemed like they'd be far more satisfying than the woman in her forties from before, and there weren't just one but two of them. They were perfectly suited as toys to play with in place of her busy friend.

But she, too, had rules to follow in this hotel. More precisely, she had to follow them, and she intended to. This place was as good as her own Aqua Park.

And yet....

'Why's he helping them?'

Even watching from afar, it was absurd.

She had been aware that the prey was hiding. She simply didn't know where they'd hidden, owing to the hotel's rules—but she knew that a few more attempts would yield entertainment soon enough.

But then, the moment her friend descended to the Hunting Grounds, the trail went cold.

'I was only planning to have a taste and be done with it, but still—this is too much.'

Forget a taste—she hadn't even gotten a single drop of blood on her blade!

"......"

No—she could accept that much.

'That's what my friend does, after all.'

But what truly left The Drenched One dumbfounded was something else entirely.

'Why....'

She continued her thought as she drew closer to her friend's presence.

'Why has he changed?'

Being a connected existence, she could tell. Lee Yeon-woo had definitely changed.

He was still without warmth, and his temperament had grown sharper than before—yet he'd drawn closer to a living body rather than water. For a fish that was one with water, that brought an unbearable unease.

Because it seemed like he was taking steps to become a living person again.

'He wasn't like this until just a moment ago. He was my friend, same as before....'

He'd changed in an instant. In an instant, he'd drawn closer to being human. That was what The Drenched One couldn't stand. He could leave her in a flash, just like now.

'You're supposed to be on my side.'

Lee Yeon-woo had always taken her side.

He listened to her stories. He died alongside her. How many times had they sunk together beneath cold water? How many times had they been trapped and thrown into tanks?

'You're my friend.'

And so she'd trusted him.

Unless time was rewound, unless a new story began from scratch, recovering lost warmth was impossible. Yet now, that impossible thing was on the verge of happening.

She was indescribably upset and aggrieved.

'...If I kill them all again....'

She could see her friend, there beside those young-faced humans.

"......"

"......"

...Their eyes met.

"......"

Ah.

The Water Wraith did not block his path.

'What.'

She understood immediately.

'He hasn't changed at all.'

The way he looked at her was the same as before.

A touch of indifference. A hint of vexation. Disapproval toward a ghost that took pleasure in what wasn't right. And threaded faintly between all of it—stability and trust.

The Water Wraith called that a bond.

"......"

If there was no problem with her friend, then The Drenched One had no reason to be angry.

Unlike humans, a Water Wraith's mood could snap back to normal in an instant given a single condition. A trace of indignation lingered—at the friend who hadn't respected her and had acted on his own—but, well.

'If that's how it is, I suppose I can let it slide.'

He hadn't remained entirely unchanged.

'The chill's gone, and his temper's grown sharper.'

But if the bond woven between the two of them still held, The Drenched One could overlook it. Even if the contract were to come undone, a friend with those eyes would readily die by her hand again.

'Then that's fine.'

Having reached that conclusion, The Drenched One leaned against the railing of a rain-soaked rooftop.

She could see her friend, naturally averting his gaze as if he hadn't noticed. She could also see the two toys clinging to him like a lifeline. Watching her friend's impassive face, The Drenched One wiggled her eyebrows.

"......"

She could roughly guess what he was thinking.

'No matter how I look at it, that plan's doomed to fail.'

Then again, did it matter?

'I could play along to that extent, but....'

The lonely fish enjoyed most games played with a 'friend' she'd never have again. Even a hunt of bloated, flavorless corpses could feel rather intriguing, so long as it was with him.

So wouldn't this 'game' have its own kind of fun?

"......"

...But you'd better take my side.

Fully intending to be as spiteful as possible, the Water Wraith fixed her gaze on her 'friend.'

What was vexing was still vexing.

***

A ghost city, crushed beneath the mist and the dampness of crumbling buildings.

The man who had introduced himself as 'Lee Yeon-woo' led Seome and Rawi onward.

But he was a reticent person. Whether deliberate or simply his nature, he walked ahead of the two without offering any unnecessary small talk.

'...I think it's most likely deliberate, but....'

Seome continued his thoughts as he watched 'Lee Yeon-woo' from behind.

'The more I look at him, the more I get the feeling he might just be like that naturally.'

Despite the slippery, muddy ground, he walked with flawless poise—steady and even, without a single falter. Footsteps as quiet as if crossing a ballroom floor. That told Seome a great deal.

He was completely unfazed by this dreadful labyrinth's environment.

'Or he's already in perfect control of it.'

The black coat wrapped his pale body without absorbing a drop of moisture. His shadow stretched long behind him as he walked, casting an eerie atmosphere.

He maintained the 'most appropriate pace' without once looking back. Without once looking back, as if he knew the exact stride and breathing rhythm of the two behind him.

"......"

Calculated kindness.

His figure, leading the way, was more than that of a benign helper. Yet the cold rationality and chilling distance radiating from him cultivated a veiled sort of pressure.

'Poised and elegant strides... they don't belong in this labyrinth....'

Seome kept his guard up against the strange dissonance emanating from the unidentified man. But the irony was that his composed, impeccable back was their only landmark.

And then, it happened.

"—Enough."

What was it?

Clean, crisp enunciation. A tone utterly placid, without a ripple of emotion—like the surface of still water. It was less a command than an exquisitely polite and dry warning.

"...Oh, yes?"

It was only belatedly that Seome realized it was someone's voice.

"Did I do something wrong...?"

"That wasn't directed at you, Mr. Seome."

Already turned to face them, he added with a faint sigh.

"I was speaking to the thing clinging to your neck."

"......?"

To that, Rawi spoke while staring at 'the empty air.'

"Sunbae-nim."

"What is it?"

"You might... want to look at this."

"......"

Only then did Seome see it. What Lee Yeon-woo had been looking at when he said 'enough.'

"...Ah."

It was transparent.

"A... jellyfish?"

A damp presence amid the thick mist.

A translucent, luminous, jellyfish-type monster.

'What on earth is this now....'

It had assimilated perfectly with the labyrinth's dense fog, looking like a drifting fragment of the mist itself. It had clung so close that it was difficult to make out clearly, but.

A faint contour revealed through refracted light. A cold, clinging sensation. Transparent tentacles that glinted with the sinister sheen of cracked ice or glass—and they were unmistakably—

"......"

—wrapped around Seome's neck.

"Well now...."

Seome flexed his fingers, tense. An experienced veteran mercenary didn't lose his nerve in situations like this. He simply weighed his options.

'How do I handle this?'

It had completely encircled his neck. A form more ghastly than a noose. Trapped by something that looked like it shouldn't be touched carelessly, Seome worked his lips.

He ultimately put on a deliberate show of distress toward Lee Yeon-woo.

"...Am I going to die?"

Since the man had promised to 'help them,' this was a type of rescue request. It would be wiser to receive Lee Yeon-woo's assistance than for Seome to fumble on his own.

Lee Yeon-woo responded.

"Certainly not."

In his low voice, a faint weariness mingled with idle playfulness.

"Didn't we come to an agreement that such a thing wouldn't happen?"

"......"

For some reason, Seome felt a sense of wrongness.

'...He's smiling.'

It was a 'smile' vivid enough for anyone to see.

The sharpness of his expressionless state had vanished, and the corners of his eyes curved gently upward. A supple, radiant smile that made the chill from moments ago seem like a distant memory.

But somewhere, it was....

'The feeling is—'

"Do not be afraid."

He spoke composedly, fixing his gaze on the jellyfish monster.

"I told it to stop, so it will stop."

"......"

His head tilted, ever so slightly.

"It's... fairly well-tamed."

The instant that gentle voice resonated, the surroundings were sealed in perfect silence.

Every movement that had stirred the air became unnaturally rigid. The jellyfish's transparent body looked as if it had been subjected to extreme pressure from some unfathomable deep—as if caged in an impossibly small space.

"......"

It distorted.

'Ah.'

Crack, crackle, snap.

Unable to move yet thrashing violently, the creature swelled its transparent membrane as if to burst, convulsing its tentacles in spasms.

"Ah...."

Upheaval born within silence. A sense of being overwhelmed, as though his ears had gone numb.

Across the petrified body, golden hairline fractures spread in patterns as sinister as red blood. A sound like splitting could almost be heard—but couldn't. And then.

SHATTER—!!!

"......"

As if it would shatter—and it did.

"...This is...."

...The scattered fragments were reduced to elemental particles, transparent and pure as clear spring water.

"How did—"

"My apologies."

Lee Yeon-woo absently straightened a coat sleeve that bore not a single splash of blood.

"That must have startled you."

"No, I'm...."

"No fragments struck you?"

Words wouldn't come.

'What just happened?'

No—perhaps it was better not to know. If he'd possessed even a shred of knowledge about 'that,' he might have lost his mind. Seome's soul was screaming a suppressed scream at its danger.

'Right. I saw something I shouldn't have.'

It had been clear and transparent, yet what surrounded it was darkness.

"I, um."

A void forged by compressing all light and warmth.

A shape transcending geometry, expanding soundlessly. An aberrant distortion, as if the structure of one dimension had been crumpled into another.

And within that darkness, brilliant, gossamer threads of gold endlessly unwinding and interweaving. It was a maddened weaving. The most exalted form, yet one that also resembled a blueprint of eternal agony.

"What I mean is."

He forced open lips that refused to part.

"I'm truly sorry."

"You're apologizing to me?"

"I was careless. My mind is pathetically fragile...."

He looked around the floor, but no remains of the jellyfish that had lurked in the mist could be found. Perhaps because the ground was already saturated with moisture.

'Or perhaps it vanished along with its transparency.'

Seome, whose nature was composed of water-like properties, pressed his lips firmly shut.

'But more than that—why...?'

Seome turned his gaze toward 'Lee Yeon-woo.'

"......"

"......"

A 'perfect' smile that seized the eye.

"Um...."

This time, his lips wouldn't part even by force. The mouth he'd barely managed to open felt its own weight under 'Lee Yeon-woo's' vivid gaze. It was heavy.

And so, unable to look away, he found himself thinking.

"......"

...Were that man's eyes always golden...?

"......"

"...Sunbae-nim."

"The mist was so thick I couldn't see a thing."

Seome spoke before Rawi—whose 'eyes' were far keener than his own—could open his mouth.

"Right?"

"R-right."

"We almost got into danger there."

"Sunbae-nim is absolutely right."

"Good."

Ignoring the cold sweat trickling down his back, Seome looked at 'Lee Yeon-woo.'

"If you hadn't helped, we surely would have died."

He struggled to rein in his brain as it processed all manner of terrible truths at an abnormal speed.

"Thank you, Lee Yeon-woo... sir."

"......"

"For helping us."

He asked.

"Was I of help to ■■?"

Seome, who had been biting the inside of his cheek, answered without delay.

"Of course."

"Was the service satisfactory?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"I see."

The moment 'Lee Yeon-woo' blinked once—

The geometric pressure that had been bearing down on the air drained away like a receding tide, and the smile that had been so disturbingly artificial vanished without a trace.

Naturally. One layer at a time.

"Then there is no need to apologize, nor to give thanks."

"......"

"It was something I could do."

Golden pupils set within black irises, looking down at them.

'The same dry expression as when I first saw him.'

As if air were seeping from a balloon. The moment he faced that indifference—already grown familiar—Seome felt the tension drain from his rigid spine.

The grotesquely perfect smile and the alienness that had crushed his soul had vanished as though they'd been hallucinations.

'What we just saw—that wasn't him.'

It was plainly different from 'that thing'—which had been like a living porcelain doll, or a machine that ran on blood.

The man before him wasn't unfrightening either. But however taciturn and inscrutable he was, there existed in him a warmth—one that guided them through this labyrinth in the most humane way possible.

'I never thought I'd be glad to see that stony imugi face.'

"Do relax. Forbidding as my features may be, I'm not so uncouth as to devour lost children."

"No, that's, yes. Thank you."

Seome clumsily followed after him.

'Does he... have any awareness that he just changed like that?'

But Seome chose not to ask. The fact that whatever entity shared a body with him seemed unbothered by what they had 'seen'—that alone was a lifetime's worth of fortune.

Seome let out a sigh of relief before he even realized it.

'I don't know exactly what that is, but still.'

He was clenching his trembling hands into fists when—

"...I'm sorry for frightening you."

"......"

...Ah.

"...No."

Seome answered haltingly.

"It's alright."

His chest was damnably tight.

Just moments ago, the man had shown them that alien spectacle. And now here he was, with a face so weary it looked ready to collapse, maintaining the composure of a proper adult throughout, offering them an apology.

'An apology—don't make me laugh.'

In a corner of his chest where fear should rightly have resided, a strange emotion shoved its way in.

'His face is just as unripened as Rawi's....'

Of course, if they were going purely by faces, the one with the least room to talk would be Seome himself.

"......"

"Sunbae-nim?"

"Watch your step."

"Oh, yes."

Even through all of that, Lee Yeon-woo's stride remained flawless.

'Perfectly controlled steps.'

That recalled the golden-eyed 'thing' from moments before, yet somehow the same terror didn't come flooding back. Perhaps it was his imagination, but a small, familiar silhouette seemed to overlap behind that back.

A young voice whispered.

—Seome.

'...I'm going to lose my mind.'

So, what the hell.

What was he?