Chapter 97 |
There was water everywhere in this place.
Most of it was ocean, but there were also places where water pooled like ponds or lakes. The one certainty was that there was no escaping its reach.
And so Seome couldn't help but see it, again and again.
"Um."
"......"
"...Mr. Lee Yeon-woo."
Moments like these—where the man froze before the vast expanse of sea, as if tethered by an invisible leash, his breath halting for just an instant.
A curse? Trauma? But Seome never pointed it out directly. Because whenever he cautiously called those three syllables—
"Yes."
—Lee Yeon-woo answered immediately.
"Did you call?"
"No, I was just wondering if there was any danger nearby."
"I don't see any monsters in the immediate vicinity, so you can relax."
Lee Yeon-woo added, rolling his dry eyes.
"If my complexion is making you uneasy, then I apologize."
"That wasn't it."
And yet, for someone capable of such overwhelming 'attacks.'
'For someone who carries some grotesque something that makes every monster steer clear on its own.'
At times like these, Lee Yeon-woo looked like nothing more than a person wracked with fatigue, festering deep inside.
"......"
Seome couldn't know why this happened. He'd never brought it up, in speech or writing. Knowing the man would draw a line the moment anyone acknowledged it, as he always did.
'...But....'
Every time Lee Yeon-woo clenched his fist and forced down a cough, a thick scent of blood spread through the damp air. Seome, whose nature was especially sensitive to moisture, couldn't possibly miss it.
Nor the fingertips that buttoned his collar with studied indifference—unusually blue beneath the pallor.
'Something's clearly wrong with him.'
Body, mind. Or both.
'Transcendent abilities aside, he's not a healthy person.'
It would have been easier if he could simply be written off as just another kind of monster.
Was it his personal memories getting in the way? Or the gratitude he couldn't help feeling toward the back that pressed forward in silence, bleeding all the while? Or was even this all part of the man's meticulous calculation?
It wasn't easy to simply reject the person called Lee Yeon-woo.
'Because he looks too human. Too much in pain.'
And yet he seemed utterly accustomed to situations like this.
"......"
And sometimes, he looked like a man bound to something.
At first, Seome had thought him non-human. That at the very least, his mental fortitude and abilities were so transcendently beyond imagination that calling him human would be a stretch.
But when he recalled that quiet figure, wiping blood away alone in the dark....
"......"
He looked exactly like someone who loathed the very ground he stood on.
'...He should be a being who belongs to this place.'
Yet he behaved like a man held captive, forcibly detained—unable to flee, unable to die on his own terms. And even in such a wrecked world, he seemed to want to extend goodwill to anyone and everyone.
—It's okay.
"......"
Just as 'we' once did.
***
As Seome had guessed, Lee Yeon-woo did feel revulsion toward this place.
'This insane hotel.'
The direction of that revulsion might differ slightly from what Seome imagined, but still.
That he felt disillusioned with this entire situation was an undeniable fact. Days spent wandering the Hunting Grounds without rest.
Lee Yeon-woo decided it was time to admit it.
'Can't find one.'
There was no way out.
'A shame.'
[No?]
'You rotten cat.'
Coco's position was 'shove them into the hotel right now and wring out their Nightmares.'
'I may not be able to offer them proper hospitality, but I don't have the vile hobby of wringing innocent people who deserve protection. I won't allow that to happen in my hotel.'
[No?]
'When you say it like that, I lose faith in my future self.'
[Yes!]
"......"
Lee Yeon-woo dragged a hand down his face. Because he knew that, given the hotel's structure—where 'Nightmares' had to be produced before guests could be checked out—Coco might actually be right.
"......"
"......"
Coco changed the subject.
[Hello?]
'No... this place is bigger than I thought.'
This was his first proper exploration, and it was quite surprising. Terrain existed beyond the map Lee Yeon-woo had known. The hope that 'maybe there's an exit at the edge of the map' evaporated along with it.
'This is a problem.'
Lee Yeon-woo looked back at Rawi's exhausted face.
"How's your breathing?"
"Still fine for now."
Which meant it soon wouldn't be.
'It's been days since we first met and started searching, so even a week's worth of oxygen mask wouldn't hold up. He's been using it continuously since then, so breathing itself must be uncomfortable by now....'
Lee Yeon-woo moved on.
"Let's move. You seem to need rest."
"Yep...."
Even as he led them, Lee Yeon-woo thought.
'At this rate, I might really have to bring them up to the hotel.'
The longer he spent guarding the two students, the more frequently The Drenched One's temper flared and had to be absorbed—multiple times now. There were limits to how long he could hide his embarrassment of a friend.
On top of that, only two days remained before Rawi's oxygen mask became unusable. In other words, in two days, they'd have to go to the hotel whether they liked it or not.
"......"
If their time together stretched any longer—
A hot iced americano... could he really pull it off?
[Hot iced americano.]
'Repeating that oxymoron doubles my fatigue, thank you.'
[Wistful.]
'There's no room for wistfulness right now.'
It was a headache of a problem.
'If, as a last resort, I have to bring them up to the hotel, there'll come a point where I have no choice but to expose the General Manager's unstable emotional control.'
[No?]
'I'm not exaggerating—the expressions those kids made when I carelessly popped that jellyfish are still vivid. It feels like I'm getting stupider by the day despite the rejuvenation.'
The most efficient tool for controlling people wasn't fear or suppression, but goodwill and moderate trust. The two of them had to accept and feel willing on their own for Lee Yeon-woo to safely shepherd them.
'Humans are truly difficult creatures.'
Moderate distance and moderate trust.
Whether he could maintain this contradictory stance to the very end felt hopeless.
"...Well then...."
Arriving at a rocky cave with less moisture, Lee Yeon-woo turned to the two.
"I'll wait outside the cave."
If someone reeking of blood stood hovering nearby, there was no way those kids could rest in peace. The penalties were wreaking havoc on his mind, but Lee Yeon-woo still had that much common-sense consideration left in him.
"I hope you get enough rest, then."
"Oh, um."
"Is there a problem?"
"Well...."
After a beat of hesitation, Seome answered late.
"No, I'm sorry."
"......"
Lee Yeon-woo gazed quietly at that 'young face'—one that was thoroughly on edge from being driven into this situation, yet still trying to shoulder a pointless sense of guilt. Then he opened his mouth in a parched voice.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Mr. Seome."
Of course not.
"......"
"Forget the unnecessary thoughts and focus on resting."
Having said that, Lee Yeon-woo stepped outside the cave.
'Then I'll tend to my own business during the downtime.'
Time to pay The Drenched One another visit.
'Left alone, she's a ticking time bomb—you never know where the sparks will fly. Above all, I need to bleed off even a little of that killing intent to prevent any sudden outbursts....'
He had to absorb that savage temper with his own body at least one more time, draining her strength, so that the arrows aimed at the lost souls inside could be snapped before they flew.
Text flickered before him.
[Hello!]
'A few more wounds are a hundred times less exhausting than watching those kids get hurt.'
[No!]
'Fair point—it's not exactly great for my mental health.'
He did acknowledge that, but.
'I'd hate to give up this kind of cost-effectiveness....'
He felt it every time, but perhaps because their very structure as beings was different from humans—these 'Dokkaebi,' or whatever they were, shifted attitudes with dizzying speed.
Like flipping a switch to turn on a light: meet a specific condition, and they changed in an instant.
'During the game days I took it for granted, but the fact that it holds true even now that it's become real has a peculiar quality.'
[No?]
'It's unfamiliar to me, is all. Especially in that it's hard to predict anything until you know the exact conditions.'
[Yes.]
'At least with The Drenched One, I feel like I'm starting to understand a little... but even that isn't certain.'
For now, the top priority was keeping that dangerous Water Wraith from encountering the kids inside. He only felt sorry for the two lost souls, suffering in a place they'd stumbled into by sheer misfortune.
"......"
"......"
And behind him, the two 'students' were staring squarely at his back.
***
...A brief silence lingered in the cave.
Rawi murmured.
"He looks really tired. Are we sure he's fine?"
"I don't think we're in a position to worry about him."
"We've been together for a while now. That's cold of you, sunbae-nim."
"He said he can handle it, so he'll be fine."
"Those dark circles, though."
The tone was deliberately light, but a quiet concern threaded through Rawi's voice.
"They seem to be getting darker by the day."
It was tossed out casually, but it had a point.
"He looks like he could keel over any second."
"I wouldn't say it's that bad...."
"To my eyes, it was that bad."
"If you say so."
Seome didn't bother to deny it.
The shadows beneath his eyes and his pallid face. Those made him look fragile, and yet sometimes they also made him look like an ordinary young man. But even that appeared clean, contained within an impression that was unnaturally refined.
Exhausted yet never disheveled. That very contradiction was what confused Seome all the more.
'...Even after days of observation, I still can't tell....'
Was he human?
"......"
Or something else wearing a human face?
After a moment's thought, Seome pulled the notepad from his coat again. Rawi, receiving the pen, tapped it against the corner of his mouth, then wrote on the pages Seome had opened.
[Is this even worth doing?]
[Better than not doing it, I figure]
[He doesn't seem to care what we do]
[I'd rather not get blindsided]
[How very prudent of you]
Ignoring Rawi's banter, evident even in writing, Seome got to the point.
[You noticed too, right?]
[The blood smell?]
[And]
[That it's probably an injury from that Dokkaebi called The Drenched One?]
[You really do know everything]
Even though he was a rookie.
'So even young and inexperienced, an Artist is still an Artist.'
It was nearly invisible from attitude or appearance alone, yet Rawi had picked up on it. Good judgment.
Seeing Seome's expression, Rawi wrote on.
[It's obvious. The monsters here don't use blades]
[True]
[The only blade-user among them was The Drenched One]
On the first day they'd met Lee Yeon-woo, and again when Seome had openly startled—there had been slash marks, as if cut by a blade, in inconspicuous places on Lee Yeon-woo's black coat.
[Of course, after that, no traces like that were visible]
[The traces that were there vanished too. His outfit has been maintained in a perfectly clean state]
[Honestly, that part's a bit eerie to me too]
[In what sense?]
[That miracles just casually fire off in such minor details?]
That in a situation where it should be impossible, he always existed in a perfect state.
But.
[What I don't get is why someone like that would go this far to help us]
This had been an enduring question since the moment they'd met him.
[He seems to repeat that routine every time he gives us a rest break]
[Given the stab wounds from those times and the blood smell he carries, it's a plausible theory]
[I honestly don't even know what exactly he's doing]
Why? Or rather, how?
[With abilities like his, couldn't he dodge even the most formidable Dokkaebi?]
From everything they'd observed, Lee Yeon-woo, independent of his abilities, perhaps true to his appearance, was not the physically strong type. If anything, he looked frail.
He couldn't be unaware of that himself.
[If he can dodge, then why is he deliberately taking every one of those attacks?]
[It's probably]
To that, Seome offered a weighty hypothesis.
[Something like playing the role of an offering]
[An offering?]
[Dokkaebi love that sort of thing]
[Which Dokkaebi are you referring to?]
[Most Dokkaebi tend that way, but in this situation, it's]
[The raincoat one?]
[Right. I meant The Drenched One]
[Ah]
Seome continued.
[Especially Dokkaebi that crave an Artist's blood and pain—there are many]
[And the offering is blood and pain?]
[Some can make do with animals, but usually they prefer humans]
[And among those, an Artist is the ultimate prize?]
[You catch on fast]
Having read that far, Rawi looked at Seome.
"......"
"...What's that look for?"
"I trust you, sunbae-nim."
"What do you take me for?"
"I really do trust you."
"You're truly a nuisance."
Seome picked up the pen again.
[The other side is already taking the hits for us, so what reason would there be for you to be sacrificed?]
[What if sunbae-nim pushes me out as a decoy?]
[I said, what do you take me for?]
What an exhausting junior.
[If Mr. Lee Yeon-woo really is an Artist, a Dokkaebi already accustomed to his blood wouldn't even glance at a young Artist like you]
[Oh]
[That's how it works]
[But, sunbae-nim]
And then the exhausting junior continued writing.
[What if he really is human?]
An Artist who simply happened to possess transcendent abilities.
"...I think this is going to bother me."
"......"
"No—actually. That 'transcendent something' might not even be 'Lee Yeon-woo's' to begin with. The 'thing' I saw and 'Lee Yeon-woo' had a different quality to them. They were different from the very start, as if they'd never been the same."
"......"
"I don't think you can separate them into two, but they weren't one either. Just... it was like something had been draped over him."
He tapped his pen idly.
"He doesn't seem to like this labyrinth, from what I can tell."
"...I was thinking the same."
"Then why is he here?"
The fact that he'd had subordinates openly at his command, for one.
As Rawi muttered and readjusted his oxygen mask, Seome watched him quietly, then turned his gaze away.
He said, almost in a whisper.
"I don't think good things have happened to him."
"......"
Rawi added.
"He holds his breath in front of the sea."
"I noticed."
"He coughs, too."
"I know."
"The blood smell wasn't just from being stabbed."
"Could be."
"It was too thick, like something dredged up from deep in his gut."
"Pretend you don't know."
That was the right call.
"Whether it's a curse, a chronic condition, or trauma."
"......"
"Unless the other side tells us first, prying is rude."
That was true between people as well, but especially so with Dokkaebi. They'd invoke some absurd reason to declare it 'rude' and leave a person in a state worse than death.
Seome moved his pen slowly.
[And above all]
[Shutting up and accepting the help until we're out will raise our survival rate too]
[Why? Want to help him?]
[As if]
Rawi laughed, hollow.
[I'm the most important person to me]
[Same here]
They wanted to survive.
[I don't want to die]
Because their lives were too precious for that.
***
And.
"....."
The Drenched One was not one to miss such things.
"...Selfishness born from the will to live...."
"Desperation to look away from the truth."
"Guilt from having shifted the burden of pain."
"Shameful silence."
"A heavy load."
They were one with the water, and the 'warmth' within the tank knew better than anyone. Could know. And so, for the first time in a long while, The Drenched One smiled with joy.
You, wretched living things.
""You suffer!""
To mistake a playful squabble between friends for some blood-reeking ritual offering.
"Living, breathing beings!"
So hopelessly foolish and stupid.
"Yet sweet."
"Satisfying."
She could behold the torment of the living, and she'd found a way to do it without angering her friend.
"The anger has already passed."
"It was merely a time to confirm our friendship."
"He is still our friend!"
"But now that things have come to this...."
The Water Wraith gazed up at the surface and spoke.
"Let's confirm our friendship just a little longer."
"Yes."
"Let's."
For the suffering of the living.
"Just."
"One more."
"Time."