Chapter 102 |
The world was divided into layers upon layers.
"Broadly speaking, there are three."
The world where humans live.
The world where mages live.
The path that Artists walk between.
"As an aside, there's the world where Dokkaebi live, but that's literally a natural disaster, so we'll skip it...."
"......"
"The human world looks peaceful at a glance, but that's just a thin shell. In truth, monsters called Dokkaebi live and breathe between the cracks."
"......"
"......"
"And mages are too busy devouring each other."
One day, the righteous hero who had saved Seome said as much. To which Seome asked:
"Then what about the Artists' world?"
"They don't stay in places already built."
"Do they have a choice?"
"Artists are the strong."
He couldn't remember the hero's face.
"They create the ground they stand on and the sky above their heads."
Only that, yes. He had looked tired.
"This world is divided into layers, but in the end, every path leads to death. The difference is: humans can't see the path, mages walk upon it, and Artists give it a name."
"A name... for death?"
"It's possible because death isn't their greatest fear."
"How can that be?"
"Because they've gone mad over something that doesn't even have a form."
"Something without form...."
Seome looked at the hero.
"Are you like that too, mister?"
How old had he been? What did his eyes look like? His expression?
"Are you mad too?"
"...Who wouldn't be...."
The only thing he remembered clearly was that the man had been terribly exhausted.
"So go mad. At least as much as everyone else."
"Why?"
"Then death won't be frightening, and maybe... you might even become an Artist."
"That sounds awful."
"Name one thing in this world that isn't."
"Fair point."
Seome looked up at him and asked.
"Where will you go now?"
"Don't know."
The man he'd arbitrarily dubbed 'hero' dragged his heavy feet forward, staggering.
"I, too, by now...."
How long had it been since they'd traveled together, parted ways, and Seome stood alone?
"......"
"......"
Seome saw the hero's face-skin, taxidermied, in the mansion of a madman who collected 'heroes.' The gaze that still bled as if alive, staring into empty space, remained vivid.
It had been in the mansion of the employer who hired Seome after he'd become a mercenary.
"Hm? Ahh, magnificent, isn't it? My masterwork. I was lucky—picked up a straggler from the knight order."
"Picked up, you say."
"That expression, alive yet dead—absolutely exquisite... I was so determined to preserve it just like that, I sought out a master craftsman. What do you think? Looks alive, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
No different from when he'd been alive.
"It does."
His 'hero' had probably already been dead even back then.
Seome took that employer's commissions again and again. The reason was nothing special. The man was moody—when luck was good, the pay was generous, and whenever he wanted to chat about trivial things, it always came with a meal.
Among The Gaps' employers, there was no better one for a mercenary. Except....
"Ah."
"......"
"Guess I need to find another place."
In the end, the employer was taxidermied alive on the same wall as the 'hero.'
"Build your grudges with a little more discretion."
And so Seome could no longer take commissions from that ideal employer. He naturally sought new ones. Again and again. Watching death repeat, over and over.
"Your skills look pretty solid."
"Thank you for the compliment."
"Ever thought about registering with our guild?"
"Hmm, I'm a bit uneasy."
"Caution is a good asset."
"So I've found."
Death in this place was never a tragedy. A person's life, suffering, and final struggles were merely a line in the statistics. A number in a report. Defined only as a loss of resources.
The survivors carried on to the next task, unfazed. Because they had to survive. Sacrificing today for tomorrow, tomorrow for the day after.
That sort of thing.
"......"
And so Seome knew he'd been lucky.
"...I wish I'd realized that sooner, Seosang."
Murmuring his younger sibling's name, the thought came every time.
The village where Seome was born had been decent enough. The residents got along well. Maybe it was only Seome—the country bumpkin who knew nothing of the outside—who'd harbored pointless dissatisfaction.
No, that was certain. Otherwise the world couldn't be this red.
"Nobody stops...."
Whether they had no room to feel. Or had forgotten how.
Seome had adapted to the structure that absorbed every scream as cost and data. In a world where death and flesh had grown so commonplace they were boring, where not a single person looked out for you.
Betraying. Being betrayed. Killing. Nearly dying.
That was how he'd lived.
"......"
...So what was that?
For the first time in a very long while, Seome wanted to ask the 'hero.'
To the face-skin that had been alive while dead. Dead while alive. To that phantom, surely burned to nothing by now.
Weren't you the first person to show me something I didn't know?
'What on earth is that?'
Human.
Mage.
Artist.
Or Dokkaebi.
'What would you have called it?'
At the very least, you knew more than me.
'Would you tell me not to trust anything?'
Worried about something in a clueless country bumpkin, he'd repeated it like indoctrination, again and again. How dry and indifferent this world was. How deep and vast the blood flowed beneath.
'But what do I do....'
Seome watched the pale gentleman approaching them.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."
There was always an elegance to his behavior. It was the absolute kindness—seemingly dry on the surface—of someone who knew exactly how to make a person lean on him.
Impossible to believe he'd just come through that hellscape....
"Was everything alright?"
"What about you, Mr. Lee Yeon-woo?"
Every bloodstain visible just before the elevator doors closed had been wiped clean.
"I understand you were badly injured."
Though calling that merely 'injured' was an understatement.
"You didn't die."
"Promises exist to be kept, do they not?"
"Some say rules exist to be broken."
"That's an interesting notion too."
Having said that, Lee Yeon-woo studied Seome, then bent at the waist in his characteristically blunt manner to meet the eyes of the two seated on the sofa.
"I know it must be hard to trust me."
"That's already a bit unfair to say."
"I also know you must have been frightened. Despite the sudden situation, you've done well to get this far. So I won't lie and say this place is safe."
He extended his hand to Seome.
"But from here on, allow me to escort you again."
"......"
"...Do you require assistance?"
...A hand he shouldn't take.
'Obviously.'
From the start, there were plenty of reasons to suspect him, and whether he'd intended it or not, Lee Yeon-woo had been forced to show them his 'undone state.' That blood-soaked appearance.
'If Dokkaebi and Artists have one thing in common, it's pride that soars far above average.'
This wasn't some young Artist like Rawi. With Lee Yeon-woo's level of composure, what sort of malice might he harbor toward those who'd witnessed the disgrace forced upon him? Seome couldn't begin to imagine.
And yet, maddeningly—
"......"
"Are you uneasy?"
"...Yes."
He couldn't stop the man from looking like a 'good person.'
"I'm frightened, not knowing what indignity we might face."
"I'll help you."
"Is this an extension of the promise you made underground?"
"As I just said."
"I see."
Seome took Lee Yeon-woo's outstretched hand.
"I'll be in your care."
There was exactly one plausible reason for taking that hand. He had no choice.
'Every eye in the room is on us.'
The staff, as always. And since the moment they'd arrived, every Dokkaebi in the lobby had been the same. Here, Seome was more than an uninvited guest—he was a foreign body. Something to be swept up and disposed of.
The only reason they weren't was surely the 'Lee Yeon-woo' before him.
'If I let go of this hand, I don't know what might happen.'
'Be good while you're being treated well' was a universal maxim.
'But beyond that, there's no reason.'
To be precise.
'I have no grounds for believing I can keep depending on this person.'
Just.
'Just....'
As he'd said all along, he simply wanted to.
"......"
...This was trouble.
Being bewitched by a Dokkaebi was the end of the line.
***
"Director, we have a problem."
"You little shit, I told you to send it in writing or call."
The Director ground her teeth.
"I still have PTSD from Section Chief Hong."
"It's not like Mr. Lu-whatever won't pop your head just because you send it by mail."
"There's such a thing as peace of mind, you know. Look at my heart hammering. Did some other bureau's labyrinth blow up?"
"An official cooperation dispatch arrived from headquarters."
"I'm really starting to hate the word 'dispatch' itself, what am I supposed to do about that?"
The Chief Secretary ignored her and pressed on, sliding the documents forward.
"Tarot Card Number 12, 'The Hanged Man,' Hyeon Si-gyeong, has formally filed for a field assignment with the Sensitivity Bureau."
"Well fuck, something even bigger just dropped."
Labyrinths threw fits all the time, but Arcana Members were a different matter. Having read the documents, the Director asked.
"Where is this Tarot fellow now?"
"Here, in the Gangwon Province Bureau's meeting room."
"These goddamn bastards never give an old woman a break. This is elder abuse."
"Since when does The Gaps give elders any slack?"
"These brats have no respect for their elders."
The Chief Secretary, having cleanly ignored her, asked.
"Shall I show them in?"
"Just one of them?"
"Two visitors."
"Who's the other?"
"'Master Nakdo.'"
"Oh my?"
The Director raised one eyebrow.
"The 'Contentment in Poverty' fellow?"
A renowned assassination consultant of The Gaps. Recently there'd been reports of him killing several Artists, apparently because his hands were idle. To her question, the Chief Secretary added.
"He probably doesn't care for that sobriquet."
"That's news to me. Why? What's the reason?"
"He says he isn't particularly poor."
"Oh, for the love of...."
In The Gaps, few people used their real names.
In Korean Gaps society, people either used a pen name given by themselves or an acquaintance, or were officially granted a courtesy name at a 'naming bureau.' Once famous, nicknames like 'Contentment in Poverty' could be bestowed by others.
For the record, his actual pen name was Nakdo—'Delighting in the Way.'
"If he hates it that much, tell him to go get a courtesy name from the naming bureau. That should dilute it."
"I'd rather not antagonize a famous assassination consultant."
"You're the Chief Secretary of the Gangwon Province Bureau, and you're scared of a mercenary?"
"I'm strong in head-on fights but hopeless against assassination, Director."
"Honestly, I'm a bit weak against assassination too."
For the record, the more fearsome and brutal one's exploits, the blander the nickname tended to be. In Korean Gaps society, it was believed that once a name was given, the person grew into it.
"What if I curse by accident in there?"
"That's why I keep telling you to cut back on the swearing. It doesn't make you live longer."
"I've lived fucking long enough, what bullshit are you spouting?"
The Gangwon Province Director was 115 years old this year.
"These goddamn brats. No successor's turning up. None."
"You seemed fond of Section Chief Yun."
"What am I supposed to expect from Operations Support, a desk job that handles data?"
"Exactly. An administrative division that rarely goes to the field—wouldn't she live longer?"
"She's a Surface-born Artist who joined the Sensitivity Bureau. None of those types are sane."
"And at a regional bureau, at that."
"She doesn't have the face for longevity, no matter how I look at it."
"That's unfortunate."
The Director's eye for human lifespans was rather accurate.
"Going yourself?"
"What, send Section Chief Min in my place?"
"Section Chief Min is a bit... well."
The most fitness-obsessed person in the Gangwon Province Bureau. Gaining body muscle shouldn't shrink brain muscle, but maybe a strong body made the mind too comfortable. Day by day, he was losing the ability to filter his words and actions.
"You'd better go yourself. You have a prior acquaintance with the Arcana Member."
"You're coming too, brat."
"I have a foxy fox and a bunny rabbit waiting at home."
"I've looked at the things you keep at home a hundred times and they're neither foxes nor rabbits. Get your head checked, you lunatic. Every last one of you, giving this poor old woman grief."
"Ah, I really don't want to...."
"You call yourself a public servant and this is how you listen to your superior?"
"Ahhh...."
The Chief Secretary was seized by the old woman's spindly, branch-like arm. A grown man's heavy frame was dragged along as lightly as a feather. The Chief Secretary's bearing became instantly demure.
The Director opened the meeting room door without ceremony.
"I heard a certain Tarot fellow's come to visit."
Tweeeeet...
"Lord, that bastard's got the whistle in his mouth again. I'm losing it."
Tweet.
The Inspector—Hyeon Si-gyeong, with his characteristically expressionless face—looked past her with the whistle still between his lips.
"This is our Chief Secretary. You saw his face once before, remember?"
Tweeet.
"Right, right. I came rushing down the moment I got the cooperation dispatch, out of sheer delight, and... well, here's the thing."
She pointed at the middle-aged man with an amiable face, standing behind the sofa where Hyeon Si-gyeong sat.
"Would this be the famed Master Nakdo I've heard about?"
"Why, it's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am~"
"Oh my, look at that social grace? A bold young man, this one."
"Ah, I'm a bit old to call young."
"Self-awareness on point, too."
It was usually the ones like that who weren't right in the head.
"We're a government agency, so technically we don't take assassins."
"Oh my, what a hurtful thing to say. Who doesn't place assassination requests these days?"
"Right here. Right in front of your eyes. Good lord, I'm going to heaven from fright."
The Chief Secretary whispered.
"Director, with your personality, heaven might be a stretch."
"What did you just say, you little shit? Shut your mouth?"
"My apologies."
He stood demurely behind the Director.
"......"
"So, asking on the authority of the Director—"
Thud.
The Director set the documents on the table.
"—What do you mean The Foundation spawned offspring?"
She truly, genuinely... did not like The Foundation.
***
Rawi enjoyed looking.
In a sense, yes, he was a pervert, but he'd heard all Artists were deranged perverts. In that sense, Rawi was the kind of lunatic who was obsessed with 'seeing.'
"Here, this way."
He looked at the key in Lee Yeon-woo's hand.
"I asked the staff to reserve a room for you. Room 9 on the 12th Floor."
"Room 1209?"
"Yes. You'd do well to remember it."
"Um...."
Rawi asked with a casual smile.
"You really do seem to know this place well."
"I've been here a long time."
"Ah."
And when you looked at something for a very long time, there were moments it came into sharper focus. Stare at stars in the night sky and their shapes appeared. Look into someone's eyes and their emotions showed.
Rawi saw information and truth. Like most young Artists, he didn't really understand the principle—he just saw it. A kind of intuition, or from another angle, big data.
"Won't you stay with us, Yeon-woo sunbae-nim?"
"Having someone this suspicious nearby would only make you more anxious."
But this person....
"...Oh my, what a hurtful thing to say."
...was hard to read.
'What was that remark meant to convey?'
Cold sweat filled the palm behind his back.
It could have been a joke, a roundabout jab at their wariness, or a remark tossed out without any feeling at all. On a face that was neither smiling nor expressionless—only tepid—there was no clear anything.
He was as murky as water poured into water.
'Despite features that are anything but indistinct....'
Even as he silently muttered nonsense, Lee Yeon-woo's steps remained steady.
"......"
"Are you alright?"
"...Ah...."
Rawi rolled his eyes sideways and smiled.
"Of course."
What a truly strange person.
'Suspicious, he's definitely suspicious.'
There was a peculiarly enigmatic air about him.
'He looks like there's always something more beneath the surface—like a hidden mastermind in a movie.'
From the grace in his gestures to his gait, everything was suspicious. Including the way he acted with unsettling perfection, as though harboring some grand backstory.
"......"
But.
The image of Lee Yeon-woo drenched in blood still burned in his vision.
Rawi, especially gifted in seeing, simply couldn't miss it. The traces scattered across his body, as though he'd been treated like a toy. And still Lee Yeon-woo had returned to them in one piece....
Ah, it really nagged.
'...If someone who clearly has the means to heal got into that state, just how badly was he beaten? After going through all that because of us, the fact that he asked about our condition first is practically a miracle.'
Even as a disguise, it was an astonishing level.
'Sunbae-nim seems quite bothered too.'
But what mattered was that the man was showing them goodwill. Even if everything he showed was theater, no harm came from it. The more they saw, the better they'd come to understand his true intent.
'Right.'
He just had to think of it that way.
'Yeah. Let's go with that.'
Ignoring his throbbing head and following the black coat, they arrived at Room 1209 in no time. Rawi's jaw dropped at the sight beyond the door Lee Yeon-woo had personally opened.
"Insane."
"That's quite a reaction."
"Why is it this huge? You could play football in here."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Having said that, Lee Yeon-woo stepped back.
"I'll see you later, then."
"Huh? Where are you going?"
"Back to my room."
To that, Seome—who had been silent throughout—asked.
"You have a room here."
"I've been here more than a day or two."
Lee Yeon-woo's words didn't seem like lies, yet strangely, they didn't seem like truth either.
'As if neither answer is right or wrong.'
Lee Yeon-woo continued.
"You'll be able to rest more comfortably here than in the Hunting Grounds. This room has been assigned to you, so the worry of someone breaking in should be considerably less."
"Not entirely gone, though."
"That's how it is at any hotel. If someone's determined to do wrong, a person can fall as far as hell goes. I simply trust this hotel's rules and the guests' decorum."
Lee Yeon-woo gave a light nod.
"Rest well. Later...."
"......"
"...I, too, will come see you after getting some rest."
Whether he'd smiled or not.
"......"
Rawi couldn't reach a conclusion to the end.
"...Sunbae-nim."
"Let's look around a bit."
"Oh, right now?"
"You never know what might be in here."
"Surveillance cameras, maybe?"
"Dangerous items, perhaps."
"That too, but."
"The talk can wait."
Seome shrugged.
"Until after."
"......"
The meaning in his gaze was clear enough.
"Sure, fine."
Rawi gladly went along.
It seemed the other side had plenty to say as well.
***
Arriving at the Operator's Quarters, Lee Yeon-woo stroked his chin.
"Their guard seems to have come down somewhat?"
"Yes!"
With Coco's emphatic confirmation, no less.
'How unusual.'
A faint fatigue flickered through the brief motion of changing into fresh clothes. After confirming the shirt was pressed without a single crease—nothing out of place—Lee Yeon-woo murmured.
"Did something happen while I was away?"
"......?"
"No, the staff said nothing unusual occurred."
"......"
"Coco?"
Coco gazed at Lee Yeon-woo with hollow eyes. It was always hollow, but the feeling was different from usual. Lee Yeon-woo reflexively entered self-reflection.
"......"
"......"
"...Ah."
Was it because of what happened just before the elevator?
"Yes."
"My apologies, I lost track for a moment. At the time, I was in the middle of being furious over The Drenched One and an unidentified Monster Guest's machinations."
"Eee."
"But if we're keeping score, haven't I saved them far more often? I protected them throughout a Hunting Ground full of threats, so how was the elevator incident any different? Simple accumulation? Or was it my injuries?"
"Yes? Yes."
"My getting hurt lowers their guard?"
"Yes?"
After a long deliberation, Coco answered.
"Yes!"
Lee Yeon-woo stared at Coco on the desk.
"When you don't know, I'd appreciate it if you'd just say you don't know."
"Eeee."
"Please don't feed me clumsy, incorrect information."
"Eeee!"
"I can't afford to get any stupider."
His situation assessment was already sluggish from the loss of his emotional big data. In the past, he'd have grasped the arc of the current situation long ago. Now he had to plug in memories and information one by one to reach a conclusion.
"That doesn't make sense. Getting hurt lowers their guard? At face value, that's a hypothesis that calls into question whether my guests have any decency."
"No?"
"That's your standard as a non-human, Coco. Universally, people don't have that kind of sensibility. Some do enjoy watching others suffer, granted...."
Even as he said it, Lee Yeon-woo's expression turned pensive.
"......"
...Did getting hurt really lower their guard?
'...The only thing that could have lowered their guard in that short time is the elevator incident. Trust levels had been fairly consistent until then....'
If he were looking for a difference, it was only Lee Yeon-woo's injuries. The only variable distinguishing before and after was that he'd been openly bloodied in front of them.
"...Perhaps that is the answer. I know the truth, but from their perspective, I must seem like a suspicious, unidentified power."
When in reality he was a bloated lump of acorn jelly.
"Yes."
"Hearing affirmation from you only makes it sadder."
"No?"
"But it's worth testing. An unidentified weakling is certainly more comfortable for them than an unidentified powerhouse. In a sense, it would look more harmless."
It wasn't as though Lee Yeon-woo enjoyed being hurt. It plainly upset and repulsed him.
'But if it really can put those kids at ease, there's nothing I can't do.'
Even if it wasn't a healthy approach for anyone involved. Survival mattered more than health. And from what he could see, getting hurt a few more times wouldn't cause them psychological shock.
"On top of that, I'm in a position where I'll have to lie, so it wouldn't be bad as a form of unspoken atonement. Even if I sustain injuries several times, there's effectively zero actual damage."
"Yes!"
"This penalty really does have its inconveniences...."
Lee Yeon-woo pressed his tired eyelids.
'It feels like the buffer that used to smooth over my rough edges has been torn away since The Guest Without Taste's penalty.'
He'd never been the gentle type to begin with. He'd lived his life covering that prickly nature with reason and social skills, but with his emotions broken, sharp, unfiltered words kept trying to slip out unconsciously.
Just as they had with the two lost souls in the underground Hunting Grounds.
"Drawing lines isn't easy either."
"Let's kill!"
"Why does your vocabulary only grow in that direction?"
Lee Yeon-woo swept his hair back.
"Even I can feel my personality swinging wildly."
"No?"
"I'll count myself fortunate if I don't come across as having multiple personalities."
"No! No!"
"Social life is truly this difficult."
There were many times it felt more troublesome than the Water-Affinity Penalty.
'I can't immediately tell what the right answer is.'
A massive portion of the 'knowledge' he'd accumulated since infancy had been lost. Even reading the students' reactions now required Lee Yeon-woo to run hypotheses and experiments one by one.
But it wasn't a major problem.
"...In the end, it's my specialty."
Research, that is.
"Though I have no plans to try anything right away."
"Yes? Yes."
"Let's keep it in mind for now."
"Yes."
"Yes."
***
"......"
Watching Lee Yeon-woo from atop the desk, Coco rolled about in a soft heap.
"......?"
Something....
Something didn't seem right.
What was it?
"......"
"Coco, shall we try making my 'room'?"
"......! Yes!"
"Renovating the existing Room 14 should work nicely."
"Yes!"
"And we'll tour the rest of the hotel."
"Hehe."
The sight of its beloved player becoming ever more one with this place. Pleased with that satisfying trajectory, Coco promptly erased the question from moments before.
Coco sat atop Lee Yeon-woo's shoulder as it always did. The black cat's smile was vivid.
"It's been a while since you took that form."
"Yes!"
"As you please."
The two set out from the Operator's Quarters once more.
Seome and Rawi weren't the only ones who needed to assess the situation.
"......"
...Stepping into the private elevator, Lee Yeon-woo murmured.
"...So what exactly was the matter with our guests?"
The back of the hand that had been kissed still felt weird.