Chapter 107 |
"There are guests in this hotel who would like to peek inside your room in a rather rude fashion, so from now on, I'd recommend not opening the door whenever possible."
That was the first thing Lee Yeon-woo said the moment the door closed.
"Do you understand?"
"Oh, just like that?"
While Rawi asked with a sour expression, Seome reflexively answered as though making an excuse.
"I didn't open it without thinking... I saw a shadow through the gap at the bottom of the door. If it were a phantom hiding behind a wall or door, it wouldn't have been able to produce something like that."
Lee Yeon-woo studied Seome for a moment, then nodded.
"Sharp eyes."
"Mm, uh, thank you."
"You're too kind...."
Even as he answered reflexively, Seome thought:
'...He called us guests.'
Rawi looked at Seome.
"What's this about a shadow?"
"There's a slight gap at the bottom of the room's door."
"That's way too narrow to call a gap."
"Too narrow to see through, sure, but wide enough for a sheet of paper to pass. And I could see a shadow through it."
"So you saw a shadow...."
"Dokkaebi hiding behind doors, walls, or curtains often lack shadows."
Because they assumed the other party couldn't see, so they didn't bother preparing one in advance.
"But this isn't a guaranteed tell. It can vary depending on the situation. Dokkaebi that are genuinely playing tricks will mimic even those minor details."
"Then I nearly died?"
"You sensed something too—that's why you were staring at the door like that."
"Oh, you trusted me?"
"Something like that."
Seome shrugged.
"We needed to meet Mr. Lee Yeon-woo again regardless, and in a situation like this where nothing's been settled... nothing's more useful than an Artist's intuition."
Rawi laughed like a sigh.
"I'm not sure whether to thank you for the vote of confidence."
"Think of it as a mage's garden-variety devotion. A mage's ten arguments of logic are less reliable than a single moment of an Artist's intuition."
"People in The Gaps seem to see Artists as something far too grand...."
"To some extent, it's objective fact."
Past the two of them, Lee Yeon-woo surveyed the room and asked.
"Did anything happen during the night?"
"Rawi sleeps like a log."
"Sleep makes for good rest."
He wore a slightly thicker coat over his shoulder today—different from yesterday. Beneath it, a neatly arranged shirt and vest were visible. All whites and blacks.
Seome tilted his head at the bare face with its dark under-eyes. The face revealed by black hair swept back was still well-composed, but that couldn't hide the fatigue.
"You don't seem to have slept well, Mr. Lee Yeon-woo."
"I am getting rest."
Minimal rest, then.
'He didn't even say he slept.'
Insomnia, or perhaps a condition where he simply couldn't sleep at all.
'If what we guessed yesterday is correct, then probably....'
Lee Yeon-woo continued.
"Phantoms ringing the bell is a sort of anomaly that's occasionally observed in this hotel. They can confuse people but don't cause direct harm—like morning fog."
"Is that so?"
"No need for excessive worry. However...."
About to say more, Lee Yeon-woo noticed the two standing awkwardly and gestured.
"Standing around is tiring for all of us. Please, sit."
"Oh, right."
The three soon took seats at the long table.
***
Horror title: 'And Then There Were None.'
***
"Have you ever heard the type of ghost story where the bell rings, you go out to check, and no one's there?"
At Lee Yeon-woo's question, Rawi raised his hand.
"Me~"
"Me too...."
Seome raised his hand gingerly, then asked with some reluctance.
"But more often than not, those aren't just stories—they're real phenomena."
"Please, sunbae-nim. On the Surface, they're just stories."
"Are they, though...?"
"Oh, come on."
Rawi rubbed his face. A flood of 'ghost stories' he'd previously dismissed as nonsense had just surfaced.
"Now I can't even relax on the Surface."
"Compared to The Gaps, Dokkaebi are cautious on the Surface, so I think you'll be fine."
"Right after hearing something like this, that's really not reassuring."
"Why do you think mages struggle so hard to get to the Surface?"
Seome turned to Lee Yeon-woo.
"So the, um, unanswered bell you mentioned earlier...?"
"Yes, this hotel has them too."
Lee Yeon-woo answered in his level tone.
"The reason I deliberately rang the bell just now was partly to observe how you'd respond, but also to show you the correct answer. Normally they pose no real threat, but... if this minor door-opening repeats, the room's rules can change."
Seome nodded at that.
"You end up granting permission."
"Wait—permission as in the ghost-entering thing?"
"So you know about that at least."
To Seome's remark, Rawi shrugged.
"Not proper knowledge—I've just heard the superstitions."
Things like: say 'come in' to empty air and something wicked waltzes right in.
"Is it similar to that?"
"So...."
After a sidelong glance at Lee Yeon-woo, Seome continued.
"It's a form of establishing a relationship. For example, ringing a doorbell is a request—someone's out front, please open up. Opening the door after hearing that bell is granting permission."
Seome tapped the table with a finger.
"That becomes an 'invitation.'"
A relationship—in other words, a contract.
"The act of opening the door itself becomes permission for the unseen guest to 'enter.'"
"So if it repeats and causes problems...."
"An 'open room' gets created."
"Open room?"
"Mm, the name varies by region."
Seoul and Gyeonggi called it an Open Room. Gangwon Province: Mountain Guest Room. Chungcheong: Empty Room. Jeolla: Guest Room. Gyeongsang: Spirit Seat. Jeju: God's Chamber. Hamgyeong: The Summoned House....
"Ultimately, it refers to 'a room that has entered a state where it can receive someone even in the owner's absence.'"
Having recited Gaps knowledge, Seome turned back to Lee Yeon-woo.
"Sorry, that was a long explanation."
"A necessary one."
Lee Yeon-woo glanced toward the door and added.
"From now on, even if this room's bell rings, please ignore it whenever possible. Aside from basic hotel services or special circumstances, I'm the only one in this hotel who would come looking for you."
"But what if—"
"If you're truly suspicious, I won't stop you from checking through the peephole."
"Oh, that's alright?"
"So long as you're fine with meeting someone's pupil dead-on."
"Huh? Dead-on?"
Rawi asked the air.
"Do people's eyes normally meet through a peephole like that?"
To the junior's puzzlement, the senior answered with a slightly pale composure.
"They don't."
"Exactly."
"Because it means it's not a person."
"Ugh, chills."
While Rawi rubbed his goosebump-covered arms, Seome tapped the table and looked at Lee Yeon-woo.
"Then there must be clear evidence that whatever's outside is fake. Since this place takes the form of a hotel, are there clues that can be gleaned from the bell itself?"
"Seven to ten seconds."
Lee Yeon-woo answered dryly.
"If the intervals are excessively regular or there's subtle static mixed in, avoid it."
"Anything else?"
"You can also ignore any voice that sounds abnormally clear despite being on the other side of the door."
"I see...."
At that, Seome fell silent.
"......"
This had to be from experience.
'Resignation, maybe.'
That there were no other 'people' in this hotel besides himself. The being before them must have gone through it time and again before finally resigning himself to it. Because that was what it meant to be a person offered to a labyrinth, dying by degrees.
Seome pretended not to notice.
"Thank you for the advice."
"I wasn't quite finished."
"Oh, sorry."
"No need for that."
Having said that, Lee Yeon-woo blinked once and swiped at the area around his eyes. An unconscious gesture, as though missing the glasses he usually wore.
"......?"
Rawi noticed and asked.
"Do you normally wear glasses?"
"...Yes, usually...."
"Why not now?"
"I was told they change my impression quite a bit."
Before Rawi could ask what that meant in response to the baffling answer, Lee Yeon-woo walked to a corner of the room and wordlessly unplugged the landline phone.
Click.
"Huh?"
"Um...."
To the startled gazes, Lee Yeon-woo continued.
"You can use this phone to reach the front desk or other rooms, but you won't need it for a while. This hotel's room service occasionally delivers... unexpected things."
"Um, what?"
"A type of prank."
At that, Seome squeezed his eyes shut briefly.
'A Dokkaebi's prank.'
This was why he hated labyrinths.
"No need to look that distressed. A prank is ultimately just a prank. Normally, beyond a good scare, they don't cause lethal danger."
"You just said 'normally.'"
Still stone-faced, Seome asked.
"Are there 'pranks' that threaten your life?"
"Would you still call that a prank?"
When you say it like that, how am I supposed to react? While Seome reeled from the strange sensation, Lee Yeon-woo continued.
"There's also the charming habit of playing familiar voices over the phone in the dead of night, calling it a courtesy call."
He dangled the unplugged cord for emphasis, then dropped it on the floor.
"There's no reason to have your sleep disturbed by such pranks."
"So we just ignore them?"
"The hotel's pranks themselves, yes—but if they join hands with the guests here, that becomes harder to ignore."
"Join hands? That happens?"
"They can ride these lines in and mimic the voice most likely to lower your guard."
Lee Yeon-woo looked at the two of them.
"In your case, it would most likely be my voice."
He added.
"This is a warning born of excessive caution, but should you hear me screaming through the receiver, begging you to come because I'm dying—ignore it. You wouldn't want to suddenly hear someone you know screaming."
"But what if it's real?"
Seome asked, unable to fully hide his concern.
"Couldn't they actually wring such a sound from you, Mr. Lee Yeon-woo? The guests in the lobby seemed well-disposed toward you, but Dokkaebi are terribly fickle."
"I don't scream."
"Ah, I se—"
Mid-nod, Seome fixed a steady gaze on Lee Yeon-woo. Rawi asked.
"For real?"
It hadn't quite been a question, it seemed.
"I mean, at least scream a little."
"If the need arose."
"You don't happen to lack a sense of pain?"
"That's not the case."
"I thought you might have congenital insensitivity."
Rawi scratched his chin with the gun muzzle, incredulous.
"Excuse me, Mr. Lee Yeon-woo. Are you aware your personality sometimes shifts drastically?"
"What do you mean?"
"Your speech keeps going back and forth. Just a moment ago you were explaining things one by one like a teacher, and now you're cracking morbid jokes."
"Ah...."
Lee Yeon-woo swallowed a sigh.
'People are truly difficult.'
Perhaps it was all the recent stress—Lee Yeon-woo himself acknowledged that his state was unstable. He continued, feigning nonchalance.
"It happens sometimes."
"Doesn't seem like 'sometimes.'"
"In any workplace, a joke is needed now and then."
"I don't think that's the issue."
"At the very least, it's not an urgent matter right now."
Lee Yeon-woo shrugged.
"Wouldn't you agree?"
He steered back to the original topic.
"In any case, if someone reaches out in my voice, ignore it—regardless of the situation."
"But what if, just maybe—"
"Even if it were a real situation, the same applies."
A calm voice.
"I'll handle my own affairs."
"......"
As Rawi silently swept his hair back, Seome spoke.
"...Couldn't there be a time when you genuinely need to call us, Mr. Lee Yeon-woo? Not some trap, but—say, a situation where you can't come in person but need to relay something...."
Lee Yeon-woo, arms crossed against the wall, asked.
"Your point?"
"Let's set a code phrase."
"You think that would serve as definitive proof?"
"A situation might come where it's needed."
Seome locked eyes with Lee Yeon-woo's golden pupils.
"Can you guarantee there will never be an emergency contact like that, Mr. Lee Yeon-woo?"
"You know how to play dirty."
Lee Yeon-woo nodded with a dry face.
"Did you have something in mind?"
Seome pointed at the black cord pulled from the dial phone.
"That cord. You just pulled it yourself, Mr. Lee Yeon-woo."
"Yes."
"If the phone rings despite the cord being unplugged, nine times out of ten it's some foul thing's prank, but... if it really is you, having somehow established a connection—the moment we pick up, we ask this."
"Ask what?"
"'Did you plug the cord back in?'"
Lee Yeon-woo looked once at the cord on the floor, then once at Seome.
"Trying to beat the wiretap?"
"It's essentially a code using the physical disconnection. Unless whatever's out there was eavesdropping on our conversation, it couldn't possibly know the specific detail that this room's line has been unplugged."
"Very well."
He didn't press further.
"If the unlikely need to contact you arises, I'll use that sentence as my opening."
"Conversely, no matter what urgent sound comes through the receiver in your voice—if that first line is missing, I'll hang up immediately."
"Even if you hear the sound of me being torn apart?"
"......"
Seome answered a beat late.
"...Yes, I would... even then...."
"Promise me that even if I'm dying before your eyes, you'll run."
"...That might be a little difficult."
"You're in no position to pity me."
Lee Yeon-woo swept his gaze over both of them.
"Either of you."
"But—"
He added.
"You need to go home."
"......"
In place of the silenced Seome, Rawi asked.
"...Why?"
Rawi didn't look away from Lee Yeon-woo.
"Underground too—I'm genuinely curious. Why do you go this far to help us?"
"Is that really a question that needs an answer?"
"If I'm being honest?"
"I don't think so."
Lee Yeon-woo shrugged and asked.
"Have you eaten?"
"No, not yet."
"I'll help with that."
He rose and looked at the two.
"Shall we?"
***
Sometimes, when you ask something too obvious, the answer just doesn't come.
'Never thought I'd live to get asked something like that.'
[Yes!]
'I say I want to save you and you ask why—what kind of answer are you expecting? That I'm not going to betray you so relax? Or that I'm actually the final boss?'
[Yes!]
'What a strange kid.'
Were all kids these days like this?