Chapter 141

Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual

Back to Kwon Do-heon's perspective.

'Let me see if there's anything else....'

His gaze, scanning the room, landed on a peculiar structure occupying one corner.

> A large white birdcage, about the size of a human torso. The door is wide open. The inside is empty.

"What's a birdcage doing here?"

Just decoration? But the quality was too high for a mere piece of interior design. It looked like it could actually hold a bird. Maybe whatever had been inside had escaped.

Do-heon approached the cage and peered in. His gaze settled on the floor.

> A single downy white feather lies on the bottom of the cage.

"......"

Looking at the empty cage and the white feather, a sudden tightness seized his chest, as if something had plugged it. A dense emotion of unknown origin and identity surged up to his throat.

'What is this?'

Do-heon forced it down and made himself look away. This time, a mantel clock above the fireplace. It was the kind where you could see the intricate gears turning.

> The second hand points to [11:59] and doesn't move.

'Is it broken?'

> For something broken, the ticking of the gears inside is disturbingly clear.

'No, it does seem to be running.'

A clock that couldn't cross into midnight. On the side table beside it sat an antique rotary phone.

> An antique rotary telephone. Would you like to pick up the receiver?
[Yes / No]

Thinking he might be able to reach the outside, he picked it up.

"Can you even connect a call on something this old-fashioned by just dialing a number...?"

His hand, about to dial 112, froze. The sound coming through the receiver was wrong.

> Only the muffled sound of distant waves, as if submerged deep underwater, comes through faintly.

"......"

Do-heon's gaze dropped below the phone.

> The black phone cord that should be connected to the wall outlet has been pulled out entirely and lies strewn on the floor.

"What is this...."

Hearing ocean waves from a disconnected phone. The disconnect from reality made Do-heon set the receiver down.

"Did I seriously get kidnapped?"

If he stayed in this room, he'd either lose his mind or have something done to him.

'The windows don't open wide, and it's way too high. Can't get out through the windows.'

The door was all that remained.

'Find an exit.'

Passing through room after cavernous room, Do-heon found a door with a slightly different texture. He needed to get out now. The instant he gripped the handle to turn it--

Creeeeak--

"......"

Swiiish... swish....

The sound of something heavy dragging across the floor, like fabric brushing against fabric. From the corridor beyond the door, a noise that could not conceivably come from a person reached him faintly.

> An unsettling friction sound comes from outside.

Do-heon released the handle and backed away.

> Going out barehanded feels too risky given the chilling air outside. There's also that unsettling sound. Let's look for something usable for self-defense.

"......?"

He thought he'd just 'seen' something for a moment.

'Am I so flustered I'm seeing things?'

But Do-heon soon chewed over the 'thought' he'd just had. Right--he needed a weapon. Turning around, he checked the room's various spots until he stood before a small mahogany dresser.

> A small mahogany dresser. Inside are only blank notepads stamped with the hotel logo and dust.

He yanked the drawer open, but found nothing useful. Just as he was about to turn away in disappointment--

"...Wait."

> A strange sense of wrongness emanates from the bottom of the drawer.

A peculiar dissonance flickered through his mind. As if drawn by something, Do-heon reached deep into the dresser and felt along the underside of the drawer bottom. Finally, his fingertips met the rough, foreign texture of tape.

RRRIP--!

"Oh."

The crudely attached black tape tore away, and something heavy and cold--a lump of metal--dropped into his palm.

> [Item acquired!] You obtained a [Worn Revolver] and [6 Silver Bullets]!

"A handgun under a dresser drawer? This doesn't look like a toy. Can this thing actually fire...?"

The chill of iron filling his hand. Do-heon examined the butt of the grip closely.

> At the base of the grip, the worn initials [K.S.J] and the comparatively recently carved initials [K.D.H] are deeply engraved. Dried, dark-red bloodstains cling to the gaps between the letters.

"K.D.H...."

Kwon Do-heon.

"K.S.J?"

Kwon Seung-jae.

"Why is my uncle's name on this?"

The name of an uncle he'd barely met a handful of times. If it had been only his own name, he might have brushed it off, but seeing someone he knew made it impossible to ignore. Do-heon's expression hardened slightly.

'Then again, there's no guarantee these are actually carved initials. Nobody in our family is military, so there's no way anyone uses guns.'

He settled on that conclusion.

"So who hid this here... well, I'll borrow it for now."

Click,

He closed the cylinder with practiced ease.

> Despite it being an unfamiliar weapon, the moment he grips it, his body seems to remember how to use it--it fits snugly in his palm.

Without realizing it, Do-heon raised the cold barrel and lightly scratched his chin with the muzzle tip. As natural as an old habit.

"Oh shit, that scared me."

Do-heon startled himself and pulled the muzzle away from his chin.

'Am I insane? Why would I point a gun at my own face?'

After cursing himself out, he stood before the front door again, revolver in hand. Taking a light breath, Do-heon hooked his finger through the trigger guard and gripped the door handle once more.

The door opened.

***

Creeeak-- CLANG.

The door closed behind him with a heavy metallic sound. The fierce rain noise faintly audible from inside was cut off as if by magic, and a silence eerie enough to chill the spine settled over the corridor.

> A corridor stretching so far its end can't be seen. Soft chandelier light is on, but dense shadows crouch in every corner the light doesn't reach.
> The red carpet underfoot is plush and squelchy, as if soaked in blood. Every step is swallowed into it with an unpleasant muffling.

"...This place...."

Do-heon thought to himself.

'A hotel?'

The room had been so enormous and luxurious that it hadn't occurred to him. The long, wide corridor had the layout of a hotel. But something felt wrong.

"Why is the hotel corridor this quiet? Suffocating...."

Clutching the revolver tight and stepping carefully, his gaze caught on a massive oil painting hung on the corridor wall. For some reason, his eyes were drawn to it.

> A landscape painting in an ornate gilded frame. It depicts nobles enjoying a banquet in a forest.

'Bright colors, but sinister. There's a strange dissonance to it.'

> The shapes of the meat on the nobles' plates are bizarre. They resemble human fingers or ear cartilage.
> A sticky gaze from beyond the canvas seems to be following me.

"......"

Fuck.

Goosebumps erupted.

"What revolting taste, hanging something like that in the hallway."

He shook off the creeping unease and quickened his pace. Just as he was about to round the corner at the end of the corridor, a figure burst from the dark shadows.

"...! Fuck, who's there!"

CLICK-!

His body moved before his brain.

One step back, aligning the sights, aiming the muzzle precisely at the forehead of the figure in the darkness. Close to a reflex--a clean, efficient shooting stance that left no room for conscious thought.

But the voice from the darkness wasn't entirely unfamiliar.

"Oh lord...! Don't shoot, don't shoot. Nearly blew a hole in your uncle's forehead there, nephew~"

> A middle-aged man in a frumpy jacket. His friendly face is the most memorable feature.

"Huh...?"

Do-heon lowered the raised revolver with a bewildered look.

"Uncle? Wait, you barely show your face even at holidays--what are you doing here?"

It was Kwon Seung-jae, the uncle he knew--always walking around with that silly grin. He emerged from the deep shadows wearing his signature genial smile.

"What do you mean, what am I doing here? You up and vanished saying you'd go independent, then poof--gone without a trace. Do you know how much trouble your uncle went through to find you and get all the way here?"

"What are you even...."

His brow furrowed.

"When did I vanish? I haven't even graduated. What independence?"

"Hmm?"

"I could die of injustice. What did I even do? I'm already upset from fighting with Dad yesterday. I woke up and I was here. Is that old man pulling some prank show on me?"

"Prank show? Your old man doesn't live that young."

"Then why did I wake up here? Did I seriously get kidnapped?"

"Uh oh...."

The uncle's friendly smile faltered for an instant.

> Kwon Seung-jae's gaze sweeps over my face and the revolver in my hand.

"Uncle?"

"So it's that kind of labyrinth? Well now, this is a bit different from what I expected."

"What kind of otaku talk...."

"Looks like you've forgotten how to manage your expressions, too."

"What did I...."

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

The uncle grinned his easy grin again.

"Last night. Let's call it last night for now. Judging by your face, you've been stewing pretty hard. No injuries that I can see, so that's good."

"Don't change the subject. Where the hell are we? Outside is some mountain valley I've never seen, there's something wandering the corridors, and the paintings are deranged."

"Gone back to your baby days and got scared, huh~ Calm down, nephew."

He explained.

"I don't know what you saw, but you've probably seen more than me so I won't sugarcoat it. This is technically a hotel, but it's no ordinary hotel. It's a labyrinth crawling with abnormal monsters... Dokkaebi, as they say."

"This really is a prank show, right?"

"I told you it isn't, you punk. Your uncle doesn't have that bad of a sense of timing. Looks like you got dragged in by rotten luck. I brought a cop friend along to find you, so don't freak out too much."

"When did I freak out...."

The uncle pointed his chin at the gun in Do-heon's hand.

"By the way, nephew--you've managed to keep that nasty piece of iron pretty well, huh? When you aimed at me just now, the form was textbook. That's not a first-timer's grip."

"I... I don't know either. It was hidden under a drawer in the room I woke up in, so I grabbed it for self-defense. How would I know if my form's good or not? It just feels weirdly familiar."

Unconsciously, he scratched his chin and the scar by his lips with the muzzle tip again, despite it not even being warm yet.

"Oh shit, again."

The self-scolding and muzzle-removal from earlier in the room meant nothing--the behavior popped back up mid-conversation, and Do-heon flinched and lowered the gun.

The uncle snickered at that.

"Well, well. Funny kid. Brain's been factory-reset but the body still remembers, huh?"

"I've been wanting to ask--did I lose my memory or something?"

"Oh dear, then you've forgotten how to shoot too. All that training for nothing. What are you going to do when monsters pop out right in front of you?"

"What else? Run."

"I don't think this is a place where running solves things."

> The sound of bird wings draws closer.

"Oh look, a practice partner's coming."

"Wait, birds?"

Flying toward them from the opposite end of the corridor was a flock of white birds, all slightly warped.

"What the fuck is this supposed to--!"

> The Witch's minions have attacked!

"What are those!!"

"Told you, Dokkaebi den."

Unlike Do-heon, who stumbled backward in terror, the uncle casually stepped back one pace with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Looks like an angry ghost caught a whiff of food and came flying. Now then, your uncle's going to teach you how to survive in here, so listen up."

"L-lis-listening. Fuck, I'm listening."

"Look at its head,"

"Looking."

"Shoot!!"

"You're actually insane!!"

Click,

Rawi aimed the gun.

***

> [SYSTEM: Combat Tutorial initiated]
> Use the directional keys to align your crosshair with the red core and press [Z key] to fire.
> When an enemy attack motion (! pop-up) appears, press [Shift key] to evade/defend.
> [SYSTEM] Tutorial complete! You have learned the basics of combat (shooting/defense/evasion).

"Is it the body's influence, or the system's assist?"

The General Manager murmured as if to himself, and the cat answered.

"Both."

At Coco's brief reply, his gaze fixed on the young man on screen. The user had cleared every tutorial stage and was staring down at the 'bird' corpses scattered across the corridor, panting.

"Then it seems 'Rawi's' self is still intact."

"Coco. Guarantee."

"Satisfactory."

This was shaping up to be a fascinating experiment.

'As with any complex game, a CBT is in order.'

Ensuring the user felt appropriate fear while precisely calibrating stress levels to prevent the worst-case scenario--abandoning the playthrough. That was the General Manager's current top-priority objective.