The staff made no sound at all.
No voice, no footsteps, no breathing—not even the brush of fabric against fabric.
An unnatural silence. Director Lee Seon-hae had never once seen them open their mouths.
"It's as though they simply don't have that function."
"……."
"Asking one to just open its mouth once—that'd be crazy, right?"
"…Yes."
The two reached the same conclusion privately.
"……."
"……."
It was possible
they had no tongues.
"…In this hotel, the only human who speaks and moves among the staff is the General Manager."
There were many staff members, but the only one who opened his mouth and used language was that man. He was also the only being who showed emotion outwardly.
But even that moved only within a controlled range. The Manager did not permit unnecessary small talk while receiving guests. It was certainly a calculated silence.
"That's a bit—"
It felt quite strange indeed.
Hong Gyeong-yeon thought the same.
"Until he issues an order, the staff don't even move."
"The command itself is odd too, isn't it? You could just say it, but he has to ring a bell to get the staff moving. What is this, Pavlov's dog? Why absolutely a bell? Can you even call that a service consideration?"
"……."
"Or maybe it's some kind of brainwashing training… hm. Right."
"……."
"Self, calm down."
At the writer glancing about, the director waved her hand.
"Probably no cameras? Or bugs either."
"…Are you sure?"
"I don't know exactly what this hotel's purpose is, but in the end, it's a hotel for the very few upper class this country has. The access conditions only they can meet are all over this place."
"So what? Because such people use it, it's fine?"
"Without security of that level, this hotel wouldn't have reason to exist. No, to be honest, I'm not at the level of real confidence either…."
What mattered most was this hotel's purpose. Without knowing that, forming a hypothesis was impossible. There were far too few clues.
"Shall I try writing a novel?"
"…What's it about?"
"This is a hobby space for madmen."
"You're being careful by not saying murderers or criminals."
"That kind—people who don't blink at reducing someone else's body to rags."
"And?"
"This hotel manages people like that, treating them as guests."
Why was that oddly convincing. Hong Gyeong-yeon frowned.
"The reason they didn't stop us…?"
"Because if a sacrificial lamb walks in, the guests will be pleased?"
"For something like that, we've had no harm done to us."
"We haven't even crossed paths with any, to begin with."
"Which means at least they aren't desperately searching for outsiders."
"But crossing paths would be dangerous, the way the General Manager was hurt."
"Which is why you called them madmen."
"Right, so—what I mean to say is—"
"I get the gist."
The writer covered his mouth and sighed.
"So this could be a mental institution for the upper class."
The director scratched her head.
"Whether it really functions as a hospital, I don't know?"
"In any case, what you're saying is that this is a den of dangerous madmen."
"Just trying out a novel."
"Sometimes reality outdoes fiction."
That was what she'd felt during her days as a documentary director, going on assignment alongside Lee Seon-hae. The world runs sloppily, absurdly.
In so many parts.
"Then what about the staff here?"
"I don't know, but I do know they're optimized for this hotel."
"Were they trained to fit this hotel? Even the owner, that man?"
"He said so on the first day."
"That he was merely entrusted with the operation of this place."
"Right, you remember well."
"Entrusted…."
Was it really entrusted?
"……."
Wasn't it an order or threat dressed up as 'entrusted'?
"……."
Why is even the owner, that man, used to pain?
"……."
Is that person really, truly an adult…?
"…What will you do now?"
"I think the subject of my next project's been decided, so I want to do a little research."
"Let's do it together. It sounds fun."
"We always do."
They weren't actually going to make a film out of this place. It was a pretext. They weren't grand enough to save someone's life, but they could at least expose the injustice done to him.
With luck, sometimes unexpected things happen.
She just… didn't want to walk past this one.
'And I'm genuinely curious what this place is.'
The director put down her phone.
"The kids are about to go to sleep, they say."
"Ah, you were in touch with them? What did they say?"
"If it feels like we'll die, open a window and jump, they said."
"If that worked, I'd be an Esper…."
From a 21st-floor hotel room, as if.
"Anyway, everything we've said so far is fiction, so I want something actually substantive. Shall we start with what kind of people the guests here are?"
"That feels a little dangerous. The General Manager said don't go to the seventh floor, and the like."
"That means other than the seventh floor, we're fine, doesn't it? We see other guests in the lobby sometimes, and he didn't tell us to avoid them. Not every guest here is necessarily dangerous to us."
"'Not necessarily' is a bit scary."
"If that's difficult, then it comes back to talking more with the Manager."
"His condition didn't look good; I'm not sure he'd be up to it."
"Finally admitting the blood on the glove was his? Anyway, he's probably the one who'd talk with us best in this hotel."
"That part's true, but…."
Staff with mouths shut tight, listening only to the Manager's commands. The few guests who show no inclination to interact with others.
Surprisingly, the General Manager was very chatty by this place's standards.
'But apart from that, he didn't seem like the talkative sort either.'
Looks like someone who'd never say anything personal.
"…There's still time left."
"Right, our stay is exactly a week, wasn't it?"
"For now, yes."
The parts that bothered her were hard to simply let slide.
***
And so, the next morning.
The two ran into a familiar face in the lobby.
"Oh."
Naturally, the General Manager.
"Good morning."
A polite response came back to her greeting.
"Good morning. You've come down early again today."
"A bit later than yesterday, wasn't it?"
"You look far more at ease than yesterday. Sufficient rest is always the key to preserving a guest's well-being."
"Um, I don't know if I should say this, but…."
Hesitating, the director spoke.
"It doesn't seem like you've rested enough, General Manager."
He was wearing his usual smile, but it stayed at the corners of the lips, detached from any emotion. The thin fatigue spread across his pallid face made the neat impression he gave only sharper.
'Tired, but unruffled.'
Pathological perfection and emotionless self-management. An unsettlingly composed person.
He soon replied.
"My oversight. If I have given you an uncomfortable impression, I apologize."
"Oversight, you say?"
"Did it trouble you?"
"Honestly, yes. Look at that handsome face all drawn out."
"You flatter me."
He adjusted his glasses.
"Thank you for your concern. Seeing how kind you are, you really are fine people."
After a short silence, he gazed at the front entrance and parted his lips.
"…Please, from here…."
That was when.
His gentle smile halted for a beat. The corners of his mouth still held the arc of a smile, but the faint rigidity along his jaw and neck muscles registered in Seon-hae's eyes.
Not simply closing his mouth, but as if it had been forcibly shut.
"……."
"……."
…By whom?
How, why?
"…Will you be going out to scout the area again today?"
When the Manager finally opened his mouth again after that heavy silence, what came out was an entirely different topic.
"The mountain where our hotel sits is prone to foul weather, so I've worried. Especially on days of heavy rain like today, please take care. The terrain around here is uniquely rugged, after all."
His tone was polite, but the sense of wrongness was unmistakable. The sentence that had been cut off earlier—the one she never got to hear—seemed to hang unpleasantly in the air.
"…Mm,"
Director Lee Seon-hae shrugged awkwardly.
"Thank you for the concern."
"A matter of course. Seeing that guests stay safely is part of my duties."
"Then, General Manager, may I ask one favor?"
"Please speak freely."
"It's for after we get back."
"Yes."
"Could we talk for a bit?"
"Ah, you'd like a conversation."
"Come to think of it, I realized we still don't even know your name, General Manager."
The Manager's eyes quivered ever so faintly.
"……."
The answer came, not so late.
"Lee Yeon-woo."
"…Mr. Yeon-woo?"
"…Yes."
Just one word, yet his voice carried a faint fatigue and hesitation. Like raising up a memory that had long sunk, just barely bringing it to the surface.
'Why, I wonder.'
But even that curious reaction lasted only an instant.
"Oh, dear."
"…? What is it?"
"My apologies, in the middle of our conversation."
"Has something come up?"
"Excuse me, but I'll have to step away for a moment. A somewhat urgent summons has come in…."
"A summons?"
Called by someone, was it. The director smiled back.
"No, we kept you too long, so we're sorry."
"Thank you for your understanding."
"What's there to thank me for?"
"When courtesy is extended, expressing gratitude is only proper."
"Is that so? All right, let's call it that."
"Yes, I shall see you again later."
"We should be back by seven, I think."
"I see…."
Lee Yeon-woo bowed his head lightly.
"I wish you a comfortable and meaningful time."
He headed straight for the elevator.
Not a footstep, nor even body heat, seemed to reach the air. The flawless, mechanical precision made his stride feel as though it did not belong to a living person.
Put simply, his sense of physical presence was faint.
'To snuff out that much presence that thoroughly—what on earth do you have to do?'
Lee Seon-hae's gaze stayed on the floor-indicator above the elevator he had disappeared into. The number blinked and came to a stop at….
"…Seventh floor."
She had a bad feeling.