Today, too, he failed to send the good-natured guests out of this wicked hotel.
A shame.
Genuinely.
'I should have had no shortage of resolve to hold on to reason.'
Keeping his mind intact was the one thing he was confident in. Even if something went wrong, he could shake it off under his own power. Though the shell called "General Manager" might not have the function of "refusing human guests"—
I am a human being with self-awareness, after all.
"……."
…I am human, right?
Anyway.
'I thought that if I steeled my will the way I did in the Power Generation Room, I could shove them out of this hotel. The results are wholly uncooperative.'
A bitter outcome.
'It seems the domain of the mind and the mechanism of action carry separate binding forces. A compulsory power beyond my conscious control—this is… quite vexing.'
His resolve had been firm, and his mind clearly judged: "They must be sent away right now." But the body wouldn't follow. He'd tried to say, "Staying here long is not a good choice." And yet.
All that came out was a misplaced greeting.
'Is it related to my body having deteriorated to this helpless state?'
This body made no sense. A forty-five-year-old mind lodged in a nineteen-year-old frame, and pain accompanying any failure to follow the so-called "character's" behavioral protocols.
'On top of that, the pain vanishing or even superhuman strength manifesting when I do mimic those behaviors… clearly abnormal. There must be a logical basis to this, too, just like blood magic.'
But with his limited understanding, the reason still eluded him.
"Ha…."
He needed to finish his research quickly.
'An event, and at this hour—that's unusual.'
Maybe the heavy rain. Or perhaps a consequence of the previous Distraction. Lee Yeon-woo had instinctively sensed the summons and come straight to the seventh floor.
"……."
The lights hanging from the ceiling were splendid. The large windows spotless. Beyond them, forests visible and raindrops clinging.
But the air—humid and cool.
Rainwater pressed damply into the corridor.
Bright yet pallid lighting.
"Really…."
Lee Yeon-woo's dry voice settled into the empty corridor.
"What a tiresome business."
A 'Drenched One' event had triggered.
***
Between two and six. Each monster guest is assigned "events" in which they are the lead. Among them, the 'Drenched One' has five events total.
'This time it triggered inside a guest room.'
Lee Yeon-woo stopped in front of Room 703.
'Going by location, it's not 『Final Thrashing』.'
Events in the corridor were not unheard of, but the 'Drenched One's' events mainly took place in guest rooms—specifically, bathrooms. Considering the water-ghost concept, an entirely natural chain of cause and effect.
"……."
Since the start of the tutorial, this was the first event of the 'common-to-both-versions' grade.
"…Good morning, sir."
This hotel has no modern doorbells. Instead, a classical "bell board" serves that role.
When an event triggers, the bell on the board rings, and the user—the game character—senses it instinctively without physically seeing it.
"The call bell rang, so I've come to check."
This is a kind of systemic procedure. In the game, the dialogue was output automatically. Now he had to recite each sentence down to the last syllable himself. Only then would the "game system" apply.
He delivered the rest of the line.
"Is there anything I may help you with?"
In place of an answer, a grating friction sound scraped down the corridor.
Creeeak—…
"……."
The door opened.
No sign of a person inside.
'…A facility under my management is producing this kind of crude noise?'
Who gave a guest room door permission to open with a racket like that? Frankly, the squeaking door was far more offensive than any horror staging.
'I know it's a concession to game logic, but it doesn't sit well.'
Of course, that was merely Lee Yeon-woo's personal impression. The door was open, so he had to step inside per the established sequence.
"Excuse me. I'm coming in."
He pushed his body into the darkened room.
"……."
What met him first was humidity.
'Hard to breathe.'
When he forced a breath out, white mist scattered in the low temperature.
Doubt rose. Cold air should, by nature, struggle to hold moisture, yet this place was damp and frigid as if mocking physics. A bizarre sensation of frost settling inside his lungs.
'But there's no pain.'
Only the "sensation" existed as a phenomenon. Right now he was a game character that had entered an event sequence. No reason or need to hesitate.
Yeon-woo walked unhurriedly toward the source of the water sounds.
"Well, well."
When he opened the bathroom door, a familiar scene unfolded.
'A shower event.'
Known as 『Water That Cannot Cleanse』.
'A situation I know well, but the feeling is different. The gap between seeing it as pixel art in-game and witnessing it in person is vast….'
Text memorized long ago flickered through his mind.
『Beneath the cold stream, the Drenched One knelt and hung its head. The water flows, but it remains submerged. It is alone.』
Indeed, the description was exact. A pathetic figure simply standing under the shower, being rained upon. Nothing more to confirm.
'If I use Distraction on this, the penalty, as I recall….'
The persistent illusion of being soaked over one's entire body, 24 hours.
A "cold" debuff inserted into all decision-making.
Acute pulmonary edema, hypothermia, and arrhythmia.
'Lethal.'
His condition was already poor without new penalties. He was barely plugging the organ damage and bleeding with blood magic, wasn't he? On top of that, pulmonary edema and arrhythmia.
'That's just telling me to die.'
But.
'What if I leave it alone?'
Frequent electrical accidents and bathroom-related incidents. In other words, "water-system contamination" spreading across the entire hotel.
'Our upstanding guests will, of course, use bathrooms in this hotel….'
The hotel was full of electrical appliances. A 19th-century Western-style hotel in concept, yet perfectly willing to use electricity. One wrong step and it wouldn't merely be injuries—lives could be at risk.
They couldn't resurrect after death the way Lee Yeon-woo could. And the pain would hit them in full.
'I have to intervene.'
And apart from that.
"…Haa…."
It was a pitiable sight.
"Sir."
He straightened himself from leaning on the bathroom doorframe. Stepped inside.
"It's summer, but the monsoon makes the days cold."
"……."
"The humidity in this room is high. The temperature is low as well. If you require related services, please let me know. I'll assist you."
"……."
No answer came.
'Naturally.'
In this event sequence, the 'Drenched One' does not speak. Unless the aqua park event triggers, it will remain silent.
'It's submerged in water, so of course it can't speak.'
The monster guests of this hotel are manifestations of universally shared negative concepts. The 'Drenched One' is the concept of the drowning victim, a recreation of the fear of water ghosts and killers. It is still drowning.
'That said, it's not as though these monster guests are truly people….'
Shells without origin or soul—merely reenactments of a scenario.
'Still, as the user, I have the right to feel sorry, don't I?'
Just looking at it tugged at the heart.
"…You enjoy the rain. I remember."
He said something uncalled for.
"I know you focus on the faint vibrations of raindrops striking the water's surface. In water where every sense goes hazy, there's nothing better for feeling the existence of the outside world."
"……."
"Where might you be right now? Near the surface, or sinking toward the deep? Are you in the ocean? A river? A deep lake? Wherever it is, it can't be somewhere shallow…."
"……."
"Apologies if my rambling has crowded your ears."
Perhaps he'd given offense.
"But whenever you're standing in the rain like this, I've always wanted to ask."
"……."
"I wanted to pull you out."
This was not a game line.
'Presumptuous meddling.'
It was a game he'd cherished. He'd cared for the monster guests within it, too. He'd grown attached. Some were monsters that were purely dangerous; others were born from pitiable concepts.
The 'Drenched One' was one of those. A guest that weighed on the heart.
"…You'd call me a hypocrite again for this, but—well."
"……."
"Isn't coming outside better for you than staying submerged?"
He'd been about to turn off the shower, but changed direction. Took hold of the showerhead above. Checked the water temperature as it was.
'Far too cold.'
He turned the tap to hot. Gauged a suitable warmth on his hand, then hung the head back up. Warm steam rose into the frigid bathroom.
'I set it to lukewarm to avoid burns, and it still produces this much steam.'
He wondered for a moment whether this was all right.
"……."
In the warm rainfall, the 'Drenched One' raised its head.
Its hair was wild, so the face remained unseen. Lee Yeon-woo sat down against the wall of the shower stall as he was.
"……."
"……."
…It wasn't attacking, so the gesture apparently wasn't entirely unwelcome.
'Being inside a game made real lets me do things like this.'
The Distraction method for this event, 『Water That Cannot Cleanse』, is simple. Turn off the shower, cut the water, then drape a towel over the 'Drenched One.' That's it.
But rather than end it right away, he waited a while.
"I've been watching you for 26 years."
"……."
"Every time, it bothered me. Everyone has moments when they want to sink. I can't keep you in there forever, but… it might be all right for just a while."
It might seem foolish to grow attached to a fictional being. But after 26 years, anything accrues its own value. Even game data.
There are no people in this hotel. Those who are here are people he must send away, must protect. Cut off from society, what grows is soliloquy alone.
"Whether you grieve or rage, that's your freedom—but at least you should look after your body. If you must cry, better a warm, soft bed. If you must rage, better on a full stomach."
That was the reason he'd raised the water temperature.
"I'm sorry, but I can't stay like this for too long."
"……."
"…Shall we get up now."
A short time later, Lee Yeon-woo turned off the shower. Then he took out the largest, thickest towel from the linen closet and draped it over the 'Drenched One's' head.
'Do I need to dry it off, too?'
But that felt excessive. It looked like a fully grown adult. A sensitive type of guest—more contact would do no good. He stepped out of the bathroom.
Before he knew it, the air inside the room had returned to normal.
"……."
And the thought that came after stepping outside:
"…Ah."
…Should he have been more afraid of that?
This was nominally a horror hotel management simulation game. He wondered whether he'd failed in his duty as a horror game player.
'Less of a horror experience, more like soothing a brooding guest.'
But there was nothing to be scared of.
'If you've spent enough time together for the landscape to change twice over, being freshly frightened now would be the rude thing, wouldn't it.'
Save your expectations for something worthwhile.
A defense addressed to no one in particular.
***
Five minutes after leaving the room.
He steeled himself, and the penalty arrived.
"—Cough, hack hack…!!"
His lungs shrank beyond shrinking—breathing ceased entirely.
Lee Yeon-woo writhed on the quarters bed, groaning. His plight was deeply pitiable. Acute pulmonary edema plus hypothermia plus arrhythmia.
"At this point I could be published in a medical textbook without anyone batting an eye…."
"Yes."
"All right, let's think positive. Consider it an early preview of my comprehensive health screening results."
"No?"
"Fair point."
Perfect conditions for keeling over.
He spread what meager medical knowledge he possessed. Respiratory distress from acute pulmonary edema. Foam-flecked coughing and cyanosis. Moderate hypothermia from the drop in body temperature. Consequent slowed reactions and mental confusion.
'Arrhythmia could escalate to precursory symptoms of cardiac arrest.'
For a normal body, this would be fatal.
"Being a game, I suppose it doesn't translate that far."
"Yesno."
"Please… enunciate."
What came to mind right now: reduced stamina, delayed command response, action nullification, automatic collapse while moving, coughing fits, restricted area detection, and more.
A truly diverse array of status ailments had been applied—but that was all.
'No foam-flecked coughing, and muscle rigidity is holding at a steady range.'
Then again, a developer busy coding the game wouldn't have bothered with the anatomical details of the human body. The man wasn't a doctor.
"It's at least some comfort that I don't feel actual pain."
"Yes."
"…Of course, this won't stay someone else's problem forever. The moment I shed this character shell and return to reality, all these conditions will rush in at once, and that will be truly difficult to manage."
"Yes."
Fortunately, among these, 'reduced stamina' disappears when using the quarters bed. But he couldn't sleep now. Once he sleeps in this bed, he invariably wakes at dawn the next day.
'But in the end, all these status ailments apply only to the game character's body.'
A game character being sick doesn't make the player behind the screen sick. Same now. Such conditions were reflected, but there was no corresponding confusion or visual blurring.
"……."
Ah.
What utter nonsense.
'Calm down.'
Before analyzing this abnormal body—the kind that would make Hippocrates climb from his grave and Nightingale fly in if presented to the medical world—there was something important.
The good-natured guests came to mind.
"…Should I push the conversation to later?"
"Push the conversation to later."
"I won't entertain a response that reflects solely your personal preference."
"No…."
"Being cute won't work."
"No…."
"I said it won't work."
But his hands were dutifully kneading Coco all the while. The texture was truly exquisite. If a pillow like this were ever released, he'd buy seven and rotate through them daily.
Lee Yeon-woo set Coco at his side and stroked it.
"Putting it off won't resolve the status ailments anyway."
The most efficient option was a reset through death, and the fallback was item use—but circumstances didn't allow for either.
'Face reality.'
The longer the conversation was delayed, the higher the probability that innocent people would be put in danger.
"……."
He checked the clock.
The hour hand pointed at seven.
"……."
"No…."
"Tch."
Lee Yeon-woo got out of bed. His body was heavy.
'Acute pulmonary edema plus hypothermia plus arrhythmia, and if my body felt light that would be the real abnormality. At least it hasn't gotten that abnormal.'
He stood before the mirror.
"…As an adult, I can't very well break a promise."
Even so, the rising irritation couldn't be helped.
'Am I truly going mad?'
He was revolted by a body jerked around by every status ailment imaginable. At this rate he'd cough while walking and collapse while walking. He felt faint already.
'This is the first time, in the reality version rather than the game, that so many ailments have stacked like this.'
He couldn't see the future.
***
And then it turned out he couldn't physically see, either.
"Um, Mr. Yeon-woo?"
"…Ah, you're here."
"I've been calling since the front entrance."
"……."
"…Are you not feeling well?"
"No."
Lee Yeon-woo, who had denied it on the spot, turned his brain.
'Restricted area detection.'
This is how it manifests?
'Is it possible to literally not see a person?'
He must truly be going mad.
Even amid the confusion, Lee Yeon-woo had tried to say "There's nothing wrong." Naturally. The more uneasy the human guests became, the happier this hotel grew. It was no good for the guests either.
But the words wouldn't come. Why? How? For what reason?
"……."
The answer surfaced on its own.
'Delayed command response. Action nullification.'
He was definitely going mad.
"…Truly, I'm fine."
"……."
"Truly."
"……."
God.
'That these moronic words came out of my mouth.'
A pitiful answer that would make even someone who'd believed him fine do a double take.