Hong Gyeong-yeon laid out everything he knew.
"He looked very tired."
First was the conversation between Lee Yeon-woo and someone, overheard from behind the lobby pillar.
"He wasn't smiling. His impression was completely different."
For example, that face.
"He appeared to be an authority figure who could autonomously operate the hotel. But it seemed imposed regardless of his own will—not a voluntary choice."
"Not a helpless victim?"
"But he was being coerced. There was a clear hierarchy and conflict between him and the person he was speaking with. It looked oddly intimate, but the distrust seemed stronger…."
For example, his role and authority.
"He was trying as hard as he could to protect outsiders. He seemed to know this hotel is very dangerous and to carry a sense of responsibility, or guilt, over that."
"Not a desire to control?"
"…I can't say it wasn't that, but his attitude was that he'd endure the suffering himself to protect outsiders like us. So that no victims would be created."
"Aha, right. Protect."
For example, his attitude toward them.
"He asked why it had to be him… but said that even so, it was right for him to be in this position rather than someone else."
"He understood his role but couldn't accept it."
"Yes, he also said he understood."
"He went out of his way to say it aloud. Self-persuasion born of resignation?"
"Either way it's similar, isn't it?"
"He already knows this hotel and its system, and he's analyzing from that position."
Self-awareness. Self-deprecation.
"He said 'event.' It sounded like there are recurring, pattern-based dangers in this hotel. That's outside Mr. Yeon-woo's control."
"Can that be included among the rules too? Or is it a danger outside the rules?"
"I'm not sure. He called it 'that kind of game,' which makes it sound like… some sort of experiment or amusement-based system, but I don't really know the specifics…."
"Oh, game? That gives me chills."
And the hotel's structure.
"And?"
"…When I went to the seventh floor, I heard a loud splash. Like something large falling into water…."
"Go on."
"It came from Room 703. The door was slightly open. There were splashing sounds. Sounds of scraping against the floor tiles, like someone trying not to go under, and banging against the bathtub."
"Obviously from the bathroom."
"And eventually, a big splash… and…."
"Went completely under."
"…It went quiet."
The heavy sounds of water from outside Room 703.
"…Then I tried to go to the elevator—quietly, no footsteps—to get the director. But he came out. Holding a knife… and you saw it, his clothes were stained with blood. How would I know who he'd stabbed with that knife."
"There was no blood on the knife itself."
"But he'd come out of the bathroom—he could have washed it and brought it out. His eyes… his eyes were not sane. It didn't look like talking would work. And then, his mouth… there was blood all over his mouth…."
"Blood on the mouth."
"The inside of his mouth was red. His teeth were bright red, blood caught in them. That's why I thought he might have eaten something. I, I really, this. Where would I ever see something like this? How could I… be expected to stay calm…."
"Blood caught in the teeth?"
"Just drinking or putting your mouth to something won't do that. You have to chew—no, I'm sorry. I'm honestly not sure. I was too panicked… between the near-drowning, the injuries, I thought maybe Mr. Yeon-woo had really died."
"But he was alive."
"…Yes."
Those were the sorts of things they discussed.
"……."
Lee Seon-hae just had this thought:
"If this were a horror movie, we'd already be dead."
"…Uh… yeah…."
"It's always like that, right? A spectacular murder at a mountain hotel, befalling guests lured in by the thrill…."
"A textbook scene from a thriller film."
"I'm starting to feel guilty."
Lee Seon-hae almost laughed. A self-deprecating mix of guilt and absurdity.
"Living safe for so long, I must've lost my edge. Has my sense of reality dulled, or have I grown too complacent? Without a single proper preparation, I waltzed around and made a mess of things."
She recalled the moment they'd discovered this hotel, days ago.
"It's the kind of subject that'd make people like us lose our heads, isn't it? An unreal hotel discovered by accident after getting lost, full of mystery… sounds interesting, doesn't it?"
"……."
"A murder hotel in the rainy mountains. Interesting as a movie. But when it becomes real, the ugliness inside shows through plain as day. It can't be reduced to mere curiosity."
"…I wasn't unaware of that…."
"Wasn't this a kind of arrogance, too?"
"…I suppose so."
It's not dangerous enough to be a problem. Even if it's dangerous, we have experience—we'll be fine. Like always, things will work out this time too.
Thoughts like those.
"Coming face to face with a real hit of dopamine for the first time in ages, I clearly lost my mind. Can you report this somewhere? Like addiction reporting or something…. Maybe I should've kept going to therapy."
"They say addiction isn't about curing—it's about enduring."
"Cigarettes, drugs, gambling—isn't it all the same? Right, I suppose so. Quit gambling, lived clean for a few years, and the moment the dice were back in my hands, I charged in without thinking."
"Hearing you put it that way, it's a real ugly look. Very unbecoming of your age."
"I always think this, but we were never cut out to be paragons. Still as green as ever. I'm past forty and still think I'm young. This isn't the age where mistakes get forgiven anymore… really…."
"We needed to be far more careful."
"But if I may make one excuse—I never imagined this hotel's bottom would run this deep."
South Korea was, by and large, a country where public order held. Sure, there were places operating in the shadows behind or alongside the authorities. But being a small country, the numbers were comparatively few.
"That's why I let my guard down."
Because she hadn't imagined a structure this vicious and complex. Because she hadn't thought a place like this could have sprung up while no one was watching.
"……."
"Good grief…."
Fatigue pressed heavy on her shoulders. Self-reproach.
"If it were a standard illegal cartel, I'd at least pull strings and try something. This is what I hate most. When moneyed people go all-in on shady dealings, it's hard to wedge your way in."
"…At least wars and illegal organizations are honest about their desires…."
"The bigger you look there, the more you gain."
But a place like this was different. They crouched low and made themselves small. That was the only way to operate long-term, and the longer the operation, the longer the period of gain.
"…Right, go to sleep."
"What?"
"I said sleep."
First, Lee Seon-hae put Hong Gyeong-yeon to bed.
"How can you say that in this situation—"
"Shut it. What have you done right to earn the privilege of running your mouth?"
"No, I—ah… no…."
"Not that I've done much better, but you've been worse."
And then.
She picked up her phone.
"……."
Despite it being dawn, just as the sun rose, the other person answered.
"…Yes, uncle."
"……."
"It's been a while."
Beyond the full-length window, the mountain was beautiful in the sunlight. Still drizzling, yet it only sparkled. An inexplicable discomfort pressed against her heart.
"Nothing major. I found a hotel on a trip to Gapyeong. Yes, a hotel. Mm… it's not like that… I got lost in the mountains and stumbled on it. Yes, yes."
Lee Seon-hae sat on the sofa, gazing at the view outside. The interior design showcased an egotism that sought to monopolize nature, to observe it conveniently.
"Right, nothing around it. The staff here don't speak. Yes, probably… yes. The General Manager, yes. Looks about nineteen…. The guests are rather strange. Yes, mm. Yes, all of them."
The fatigue from sleeplessness came not as drowsiness but as pain. Her head throbbed, but she wasn't sleepy. Lee Seon-hae answered with her habitual smile.
"…It's a disease, you know. I go crazy over this sort of thing. Can't let my darling dopamine escape. But there's a kid here. No matter how I look at it, around twenty…. This one's a bit…."
"……."
"…He keeps getting hurt. Hurt badly. Yeah. I saw it today and I was horrified. Right, the guests seem to be hurting him… no, he really is the General Manager. Seems like a co-owner. Yeah, yeah."
"……."
Soon, a brief sound of admiration—or interest—came through.
[Remarkable that he's still alive.]
He advised with the love of an uncle for his niece.
[Do the sensible thing and leave, Seon-hae.]
"…Should I?"
[That you're unharmed in body and mind is a stroke of heaven's luck. That hotel's owner seems to have been remarkably considerate to you. For someone in that role to show that kind of concern… truly, a miraculous thing. If you don't want your precious writer dead, don't touch this any further.]
"I see."
[This isn't a place you can walk out of with all four limbs intact just by dropping my name. Don't be as stubborn as last time. You know how much your uncle worries.]
"Of course."
After that, they exchanged perfunctory regards and ended the call. Lee Seon-hae sank deep into the sofa.
Then laughed.
"Ah, honestly."
It was too funny.
"This damned world."
When she was young, she'd been curious about the world's underbelly.
But even Lee Seon-hae had been permitted to see very few places. And nowhere had she found a "bottom."
She had wanted to see the end, but acknowledged it was beyond her ability. Her dear colleague had returned home with her, carrying trauma. Convictions and hopes, and scars….
"……."
They probably shouldn't have opened the doors of this hotel.
'Too late for regrets.'
In the name of human decency, she'd better at least clean up the mess.