"So, how about you explain a few things now?"
After finishing her meal, Seon-hae asked while lifting her teacup.
"It's already been several days since I got here, and you haven't told me a thing."
"Was that so?"
"At this point, I'm starting to feel a little hurt. You know, our dear elder, you've always been surprisingly playful."
"More than playful—you simply weren't in a fit state to hear what I had to say until now."
"Ah, I'll give you that one. Fair enough."
It had already been five days since he'd brought her back to Seoul.
For the first two days, Seon-hae hadn't set foot outside her room. She'd spent the remaining three days in sessions with a doctor he'd arranged.
It was undeniable that she'd only just now regained her senses.
"So I waited patiently, didn't I? Honestly, part of it was me being out of it, but our dear Mr. Baek Mu-jin was so incredibly busy there wasn't even a gap to start a conversation. You understand what I'm saying, right?"
"Yes."
Her uncle, Baek Mu-jin, set down his cup. It smelled strongly of herbs. As a child, Seon-hae had always been curious about what was inside that cup.
"Very well, what are you curious about?"
"...Am I actually allowed to know?"
"Normally, it would be difficult."
"And why is that?"
"The reasons are many."
He interlaced his fingers and continued his explanation calmly.
"To begin with, it cannot be seen, one's senses are limited, and there are institutional issues. Above all, even if I told most people, they would simply dismiss it as fiction...."
"No, wait, hold on."
"Even if I explained everything right now, you wouldn't be able to understand."
"Pardon?"
"You have talent, but ultimately it never awakened. So even if I resolved your questions, no real problems would arise—however, it would make it difficult for you to go on living in this society."
"When you say 'society,' you mean...."
Seon-hae's mind raced. If she were to translate his words into the most comprehensible terms possible, then, yes.
"Is there, like, a magical world like Harry P○tter? In reality? For real?"
"There was a film like that, was there?"
He seemed to weigh something for a moment before speaking. It was an affirmation.
"In some respects, you could say it's similar."
"Seriously?"
"Though a great many things are different."
"How different?"
"Cruel, dry, and crude."
"That's...."
"Shall I put it simply?"
Baek Mu-jin lifted his cup again. The scent of herbs wafted up.
"There is no concept of human rights in this world."
"...None?"
"They may understand the meaning, but in practice, it doesn't exist."
"...When you said 'cruel' just now, you don't mean...."
"You hold life and ethics so very dear, don't you?"
He admonished his niece with perfect composure.
"That is why it is not a place suited to you. Nor is it a place you could endure. I would prefer this to end as simple curiosity."
"But you're explaining it to me right now."
"Because then you won't go setting foot there on your own."
"Didn't you just say it can't be seen and the senses are limited? Even if I were curious and tried to step in, what would change? It's not like I could get there anyway."
"That was how it used to be."
"Used to be?"
"Your case is now different."
"Mine...?"
"Yes, yours."
He nodded.
"Because you visited a Labyrinth."
"What exactly... is a Labyrinth?"
"It could be described as one vast performance."
"A performance?"
"In the modern era, our artists have come to assess the structure of Labyrinths as follows."
"What do you mean, artists?"
"Stage, script, actors."
"......"
"...In the past, they were also called setting, narrative, and beings."
Seon-hae grimaced.
"...I don't understand."
"It would be unfamiliar to you. That's why I have no intention of telling you everything. But put simply, you walked into and out of a den that even this world considers extremely high-risk."
"It was awfully glamorous for a den."
"I believe I just said this—it's a performance. It is another world that endlessly repeats history or stories. Did that space seem natural to you, something that belonged in reality?"
"No, it... wasn't."
It was modern enough that there was no inconvenience in using it, yet somehow it felt like gazing at a classical Western hotel. Even the General Manager used a bell to summon his staff.
"So that was... some kind of... dungeon?"
"A dungeon?"
"You know, like in games. Where you fight monsters and stuff."
"...You generally cannot defeat them, but yes—if you call it a habitat for monsters, that may be a roughly apt comparison. Think of it in whichever way is easier for you to understand."
Baek Mu-jin set down his cup. An attendant standing nearby approached and refilled it with precise, practiced movements.
"......?"
Seon-hae was suddenly reminded of the hotel's staff. Their movements had been unnervingly precise. A chill crept down her spine. She couldn't hold back the question.
"Um, those, your household attendants—are they perhaps, the, Labyrinth. Monsters, uh. Uh?"
"Calm yourself."
"Pardon?"
"There's no need to worry. Unlike what you saw in there, they are unmistakably human. I am not a man of such poor judgment as to bring a Dokkaebi into my household."
"A Dokkaebi?"
"What you saw in there."
"No, what I saw was... wait, do you call the monsters inside that Labyrinth Dokkaebi? Is that it?"
"Close enough."
He gently swirled his cup. Gazing at the rippling surface, Baek Mu-jin continued.
"There exists a Labyrinth that has gained a self. A Labyrinth that is, by its very existence, a stage, a script, and an actor. We call that a Dokkaebi."
"...Then all the staff I saw inside the hotel were...?"
"No. Based on your account, I'd say nearly all the staff in that place were part of the Labyrinth. The Dokkaebi was present only as the guests who weren't human, and...."
"What about the General Manager?"
"Yes, only that place's master."
He took a sip of herbal tea and added an explanation.
"A Dokkaebi is dwelling within an already existing Labyrinth. In effect, another Labyrinth resides inside the Labyrinth while holding the initiative. Whatever form of contract that may be."
"...I did think the hotel seemed to have two owners."
"Cases where Labyrinths join forces like that aren't unheard of. They are ultimately closer to concepts than to organisms. When a larger story appears, a smaller story is devoured without recourse."
The forms, dispositions, and methods of the concepts they embodied meant that 'joining forces' manifested in various ways. Whether as equal cooperation, an employer-employee relationship, a slave contract. Sometimes, one was even absorbed entirely.
"I also recall you said the two owners seemed to disagree. That itself is proof that the hotel and the General Manager are different Labyrinths. If they were the same Labyrinth, there would be no reason for their operational policies to diverge so sharply."
"......"
"But it was interesting."
"...What was?"
"The fact that you came out alive."
Baek Mu-jin's gaze settled on Seon-hae. His gray eyes surveyed her as though appraising an object.
"Not a single limb severed, you haven't lost the ability to speak, and your eyesight is fine. And even if they'd scrambled your mind instead, that would have been hard to remedy—but seeing as you've recovered in five days...."
"Are you badmouthing your adorable niece who just came back from the dead?"
"Perish the thought. I am merely expressing my astonishment."
He sipped his tea.
"Wouldn't anyone be startled if a dead person pried open their own coffin at a funeral?"
"Was it that bad?"
"There was a Labyrinth inside a Labyrinth. And you were a helpless civilian without a single tool to fight back. How could a newborn infant survive a tidal wave?"
"The General Manager helped me a lot, making sure I wasn't in danger."
"That's exactly what doesn't make sense."
Baek Mu-jin flicked his gaze, and the waiting secretary extended a folder of documents. Seon-hae looked at her uncle quizzically; he simply nodded, as if to say she was welcome to look.
"......"
Seon-hae opened the folder. Then grimaced.
"...! Ugh."
"What do you see?"
"What do you mean—I just ate."
"I know."
"Why is there gore—no, are these real photographs?"
"These were the fortunate cases."
"Excuse me?"
"They were assaulted by a Dokkaebi and yet managed to leave behind even a trace."
The photographs were horrific.
The bodies were gone, but the surrounding wallpaper was stained the color of entrails. The furniture was grotesquely twisted in arrangements that mimicked the victims' final postures, and one wall had been neatly folded and arranged like a burial shroud.
"It's extremely common for humans who come into contact with a Dokkaebi to leave no corpse at all. They're absorbed into structural gaps, or erased like an error that doesn't fit the design."
"......"
"Even when a corpse does remain, it looks like that. It should be called a structural failure rather than a corpse. The anatomical order is completely destroyed—dozens of arms sprouting, the heart divided into four, the brain growing from the chest, the same expression repeating across the entire body...."
"...Ugh...."
"Sometimes the skin is human but the inside is hollow. Empty space where organs should be, or the whole thing has been reassembled entirely. I've seen spines transformed into wind chimes that produce sound, and I've seen cases where the moment of death repeats for eternity."
"Ugh, hold on."
"You endured two Labyrinths and yet seem to have little idea what they are. Likely because you emerged with your body and mind far too intact. That's why I wanted to tell you. The danger of what you encountered."
At his gesture, the secretary retrieved the folder. Seon-hae's face was already drained of color.
"...This is...."
"This is what Dokkaebi do. It even looks as though they damage the world rather than people. Those who meet them don't die as people—they become structural errors."
"Ah...."
"Distortions sometimes appear in the place where the dead once were. A single person disappears, and suddenly a door that was there is gone, or an entire day evaporates, or the senses of those who remember that person begin to go awry. Otherwise, a brand is left behind."
"A brand."
"A warping left in what was once an ordinary office, or a bell that never existed ringing endlessly at the end of a corridor. Or a room where no one can remember who died... things of that nature."
"......"
Seon-hae let out a long breath.
"...It's not just dying, is it?"
"That's why the victims in the photographs you just saw—those who at least left behind a trace of a corpse—were the lucky ones. If even they can be called 'lucky,' what does that make you?"
"...A miracle?"
"A miracle indeed."
At Baek Mu-jin's gesture, an attendant approached and placed a cup down. The same cup and tea as Baek Mu-jin's.
"Drink."
"...You wouldn't let me when I was little?"
"Anyone who belongs entirely to the surface falls ill if they drink it, so my hands were tied at the time. If only letting you drink a single cup of this tea had been enough to bring you into this world."
"No, ha, no...."
"But you've already set foot in that place. What a relief. You were always a child with talent in that direction, so enduring it would have been much easier for you."
"......"
Seon-hae recalled what had happened at the hotel.
Deep in the Aqua Park pool, she'd come face-to-face with that enormous eye. When she'd told Yeon-woo about it, his reaction had been something like 'I'm amazed you're alive.'
He'd definitely known about all of this.
"...You've always gone on about talent, talent, so I thought you meant talent for making films. Since you've always had the word 'art' on your lips."
"And what do you think now?"
"My talent... don't tell me it's, like, survival? Something like that...?"
"I'm glad you've realized, even if belatedly."
"I'm going to lose my mind."
"On this side, they call it 'having good sensitivity.'"
A world that ordinary people could never perceive, much less enter. Yet through various catalysts, people occasionally found themselves straddling this world. It was by no means a small number.
"You were always a child with the talent to enter this world. I came to think so watching you survive, time and again, situations where you should have died. Unfortunately, it seems you never awakened."
"Awakened? That's a dramatic way to put it. So what changes?"
"Shall I explain simply?"
"Yes."
"You become an Esper."
"......"
Seon-hae stroked her chin. She muttered.
"Actual Harry Po○ter...."
"Please don't go around calling yourself a mage."
"Why, is it embarrassing?"
"Well."
Baek Mu-jin silently gestured, and Seon-hae drank the tea.
"......"
...A flavor and aroma she had never experienced in her life.
"...The feeling is...."
"How is it?"
"Warm but refreshing? Nutty and rich? But light? What is this?"
"It seems nothing is wrong."
"What happens if something goes wrong?"
"Sometimes you start seeing things you couldn't see before."
"You gave something dangerous to a niece who's about to have a mental breakdown. No, wait—seeing things? Like spiritual sight or something?"
"You can think of it in similar terms."
"I'm seriously going to lose it. Then do ghosts actually exist?"
"That is why shamans exist in Korea."
"I'm actually going to lose it."
"And why shrines exist in Japan."
"Ha...."
"Of course, most of them are frauds. Chaff. Just because you've heard this doesn't mean you should believe every shaman is real. If you ever truly need one, it would be best to go through your uncle."
"......"
"So."
Baek Mu-jin set down his cup. The clink of porcelain broke the silence.
"Have you calmed down?"
"...Yes."
"Then you should hear more about that Dokkaebi."
"What are you planning to do?"
"Repay the favor."
He continued in a flat, measured voice.
"There is nothing to lose in forming a connection with a Dokkaebi of that caliber."
***
"...You intend to visit in person?"
Baek Mu-jin nodded at the question from the man who entered his office.
"What use is sending a proxy for something like this?"
"It seems you're envisioning a traditional Dokkaebi, Chairman."
It was a statement premised on the fact that communication with ordinary Dokkaebi was nearly impossible.
"How else would Seon-hae have survived, that soft and frail thing?"
"It may not be one."
"That the line of traditional Dokkaebi in Korea has all but dried up is something everyone in this field knows."
"Setting aside the two old guardians, I don't believe there could be another Dokkaebi in Korea. There haven't been any major events recently that could give birth to a new one, either."
"A Dokkaebi need not be born from events visible to our eyes. All the more so for the traditional kind. Isn't that right, youngest?"
Baek Mu-jin draped on his overcoat.
"I've heard you intend to split off to a subsidiary soon."
"Yes, Chairman."
"You say 'soon,' but it looks like it will take considerable time to arrange things the way you want. Were you truly that fed up with this world?"
"Am I not... also of the same mind as Seon-hae?"
"With just a bit of effort, this is a world you could easily enter."
"I don't want to."
"Not a single one of my children lives up to expectations."
"My apologies, Chairman."
"Insolent lot."
He approached the floor-to-ceiling glass wall. When he lightly tapped the glass surface with his cane, what appeared in place of smooth glass was a rippling black void with no discernible end.
"No one can say for certain what manner of being helped Seon-hae. Whether a young Dokkaebi, a Labyrinth's Dokkaebi, or failing that...."
"......"
"Whether it's truly human."
Baek Mu-jin added as he pushed his body into the black void.
"We won't know until we see for ourselves."
His figure vanished completely.
The man left behind in the darkened office also quietly departed, shortly after.
***
And Lee Yeon-woo.
"......"
Was crawling into the hotel on all fours.
"Did I nearly die just now?"
"Yes."
"I've lost my mind."
His clothes were already a mess of blood. With every step, blood squelched inside his shoes. It was more bewildering than unpleasant.
Was it that appetizing? One guest with a fondness for blood sidled up and spoke.
"May I have some?"
"No."
"What will you use it for?"
"I'll be consuming it myself."
"Oh."
"Indeed."
This is mine.