Contracting a Monster Guest came with enormous penalties, but the benefits were no less significant. Reflecting on the implications of the word 'contract' made that self-evident.
The guest had been employed as a hotel staff member, entering a relationship of mutual binding.
'In certain domains, I can receive their protection.'
But calling it "help" felt somewhat imprecise.
Since Yeon-woo's breath had ceased underwater during the contract with the Drenched One, the Playable Character was, in systemic terms, partly regarded as a Water Ghost. The discomforts he'd been enduring were largely the result of living outside of water.
'As a mammal born and raised on land his entire life, it does feel a bit unfair....'
A fish that could only speak and breathe underwater had been forcing itself to live on land—so labored breathing and a deteriorating body were inevitable outcomes.
But stated inversely: while submerged in water like now, he was to some degree freed from both external and internal threats.
'Having a staff member tag along as an escort is a bonus.'
Letting the current carry him, Yeon-woo glanced to the side. The Water Ghost whose eyes met his beamed.
"Hello?"
"Yes, hello."
"Hello!"
"How long do we have to keep doing this?"
"Hahaha!"
"Has it lost its mind?"
Some guests underwent a drastic personality shift after signing a contract. Those who placed significance on the weight of relationships were especially prone to this, and the Drenched One was a prime example.
'I'd assumed it was because it confirmed I wasn't just a hypocrite running my mouth....'
When the player chose benevolent options and tried to help the Drenched One, it would mock them as a hypocrite. Even as it drew a sliver of warmth and comfort from that hypocrisy.
Because the player, after all, continued to walk on dry land and stroll beneath the light. A leisurely hypocrisy only affordable to someone not sharing its fate.
'But if the player maintained the same course even after the contract, the Drenched One would start calling them "friend" and acting familiar.'
For the record, it wasn't maintaining the form it had worn during the contract. The Drenched One was a collective of countless drowning victims. As proof, the Drenched One currently cutting gracefully through the current was in a female body.
"Where are you going? Down? Further down?"
"I'm not going down."
"I'll go with you."
"I'll make a formal request later."
"Yeah?"
"For now, I'm heading to the Record Room."
"What about this?"
CRACK—!!
The grotesque hands that had been reaching from the waterway walls were crushed in a single sweep of its massive tail.
"Oh."
"Is this one a friend too?"
"Good lord, of course not."
"Yeah?"
The Drenched One let out a pleased hum. On reflection, it was the melody from the Aqua Park pursuit stage. The twenty-six-year veteran's mood lifted slightly as a result.
'Hearing that it wasn't a friend must have pleased it considerably.'
It was notoriously particular about vetting its contractee's friends. If a contract was signed simultaneously with another water-related guest, aquatic accidents would plague the hotel for an entire week—that was how possessive it was.
"......"
Even so, something nagged.
'The monster driving this event isn't water-related, though?'
Then what was that attack just now?
'A reflexive territorial response toward a foreign presence swimming in its domain?'
Normally, in event scenarios, contracted guests didn't personally intervene just because certain conditions were met. The game simply hadn't been that detailed.
However, benefits and penalties were faithfully linked. In particular, when submerged in water while contracted with the Drenched One, its silhouette would be visible until the player surfaced. Like a crow watching a corpse.
'In the game.'
Given that penalties had been applying throughout his journey here, he'd expected the underwater benefits to manifest as well. The Drenched One's phantom appearing was well within the predictable range.
'But this is... an entirely different story, isn't it?'
CRACK—!!
"......"
CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH—!!!
The Drenched One lashed its enormous tail, pulverizing the deformed arms and clumps of hair reaching from the pipe openings. Those monsters were unmistakably the owners of this pursuit.
"That."
"Yes."
"That!"
It wore the face of someone who'd witnessed something outrageous and couldn't bear not to vent to a friend. Pointing, it asked.
"What is that?"
"A stalker."
"We really, truly, very much do not like this."
"What a coincidence. Neither do I."
"It seems to keep following. Acting like it owns this waterway."
"The relentless following—that's the defining feature of a stalker. You've grasped it perfectly."
"Very displeasing. This must not be tolerated. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"I understand."
"Right, yes, you're on my side. My friend."
"Indeed...."
A composite voice, difficult to assign a gender. Beyond the chaotic speech pattern, a deep thrumming reverberated through his brain. A vibration reminiscent of whale song, yet far more threatening.
'Sound effects like this didn't exist in the game either.'
The same went for this overt protective behavior toward its contractee. It seemed closer to possessiveness—or a higher-ranking entity's fury at a lower creature encroaching on its territory—than genuine protection.
'I'd expected it to just exchange greetings and stand by, but it's more communicative than I thought. In the game, this kind of interaction was simply impossible. If it had been, even a pixel-art game would have struggled to run....'
To attribute this solely to the game becoming reality felt insufficient. He had a hunch about the reason.
"......"
Yeon-woo asked, parting the current.
"...Friend."
"Yes, friend. My friend."
"Are you 'remembering' me right now?"
"......"
At the question, the Drenched One's mouth split open grotesquely. Whatever implication lay behind it, the eyes, drenched in ecstasy, curved into thin crescents.
"""I remember you!"""
Oh, wait.
"My friend, my kind warmth, our sweet blood!"
"......"
"You have no idea how long we waited for you to come into the water. Poor friend, why do you go outside and suffer so? When we've been waiting for you like this. When we're your friends!"
"......"
"Are you angry we remembered late? Angry it's always late? I promise, not anymore. Never again. We, we, all of us remember you."
"...Oh."
Well, then.
'This wasn't something I'd braced for.'
It felt like being blindsided.
He'd already known the Drenched One belonged to the meta-cognition guest category. That was why he'd been privately puzzled about why it had shown no particular reaction or penalty despite recognizing him all along.
But now that the game had become reality, emotions beyond mere data seemed to have taken root.
"I remember you."
"Yes, so I see."
"You remember us?"
"Of course."
He could hardly forget the guest who'd shoved him into a bathtub at the start of every new playthrough. A Water Ghost who'd drowned in water, committing water torture—that was quite a memorable approach.
"Why have you been out of sight all this time?"
"Should I have shown myself? You're already soaked in water—should I have?"
"......"
It sounded profoundly significant.
"...May I interpret that as you having been with me the entire time?"
"We're always together! Aren't we, friend?"
"I'd like to ask where, precisely, we were 'together.'"
"Death always clings to your breath."
"This is maddening."
Even needlessly metaphorical speech was fully interpretable now. It was saying it had been stuck to his lungs.
'No wonder that Baek Mu-jin fellow looked at me so strangely.'
That peculiar gaze in the Aqua Park must have meant exactly this. He'd wondered where the man had read his hotel management style—turns out he'd read it directly from the guest clinging to Yeon-woo's body.
How absurd must he have seemed to that man?
"Where has my privacy gone, friend?"
"Water is always one."
"I'm water that's set up camp outside the water."
"Doesn't it hurt a lot?"
"Your friend is requesting a minimum of personal space."
"But you're water too...."
"Even so, we're distinctly separate entities."
"Let's go down, further down."
"I'm busy."
True to its nature as a Water Ghost, it wheedled with the tenacity of a child sprawled on a supermarket floor. He'd thought it had a childish side even in the game, but reality had returned the situation far worse.
'At least a child on a supermarket floor doesn't tackle you into the water demanding you drown together.'
But veteran caretaker Yeon-woo knew. These situations demanded a firm boundary.
"Friend, please stay in the Aqua Park whenever there are no Human Guests around. I'll come swim often. When my tail feels like it's shriveling to death, I'll come straight there without wandering."
"Your tail mustn't dry out."
"Will you accept my invitation?"
"...Ah, yes. Good."
The Drenched One's eyes went wide with a grin. The word 'invitation' seemed to have struck a chord.
"Your hotel has always welcomed us."
"Where else have you been?"
This was a point of genuine interest.
Yeon-woo now knew the guests here were not simple replicas of game data. The Drenched One would be no different. He was curious how far its reach extended into the outside world.
But the answer was plain. Perhaps the answer he'd expected.
"I was just in the water."
"Only there?"
"A cold, deep, dark house."
"Was there nowhere that would take you in?"
"No one sees us. No one holds our hand."
"No one?"
"Sailors sometimes see us, but they flee to shore in terror."
The Drenched One's voice underwater was layered. Countless drowning victims' voices mingled, creating a jumbled manner of speech as though a multitude whispered at once.
"...I see."
After a brief silence, Yeon-woo added.
"You must have been lonely."
"Aren't you the same? Aren't you lonely?"
"I wouldn't say otherwise."
Humans were social animals. Yeon-woo, too, needed connection.
"But right now there's something more important, so I'm simply holding back."
"This place?"
"That's right."
Tangled beyond tangled, but even that was something to untangle—that was what living meant, and he endured by believing it.
"...Ah,"
Drifting with the current, Yeon-woo seized a lever on the wall. Using the momentum, he wrenched it forward.
"Here it is."
BOOM—!!
A massive steel gate dropped across the waterway, sending a heavy tremor through the space.
"......"
"That thing can't come here now."
"Because I've sealed it off."
The monster couldn't cross the lowered isolation shutter. The pursuit ended here. Since the creature couldn't muster its strength in the contaminated waterway, there was no worry of it smashing through as before.
'Surely no more unexpected variables.'
Yeon-woo cleared the debris from his vision and floated toward the surface.
Or rather, tried to.
"Where are you going?"
"......"
He nearly got goosebumps.
"To... work."
"Busy, huh."
The Water Ghost released Yeon-woo's ankle without resistance.
'Is my ankle cursed or something?'
The ligaments and sensation in that ankle had long since been damaged in its grip, but he should be grateful it had let go willingly. He was well aware it was the kind of being that would have torn his ankle clean off had it insisted.
'What strange experiences I keep having. The Drenched One I remember from the game was never a guest this easy to communicate with, contract or no....'
Yeon-woo offered his farewell.
"I'll see you at the Aqua Park."
"Okay, let's play again."
A farewell far more subdued than the blind killing intent he'd seen in the game—plain and simple. And from that, Yeon-woo guessed the reason.
'Ah, of course.'
It was thanks to the memories from previous files.
'It knows I'll remain a friend without needing to be held captive.'
Trust, or affinity—accumulated data of that sort, so to speak.
In the game, no matter how many files piled up, characters simply moved according to set algorithms. But reality was different. As memories accumulated, so did emotions—and the shape of relationships changed with them.
'Thank heavens for the memories from the game era.'
Had this been pure reality, it would have been virtually impossible to convince this headstrong guest to accept the notion that 'I am a separate being; respect my personal affairs.'
'How remarkable—trust that can only be earned by dying in the same fashion for at least twenty-six years.'
Even distrust of humans had its limits....
"......"
"...Yes, I'll see you next time."
"Okay, friend!"
Dozens of laughing voices layered together between the dark crimson waves, and then the Drenched One vanished. Thanks to that, Yeon-woo was able to surface without obstruction.
"Yes. Yes. Yes."
SPLATTER!!
Coco shook off the water and looked up at Yeon-woo.
"......"
"......"
"...Hello...?"
"...Probably...."
Yeon-woo pulled a blood pack from his inventory and tore it open. He brought it to his lips and drained it in one long pull.
"I feel a bit more alive."
Wondering if this was really acceptable, he was suddenly reminded of his old days at the office, when he'd lived with red ginseng sticks perpetually in his mouth. It seemed that in any workplace, an employee needed at least one supplement on hand.
"In any case, thanks to that, I cleared the pursuit section with an ease that almost felt wrong. It was originally a high-difficulty section where you had to ride the current and dodge the monster's hands or fend them off with weapons...."
"Yes."
"Well, good things are good."
"Yes."
Yeon-woo looked down at his sopping clothes. The clothes weren't a major concern. They'd dry soon enough. Unlike his body, which had been wrecked in various ways, his clothing was still within the game system's jurisdiction.
'A few steps and there won't even be wet footprints.'
That was how hitbox detection worked in a low-budget game.
'Though the quality is surprisingly high for something like that.'
"Eeh."
"We're almost done."
When Yeon-woo picked Coco up, it settled onto his shoulder with practiced ease.
"Let's head to the final room."
The Record Room.
There, the key to the 14th floor awaited.
***
Countless eyes within holes that encircled the entire room.
Monitor screens gleaming through every gap, and within them, footage of the past, preserved.
The victims' blood, screaming cries, and prayers born of madness....
"......"
All of it, intermingled, constituted the 'Central Control Room.'
Yeon-woo approached the center of the room. On the table sat a single metal button, incongruously smooth. The number '14' was precisely engraved into it. The final destination Yeon-woo had come seeking.
The moment he took the button in hand.
"—Now then...."
Every screen on every wall burst into static in unison, then began displaying only Yeon-woo. From the distance, a monster's wail traveled along the corridor.
"Let's move immediately, Coco."
"Yes!"
They had seen Yeon-woo.