Ch.126Kind Hotel (5)

We stared silently at the fallen object.

A towel rack wrapped in slime.

Truly an unexpected item to find here…

“Dabin. Look at that.”

Yebin examines the towel rack carefully.

“It’s exactly the same product as the one in the hotel.”

“Really?”

“Yes. The logo is identical.”

I shined my flashlight forward.

The towel rack emitted a sharp reflection even through the slime.

The logo clearly visible inside.

The symbol engraved in the metal is definitely the one we saw at the hotel.

Two arrows rotating, each one’s tail connected to the other’s head.

“…”

While I was lost in thought, Yebin asked as if talking to herself.

“I wonder where that came from.”

Silence fell again.

After a while, I broke the silence.

“It probably came from a hotel room.”

“Isn’t that obvious? It’s the same product as the one in the room.”

That’s how it might sound, but actually, it’s not.

I took out a card from my pocket and showed it to Yebin, who was tilting her head in confusion.

It’s the key card that opens the hotel doors.

“The rules of this hotel. Remember?”

It was the first rule we discovered after setting foot in the hotel.

The law of disappearance.

“When you insert the key card, the lights in the room come on. When you remove the key card, everything new that entered the room disappears. And it returns to its original state. As if no one had ever visited.”

I ponder, recalling the facts one by one.

The hotel key card. The disappearing room. This space below the hotel, and the living walls of the building. And the towel rack that fell before us.

They seem completely unrelated, but they’re actually connected.

“Why did you think it was obvious?”

“Huh?”

Yebin raises a question mark at my somewhat abrupt inquiry.

I continue, flicking the key card.

“When entering a room, inserting the key card into the holder.”

We’re in a narrow, dark emergency exit.

Echoes follow the end of my voice. From the living building, faint sounds of heartbeats and breathing can be heard.

But for a moment, all sounds cease.

“Why did we think that was natural?”

“Well, if you don’t insert the key card, the electricity doesn’t work so you can’t turn on the lights.”

“And?”

“Also, when entering a hotel, that’s just what you do. I read it online.”

“Right. That’s common sense so far.”

That would be true in reality.

But in this apartment, it’s completely different.

“But we didn’t do that when we were exploring.”

“Dabin. What are you talking about?”

“When you remove the key card, if someone is in the room, they disappear too. Knowing this, was there really any need to insert the key card into the room? Even though we could have died if something went wrong?”

“Ah…?”

“There was no need to take that risk. So why did we insert the key card as if it was the natural thing to do?”

“That is strange, now that you mention it.”

“If it was just about light, we could have used flashlights instead. The question is why we all thought it was natural.”

A librarian’s ability to uncover truth is maximized when they catch a thread.

It’s like searching the internet.

No matter how much you search for something you know nothing about, you won’t find it.

If you search for something you vaguely know, too much information appears, making it impossible to filter out what you want.

That’s why the process of thinking for yourself is necessary.

A librarian’s ability isn’t magic that automatically tells you everything.

You need to know the exact search terms and concepts for it to fill in the rest.

Finding even small clues like this can drastically reduce meaningless information.

A little more. If I gather just a few more clues, I can completely figure out this place.

“One more thing.”

I put the key card back in my pocket and shifted my gaze to the towel rack.

That elongated metal is still wrapped in slime.

“I said earlier, right? That came from a hotel room.”

Yebin nods.

“And when you remove the key card, everything new that entered the room disappears.”

“Yes.”

“What if everything in the room actually disappears?”

I stand up as I ask the question.

I walk toward the towel rack that fell to the floor.

“What if the moment you insert the key card and then remove it, everything disappears, and only certain furniture returns to the room?”

I bend down to look closely.

Arrows are engraved on the metal rod.

Two arrows rotating, each one’s tail connected to the other’s head.

Or, a snake’s head.

“This is circulation.”

“Circulation.”

“Yes.”

The hotel’s characteristics related to the key card. The towel rack that fell before us.

Now there’s one thing left.

As I pause, Yebin hesitantly shares her thoughts.

“Earlier in the emergency exit… Is the blood flowing through the building also circulation?”

“That’s right.”

I pick up the towel rack and wipe away the slime with my hand.

“That’s how we can connect everything.”

The transparent slime reveals its true color when gathered together.

A metallic silver.

The blood flowing through the living building’s walls, the medium of circulation that forms this place.

Like melted mercury, it is—

“Wait, Dabin!”

“It’s okay. Just don’t look directly at it.”

And, because I already know.

The liquid on my hand disappeared in an instant.

“See! It’s gone now.”

I spread my fingers to show my now dry hand.

“…Yes.”

Yebin sighs with relief.

Looking at Yebin’s pale face, I repeated a sentence in my mind.

A sentence that just occurred to me.

[Where do we go when we die?]

The answer must remain here.

“Let’s go back down.”

Swoosh.

An elevator door opened where my gaze fell.

As if it had been there all along.

“Dabin. I don’t understand. Is it right to go down using this?”

“I’m not sure.”

Yebin hesitates, remaining on the stairs.

“And honestly, we haven’t figured anything out. How to get out of here. What this place really is. I mean, yes, we’ve learned several new things… but we still don’t know what we should do.”

“We’ll know soon enough when we go down.”

I didn’t give a detailed explanation.

It would only breed distrust if I said it now.

“You’re in your right mind, right?”

“Yes. If you don’t believe me, check. You know, the library system.”

I meant it as a joke, but Yebin actually closed her eyes and accessed the library system.

She even completed a librarian mental state check.

“…You’re normal.”

“Then let’s go down.”

Reluctantly, Yebin follows me into the elevator.

It’s cute how she flinches in surprise the moment she steps in.

This elevator has no buttons.

Because the destination has been predetermined from the start.

“Dabin.”

Yebin nudges my side.

She looks somewhat upset.

“Do you know that lately, you and Senior Serim seem to be switching personalities?”

“…Huh?”

“You know everything but don’t tell me anything.”

Thinking back, that’s true.

Senior Serim was like that. She preferred to maintain an air of mystery rather than share information.

I know she couldn’t help it, but it was frustrating.

And now, Yebin is saying I’m doing exactly the same thing.

Does position shape the person? Is that what this is about?

Perhaps, like Senior Serim, I’m also burdened.

Maybe since I’ve learned about the ‘end,’ I’m slowly going mad without even realizing it.

And so, using the excuse that the information is too dangerous for others to know, I might be trying not to share anything.

Not even a simple line of information about myself.

“Is that so?”

After pondering for a while, I brushed it off casually.

It’s too heavy an issue to think about right now.

The elevator is still moving, and we’ll soon arrive at the bottom of the hotel.

Inside the closed elevator.

We can’t see outside, but we can still hear the building breathing.

The sound of a pulse. The sound of something flowing.

Living organisms continuously move their muscles to circulate blood and oxygen.

“Yebin.”

I bring up another seemingly random topic.

“Do you know about reincarnation?”

Yebin nods.

“What about the afterlife?”

“I looked that up when I was online. It was mostly related to religion. Like going to heaven or hell after death, or being reborn into the world. Some say you face judgment, or you might live in eternal darkness.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

As soon as she answers, I ask again.

“Then what do you think?”

“Pardon…?”

“Where do people go when they die?”

“That’s… unknowable. It’s something humans can’t figure out. Maybe death itself is the end. Everyone says something different… It’s the realm of religion or fiction.”

Yebin just lists the facts she knows.

Though she’s obtained a human body now, Yebin spent more time as an AI in a server network.

Rather than forming her own thoughts, judgments, and beliefs, she relies on acquired knowledge.

“No, let me rephrase.”

The elevator is about to reach its destination.

“If we die here.”

We’ll soon be able to see.

“If we die here, where will we go?”

Clunk.

The idea that death is not the end.

It’s a kindness that the concept of faith bestows upon people.

Thud.

In complete darkness. The slit emits light.

A pungent air seeps through the opening doors.

There were people there too.

“It’s an exit! An exit! I knew there had to be a way out!”

“If only we could get out of here.”

“Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.”

As soon as the light shone in, people rushed toward us like moths to a flame.

Yebin covers her mouth with her hand and gasps.

I think I understand.

There’s a big difference between vaguely knowing something and actually seeing it with your own eyes.

The letter I received is still in my pocket.

A note smeared with blood and grime.

[Below the corridor]

[Let me out]

Below the corridor.

A desperate plea sent by someone from below the hotel.

Clutching that paper that had returned with my hair, I looked ahead.

Swoosh.

The elevator door closes behind us.

The people from below rushed toward the door, pushing past us, but they couldn’t enter the elevator.

They just passed through as if it were an illusion.

“No… We can’t get in…”

“Can’t we escape from here?”

“How are we supposed to get out? How? What do we need to do…?”

Both Yebin and I.

We just stood frozen before these desperate people.

It wasn’t simply because their appearance was repulsive.

Nor was it because of the madness reflected in the light shining over their eyes.

Something alien was protruding from the forms of the people staying here.

On the shoulders of a crying woman sat festering scabs, over which hung a tattered bathrobe soaked in pus.

From the back of an old man who was screaming and thrashing about, a wooden desk leg protruded halfway.

A lamp stand growing from a child’s head.

Fluorescent lights sprouting like coral from a middle-aged person’s stomach.

What they all had in common was that liquid.

The fluid that takes on a silvery sheen when gathered.

The substance that continuously circulates through the blood vessels in the building’s walls.

Something we all have. Yet something we cannot properly understand.

The oldest memetic kill agent.

That which breaks down the mind of anyone who looks closely at it and makes them forget everything.

Also. The idea that death is not the end.

It’s a kindness that faith bestows upon us.

And we cannot fully understand the kindness of someone else.

“This is faith.”

Circulation.

Souls flow within the walls of the hotel.

“How did you get here?”

“Tell us.”

“We need to get out too.”

“We have to escape from here.”

“Please let us out of here.”

I felt again the gaze I had felt when I looked into the liquid.

Where do people go when they die?

To the place we believed in most.

Wherever there are people, there must surely be heaven.