How to Die in a Company That Turned Into a Labyrinth — Chapter 36: Please, No

Chapter 36: Please, No

To‍‍ start with the‌⁠⁠ result, it seems⁠‍ my liver ended up being useful‌‍ for something.

I don’t know whether‌‌‌ that’s a misfortune‌ or a stroke‍ of luck.

Although,⁠‍ if this was‍ a floor that‍ could be cleared⁠‍ without even going‌ to NeoSoft, wouldn’t that be a good thing in‌ the long run?⁠

After‍ all, even if‌‌‍ we died, we‍‍‌ wouldn’t have to‍⁠⁠ play that game⁠ anymore.

But‌‍⁠ at that moment,‍‌‍ I lost my‌ mind.

“Excuse‍ me. Did you‌ say the offices on the right‍ were empty?”

First⁠ they helped me‍ to my feet,⁠‌ and instead of‍‌‍ heading toward the⁠‍‍ left corridor where⁠⁠ NeoSoft was, I walked straight into‌ the corridor on‍ the right.

Then⁠‍ I threw open‌ a door that⁠‌ had no sign‌‌⁠ on it whatsoever.‍⁠

“Ah.⁠‌ Shi—”

I found it.

Something.‌

Or‍⁠ someone.

Standing in an empty‍ office, staring fixedly at the wall.‍‍

“Excuse⁠ me.”

Click.‍

“Haa…”⁠‍⁠

As‌ expected, the door‌ didn’t close.

I watched that thing through the half-open‍ gap.

Slowly,⁠ it turned its‍⁠‌ body toward me.‍‌‍

Fortunately,‍⁠ it didn’t come⁠⁠‌ any closer.

“T-that… is that a person? No, right?”⁠‍

Choi‍ Jaeha, who had‍ come behind me,⁠⁠ whispered against my‌ back.

It‌ looked like a person.

At least its silhouette‌ did.

“I’d‌ say probably not…”⁠

It⁠‌‍ was wearing a thick gray coat,⁠⁠ far too heavy‌ for the season.⁠

A brimmed hat pulled down to its⁠‍ eyebrows.

A scarf completely wrapped⁠‌ around its face.‍

Its‌‍ face couldn’t be‌‍ seen.

It‍ was between 160‍‌ and 170 centimeters‍‍ tall.

Its build was hidden‍ beneath the thick‍ clothing.

And‌ it was wearing‌⁠‍ gloves.

Every‍ part that could‌ be considered “exposed‌⁠ skin” was covered.⁠

It‍ was impossible to‌‌ guess its age or sex.

And⁠ if it wasn’t‌ human, that distinction‌‍ was even more⁠‌‌ meaningless.

In‌‍ other words.

Nobody‍ knew what was‌ underneath those clothes.⁠‌

“It’s‌‌⁠ holding a pair of scissors.”

“L-let’s‍ go… Let’s run…‌‍ Let’s run…”

While‌ Yoo Hyunjae calmly‌ pointed that out‌‌ and Choi Jaeha‌ tugged on my⁠ jacket.

“Mr.‍⁠ Choi Jaeha… There⁠‌ are three important⁠‌ things you should‍ know.”

There‍‍ are three fundamental⁠ facts worth remembering‌ here.

First.‍‌

There‍⁠⁠ are monsters and⁠ anomalous phenomena in‌‌‌ labyrinths that can kill without needing bladed weapons.

But‍⁠ that doesn’t mean‍ they can’t kill‌‌‌ using bladed weapons.‍‌⁠

Second.‍‍

Labyrinths‌⁠ are not games.⁠

Encountering‍‌ a monster or‍‍ an anomaly does⁠‍⁠ not necessarily mean‌⁠ you’re on the‌ right path.

Third.‌‍

But‌ the problem is⁠ that there’s also‍ a possibility that it is the‍‍ right path.

And⁠⁠ there’s no way to know unless⁠ you go and‌⁠ check.

“And‌‌ the fourth point?‍ Isn’t there a fourth point? Aren’t⁠ you forgetting something about how you⁠ could go in‍⁠ there and die?”‌‍⁠

That’s⁠ so obvious that⁠ even someone as⁠‍ uninterested in labyrinths‌⁠‌ as Choi Jaeha doesn’t need it⁠ explained.

Which is why it⁠ doesn’t count as‌‍ a fourth point.⁠‌

“I-it’s moving!”

The‍ moment the unknown⁠‍ figure slowly began‍ to raise the‍‍ hand holding the‍ scissors.

Choi‍ Jaeha had already⁠⁠ retreated all the‌⁠‌ way back to‍ NeoSoft’s entrance.

Yoo‌⁠ Hyunjae and Hwang‍ Juyeon moved away‍‌ down the corridor with Jung Jiho‍‌ so they wouldn’t‍‌ have to see‌⁠ inside the office.‍

“WHAT‌⁠ ARE YOU DOING?!‌ GET OVER HERE!”⁠⁠

While‍ a certain man was on the‍‍ verge of dying‍‌ from frustration.

I stared fixedly at the tip of‍‌‍ the scissors.

“I think it’s pointing⁠‍ at me.”

I took one or⁠‌ two steps left‌‍ and right from the doorway.

Then‍‍ it became clear.‌‌‍

That thing was pointing‍ exactly at me.‌‍‍

Should‍ I ignore it?‍‌‌

Or⁠‌ was ignoring it‌‍ precisely the fastest⁠⁠ way to die?‌

I couldn’t know.

That⁠ was the problem‍⁠ with labyrinths.

Well, one of many.⁠‍⁠

“I’m‌⁠‍ going in.”

“What?⁠ Going where?”

There‍‌‍ was another argument.‌‍⁠

That⁠ I was crazy.

That‍‌ I couldn’t do‌‌ this.

That‌⁠ it was all‌ the liver’s fault.‌

But‍ in the end,‌⁠ I went in.⁠‌

“You‌ really are insane…”‌

With‌‍ Choi Jaeha’s voice‍ in the background,⁠ I slowly moved‍ forward.

One‌⁠⁠ step.

Then another.

The⁠ closer I got,‌‍ the lower the⁠⁠⁠ tip of the‍ scissors pointing at‌⁠ me descended.

First‌ it pointed at my head.

Then‍‍ my chest.

Then‌ my abdomen.

At‌⁠ first I thought‌‍‌ it was pointing‌‌‍ at my liver.⁠⁠

But⁠‌ the arm kept⁠ lowering.

I followed the direction‍⁠⁠ of the blade⁠‌ with my eyes.‌‍

My‌ right hip?

My‍‍‌ femur?

My⁠‌ femoral artery?

What⁠⁠ was it pointing‌ at?

And‍ when I finally‍‍⁠ reached the figure‌⁠⁠ in the hat.‌‌

I understood exactly what⁠ the tip of⁠ those scissors was‌⁠‍ pointing at.

My⁠ right pocket.

Rustle…⁠⁠

Inside⁠⁠ was my souvenir‍‍ from Happyland.

The‍⁠ commemorative photograph of my visit.

The‌ red roller coaster‍ with peeling paint.⁠‌

The six empty seats.⁠‌⁠

The⁠⁠ rusted rails that⁠ smelled of iron.‍‍

The‌ shadows of the‌‍ night devouring everything.

A fragment of the⁠ happiest moments of‌ my life.

“Do⁠ you want this?”⁠‍

It⁠ nodded.

Though,‍⁠⁠ to be honest,‍ I don’t know‍ if that was really a head.‌

Because of the height‌ difference, I still⁠‍‌ couldn’t see what‍ was beneath the hat, and I had no intention of bending down⁠‍⁠ to look inside.‌

No.‍

I mustn’t look.

My‌ instincts were screaming‍‌‌ it at me.⁠

“Here.”‌‌

Snip,⁠ snip—

The creature took the⁠‍ A4 sheet folded‍ into four parts,‍ carefully unfolded it,⁠ and began cutting⁠⁠ it with the‍ scissors.

Looking‌‍ closely, I saw‍‍ that it was‌ trimming away the⁠⁠‌ margins so that⁠ only the photograph⁠⁠ remained.

[One‌ of Seon Yuhan’s‍‍ Happiest Moments]

Including‌⁠‌ that caption as well.

Even‍⁠‌ with those thick‌‍‍ wool gloves, it‌ handled the scissors⁠‌ with surprising precision.

When‌‍‍ it finished, it held the photograph‌‌ for several seconds.‍

Then‍ it took several⁠‌ steps to the‍‌ left and raised‌ its arm.

Tap.

It⁠‌ attached the photograph‌ to the wall.‍

I had no idea⁠ how it had stuck it there⁠⁠ without tape.

Nor‌⁠ did I understand what was special about that spot.‌

But‍ it seemed to‍ follow its own‌ rules.

“……”‍‍

I waited for some‌⁠ kind of change.⁠

Nothing‍‍⁠ happened.

The‌ creature turned toward⁠⁠‌ me.

Then‌‌ it slightly tilted‍ its hat, as⁠‌ if asking why‌ I was still⁠‌ there.

“Do⁠⁠⁠ you want me‍ to leave?”

The figure nodded and⁠‍‌ waved a hand⁠‍‌ as though saying⁠ goodbye.

In‍ the end, I slowly left, still‍‍‍ bewildered.

Fortunately,⁠‌ there was no‍⁠ unfortunate incident where‌‍‌ it threw the‍ scissors and lodged‌‌⁠ them in the‍‍ back of my‌⁠ neck.

What‍⁠‍ the hell was‌‌‍ that?

What exactly had that⁠ been?

“I‌ suppose the condition⁠ was simply to⁠ give it that⁠ photograph.”

Yoo‍‍ Hyunjae, who was‍ waiting outside, cleared‍ up part of my confusion.

If⁠‍ the condition for‍⁠‌ advancing to the next floor was⁠‌ to place the‍ commemorative photograph obtained‌ after clearing Happyland‍ on the wall.‍

Then‌ all those horrible things that happened during the game‍ had not been‍ in vain.

“Ah.‌ Then now—”

“—Mr.‍‍⁠ Seon Yuhan. You⁠‌ should sit down‌‍ and rest for‍ a bit first.”⁠‌

I tried to go‌‌ downstairs immediately to‌ check.

They‍ forced me to sit on the‌‌ floor.

Only‍ then did I notice that the‍ other three were‍⁠ already sitting against the hallway wall.⁠

“Mr.⁠⁠‌ Seon Yuhan’s condition‍ is already concerning.⁠‌ And we have‍ a child here⁠ as well.”

Only‌⁠ then did I lean against the‍ wall and accept‍‌ the bottle of‍ water and snacks‍ they offered me.‌

Apparently,‌‌⁠ while I was delivering the photograph‌ in that empty‍ office, Yoo Hyunjae‌ had raided NeoSoft’s⁠‌ break room.

“What⁠ if you had⁠‌⁠ gotten trapped in⁠‍ there?”

“But‌⁠ I didn’t get‍⁠ trapped.”

Poor administrative staff.

That‌‍ was what I thought when I saw that irritatingly calm expression.

I discreetly turned my⁠‌‍ head toward the‍ child sitting between‌‌ Choi Jaeha and‌ Hwang Juyeon.

“Jiho.‍‌‍ Uh… how old⁠ are you?”

There‌‌ were too many‌‌ things I had‌ never asked him.‍

The‍‌ child hesitated as⁠ if he wanted⁠ to say something.⁠‍

In‌‍ the end, he‌‌ held up 3 fingers.

Seven‌‍‌ years old.

The‌‍ age to enter‍‍ elementary school the‌‍ following year.

“I⁠ see… You still‍‍‍ have trouble speaking,‌ right? And you’re‍ scared too.”

Jung‌‌ Jiho nodded.

“By‍‍ the way… the‌ teacher who was‍ originally taking care‍‌ of you…”

I didn’t need to‌ finish the sentence.‍‌‌

His‌ expression said it⁠ all.

Inside the false wall‍⁠ next to the daycare lockers was a person who⁠⁠‍ had been “put⁠‍ away” inside a toy box.

That‍‌ person had indeed‌ been a daycare‍ teacher.

And‍‍‌ Jung Jiho had‌ seen her end.‌

It‍‍ was only natural⁠‌ that he couldn’t‌‍ speak.

‘So⁠‍ that you won’t⁠ cry noisily, so⁠‌ that you won’t‍‌ make a scene,‍‍ so that you‌‍⁠ won’t run around,‌ so that you‍ won’t squirm restlessly, and so that‍ you won’t mutter‌‌⁠ incomprehensibly.’

The‌‍ conditions for being‌‍‍ a “beloved child”‍ that the goose‌‍ doll at the⁠ daycare had mentioned.‌

He‍‌ was afraid of‌ breaking those rules.

Even⁠⁠ after leaving the⁠⁠‌ daycare.

Even‌⁠‌ after seeing that the adults around‌‌ him spoke normally‍‍ and didn’t die.‍‍‍

His⁠ voice was probably‌ still refusing to⁠ come out.

“Hmm.‍‌‍ Your parents work in this company,⁠‌⁠ right? Was it⁠ your mom? Ah,‍ yes. Your mom.‍ Do you remember‍‍‍ what the magician⁠ said earlier?”

The child’s round eyes‌‌ looked at me.

“If‌ this were a game, we’d be‌⁠⁠ a team. And‍‍‌ the people who‍‌ aren’t here would‍ be clearing the‌⁠ game somewhere else.”‌

Fortunately,‍ he seemed to⁠‌ vaguely remember the‌⁠ explanation about instance⁠‍ dungeons.

“So‌ don’t worry too⁠‍ much even if⁠ you can’t find⁠‌ your mom in here. Once we‍‌ get out, you’ll‍ be able to‍⁠‍ see her.”

His⁠ expression showed doubt.‍

And‍ it was a reasonable reaction.

Even⁠ if Jung Jiho‌‌ survived.

His⁠‍ mother might come‌‍ out dead.

However,⁠ as I kept‌ talking, his face⁠ brightened a little.‍

“Look.⁠ We’ve been making⁠‌ pretty good progress,⁠ right? I’m sure‍‍ your mom is‌‍⁠ too.”

No.⁠

Maybe⁠‍ she was already⁠ dead.

And if that happened,‌ would this child⁠ blame me someday?‌⁠

Would‍⁠‌ he ask me⁠ why I lied to him?

Why⁠‌‍ I gave him‌‍ false hope?

But‌‌ I preferred that‌ to seeing him give up.

Even⁠‍ if it was‍‌⁠ a cruel hope.‍‍

I wanted him to keep moving forward.‌

To get out of‍‍ the labyrinth alive.‍

“Hey,‌⁠ Jiho. By the‍ way, don’t you‍ have a phone?‌ They say even‌ kindergarten kids carry⁠⁠ one these days.”‌‍

Choi⁠‌ Jaeha’s sudden question⁠⁠ diverted the child’s attention.

Then⁠ Yoo Hyunjae, sitting beside him, turned‌ toward me.

“Mr.‍ Seon Yuhan.”

“Yes?”⁠‍

“What⁠ did you answer⁠‌ in the end?”‍‌⁠

“Excuse⁠‍‌ me?”

The⁠‌ director’s eyes gleamed.‌‌‍

“I‍ mean the final interview question.”

“Ah.”⁠⁠

The‌‍‍ final question that,‍‍ according to rumor,‍‌ was always asked⁠⁠ in interviews for‍‌⁠ the Jaerae Group,‌⁠ including Yuwi Guild.⁠‍

If‌⁠ it were possible‌‌ to turn back‌ time, what would‌⁠ you do?

Technically,⁠‌ sharing interview questions‍‍ was prohibited.

But it was so⁠ strange that it⁠⁠ had become an⁠ open secret on the internet.

On‍ employment forums, people‍‌⁠ jokingly called it‍ “the regressor question.”⁠

“I‍ was under the‍ impression that sharing‍⁠ it was forbidden.”⁠‍

“You‌‌‌ know who I am, right?”

Of⁠⁠⁠ course I did.‌‌‍

Yoo⁠ Hyunjae.

Co-CEO⁠‍⁠ of Yuwi Guild.⁠⁠

And I also knew⁠‍ that such an‍⁠⁠ absurd question would‌‍ never have made⁠‌ it into an interview without his‍‌ approval.

“Anyway,‌ I could easily find out what‍ you answered during‌ the interview. If‌⁠⁠ I really wanted⁠‌‍ to.”

“It‍ would be better‌ to save those⁠ things for after‍⁠ we get out⁠⁠ of here. Right⁠ now, what you⁠⁠ need is water⁠‌‌ and food.”

“Going‍‍ a day without‌ eating isn’t a problem.”

The⁠ conversation had taken‌ a strange turn.‍‌

I just wanted him‍‌⁠ to eat what‍⁠⁠ he was holding.⁠

“So,‌ what did you‍ answer?”

What‍‍⁠ a persistent man.⁠

“But‍ Director. Why are‍ you so interested‍ in that? I don’t just mean‌ my answer. I mean, why do‌ you ask something‌⁠ like that in an interview?”

“That’s‍‍ a little unfair.‌‌ You didn’t answer⁠‌⁠ me either. Why‍‍ should I explain⁠ it to you?”‌‌

That⁠ strange man’s eyebrows‌ lowered slightly.

“Haa,‌ if you don’t‌⁠‍ want to say‍‍ it, you don’t⁠‍ have to.”

“No,⁠ I’ll tell you.⁠‍ Life is unfair⁠⁠‌ by nature.”

Is‌ this man crazy?⁠

Isn’t‍‍ someone from the⁠‌‌ company not supposed‍‍ to say something‍ like that?

Does‌ he really want⁠‍ to know what true unfairness means?‍

“That⁠⁠ question is simply‌⁠ used as a personality test. If‌⁠‍ you guarantee there⁠ will be no‍‌‌ consequences, people tend⁠‌ to answer more honestly. Some of⁠ the answers are‍ quite interesting. However…”⁠

Yoo⁠ Hyunjae smiled.

“That’s⁠ beside the point.‍⁠ Personally, I believe temporal regression phenomena‍‌ can occur inside⁠‌ labyrinths.”

“Temporal… regression phenomena? You really believe that?”⁠

“Yes.”⁠‍

Please.‍‌⁠

I hope that’s not‍‍⁠ true.