There Are No Humans in the Monster Company — Chapter 27: You Can Survive and Return Alive (2)

Chapter 27: You Can Survive and Return Alive (2)

In⁠ silence.

In‍⁠ absolute silence.

I began walking again.‌‍‌

The‍‍‌ corridor of the abandoned building remained‌⁠ dark, damp, and‍ strangely silent.

It⁠ was not simply⁠‍‍ silence.

It was a stillness‍‌‍ that gave the impression that something‌‌ was hidden, watching‍⁠ me.

The Presence continued to⁠ manifest intermittently through⁠‍ those Clank sounds,⁠ and every time‍ I heard them,‌ I changed direction‍ to move away⁠⁠‌ from where they‌ were coming from.⁠⁠

When the sweat cooled‍ on the back‌ of my neck‌⁠⁠ and my joints‌ trembled slightly, I held my breath⁠ for a few seconds.

But‍⁠ I never stopped walking.

At a constant pace.‌‌

Never⁠‍ stopping.

Because⁠‍‌ the manual from⁠ the Anomalous Disaster‌‍‍ Management Department was⁠⁠ clear.

“……”

My‍ head hurt.

It‌ was as if‌ my brain were⁠ desperately filtering something⁠‌ between reality and‌ unreality, between the‌ Presence and the silence.

I pressed my forehead⁠‍ with my right‌‍ hand and took a deep breath‍ while repeating to‌ myself.

‘Get⁠‍ a hold of yourself.’

This place is less‍‍ insane than the‌ company.

Probably.‍

As‌ I muttered that⁠⁠⁠ and raised my‌‍ head.

Further‍ ahead.

Beyond the winding walls⁠‍ of darkness.

The‌ light of a fluorescent lamp went⁠⁠ out for an‌‌ instant.

And‍ then.

Flick.‍‌

It‍‌ turned back on.‌

‘There’s‌ something…’

I saw it.

Without‌ making a sound,‌‌ I slowly moved‍ around the corner‌⁠ of the corridor.‍

Beneath⁠⁠ an old lamp.

There⁠‍‌ was a figure‌‌‌ lying on the‍⁠‍ floor.

‘A‌ person?’

A middle-aged man dressed⁠⁠‍ in a gray‍ shirt and a black blazer.

More‌‍‍ precisely, a middle-aged‌⁠ man who had‍‍‌ nothing below the‌ waist.

The severed section was‌⁠ so clean that⁠ it looked unnatural.‍‍

The blood that had‌⁠ poured out and⁠ spread across the‌‌⁠ floor and walls⁠ had long since‍ dried, turning a dark brown color.‌⁠

I slowly turned my⁠ head.

The‍ corpse’s expression had⁠ frozen before it‌ had even been‌ able to scream.‌‍⁠

Fear‌‌ etched directly into‍‍ the muscles.

‘The‌ Presence.’

If‍⁠‍ there were no⁠⁠ survivors who had‌⁠ encountered the Presence,‌ then it meant‌⁠‍ that everyone who⁠‌ had met it had died.

This‍ man encountered it.‌

And‌ was cut in‍⁠‌ half.

Or perhaps sliced apart.‍‌

The‍ moment I reached‍ that conclusion, an‌ icy sensation began‍ spreading from behind‍ my knees.

“……”⁠‍

I lowered my gaze⁠ to avoid the‌⁠ corpse’s eyes and‍‌‍ thought.

The⁠⁠ good news was⁠ that the Clank sound could still⁠ be heard far⁠⁠‌ away.

The‍ bad news was‍ that if that⁠ Presence that kept⁠ stalking me managed‌⁠ to catch up,⁠ I would end‍‌ up exactly the⁠‌⁠ same.

I searched his pockets⁠ in silence.

A wallet.

Documents.‍

A phone.

Nothing.⁠‌

‘Someone‌‌ who got here‍ before me.’

Someone⁠⁠⁠ who tried to survive.

Someone‌ who walked in⁠⁠ search of an‍‌ exit.

And‌ someone who was‌‍ eventually found by⁠ the Presence.

I looked at him one last time.⁠

He⁠‌ was a stranger.

But‌ at the same⁠⁠ time, he wasn’t.‍‍

Because‌‌ his expression reflected my own face⁠‌ like a mirror.‍⁠‍

“…I’m‍‍ sorry.”

I didn’t know if‍ I truly felt‌ guilty.

But‍ the words came‌‌ out on their⁠‍‍ own.

And‍⁠ after saying them,⁠ I silently walked‌‍⁠ away.

I started walking again.‍

***⁠⁠

“Fuuu…”⁠‍

I slowly let out⁠ my breath.

The‍⁠ headache felt as⁠‌⁠ though it were‍⁠ squeezing the back⁠ of my skull.‍‍

The⁠‌⁠ corridor was still‌ dark.

The‍‌ wallpaper was still⁠⁠ peeling.

And⁠⁠‌ the lights continued‍‍ to flicker as‍‌⁠ if they were‍‍‌ malfunctioning.

In⁠‌ the distance, a lamp flickered.

And⁠ then remained steady.‌

No.‌

Wait.

“Hmm?”‌⁠

Normally,‍ the lights went⁠ out.

But‌ this time, it‍‍‌ remained lit.

Under‍‌ that unstable illumination, I could see‍‌ something.

A door.

Another iron door.

But different from the‍‍⁠ previous one.

It‍ wasn’t the exit.‌

I didn’t need a hunch to know⁠ that.

Things had never been⁠ that easy.

‘…Doors⁠‌⁠ that are not⁠ exits have a high probability of‍⁠‌ leading to stairs.’‌‌

I bit my lip‍‌‍ and slowly pushed⁠ the door open.‌

It‍ was old.

But‌ it opened easily.‍‌

Creeeak.⁠

With⁠‌‍ the harsh sound‍ of metal, a gray steel staircase‌‌ appeared.

Torn⁠⁠ yellow warning tags‍ hung from it.‍

The‍ walls were covered‌ in damp stains⁠ that looked like‌‌‍ mold.

There‍⁠‍ was only one‍ direction.

Only⁠ stairs leading upward.

“……”‌‍⁠

I stood motionless for‍‌ several seconds, staring‌‌ at them.

The⁠ stairs said nothing.⁠‌‍

They‍‍ offered no temptation.‌‍‌

They‌‌ were simply there.⁠⁠

Dark⁠ fangs stretching upward‌⁠‍ and upward.

The⁠ words from the⁠ manual returned to⁠⁠ my mind.

[To‍ date, no cases‍⁠ of survival have⁠ been recorded after⁠‍‌ using an ascending⁠ staircase.]

A firm statement.

Absolute.⁠‌‍

I lowered my head.‌

I swallowed the curse⁠‌ that was trying‌ to escape my‍‌ throat and closed⁠ the door.

Since⁠‍‌ finding the first‌ room, I had‌ opened several more⁠‍ doors.

But all of them‍‌ led to identical‍ rooms containing the‌ same manual.

It⁠ was the first‍ time I had‍⁠ found a staircase.‍⁠

And,‍ as always, it had only offered‍ me despair.

‘There’s‌ no choice but⁠‌⁠ to look for⁠ another way.’

I closed the door‌ and kept walking.‍‌‌

The⁠‍ corridor remained the‍⁠ same as before.‍‌

Exposed‍ concrete and cement.‍‍

The‍‌ damp floor.

And‌‍‍ the lights flickering‍⁠⁠ as if they⁠ were about to‌‌ die.

***⁠

How⁠ much time had‍‍ passed?

I saw another strange door.

And⁠⁠ another staircase.

This time, it was‍ a staircase leading⁠ down.

I stopped in front of the door.‍‌

Beyond‌⁠ the half-open iron‌ door, a narrow⁠⁠ concrete stairwell opened⁠‍ its dark mouth.‍⁠

A single abnormally long⁠ fluorescent light hung‌‍ from the ceiling.‍‌

It‍ did not flicker.‍‌

It‌ simply illuminated downward⁠ with a pale,‌ expressionless light.

‘…A‍⁠ staircase leading down.’⁠‍

It’s‍‍ the sixth staircase.⁠

And‍ the first descending‌ one I’ve found.‍⁠

Every‌ staircase I had⁠‍‍ seen until now‍ led upward.

I had already closed⁠‍ five doors in‍ front of those‍‍ vertical passages leading⁠⁠ up.

And now, for the⁠ first time, I had a descending‍ staircase in front‌‌ of me.

I recalled the words‍ of the manual.‌

[It⁠⁠ is estimated that⁠⁠ the deeper one⁠ descends, the better⁠ the lighting and⁠ environment become, and‌ the number of‍ available exits also‍⁠ increases.]

But.‍‌

[From‌ the moment you descend, the so-called “Presence” will appear.‌

It⁠⁠ may manifest as human-like footsteps, breathing‍‍ sounds, or vibrations within the silence, and it will‍‍‍ pursue you constantly.‌

Currently,⁠‍‍ there are no‌‍ recorded cases of‌⁠⁠ survival following direct⁠‍‌ contact with the‌⁠ Presence.]

I looked down again.‍

A staircase that was‍ neither particularly deep⁠‌‌ nor steep.

Concrete‌ walls.

A corroded metal handrail.‍

Mold‍⁠ reaching knee height.‍⁠‌

It‍‌ was impossible to‌ see anything further⁠ below.

Only‌ a strange silence‌ reigned.

‘…It‌‌ becomes more comfortable.’

And‍⁠ the number of‌ exits is supposed⁠‌ to increase as‌‍ well.

That was what the‍ information said.

The‌ problem was the‌‍ existence of the‌‍⁠ Presence.

I had already experienced‍ the Presence without⁠ descending any staircase.⁠

I didn’t know how⁠‍⁠ many hours that⁠ cursed Clank sound‍ had been pounding‍⁠ against my eardrums.‍

‘In⁠‍‌ the worst-case scenario,‍‌ multiple Presences could‍ appear.’

I took a step⁠‌ back and slowly⁠ turned my head.⁠⁠

Long.‍⁠

Too‌‌⁠ long.

Ridiculously⁠‍ long.

A gray corridor stretching in a straight‌ line.

No⁠⁠ curves.

No‌‌‍ staircases.

No‌⁠ doors.

I couldn’t even see‌ the end of⁠ the line extending⁠ endlessly before my⁠‌⁠ eyes.

I looked back at‍‍‌ the staircase.

A concrete staircase descending‌ downward.

With⁠ a rusted handrail⁠ and damp, cracked‌ walls.

A strange sensation ran down the back‍‍ of my neck.⁠‌

‘…This‍⁠‌ is strange.’

I had been walking for dozens of⁠ minutes.

Perhaps‍ more than an⁠‍ hour.

All‍⁠ that time traversing‌ the endless straight‌‍ corridor stretching behind‍ me.

During‍ that journey, I had not encountered‍‌‌ a single favorable‍‍⁠ option.

Only⁠‌ one.

The⁠ staircase before me‌ was the first‍‌ and only branch‌‌ that seemed to⁠ offer some advantage.⁠

I slowly examined my⁠ surroundings and ran my hand across‌‌ the wall.

Rough⁠‌ concrete.

Gray‌‍⁠ paint particles applied⁠⁠ carelessly.

Cracks.⁠‍

Rust.

Mold.⁠⁠

And‍ then.

‘Warmth?’‍‌

A faint warmth.

Had⁠ someone been here?⁠

I looked at the staircase again, bit my lips hard,‌⁠ inhaled deeply, and‍ exhaled slowly.

‘If‍⁠ I go down,‌ there will be more light and‍‌ more exits.’

But‍ the risk of‌‌‌ being pursued by‍‌‍ something intangible called⁠‍ the Presence would also increase.

And‌ the worst-case scenario‌ was that more‍ Presences would appear.‍‌⁠

I cautiously stepped back⁠ and slowly returned‌ to the corridor.⁠‌

Clank.‍‌

The Presence is coming.‍‍‌

Clank.⁠‌‍

I felt pressure in‍ my ears.

Clank.‍‍

I think I know⁠‌ what that sound⁠⁠ is.

The noise of a heavy metal mass dragging and striking‌‌ the floor.

‘I‍ hear it.’

Clank.‌

At‍⁠ first, I thought‌⁠ it might be⁠‌ a mistake.

Or⁠⁠⁠ rather, I wished‍ it was.

But…‌

Clank.‍‍

It⁠⁠ was a sound‍‌‍ that was far⁠ too familiar.

‘A‍ breaching sledgehammer.’

The‍ distinctive heavy scraping⁠‌⁠ of a hammer‍ used to break⁠ down doors or‍ walls.

I slowly leaned beside the entrance and⁠ listened carefully.

Clank.⁠‌

Clank.‌

Clank.

‘Approximately‍ 1.7 seconds.’

It‍‍ wasn’t random.

It sounded at regular‍ intervals.

As‌‍ if it knew‌‌ the route.

As⁠⁠ if it knew⁠ the structure.

And‍⁠⁠ it was probably‌⁠⁠ looking for something.‍

I still couldn’t see‍‍ anything.

The‍ darkness began where⁠⁠⁠ the faint illumination no longer reached.‌

But⁠ I could feel‌ it.

My‍‌ lungs were tightening.‌

The⁠ muscles in my‌⁠ thighs were tensing.‌‍‌

And‌‌ a freezing sensation was spreading from‌ deep within my gut.

Clank.‌‌

Clank.

Clank.⁠‍

“It’s‍ always the same.”⁠

When⁠‍ you have no‌‍ options, sometimes making‍‍ a decision becomes⁠ much easier.

I stepped into the⁠⁠‌ staircase and closed‌ the door.

The‌‌⁠ moment I did,‍⁠‍ the air inside⁠ the stairwell sank⁠ heavily.

Clank.‍‌⁠

The‌⁠ Presence whispered from‍⁠‍ behind the metal‌⁠‍ door.

And‌⁠ then.

Bzzzt.‌‍‌

I heard the sound‌‌ of the air‍‌ distorting before it‍⁠‍ vanished.

‘Fuuu…’⁠

After calming myself with‌ the pulse of‍⁠ the fountain pen⁠ and the warmth of the Relics‍‌ of the Smiling‍‍ Martyr.

I began descending the‌⁠‌ steps one by‌‌ one in silence.‍

My⁠ heart and lungs‍ tingled.

The⁠ further I descended,⁠‍ the faster the⁠‌ martyr’s remains on⁠‍ my wrist pulsed.‍⁠

And‌⁠ when I finally‍⁠ stepped onto the⁠⁠ last stair,

‘…!’⁠‌

The‌‌ world changed.

“This⁠‍ place…”

It’s‍ more spacious.

The⁠ corridor was still⁠‍ narrow and winding.⁠

But‍ the air was⁠ different.

Much‍‌‍ better than the⁠‌ floor above.

It⁠⁠‍ still smelled of⁠‌ mold and grease.‍⁠

But⁠‍ breathing was easier.⁠‍‍

The‌⁠ floor was covered‌⁠ with old linoleum,⁠ like that of‌ an ancient motel.‌‍

Unlike‍ the upper floor,‌ where the concrete was completely exposed,⁠‍ the walls here⁠‌ were covered in⁠ faded wallpaper.

The fluorescent lights still‌ flickered from time‌ to time.

But⁠ overall, the place was much brighter.‍

I never imagined I would be so‍ grateful for the⁠‌‌ existence of light.‌

‘The⁠‍‍ manual was right.’‍‍

As‍ you descend, the‌⁠ environment improves.

It‍ was far more⁠ livable than upstairs.

I looked around.

Doors‍‌ were scattered throughout⁠ the corridor.

Closed doors.

Old‍ doors.

Some⁠‌‌ even had signs.⁠

‘…A⁠‍ motel?’

A strange space imitating‍‌ a terribly old‍‌ motel.

Perhaps‍‍ there was something‌ new behind those doors.

It⁠⁠‍ was more comfortable.

But also more dangerous.⁠‍‌

The‌ real choice began⁠‍ now.

***‌⁠‌

How‌ many doors had‍‌ I opened while‍ risking my life?⁠‌‍

Closed‌⁠ doors.

Half-open‌ doors.

Doors‍ torn from their‌ hinges and barely‌ hanging on.

More‍⁠ than dozens.

‘And⁠ among all of‌ them, there isn’t⁠‍ a single exit.’‌‌‌

My‌⁠‍ shoulders felt heavy.‌‍

My‌⁠⁠ back was soaked.‍

The⁠ pants stuck to‌‌ my skin were⁠ saturated with cold‌ sweat and the‍‍ smell of mold.‌‌

I was thirsty.

My mouth felt sticky.‍

Every‍ breath cut like‍⁠ a blade.

Dense,‍ hot, strangely salty‌⁠ air.

I was hungry.

And more than that.‍

I was exhausted to‍⁠⁠ the point of⁠ wanting to die.⁠

‘How‌‌⁠ long have I been walking?’

Several‍ hours must have‌ passed since I descended to the‍ lower floor.

There‍ was no watch.‍

No phone.

No‌ windows.

No⁠‍ way to check⁠⁠‌ the time.

The‌ distance traveled and‍ the path taken‍‌‍ left no trace‌⁠ in this place.⁠‌

My⁠‌ legs felt heavy.‌⁠

My‍ eyelids were made‍ of lead.

I just kept walking⁠ and walking.

And‍⁠ sometimes I sat‍ down for a moment.

Whenever‌‌ the Presence that⁠ had descended with⁠‌‍ me drew closer,‌ I changed direction⁠ and continued moving⁠ without stopping.

‘Is‌ continuing to walk‍‌ really the right‍ thing to do?’‌

The‌ moment I leaned‌‌ against a wall,‍‍‌ a sharp pain⁠‍ shot through my‌‍ knees and I nearly collapsed.

I closed my eyes‍‍ as I felt my consciousness wavering.‌‍

My⁠⁠⁠ head and temples felt crushed by‍‍ an invisible pressure.

Before⁠‍ losing clarity, I raised my head‍ and read an‌ old sign on‍⁠ the wall.

Room‍ 301.

A meaningless number.

‘If‍ only I could⁠ find another staircase‌ leading down…’

The‌‌ environment would improve.‍⁠⁠

Perhaps‌ there would even⁠ be more exits.‌

Of‌‍‍ course.

If‌ I managed to⁠⁠ find another staircase.‍

Without‍ realizing it, I punched the wall.‍‍‍

Thud.‌

The‍‌‌ fact that the⁠‌ Presence hadn’t appeared‌ for a while⁠⁠⁠ unsettled me even‌‍ more.

What‌ if it was‌ just waiting for‌‍ me to let⁠‍ my guard down?⁠

‘How⁠‍ long are you‍ going to keep‍ doing this?’

Running.‍

Walking.‌

Going through doors.

Scraping⁠⁠ wallpaper.

Distrusting‍ fluorescent lights.

Holding‌‍⁠ my breath because‌‌‌ of the smells.⁠

Am⁠ I going to‌⁠ keep living like this?

For‌ how long?

Even‌ if I descend⁠‌ more staircases, what‍ will change?

Basement Two?

Basement⁠ Three?

Basement‍‍ One Hundred?

How⁠‌ long will I have to keep‍⁠‍ running?

“Damn⁠ it… at least‌‌ die like a person.”

My‌ eyelids were half‌‍⁠ closed.

My‌‍ vision was blurring.‌

It‌ felt as though someone was whispering behind me.

‘Ah…‌ this isn’t good.’‌

I staggered to my⁠ feet.

If⁠‍ I stopped walking,‌ I felt like⁠⁠⁠ I would collapse.

And‌ if I collapsed,‌‌ I would never get back up.‍

“Get⁠⁠ a hold of⁠‌ yourself, Jeong Haeil.”⁠‍

Muttering⁠‌ to myself, I slowly lifted one‍⁠ foot.

My⁠⁠ knees trembled.

The⁠ manual said it‍‍ too.

You‌⁠⁠ have to walk.‍

Do⁠‌ not stop.

That⁠⁠ was the common‍‍ trait shared by‍ all survivors.

“…Haa.”

The‍‌ air left my⁠ lungs in a trapped gasp.

A rough sound echoed‍ deep in my⁠ throat.

And⁠ with weak, silent,‍ exhausted steps, I continued forward.

One.‍

Two.‍‌

Do⁠‍ not walk slower than the Presence.‍

Do‌ not abandon the‌ will to live.⁠

But‌ for how long?

‘…Please, stay conscious.’

Am‌‍ I really surviving?‍‍

Or⁠ am I simply‌ dying?

‘…Consciousness.’⁠⁠

Just⁠ a little longer.‌

Let’s‌⁠ walk a little‍ longer.

Because‍ it’s the only⁠ thing I can⁠ do.

Along⁠ the damp corridor⁠ of that motel, I felt my‌ sanity slowly crumbling.⁠

And even so, continuing⁠‌ to walk until⁠‍⁠ the end was all I had‍ left.

Prev Next

What did you think of this chapter?

1 reaction

0 Comments

Cancel reply

There are no comments yet. Be the first!

Reader Settings

Page mode

Timer

Text Indent

Font

Alignment

Font Size

Line Height

Auto scroll

Tap to read

Pin menu

Translate page

Select language to automatically translate chapter content.

Audio & AI Voice

Playback Speed

AI Voice

Chapter 27: You Can Survive and Return Alive (2)

What did you think of this chapter?

0 Comments

Cancel reply

Ads Blocker Detected!!!