Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual - Chapter 14

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 14.

Lee Yeon-woo remained wary of Director Lee Sun-hae’s curiosity.

“Back when I was younger, every time I came across an article about that man, I always thought the same thing. That fellow will never have the fortune to live an ordinary life and die of old age.”

An excessively passionate existence inevitably brought ruin in its wake.

“Yet at the same time, another thought would occur to me. What if the true nature of that reckless curiosity wasn’t recklessness at all, but rather a desperate conviction to protect someone? That kind of thought.”

I believed that was how Director Lee Sun-hae revealed his ‘goodwill’—by venturing into places where survival itself was uncertain, then labeling that venture ‘curiosity’ and broadcasting it to the world.

“Sometimes he seems like a journalist consumed by a sense of mission, other times like an activist with too much concern for others’ business.”

I hadn’t lived long enough to be a great enough person to judge others carelessly, but I’d lived long enough to read the stubborn sincerity beneath the surface.

“That man, despite appearances, has a peculiar obsession with ensuring the safety of those around him.”
“Yes.”
“It’s a well-known story. Even when he ventured into that brutal Mexican Cartel den, he went to great lengths to protect the victims’ safety. In the end, it’s all for the sake of saving people, isn’t it?”

His struggle to expose the Cartel’s massive scale and cruelty, to shift international awareness. From interviews with Mafia informants to investigations of human trafficking sites.

“It’s certainly sensational,”

Director Lee Sun-hae would plunge into dangerous situations where his own life was the stakes, yet he prioritized the human rights of those living in those places.

“It’s not a conviction that suits a documentary director.”

This troublesome concern of his now was surely just an extension of that ‘curiosity’.

“When I think about it, I’m essentially one of the kidnapping victims that man is meant to protect.”
“Yes.”
“Good heavens, admitting that with my own mouth feels strange. Utterly bitter.”
“No.”

For context, Coco was rolling around on my thigh, and I made no effort to shoo her away. Her touch was worth the sacrifice of my thigh’s freedom. She was a monstrous cat with charm in abundance.

“The problem is the ripple effect if the true nature of this Hotel becomes known to the outside world.”

That’s precisely why I hadn’t wanted to borrow someone else’s hand to escape this place. But I’d abandoned that notion early on. While the complete lack of communication methods played a role, the decisive factor was the danger itself.

“I still don’t fully understand my situation or this Facility’s nature. Introducing a third party while in such ignorance could become an uncontrollable catastrophe.”
“Yes.”

Right now, I understood at least the minimum rules. Despite being reality, it was a familiar system. But what if the real world’s authority intervened within this place?

That would be an unpredictable variable. I didn’t want to risk such variables, such danger.

“If the life hanging in that balance were only mine, perhaps it would be different.”

Until I understood the Hotel’s true nature, I decided to minimize contact with the outside world. More precisely, I decided not to seek anyone’s help. No matter how I thought about it, Coco wouldn’t stay quiet.

“So for now, I plan to dedicate myself to learning. Nowhere is an ignorant manager closer to disaster than anywhere else. In my position, I cannot afford to become that.”
“Yes.”
“Learning humbles people, certainly… but ultimately it grants the power to seize and control the game by one’s own will. I need at least one shield to endure this catastrophe.”
“A shield!”
“Good grief, my words grow more grandiose with each passing day.”

I rose from my seat and added dryly.

“I’ll need to fix that too….”

I stood before the thin, angular glass plate on the desk and slowly unwound the blood-caked bandage. Lukewarm droplets of blood descended onto the transparent slide glass.

With a soft tap.

“….”

Lee Yeon-woo blinked wearily, his lips moving slightly.

“…Shall we begin again then.”

The first question.

―Why do I die and come back to life?

* * *

“So you’ve returned after all.”

The Director chuckled at Hong Kyung-yeon’s remark.

“Were you frightened?”
“Does it look like I was? I caught the scent of blood on that person.”
“Still, your gloves look pristine, so it seems you at least got treatment.”

The Young Man who had returned was impeccably dressed once more. His posture remained composed, his speech measured and courteous, his manners ingrained like second nature.

“One might say he resembles something from a classical portrait….”

The Writer posed a question.

“Aren’t the ‘classical portraits’ you frequently admire mostly Western works, Director?”
“That’s racial discrimination on your part.”
“You’re dragging me down into the depths, sir.”
“Well, whether Western or Eastern, modern art is so complex these days that I’m not entirely sure myself.”
“I don’t understand contemporary art well either.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen truly proper art… Anyway.”

Director Lee Sun-hae laughed.

“Still, I thought he suited oil painting quite well.”

The portrait completed after thousands of revisions.

“…I rather thought he resembled ink painting, personally.”
“You mean he looks like an intellectual who’s read a bit too much?”
“No, not that. The beauty of emptiness, one might say.”
“The man does appear rather like a blank canvas, and I agree.”

If one looked closely, it was as though a blank sheet had been deliberately left unfilled, devoid of any brushstrokes.

Yet beneath that solid social facade, a fleeting exhaustion distinctly shone through. The Director recalled the Young Man’s dry gaze as he had observed them from the Lobby.

“….”

Indifferent and cold, yet faintly tinged with concern….

“…Sigh….”

The Director glanced at his laptop resting on the table. The screen was filled with data on filming locations he’d scouted today. None of them were particularly appealing.

“Isn’t it fortunate?”
“Pardon? What is?”
“Your reaction was still lukewarm, after all.”

Director Lee Sun-hae had seen such people often.

A gaze stripped of emotion, hidden beneath refined composure. Consideration concealed within an expressionless face, a smile like a mask. Distance carefully wrapped and presented. Someone who laughs without laughing, who shows consideration while concealing their true feelings.

“…It’s quite likely he was deliberately putting on a show with that reaction.”

Yet he was still revealing ’emotion.’

“It somehow felt like consideration.”
“You mean he was deliberately showing emotion?”
“Ah, I almost laughed back there. Remember? He was looking at us like we were some kind of troublemakers.”
“Well, except for the fact that we’re adults rather than children, there might not be that much difference….”
“The way he keeps sending that look makes it clear he doesn’t approve of us visiting this Hotel.”
“It could just be that he finds it unsettling to have outsiders prying into an important secret facility.”
“That’s possible, sure. But it felt like more than that—the way he looked at us was exactly like watching children who might stumble and fall any moment while running around on asphalt. It was a look of concern.”
“I couldn’t quite tell that much from my end.”
“That’s because he keeps avoiding eye contact.”

The Director’s laugh became uncertain.

“He doesn’t seem like a bad person….”
“You’re asking to get stabbed in the back again. You’ll end up seriously hurt—and this wouldn’t be your first time.”
“Those kids back then weren’t bad either.”
“If they hurt someone, they’re bad people.”
“Those kids were desperate too. In that situation, they did their best for us. Given how unsettling things already are, should we shelve the Mexico story for now?”
“That was actually from when I went to Italy. Anyway, yes, let’s do that.”
“But he really didn’t seem like a bad person.”
“Well….”

The Writer sighed.

“He looked injured himself, but that’s something we can’t possibly know.”
“You think he just had blood on him? Someone else’s blood, or maybe a blood pack?”
“It’s possible. We only speculated about what might have happened at dawn—we never actually saw anything.”
“Trust my instinct. I’ve never been wrong about this sort of thing. Whatever else, I can always tell if someone has malicious intent.”
“The fact that he’s not actively pushing us out of this Hotel is reason enough to suspect he could be a ‘bad person.'”
“There could be circumstances. We’ve seen it often enough—blackmail, coercion, things like that.”
“Sigh….”

Hong Kyung-yeon, who had been organizing documents across from him, closed his laptop.

“Let’s call the police.”
“You think that’ll actually solve anything?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to try.”
“Trying could get someone hurt.”
“Are we saints? Do we have to save everyone in danger? You got seriously injured back then and switched from documentaries to directing films because of it. Don’t you remember?”
“Then why did Hong come here with me?”
“Well, that’s… just… I mean….”

The Director laughed at the stammering Writer.

“Looks like Hong’s concerned too.”
“…I’m curious about what kind of Hotel this really is.”
“Right, you don’t get many chances to investigate a place like this.”

It was curiosity, above all else. That was the biggest draw. The existence of such a facility on this small patch of land was remarkable. For those addicted to danger, there was no better theme park.

‘Hong would deny it to that extent, but from what I can see, that’s not quite the case.’

And second, I acknowledge it.

“….”

I was worried.

“…Is he really an adult?”
“…He said so himself, so he must be. He’s tall, well-built. Strong bones. It’s clear he’s already grown to full adult size.”
“Hmm, I’m not so sure.”
“Look at how he conducts himself around us—his social skills are excellent. You don’t develop that kind of presence without experience. There are plenty of people in their thirties, even forties, who don’t carry themselves like that. That’s not some kid’s aura.”
“There are plenty of mature children in this world. They’re often more composed than most adults.”
“But still….”
“You’re going in circles?”
“….”

The Writer rubbed his eyes wearily.

“…He has to be an adult. Otherwise, we can’t proceed with this.”

I’d entertained doubts myself. His face looked young—too young, even. Tall and well-built, yes, but without an ounce of excess flesh. Hong Kyung-yeon knew people like that.

“He seemed to struggle eating, too.”

His frame was sound. Muscle was present.

Yet there was no fat. People who couldn’t maintain adequate caloric intake typically looked like that.

Especially those accustomed to it.

“That said, he could just be someone too busy to eat, or someone who doesn’t particularly enjoy it. Even though he’s lean, it’s not the kind of thing that makes you feel sorry for him—like an idol’s diet regimen. It just reads as handsome. You can tell he’s thin only if you’re looking for it. He’s right at that threshold.”

The Director shrugged.

“Doesn’t that strike you as even stranger? A job that requires idol-level diet discipline? At a remote hotel in the middle of nowhere like this? As a Hotel General Manager?”
“Now that you mention it that way, it does sound odd, whether intentional or not.”

There were other possibilities, of course. Hyperthyroidism. Depression or lethargy. Obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Trauma. Gastrointestinal issues. And so on.

“…?”

Wait, hold on.

“…Now that I think about it, everything points to something serious.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Most of it was illness-related.”
“But that wouldn’t explain being that emaciated, would it?”
“It’s certain they don’t eat properly.”
“Even if we overlook the meals, there was definitely something serious going on.”

I recalled the hand that had been wearing white cotton gloves.

“Even with the cotton gloves on, blood was dripping steadily from that hand. That means the bleeding was quite substantial, which would require damage to a blood vessel-rich area of the hand. What do you think, Writer?”
“It’s possible that was actually their own blood. And I think you mentioned that part in the car this morning too.”
“The conversation got cut off because those kids were scared.”
“It could be a laceration or amputation. If the palm center, finger joints, or the major artery near the back of the hand is cut deeply, it’s possible. The blood loss we saw would be consistent with partial amputation as well.”
“Anything else?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a doctor or anything. I’m just repeating what I said in the car.”
“That must hurt like hell, right?”
“Of course it would hurt.”

That’s what you call an explanation?

“Like I keep saying, a simple cut wouldn’t produce that much blood. Considering they’re wrapped up tight and the fabric would absorb some of it, the injury might not be limited to just the hand.”

If my earlier speculation in the car was correct, the injury happened not long ago. In that case, there was also the possibility of hemorrhagic shock from rapid blood loss.

The bleeding was exaggerated because it was a game character’s body, but naturally, neither of us could know that.

“In terms of severity, I’d rate it between 7 and 9. If it’s an amputation or nerve damage level, it could be close to 10. I can’t say exactly where or how they were injured, but based on the blood loss alone.”
“Ugh, explain it in simpler terms.”
“It’s a level of pain that makes it difficult to speak. You can’t concentrate on anything, and usually you’re too busy crying or trying to catch your breath. Consciousness could blur, or—I doubt it went as far as amputation, but fainting is possible.”
“But they didn’t show any sign of it?”

That was strange.

“You attended to the Guest, handled the situation, and still maintained a perfect composure. That’s… what bothers me.”
“But….”
“Isn’t that difficult even for adults?”
“…Unless it wasn’t their own blood, or rather, if they’re already a full-grown adult….”
“Hong.”

The Director rested his chin on his hand while smoothing the top of his laptop.

“That face doesn’t look like someone who became an adult long ago—you know that too.”
“….”

I wanted to argue back, but the words wouldn’t come.

Hong Kyung-yeon recalled the vast materials he’d reviewed so far. Rare genetic disorders, cellular aging delay hypotheses. There’s a possibility of dramatically reducing the aging rate, but actual observed cases are scarce.

‘Growth hormone deficiency could halt someone at a juvenile appearance, but maintaining the robust skeletal structure of a young man like that Hotel General Manager while only stopping aging transcends biological limits by far.’

Aging is not a reversible reaction—it cannot be undone.

“….”

Of course, it cannot be halted either….

“…I don’t know exactly how old their body is. If we’re talking very early twenties, then yes, if they were born with good self-management and a healthy lifestyle, it’s possible. Making it appear that way isn’t impossible.”
“Very early twenties? Is that even an age worth arguing about like this? That just means barely over twenty. Is that really what you meant to say? At that age, shouldn’t they be able to endure that level of pain?”
“No, no. That’s not what I meant…!”
“Did that person really look like an adult man maintaining his youth through genetics and self-care? I’m not so sure. I do have a good eye for these things, you know.”

The Director touched his phone.

“Even the most well-maintained actors can’t keep that youthful an appearance. There are limits. Under-eye fat, nasolabial folds, neck wrinkles. I’ve seen him up close.”
“…Especially skin elasticity and pore structure naturally deteriorate after the mid-thirties. If they’re tired or not properly maintained, their real age shows immediately.”
“That person really looked exhausted to me. Did you see the dark circles? The hollow cheeks? At minimum, their lifestyle didn’t look good. They didn’t even look like someone who eats properly….”
“….”

Silence continued. The Writer asked.

“…Could they really not be an adult?”
“Being generous, they’d be a college student at most.”

The Director smiled faintly.

“Even saying this, they could genuinely be someone who became an adult quite some time ago, couldn’t they?”
“You leave people feeling unsettled, and then you just slip away like that yourself….”
“Even if that were really true, I don’t think this is acceptable.”

I’d seen similar cases a few times before. People working in industries where reputation and hierarchy matter—like yakuza or Mafia. People whose jobs include getting injured.

But ultimately, if someone is human, it shows. Tension in the facial muscles. Controlled breathing. Avoiding eye contact or shifting weight. If you can hide all of that, then it’s a matter of technique.

“That’s technique, alright.”

You can’t do it without professional training.

“It wasn’t just endurance. They responded to us while smiling. It wasn’t a blocked expression or extreme patience. They weren’t in an excited state from excessive adrenaline either.”
“…The likelihood of conscious dissociation is high.”
“Conscious dissociation—I’ve heard that term a few times. It’s a technique to separate pain from external sensation and completely ignore it. For that to be possible, there are quite a few necessary preconditions, aren’t there?”
“You need experience with repeated, intense pain exposure, and training to perfectly control emotions. A value system that prioritizes the mission over life itself must be embedded in the brain, and you must even control your own adrenaline response….”
“Intelligence Agency operatives, Special Forces, organizations like the Mafia, torture survivors. Well, those are the only examples I can think of. What do you think, Writer?”

The Director looked directly at the Writer.

“Which of these do they seem like?”
“…Mafia?”
“But this is Korea?”
“Then an Organized Crime Group?”
“Oh, does Korea even have an organization with this much capital?”
“If they had this much capital, the upper class would have created them, or through collaboration….”
“It would damage their reputation to have a crime group as the owner of a Hotel like this?”
“Shit, no way. No, that can’t be it.”

I was confused.

“So what is it really? Why were they so composed?”
“And I noticed something else strange too.”
“What’s that?”
“The Staff here.”

The Director paused briefly before speaking.

“He won’t speak.”
“Why won’t he speak? Ah, ah?”
“He won’t even open his mouth in the first place.”
“….”
“…Why is that?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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