Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual - Chapter 16

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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 16.

Once again, I failed to expel a virtuous guest from this wicked Hotel.

It was frustrating.
Genuinely so.

‘I should have been able to maintain my rationality without issue.’

I was confident in my ability to hold onto a single thread of consciousness. Even if an anomaly arose, I could shake it off through sheer willpower. Even if the shell of “Hotel General Manager” lacked the function to refuse human guests,

I was undeniably a human being with self-awareness.

“….”

Or so I would like to believe.

In any case.

‘…I thought that if I steeled my resolve the way I did in the Power Generation Facility, I could push this guest out the door. But the results fell far short of expectations.’

A bitter outcome indeed.

‘It seems the realm of consciousness and the mechanism of action operate under different constraints. A compulsive force beyond my conscious control—this is truly vexing.’

My mind, steeled with determination, had reached a clear judgment: I must expel them immediately. Yet my body refused to obey. Even as I attempted to say, “Prolonging your stay here would be unwise,”

I ended up uttering something entirely different instead.

‘Is this related to how powerless my body has become?’

This body makes no sense whatsoever. A nineteen-year-old frame housing a forty-five-year-old mind was absurd enough, and the fact that pain accompanied any deviation from the “character’s” behavioral patterns was equally bizarre.

‘Even stranger—when I mimic those actions, the pain I should feel vanishes, or I display inhuman strength instead. This is clearly abnormal. There must be some logical foundation to it, just as there is with blood magic.’

But it was a reason that Lee Yeon-woo, with his limited understanding, could not yet comprehend.

“Sigh….”

I had to finish the research quickly.

‘…Anyway, an event? That’s rare.’

Perhaps it was because of the heavy rain. Or it could have been due to last week’s guidance. Lee Yeon-woo had instinctively sensed the summons and was now on the 7th Floor.

“….”

The lights suspended from the ceiling gleamed brilliantly. The large windows were immaculate. Beyond them, the Forest stretched out, beaded with raindrops.

Yet the air hung humid and cool.
The Corridor was damp, clinging with rainwater.
The illumination was bright but pallid.

“Truly….”

My dry voice settled into the empty Corridor.

“This is exhausting work.”

An event from The Wet Person had triggered.

* * *

A minimum of two to a maximum of six. Each monstrous guest was assigned “events” in which they played the leading role. The Wet Person had a total of five such events.

‘This time it occurred inside a Guest Room.’

Lee Yeon-woo stopped before the door to Room 703.

‘Based on the location, it’s not 『Final Struggle』.’

While events did occasionally unfold in the Corridor, The Wet Person’s events primarily took place in Guest Rooms—more specifically, in Bathrooms. Given the concept of a water ghost, this causal relationship was entirely logical.

“….”

Since beginning the tutorial, this was the first event marked as ‘Common to Both Versions.’

“…Good morning, Guest.”

This Hotel had no modern doorbell. Instead, a classical ‘bell board’ served that purpose.

When an event occurred, the board’s bell would ring, and the user—the game character—would sense it instinctively without physically seeing it.

“The call bell has rung, so I’ve come to check on you.”

This was a kind of systemic procedure. In the game, this dialogue would output automatically. Now I had to recite this sentence myself without a single word out of place. Only then would the ‘game system’ apply.

I finished delivering the line.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Instead of an answer, an unpleasant scraping sound tore through the Corridor.

Screeeech—…

“….”

The door opened.

There was no sign of anyone.

‘…My facility is making such crude noise?’

Who in their right mind would let a Guest Room door open with such a racket? Honestly, the squeaking door bothered me far more than any horror effect could.

‘I understand it’s a game allowance, but I’m not pleased about it.’

Of course, that was merely Lee Yeon-woo’s personal sentiment. Since the door had opened, I had to proceed with the prescribed steps.

“Excuse me, I’m coming in.”

I pushed my body into the darkened Room.

“….”

What came first was the moisture.

‘Breathing is difficult.’

As I exhaled with effort, my breath dispersed into pale wisps in the frigid air.

Doubt crept in. Cold air typically resisted holding moisture, yet this place mocked the laws of physics—simultaneously humid and glacial. A strange sensation, as though frost were forming in my lungs.

‘Yet I feel no pain.’

Only the phenomenon of ‘sensation’ itself existed. I was a game character who had entered an event sequence, after all. There was no reason to hesitate, no need to.

I moved toward the source of the water sound without emotion.

“Well.”

Opening the Bathroom door revealed a familiar sight.

‘So it was the shower event.’

Commonly known as “Water That Cannot Cleanse.”

‘I know this scenario well, but experiencing it feels entirely different. There’s certainly a stark contrast between viewing pixel art in a game and witnessing it directly like this….’

A passage I’d read long ago flickered through my mind.

‘Beneath the cold stream, The Wet Person knelt and bowed their head. The water flows, yet they remain submerged. They are alone.’

Indeed, it matched the description perfectly. A pathetic figure standing beneath the showerhead, drenched. There was nothing more to confirm.

‘If I draw attention to this, the penalty is, if I recall correctly….’

Persistent illusion of being drenched across the entire body, 24 hours.
A ‘Cold’ debuff inserted into all decision-making.
Acute pulmonary edema, hypothermia, and arrhythmia.

‘Fatal.’

My condition isn’t good even without the penalty. I’m barely holding back organ damage and hemorrhaging with blood magic. Adding pulmonary edema and arrhythmia to that…

‘That’s no different from telling me to just die.’

But.

‘What if I leave it alone?’

Electrical accidents and bathroom-related incidents would become frequent. In other words, “water contamination” would spread throughout the entire Hotel.

‘Our innocent guests would still use the bathrooms in this Hotel….’

There were also many electronic devices in this Hotel. Despite the nineteenth-century Western hotel concept, electricity was used liberally. If things went wrong, it wouldn’t just be injuries—lives could be at stake.

They couldn’t resurrect like Lee Yeon-woo if they died. They would have to bear the pain as it came.

‘I need to intervene.’

And even beyond that.

“…Sigh….”

It was pitiful to watch.

“Guest.”

I straightened up from where I’d been leaning against the bathroom door and stepped inside.

“It’s summer, but the rainy season has made the weather quite cold.”
“….”
“The humidity in your room is quite high, and the temperature is low as well. If you require any services related to these conditions, please let me know. I’ll be happy to assist.”
“….”

There was no response.

‘Of course.’

In this event sequence, The Wet Person doesn’t speak. Unless the Aqua Park event appears, they’ll remain silent.

‘How could they speak when they’re submerged in water?’

The monstrous guest at this Facility is a manifestation of a universally negative concept across the world. The Wet Person embodies the drowned—a recreation of the terror that is the water ghost and the murderous specter. He remains submerged still.

‘That said, these monstrous guests aren’t truly human, or so they say….’

Hollow shells devoid of origin and soul, mere reenactments of circumstance.

‘Yet as a player, don’t I have the right to feel some compassion?’

He certainly looked pitiful enough.

“…You enjoy the rain, I remember.”

I speak without thinking.

“I’ve noticed how you focus on that faint vibration of raindrops striking the water’s surface. In the murky depths where all sensation blurs together, there’s nothing quite like it for sensing the existence of the world beyond.”
“….”
“Where might you be now, I wonder? Near the surface, or have you sunk into the abyss? Are you in the sea? A river? A deep lake? Wherever it is, it can’t be shallow….”
“….”
“If my lengthy words have troubled your ears, I apologize.”

Perhaps I’ve offended him.

“But whenever you stand in the rain like this, I’ve always wanted to ask.”
“….”
“I wanted to pull you out.”

This wasn’t game dialogue.

‘It’s presumptuous meddling.’

I cherished this game. I cherished the monstrous guests within it. I’d grown attached. Some monsters were purely dangerous, while others were born from pitiful concepts.

The Wet Person was one of them. A guest who tugged at my heart.

“…You’ll call me a hypocrite again this time, I’m sure, but consider this.”
“….”
“Wouldn’t it be better for you to emerge into the world rather than remain submerged?”

I reach to turn off the showerhead, then change my mind. I grip the nozzle above instead and check the water temperature.

‘It’s far too cold.’

I turned the faucet to release hot water, tested the temperature against my palm until it felt right, then hung the showerhead back in place. Warm steam rose into the frigid bathroom.

‘I set it to a lukewarm temperature to avoid scalding myself, yet this much steam rises from it.’

For a moment, I wondered if this was actually fine.

“….”

The Wet Person lifted its head beneath the warm cascade of water.

Its hair hung in wild disarray, so I still couldn’t see its face. I simply leaned against the shower booth wall and sat down.

“….”
“….”

…The fact that it wasn’t attacking suggested things weren’t entirely dire.

‘So this is what it’s like when a game becomes reality.’

The solution for this event, “The Water That Cannot Be Washed Away,” was straightforward. Turn off the showerhead, cut the water, drape a towel over The Wet Person, and it would be resolved. That was all.

But I didn’t end it immediately. Instead, I waited a moment.

“I have watched over you for twenty-six years.”
“….”
“Every time, I felt concern. Everyone has moments when they wish to sink beneath the surface, and while I cannot keep you submerged forever… I thought perhaps a brief respite wouldn’t be unreasonable.”

It might seem foolish to grow attached to a fictional being. Yet after twenty-six years, even that acquires a certain value. Even if it’s merely game data.

There are no people in this hotel. If there were, they would be those I must send away, those I must protect. Isolated from society as I am, my soliloquies only multiply.

“Whether you grieve or rage is your own choice, but at the very least, you must care for your body. If you must weep, let it be upon a warm, soft bed. If you must be angry, do so with a full stomach. That would be better, would it not?”

That was why I had raised the water temperature of the showerhead.

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid I can’t stay like this for much longer.”
“….”
“…Perhaps it’s time to get up.”

A moment later, I turned off the shower. Then I retrieved the largest and thickest towel from the Linen Closet and draped it over The Wet Person’s head.

‘Should I dry them off as well?’

But I decided against it. They looked like a fully grown adult, after all. And given that this guest was the sensitive type, there was no benefit in increasing physical contact. I simply left the Bathroom.

By then, the air in the guest room had already returned to normal.

“….”

A thought struck me as I stepped outside the guest room.

“…Ah.”

…Should I have been more frightened?

This was supposed to be the Horror Hotel Management Simulation Game, after all. I wondered if I’d failed to fulfill my duty as a horror game player.

‘Rather than experiencing fear, I just ended up soothing a troubled guest.’

But fear requires something to fear.

‘If we’ve spent enough time together for mountains to change twice over, then it would be discourteous to suddenly become frightened now.’

So be it.

It was an excuse I couldn’t even direct at anyone in particular.

* * *

Five minutes after leaving the guest room.
Just as I was mentally preparing myself, a penalty arrived.

“―Cough, cough cough…!!”

My lungs shriveled so much that I couldn’t breathe.

Lee Yeon-woo groaned as I rolled across the Lodging bed. My situation was pitifully dire. Acute pulmonary edema, hypothermia, and arrhythmia, no less.

“At this point, I’d be worthy of inclusion in a medical textbook….”
“Yes.”
“Alright, let’s think positively. Consider it a comprehensive health screening report received in advance.”
“That’s not quite right?”
“Well, it is.”

The conditions were perfect for heading to the grave.

I drew upon what shallow medical knowledge I possessed. Respiratory distress from acute pulmonary edema. Foamy cough and cyanosis. Moderate hypothermia from dropping body temperature. The resulting slowness in reaction time and mental confusion.

‘The arrhythmia could even progress to cardiac arrest.’

In a normal body, this would be a fatal state.

“Perhaps because it’s a game, the effects aren’t reflected that severely.”
“Yes.”
“Please speak more clearly.”

What comes to mind immediately are stamina reduction, command response delay, action nullification, automatic collapse during movement, coughing fits, and limited environmental awareness.

Truly diverse status ailments were reflected, but that was all.

‘There’s no foamy cough, and muscle rigidity maintains a certain level.’

Well, it’s hardly surprising that the developer, busy coding the game, wouldn’t bother with anatomical details of the human body. He wasn’t a doctor, after all.

“It’s somewhat consoling that I don’t feel actual pain.”
“Yes.”
“…Of course, this won’t remain someone else’s problem forever. The moment I shed this character shell and return to reality, all these conditions will come crashing down at once, and then it will be truly difficult to manage.”
“Yes.”

Fortunately, the ‘stamina reduction’ among these can be eliminated by using the Lodging bed. But I can’t sleep now. Once I sleep in this bed, I always wake at dawn the next day.

‘But ultimately, all these status ailments are limited to the game character’s body.’

Just because a game character is injured doesn’t mean the player behind the screen feels pain. It’s the same now. Only the status condition is reflected—there’s no accompanying confusion or blurred vision.

“….”

Ah.
This is absolutely ridiculous.

‘Calm down.’

Before I could even begin to analyze this abnormal body—one that would make Hippocrates crawl from his grave and Florence Nightingale take flight if I presented it to the medical establishment—there was something more pressing to consider.

The innocent guests came to mind.

“…Should I postpone this conversation?”
“I should postpone this conversation.”
“I won’t consider answers that only reflect your own preferences.”
“No….”
“Being cute won’t help you.”
“No….”
“I said it won’t help.”

Yet my hands continued to knead Coco steadily. The sensation was truly exquisite. If a pillow like this had been released commercially, I would have bought seven and rotated through them daily.

I placed Coco against my side and stroked her gently.

“Postponing the conversation won’t resolve this abnormal condition anyway.”

The most efficient solution would be resetting through death, and the next best option would be using items, but the situation doesn’t allow for that.

‘Face reality.’

The longer I delay this conversation, the higher the probability that innocent people will find themselves in danger.

“….”

I checked the clock.
The hour hand pointed to the number 7.

“….”
“No….”
“Sigh.”

Lee Yeon-woo rose from the bed. His body felt heavy.

‘Acute pulmonary edema, hypothermia, and arrhythmia on top of it all—if my body felt light, that would be the real anomaly. At least my condition hasn’t deteriorated that far.’

He stood before the Mirror.

“…As an adult, I can’t break a promise.”

Yet the irritation gnawing at him was unavoidable.

‘Am I truly going mad?’

Disgust washed over him as his body, beset by every conceivable status ailment, refused to obey. At this rate, he’d cough and stumble with every step. Already, dizziness threatened to overwhelm him.

‘In all my time outside the game, I’ve never experienced status conditions stacking like this.’

He could not see a future ahead.

* * *

But to think it would manifest so literally.

“Um, Yeon-woo?”
“…Ah, you’ve arrived.”
“I’ve been calling from the Main Gate this whole time.”
“….”
“…Is something wrong?”
“No.”

Lee Yeon-woo, who had just denied it, set his mind to work.

‘Perception range restricted.’

It was manifesting this way?

‘Can a person become completely invisible?’

I must be losing my mind.

Even amid the confusion, I tried to say, “There’s nothing wrong.” It was the natural response. The more anxious the human guest became, the more the Hotel thrived. And it wouldn’t benefit the guest themselves either.

But the words wouldn’t come out. Why? How? For what reason?

“….”

The answer came automatically.

‘Command response delay. Action nullified.’

I was definitely going insane.

“…Really, it’s fine.”
“….”
“Truly.”
“….”

Good grief.

‘I can’t believe such a pathetic response came from my own mouth.’

It was such a pitiful answer that even someone who thought everything was fine would turn around in disbelief.

—————
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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