Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual - Chapter 18

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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 18.

After seeing the guests off, Lee Yeon-woo found himself contemplating.

“Did I fail?”
“Yes.”
“Wicked cat.”
“No.”
“Are you serious?”

It was utterly abhorrent.

Lee Yeon-woo had witnessed it—in the First Floor Lounge, beyond the sight of Director Lee Sun-hae and Writer Hong Kyung-yeon. Behind them, that monstrous cat had been staring intently at the three of them. Those anxious eyes.

Absurdly enough, those pitiful, pleading eyes that seemed to ask, “You’re really going to leave me behind?”

“You’re hardly in a position to run anywhere. So spare me those eyes. Where could I possibly go when my feet are bound to this Hotel?”
“Yes….”
“You’ve already caused me enough trouble to pretend to be cute now.”
“Yes….”
“Yes.”

I scooped Coco into my arms. The cat purred and rolled contentedly in my embrace as if it had never been sullen at all. Despicably adorable—this must be Stockholm syndrome.

“….”

In any case, fine.

‘…I’ve given them fair warning at least. I can only trust they’ll exercise restraint.’

I’d been taught that trusting people first was a virtue.

‘The real problem is me, not them.’

What was I supposed to do with this walking comprehensive hospital?

“If I’d only spoken more carefully from the start, they wouldn’t have worried so much.”
“Yes.”
“But it’s not as though I’ve created a completely false misunderstanding.”
“Yes.”
“What should I have said in that situation to get it right?”

Their reaction had clearly been one of suspicion—as if asking, “Where have you been getting yourself into human rights violations?” Lee Yeon-woo would have reasoned similarly, given the same information they possessed.

‘Truthfully, no one would believe that a place I stumbled upon by accident after getting lost while driving into the mountains is actually inside a Horror Hotel Management Simulation Game.’

Even if it were just a game, it had become reality, which objectively meant the situation was problematic. I swallowed a sigh and spoke.

“Let’s take a rest.”
“Yes.”

I needed to do something about this ‘stamina depletion’ status ailment.

‘This has become quite the predicament.’

Objectively speaking, Lee Yeon-woo wasn’t in a particularly dangerous situation right now. While he was indeed suffering unintended human rights violations, there was no actual threat to him that held any real weight.

‘Because it’s a game.’

I was aware that this line of thinking was somewhat dangerous.

‘But I’m continuously vigilant about that aspect as well. The tranquility I feel now isn’t a delusion born from a lack of reality. It’s merely an extremely logical sense of relief stemming from a situation that poses no actual threat whatsoever.’

Mental anguish? It certainly existed. A sorrowful anger toward an uncertain future and my own pathetic inability to manage even my own body.

But physical pain? It had been cleanly erased as if I’d been anesthetized. In fact, I’d even been resurrected here after death.

‘It’s not that everything is fine simply because it’s a game. There are many conditions that make it impossible for things to be otherwise. The fact that it’s a game is just one of them.’

Even though I was confined, I had a goal—to escape. I wasn’t resigned to my fate, nor had I grown numb to it.

‘Above all, the fact that I’ve entered a game I’ve carried with me for twenty-six years has given me a one-sided sense of familiarity, which plays a significant role in this psychological stability.’

It had transformed from dot graphics into reality. Seeing it in person was thrilling and welcoming, not frightening. If I were truly scared by horror elements, I wouldn’t have played a horror game in the first place.

Right now, the only source of psychological distress is whether the human guests survive or not. Please, don’t get hurt and make it out alive. Other than that, my personal anguish amounts to nothing more than irritation.

‘So I’m fine, really….’

I pressed the Manager’s Quarters Elevator button firmly.

“Objectively speaking, that’s not fine at all.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, I admit it. Things are quite a mess.”

I’ve been confined in this Horror Hotel for months now. The monster guests are temperamental, and even with flawless strategies, abnormal conditions persist. People get injured and die constantly. There’s hardly anyone to talk to.

‘And on top of that, my body transformed into a nineteen-year-old playable character, so I understand their reactions.’

If I were in the guests’ position, I would have worried about the Hotel General Manager too. I would have wondered if someone who barely looks like they’ve just reached adulthood was being abused in this ominous hotel.

“….”

The Elevator arrived at the Accommodation Floor.

“…But it would be problematic for them to discover the true nature of this hotel.”
“Yes.”
“That’s my thought as well.”

I gently set Coco down on the floor.

“Yet I can’t simply ignore their questions and curiosity either. Especially not when it stems from a desire to help others.”

These people are not game data.

“They’re different from the NPCs in Ho-won, whose behavioral patterns were fixed. They can take unexpected actions that defy my expectations at any moment. Unlike the other monsters, I don’t have their predetermined routes figured out, so if I let my guard down, unpredictable variables will inevitably emerge someday.”

I wanted to avoid creating variables beyond my predictive range as much as possible.

“So I need to narrow their range of action, but paradoxically, the best way to do that is to resolve at least some of their questions and curiosity. That way, their behavior becomes easier to predict.”
“Yes!”
“Then I’ll need to package this hotel in the most realistic way possible….”

And the ‘information packaging this hotel in the most realistic way possible’ has already been prepared. I simply left it alone, and they prepared it themselves.

“A secret, high-end psychiatric ward for the morally bankrupt elite.”
“Yes.”
“Indeed. If the setting were constructed that way, I suppose my bizarre existence and this Hotel’s peculiar nature would become somewhat comprehensible. Though it’s an extreme hypothesis, it’s far preferable to leaving an inexplicable sense of discord.”
“Yes.”
“But in that case, I cannot fathom how pitiable you must consider me.”

I should be grateful merely to avoid suspicion of being lumped together with this Hotel’s monstrous guests.

‘Misunderstood as perpetrator versus misunderstood as victim.’

If I had to choose between the two, naturally the latter. My sustained kindness had borne fruit. And this youthful face certainly played its part handsomely. It was painfully obvious without even looking.

“I find myself repeating this, but objectively speaking, I am indeed a victim—simply because I don’t feel genuinely threatened.”
“No?”
“Unfortunate.”

He showed no sign of snatching up Lee Yeon-woo and fleeing, as though he took the situation gravely. Perhaps he feared further complications. If things proceeded as they were, that sufficed.

‘These people will leave once their stay ends. Until then, I need only make clear that I have no intention of departing this Hotel, and block any opportunity for them to act rashly.’

My immediate priority, then.

“…To make them believe I pose no particular problem.”

In the worst case, appealing that ‘I am in league with this wicked Hotel’ was not an unattractive option.

If I made it abundantly clear that they had no one to rescue here, they would lose reason to endure the danger.

‘But that would exact a price from me as well. For now, I’ll observe the situation longer. There’s no need to act prematurely and incur losses when the opportune moment hasn’t even arrived.’

Lee Yeon-woo sat on the bed.

“There is one thing I’m curious about, however.”
“Curious.”
“What exactly was Hong Kyung-yeon imagining to wear such an expression?”

That ashen face. The look of disbelief. Hong Kyung-yeon was renowned for his vast knowledge. His memory and imagination were said to be exceptional.

At the time, I had focused on concluding the conversation and deferred the thought. Now, returning to my quarters, I reopened it. The clues he had offered were few.

“A call from this morning. Let’s start there.”
“….”
“…Visual and auditory impairment that developed within hours. Cognitive disturbance. Sensory integration issues. Water-Loving Guest. Dangerous Hotel. Dangerous guest. Perpetrator… victim… operator, manager, staff….”
“….”
“…Higher-order sensory perception disorder… TBI (traumatic brain injury). TBI? No signs of trauma. TLE (temporal lobe epilepsy)? No corresponding findings. FND (functional neurological symptom disorder)… similar conditions would apply… or rather, HIBI (hypoxic-ischemic brain injury)? Cerebral hypoxia from asphyxiation…? No marks on the neck… it’s difficult to confirm….”

Every neurological disorder imaginable tumbles from my lips. What diagnosis had Hong Kyung-yeon settled on for me?

“….”
“…Water? That’s right, I definitely… HIBI… sensory avoidance, dissociation. Dissociative perceptual detachment… water, hypoxia, sensory separation… ah.”
“Yes.”
“Ah, ah ah ah… wait, hold on.”

I must have lost my mind for a moment. Perhaps my brain had grown sluggish from prolonged absence from society. But even accounting for that, it was a foolish mistake.

No matter how scattered one’s thoughts, there are limits. Regret came far too late.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned the Water-Loving Guest.”

Had I not spoken, I would have been detained longer. That situation could not have ended gracefully. Yet even without providing such a clue, there was ample room for him to have considered other directions….

‘Still, I shouldn’t have said it.’

Water torture—was it not a terrifying phrase?

* * *

“Water torture?”

All expression drained from Lee Sun-hae’s face.

“Did I hear that correctly just now?”
“Well, I’m not entirely certain myself.”
“Right, so since you want me to entertain this uncertain hypothesis, go ahead. I’m listening.”
“It’s possible he was simply concentrating intensely or had his attention diverted, which could explain his appearance. But the likelihood of that is rather low.”

Hong Kyung-yeon explained while seated at the table.

“A quiet, empty space. With minimal environmental stimuli, a person should become more sensitive to external changes. The Director raised his voice above average, so auditory perception should be the primary sense involved.”
“That would make sense.”
“Since he entered the visual field, a moving person and their presence should be detected automatically. At that time, Lee Yeon-woo showed no signs of immersion or stress. Well, I can’t be entirely certain about stress, but at least on the surface, he appeared composed.”
“So?”
“External stimuli should have penetrated his consciousness more easily under normal circumstances. Yet he failed to perceive the person’s presence at all… It would have to be a medical or psychological malfunction—either way, it’s serious.”
“As expected, my personal encyclopedia. Press the button and out comes the answer.”
“Oh, come on.”

Hong Kyung-yeon was neither a doctor, nor a detective, nor a police officer. But as a genre writer, he had conducted extensive research and witnessed numerous extreme criminal scenarios. The data accumulated through such experiences was impossible to ignore.

He had confidence in his information-gathering abilities. Otherwise, he couldn’t function as a writer.

“I came up with three possibilities.”
“Three? I was just thinking about how to help this poor kid. Should our Hong the Writer take a MENSA test or something?”
“Stop it. The first is sensory integration disorder, the second is sensory dissociation, and the third is selective perceptual blocking. But the third has a low probability.”
“I don’t understand when you talk like that….”
“Ah, selective perceptual disorder means failing to recognize a specific person or condition. Think of it as a psychological blocking mechanism that consistently prevents perception of one thing.”
“That’s definitely different from our situation. We wouldn’t have gone that far.”
“I agree.”

What remained were sensory disorder and sensory dissociation.

“Sensory integration disorder refers to the brain’s failure to connect audiovisual stimuli into concepts. It’s called agnosia. It’s a response that typically appears when the brain has suffered damage… or so I understand.”
“This is driving me crazy. Brain damage? I’ll lose my mind. Would an ambulance even come if we called 119 here?”
“Would they? And sensory dissociation is when a person unconsciously blocks stimuli like sounds or voices. The patient didn’t consciously avoid it—rather, extreme distrust and fear caused the brain’s sensory pathways to shut down.”
“I happen to know a very good counselor. I’m sure they’d come if called.”

The Director, who had been making light remarks, let out a sigh.

“…Fine. Extreme distrust and fear?”
“Yes, in simple terms, it’s a trauma response.”
“I honestly don’t know which is worse.”
“There’s a high possibility it’s both.”
“Good grief, the world’s gone mad. Is he destined to become like this?”
“Is he destined to?”

Absolutely not.

“There are multiple causes for this kind of sensory dysfunction or something similar to depersonalization. There are aftereffects from seizures in the epilepsy spectrum, or functional neurological disorders, but….”
“Do I look like a doctor to you?”
“I’ll try to explain this as simply as possible, so listen. Anyway, this case doesn’t seem to fit that pattern. So I started thinking about physical damage instead. For example, asphyxiation from strangulation.”
“…? Did I mishear something?”
“And there’s the possibility of blunt force trauma to the head, or temporary functional decline from aftereffects of seizures or epilepsy. But honestly, I don’t think that’s it….”
“What do you mean it’s not that?”
“Electrical abnormalities in the brain don’t match Lee Yeon-woo’s symptoms and reactions. So let’s set that aside. I mentioned earlier that blunt force trauma to the head was also possible, remember?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I checked his head thinking that might be it, but since there were no external injuries, the probability of that being the cause is low. A simple blow won’t do it. The brain would need to experience impact inside the skull itself.”

And the audio-visual dysfunction occurred simultaneously. That would mean both the occipital and temporal lobes were damaged. At that severity, there should be visible injuries, but there weren’t. So that’s not it either.

“There’s another possibility I mentioned earlier—asphyxiation from strangulation.”
“…Yeah, that’s right.”
“If blood flow to the brain decreases suddenly, it can leave aftereffects. If the pressure is strong enough, loss of consciousness is possible in just ten seconds. Beyond thirty seconds, brain cells start dying. And if this lasts two to three minutes, it can cause long-term aftereffects. Cognitive impairment, aphasia, sensory loss, or even death….”
“Why does everything you say sound so ominous?”
“So I believe this sensory dysfunction is included among those aftereffects. But I couldn’t confirm it—he dresses so thoroughly that there’s no exposed skin except for his face.”
“If he’s dressing like that to hide injuries, that’s a problem in itself.”
“It’s certainly possible, but since I couldn’t see it directly, I’ll rule it out. More than anything….”
“More than anything?”
“….”

Hong Kyung-yeon gathered his thoughts and spoke.

“You said earlier that Lee Yeon-woo played with the Water-Loving Guest. But that couldn’t possibly be just literally playing or enjoying water together.”

I had genuinely just played with the Water-Loving Guest using warm water. Of course, neither of them could know that.

“If the sensory dysfunction developed within those few hours, the prime suspect would have been the Guest on 7th Floor.”
“I agree with that.”
“That Guest on 7th Floor loves water, and when you said you ‘played’ with them. There’s another situation where sensory dysfunction and dissociation can occur.”
“…The one you mentioned earlier?”
“Yes, to summarize—an extreme survival experience underwater.”

The writer adjusted his hat.

“You can’t reach that point with simple trauma alone. Medically speaking, it would have required a genuinely dangerous incident—one severe enough to induce actual hypoxic conditions or a complete breakdown of sensory integration.”
“Ugh, the terminology keeps getting harder. Anyway, so that’s why the term ‘waterboarding’ came up? Because of all that hypoxia stuff?”
“I did consider other possibilities—near-drowning, underwater isolation before death, that sort of thing. There’s a sea here, a river. I’m aware the Aqua Park exists, but someone of the Hotel General Manager’s standing wouldn’t end up trapped there by accident.”
“If it happened, someone’s intention was behind it.”
“And once intent is involved, we call it torture.”

The Writer’s face was still pallid, but his voice remained measured.

“Lee Yeon-woo went to the 7th Floor back then. If the incident didn’t occur at the Aqua Park with that guest, it must have happened inside a guest room.”
“And there’s no way to undergo underwater isolation inside a guest room.”
“So I thought of waterboarding. That explains both the sensory dysfunction and the dissociation.”

He searched for something, then said, “Ah, here it is.”

“Right, this one. HIBI.”
“Another technical term.”
“Hypoxic-ischemic brain injury. It’s when asphyxiation repeats over seconds or dozens of seconds, blood flow to the brain is cut off, oxygen deprivation occurs, and ultimately the higher cognitive function areas sustain damage.”
“….”
“This creates psychological problems too. Dissociative states develop, and sensation is blocked. Facing repeated brushes with death, the brain activates a defense mechanism by shutting out external stimuli.”
“…I’m feeling a bit dizzy.”

The Director leaned back in his chair.

“So? Does that explain his condition at the time?”
“Yes, if this diagnosis is correct, social stimuli like voices, faces, or presence could be unconsciously deleted from awareness. Sensory dysfunction works the same way.”
“Really?”
“If the occipital and temporal lobes are damaged, you can see a person with your eyes but not recognize them as human. The same applies to hearing—you hear the voice, but it just feels like noise, so you can’t understand what’s being said.”
“Hong could become a doctor with that kind of knowledge.”
“Of course not. That’s why expert judgment would be necessary, but I’m not sure. All I can speculate on is what I’ve told you so far.”
“Right, that’s true.”

The Director nodded.

“He said he was cold.”
“…Yes, he did.”
“The weather wasn’t actually that cold. More than anything, Yeon-woo was bundled up tight—vest and everything. The humidity was high; if anything, I thought it should have been warm. He doesn’t seem to realize how unusual that is.”
“….”
“Even in a high mountain area during monsoon season, it’s still summer. So I figured he was either lying or just sensitive to cold, but maybe it wasn’t simply about the temperature. His skin looked distinctly pale.”
“…He was coughing too.”

It seemed like they were trying to hide something, but unfortunately, the Lounge was silent, and only the two of us remained.

“…Hmm….”

After a long silence, Director Lee Sun-hae let out a hollow laugh.

“Should we really just take it and run?”
“You said it could lead to greater damage.”
“True enough. Man, this is really troublesome, isn’t it?”
“It certainly is troublesome.”
“….”
“What are you thinking?”
“…Maybe I should contact our esteemed uncle….”
“Have you lost your mind?”

The Writer was taken aback.

“You said you couldn’t stand being entangled with that family.”
“That said, I’ve received their help a few times when I went abroad.”
“Now isn’t that kind of situation…! I mean, it is that kind of situation, but…!”
“I’ll think about it for now.”

A deep sigh escaped.

“…What on earth is this place trying to do.”

I was truly sick of this Hotel.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the Manager’s Quarters.

Lee Yeon-woo fell asleep pondering the question: “How far will my image continue to plummet?” Only to be forcibly awakened while still suffering from the lingering exhaustion debuff.

“….”

An event triggered.

“…Room 703….”

The Wet Person—the second event.

I pushed myself upright. Coco, who had been sprawled out right beside my face, stirred awake as well. The way she naturally stretched was so perfectly feline—no hint of alarm, no pretense of confusion.

I checked Coco once, the clock once, and the mirror once more.

My voice came out hoarse as I muttered.

“I must be losing my mind.”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”

Just let me sleep.

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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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