Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual - Chapter 40

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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 40.

[Were you a traditional Dokkaebi, truly?]
“From what I can tell.”
[But the Dokkaebi of Korea had long since died out….]
“There’s no law preventing new ones from being born, is there?”
[….]

A brief silence fell. Baek Mu-jin gazed up at the starlit night sky before speaking.

“You must be wondering what madman created a Dokkaebi in this modern age, aren’t you?”
[…That is a misunderstanding.]
“Whenever I speak with you, I find myself making quite a few misunderstandings.”
[It is merely your impression.]
“That’s debatable as well.”

Though no rain fell, the sound of rainfall still echoed across the Rooftop Garden. A faint whisper that clung to the ears, passing through like a phantom. The 25th Floor Rooftop was so serene that it seemed to reject even summer’s downpours.

“I don’t know how this Dokkaebi was created.”
[…Could someone have artificially created it?]
“That too, I cannot say.”

Dokkaebi are born through various circumstances.

“Perhaps this one received the gaze of someone—entangled, lingering—for an extraordinarily long time.”

From ancient objects or tools. Or from plants, especially natural things like trees, when spirits dwell within them. When yin and emptiness condense. Or from abandoned things.

But that one….

“….”

…It is too early to speak of such matters aloud.

“Inferring a time I never witnessed? That’s ancient history now, isn’t it?”
[…Yes, sir.]
“Who could have imagined that a Young Goblin would be born at this point?”
[You did, Chairman.]
“I merely didn’t exclude the possibility. The young man in Sun-hae’s stories possessed such compassion and honesty. That’s not something a Labyrinth with consciousness would display.”
[Indeed.]
“A Dokkaebi, now of all times. Truly astonishing.”

Whether the subject is an object or a living creature, in this modern age, no one bestows such devotion anymore. The spirits and vital essence required simply don’t accumulate.

“Traditional Dokkaebi are practically an endangered species.”
[….]
“Do you think this old man is spouting nonsense again?”
[A misunderstanding, sir.]
“In less than ten minutes, I’ve already misunderstood twice.”
[Yes.]
“Presumptuous.”
[But calling them an endangered species—no Dokkaebi would appreciate such a designation.]
“There are only two Dokkaebi in existence, after all.”
[Though there are particularly many in Asia….]
“I don’t classify foreign minor spirits as Dokkaebi.”
[…Foreign spirits would be offended to hear that.]
“That’s precisely why they’re minor spirits.”

Korean Dokkaebi cherish promises and loyalty. They are innocent and playful, fond enough of humans to dwell among them. They enjoy alcohol, pork, and buckwheat, living by honest principles.

Though not as naive as in ancient tales, they remain divine beings.

“Dokkaebi are nothing like those foreign spirits afflicted with anger management disorders.”
[….]
“Foolish creatures, truly.”
[You seem to have taken a liking to them.]
“Rare things, special things—they deserve appropriate value.”
[Which aspects are rare, and which are special?]
“Well.”

If I had to choose what’s easier to explain.

“You treated me as a person.”
[Were you human?]
“I don’t know.”
[Surely not….]

Baek Mu-jin’s Child, whom he held in considerable regard, posed the question.

[…Were you human?]

The same words as before, yet their meaning had shifted entirely.

[According to what Sun-hae told us, the appearance was that of a young person around twenty years old. Surely you’re not suggesting that a youth of that age became a Dokkaebi? That would be… humans becoming Dokkaebi in the first place is….]
“The eyes were remarkably deep and clear—they appeared to belong to a pure human.”

Baek Mu-jin clicked his tongue.

“Age makes one speak of strange things.”
[That’s….]
“I speak thus, yet I cannot be certain. The years spent within this Hotel—I could not bear to count them. My eyes ached, so I closed them.”
[Then you were imprisoned?]
“Confined, rather.”
[Who on earth would do such a thing?]
“I suspect it was the Labyrinth’s first master, though I cannot be certain.”

There was so much to see, to touch, to feel. Layers upon layers of screams and shrieks pierced my ears, and the writhing flesh of life and death that rippled along every wall dizzied my vision.

“Sun-hae said that within this place, it alone appeared to be the only human.”

Indeed.

“That much was evident.”

In this pandemonium, only it had preserved its humanity.

“It appears to have been offered as a sacrifice, and yet it became a Dokkaebi. The matter has become quite absurd.”
[….]
“This is no mere Labyrinth born of slaughter. To achieve such disorientation, one must research more deeply and invest far greater care.”

If such a deed had been committed, there was a place I could suspect. Yet because the circumstances primarily did not involve Korea, I could not be certain. Baek Mu-jin gathered his thoughts.

‘One yet two.’

Whether a Labyrinth or an individual, this was hardly a common outcome.

“If possible, I hope this state is well preserved as it is.”
[…Yes.]
“Do you find it tedious?”
[A misunderstanding.]
“I hope today’s misunderstandings end within five.”
[I shall keep that in mind.]

Baek Mu-jin’s children generally avoided him. Or they sought to devour him.

[Is this Labyrinth in Korea?]
“That much is uncertain. The performers all bear the appearance of East Asians, but such details can be altered arbitrarily. What merits attention is why they chose to do so in the first place.”
[Because of that co-owner, perhaps.]
“Given that he presents himself as Korean with such appearance and demeanor, his essence is likely Korean indeed. Among the records I’ve searched, did any youth named Lee Yeon-woo appear?”
[No.]

An unfortunate answer, that.

[There is none.]
“Nowhere at all?”
[…Is he not a Dokkaebi merely resembling a human rather than having been human? If Lee Yeon-woo never existed as a person to begin with, and has only now been newly born, then that would at least make sense….]
“Then a human spirit could never dwell within him. A Dokkaebi less than a century old would struggle to possess such humanity. If such a young Goblin displays such seasoned social grace, there is no excuse.”
[But if such a youth leaves no records despite being so remarkable….]
“He was erased.”

Baek Mu-jin actually marveled at that point.

“Is it not remarkable? It means his value was great enough to warrant such effort. Because a single human named Lee Yeon-woo possessed such worth, they took such pains to erase him from the world.”
[….]
“What are you thinking? A misunderstanding?”
[Yes.]
“That leaves one more. You should refrain from overusing it.”
[I shall exercise restraint.]
“Good.”

Baek Mu-jin turned his gaze toward the Rooftop Garden.

Unnamed flowers and trees formed an intricate harmony. The subtle lighting enhanced the nocturnal garden’s atmosphere, and despite the absence of darkness, the stars in the night sky gleamed with crystalline clarity.

A narrow stream trickled along the garden path, and within it, small fish glided through the water.

‘Alive, yet withered as though dead.’

This place, too, must be the Labyrinth.

Like flowers blooming from bone, there existed a peace so profound it was almost unbearable.

“It was broken.”
[…Are you speaking, Young Goblin?]
“It embraced all the impurities within this Labyrinth.”

I couldn’t fathom what he had been thinking, or what process had led to this.

“That’s why this Labyrinth, this Hotel, is so peaceful. It swallowed all those screams and suffering alone, which is why it can remain so pristine and pure.”

This was a paradise forged from the crushing of the Young Goblin.

“All manner of spirits visit this place. Many foreign spirits too. Despite possessing such refinement that it could pacify them, that body was infinitely fragile. Even a single choking fit would kill it.”
[Choking… surely you jest?]
“I simply lack talent in such matters.”
[….]
“Are you cursing me?”
[No.]
“You, my child, possess such profound compassion.”

You fall silent in reverence before the tragedy of a youth whose face you’ve never seen, your voice laden with sorrow—qualities Baek Mu-jin has never possessed.

Universal responsibility toward humanity, sentiment, or anguish.

“Do not be that way.”

Or you too will break.

Baek Mu-jin had always feared this—that something he cherished might crumble and suffer, swept away by such trivial emotions.

It was affection directed toward that which he could not empathize with.

“To summarize, it’s a Young Goblin that was once perhaps a young Scholar—now trapped by the Labyrinth, which systematically accumulated blood and suffering.”
[A Scholar, even?]
“A material refined with such care that it had to be completely erased from the world. It would be harder to argue that such a material wasn’t a Scholar.”
[Every Scholar I’ve known resembled the Chairman.]
“Bad personality, is it? So you’re saying that good, earnest young man couldn’t possibly have been a Scholar—the very embodiment of character corruption? Is that what you wanted to say?”
[….]
“Try calling it a misunderstanding again.”
[It’s a misunderstanding.]
“Fool.”

But I understood. The Scholars that Baek Mu-jin knew were typically arrogant, self-absorbed, and unbearably conceited creatures.

They were “Scholars” precisely because they obsessed so intensely over their own work.

‘So from this creature’s perspective, that person would be difficult to recognize as a Scholar.’

There were Scholars who helped others and engaged in goodwill. But such individuals were closed-off in certain ways, making them difficult for a junior unfamiliar with the artistic world to comprehend.

How could he explain this so the child would understand? Baek Mu-jin continued speaking in an indifferent tone.

“…He actually demonstrated talent.”
[What kind….]
“Considerable skill in handling people.”

Those eyes seemed to pierce through Baek Mu-jin, and those ears swallowed every sound. Through nose and mouth, skin, and some indefinable sense, the creature perceived him. It happened in an instant.

‘For a newly born Goblin, the technique for handling humans was far too seasoned.’

It seemed similar to Baek Mu-jin’s own, yet fundamentally different.

‘And that bell.’

The golden bell that summoned and controlled the Staff Member.

“…Each Goblin carries their own plaything, after all….”

Whenever that bell rang, his gaze was forcibly drawn. Sometimes commands were issued.

Why such power in that particular bell? Baek Mu-jin saw it as a fragment of the Hotel General Manager’s artistic talent from when he was human. A way to wedge into another’s world,

Speaking so presumptuously….

“….”

Was that inhumanity itself something that should be considered someone’s humanity? Baek Mu-jin could not say.

“…You never became an artist, so you wouldn’t understand the feeling.”
[Then, Chairman, how did it appear to you?]
“A Young Goblin, and well….”

Baek Mu-jin fell silent for a moment.

Perhaps once a student brimming with talent. Now dead and transformed into a ghost, even grotesquely shattered into something broken. Yet through twisted time, repeating death and suffering nearly eternal….

And for the sake of a single “humanity,” grasping the leash of this deep and dense Labyrinth.

“A monster, I suppose.”
[….]

A brief silence descended. His son answered in a low voice.

[…That’s quite a harsh assessment.]
“It was high praise.”
[That’s not how it sounded to me.]
“I understand.”

But Baek Mu-jin remembered. When he had tried to peer into the Hotel General Manager’s inner nature, his vision was blocked countless times and his ears rang with discord.

‘Something is preventing me from sensing it.’

A Young Goblin who had not even lived a century. Confined to this Hotel alone, ignorant of the world’s ways, yet such a being had blocked the power of the seasoned Baek Mu-jin.

And the entity itself seemed unaware of what it had even done.

‘What a tremendous sprout this will grow into.’

In truth, it was merely the game system’s “entity detection function” activating, but Baek Mu-jin, ignorant of the true nature of this place, could only evaluate it as such.

“Don’t pity me so easily. Don’t pass judgment without understanding. I’ve become a Dokkaebi within the Labyrinth’s gaze, trapped by this hellish calamity, suffering and dying without respite.”
[….]
“Yet I saved people. I’ve lived as a human, and I still extend goodwill.”

Still, I couldn’t comprehend it.

“From what I can see, that appears to be how you’ve preserved your ‘self.'”

What exactly was this “self” he spoke of? When Baek Mu-jin heard those words, he genuinely wanted to ask. But he abandoned the question, knowing he wouldn’t receive the answer he sought.

“If you were simple enough to be pitied and judged so easily, could he have done what he did?”
[So you’re telling me to kill even my human emotions.]
“…Reckless and foolish child….”

Baek Mu-jin sighed. How could he be so dull.

“What arrogance—a beast in a pen pitying someone who wields not a blade but money.”

The Labyrinth is so sinister that death row inmates must be brought as sacrificial offerings. It was that Young Goblin who transformed such a place into this paradise. This was merely the work of his youth.

“I’m not concerned that you’ll be devoured in an instant before that existence.”

Baek Mu-jin knew. Understanding that essence, he also knew the Dokkaebi would never grow weaker than it is now.

[A Dokkaebi who takes pride in being human—fortunately, that will never happen.]
“You don’t know that.”

What does a Dokkaebi’s pride in humanity have to do with this pathetically weak child? How could that being’s “humanity” guarantee anyone’s safety?

He hadn’t intended to say this much, but irritation loosened his tongue.

“It seems you’re entangled with blood magic.”

The dangerous word provoked a sharp reaction.

[…What?]
“Yes.”
[No, what do you mean,]

It was the reaction Baek Mu-jin had anticipated. He listened to his child’s whimper-like voice with an expressionless face.

[Then you’re not saying he’s become a cannibal now….]
“My jest went too far, I’m afraid. There were no signs of such a thing.”
[Then has it twisted into a bloodlust desire instead?]
“That’s not it either.”
[It’s impossible for someone who isn’t even human, much less a Young Goblin. There’s no overcoming instinct….]
“Desire may be unavoidable, but restraint is always possible.”
[But….]
“Now do you understand why I called him dangerous.”

Baek Mu-jin knew what kind of being he was. That’s why he had made that judgment.

“….”
[….]

It wasn’t that he lacked it—he had it but suppressed it.

“That should suffice for understanding.”
[…But knowing he’s only nineteen years old, I can’t help but feel pity for him.]
“Your perspective on the world is always remarkably arrogant, no matter how many times I hear it.”

To pity a monster of such caliber—that too was quite extraordinary. So Baek Mu-jin said.

* * *

At that very moment.

“….”

Lee Yeon-woo in the Manager’s Quarters.

“…?”

Eavesdropping on the Rooftop Garden, I experienced a confusion of identity.

“What… does that even mean.”
“Hello?”
“I can’t say hello.”

Me? A Dokkaebi?

‘But I’m human?’

A pitiful, young goblin?

‘I’m a robust adult, though?’

Really?

‘Me?’

Why…?

Is there no way around it?

—————
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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