Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual - Chapter 46

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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 46.

Welcome, Hotel General Manager.

What lies before you is no mere antiquated television set. This is the “Manager Qualification Test”—an examination to determine whether you are worthy of ascending to the 14th Floor of the Central Control Room.

“….”

[Test Objective]
[Control the subjects amid chaos!]

Myriad scenes flicker across the television screen. Your duty is to become the temporary manager of the Central Control Room, identifying the “research specimens” and “researchers” within the display, and controlling them via remote.

※Research Specimens: Isolate them so they cannot approach the room where you and the researchers are located※
※Researchers: Protect them from perishing or sustaining injury from external threats and research specimens※

“….”

[Test Method]
[Observe, judge, and manage!]

The screen seethes with violent static, distortion, and flickering. In your hands rests a weathered remote control bearing an isolation button and a safety button.

※Isolation Button: Red※
※Safety Button: Blue※

Two critical subjects appear and vanish across the television screen in fleeting moments. They will remain distinctly discernible even amidst the noise.

※Research Specimen: A form twisted and contorted, as though crawling beyond the screen’s edge※
※Researcher: Clad in white laboratory attire, sometimes appearing to be in peril※

The instant you identify a subject, you must press the corresponding remote button.

※When a research specimen appears, press the “isolation button” to prevent them from reaching you※
※When a researcher appears, press the “safety button” to protect them※

Multiple victims and researchers can appear in rapid succession. You must identify each target in real time and press the correct button to maintain perfect control.

“….”

Are you truly prepared to pass this test and confront the hidden truth?

“There’s nothing I can’t do.”

Then, now.

The test begins.

* * *

“A management simulation mini-game like this shouldn’t present any significant difficulty.”
“Hmm.”
“I’m not sure why you’re disappointed, but Ho-won was a dot game. It had considerable capacity for a dot game, but it lacked the resources to implement complex AI-driven patterns like that.”
“Yes.”
“Even so, objectively speaking, this is also quite complex.”

Click, boom!
Click, beep—beep—beep—
Click, argh!!

“I’ve played this game alone for twenty-six years.”

I memorized all forty-eight patterns long ago.

“The higher resolution actually lowered the perceived difficulty. Back when I first played this game, those crude pixels made my eyes hurt so much I couldn’t tell what was what and just died repeatedly.”
“Dot?”
“Precise controls are difficult with dot imagery. I remember the resolution was barely playable because the developer put considerable effort into color adjustment.”
“Color, dot. Put considerable effort in.”
“Exactly. Even so, my eyes still grew tired. Compared to those days, a high-definition screen with some noise is practically a gift.”

Reaction time: 0.5 seconds. I watched the screen carefully for any unexpected variables, but no patterns different from what I remembered appeared.

“….”

It was simply unfamiliar.

‘…Who could they be?’

A game is merely a game. Unless based on true events, it should be nothing more than fictional entertainment.

Yet the figures beyond the aged cathode-ray screen appeared far too real. Not just the people themselves—the facility too, even the grotesquely contorted movements of flesh and bone.

They resembled documentation that must have existed somewhere, at some point in time.

“Is this what it feels like to see actual footage?”
“Pardon?”
“No, it’s just that there’s a disconnect between what I vaguely imagined and what I’m seeing now. Every time I experience this, it feels like I’m in an immersive experience center themed around Ho-won. The pixels are… probably….”

Ah, I nearly slipped up. Lee Yeon-woo adjusted my grip on the remote.

“…The pixels were probably also serving as a form of censorship. Even though the patterns are familiar, the footage itself feels foreign, as if I’m seeing it for the first time.”

Black metal chunks and corroded wires clung thickly to human bodies. They seemed connected to the nervous system, writhing with each movement, producing an unpleasant grinding sound that grated on the nerves.

“Quite brutal.”

Those whose body parts had become transparent or transformed into luminous crystals. Through the crystalline growths sprouting across their bodies—eyes, foreheads, lips—distorted organs were visible. Occasionally, blue flashes flickered.

“Extremely grotesque.”

The subjects with completely flayed skin were equally striking. Intricate blueprints and circuit diagrams were etched into the exposed dermis. They stood motionless or were embedded in walls, as if they had lost all will to move.

“Repulsive.”

Lee Yeon-woo stared at them.

….

A being with exposed neural networks. Artificial neurons blinked with blue light. Beneath torn skin, they writhed expressionless, yet tears of blood streamed down. They were denied even the freedom to make expressions.

The limbs were twisted, transformed spider-like. The entire body was bound in worn leather straps. Metal fragments and experimental tubes were embedded in the flesh, and every attempt to escape was blocked by horrific restraints.

Parts of the body were grotesquely enlarged. The head was swollen. The ears had expanded. Unable to support itself, it lay prone on the ground or leaned against walls. It exhibited movements as if trying to cover its eyes or block its ears.

“…Hmm….”

And that was.

‘…By my shallow understanding of blood magic, that’s certainly close to a success.’

Lee Yeon-woo watched the entire scene without blinking. Even as an observer, this was no situation where mistakes could be forgiven.

“I feel deeply disturbed.”
“No.”
“This should have remained merely a game.”

If those beings had actually existed. If this footage wasn’t merely a simulation but a genuine recording of some past day. If I were now appreciating suffering preserved in such a manner,

Lee Yeon-woo would genuinely want to lose his mind.

“It’s not simply from witnessing unethical footage that I feel this way. There’s a distinct pattern. The test subjects in the footage are clearly being researched for a specific… purpose.”

That was true in the game as well.

“Did I pray for the Evil God?”

I performed rituals for it.

“But this is… somewhat….”
“….”
“…The direction….”
“….”
“….”

There’s directionality to it.

“…The destruction of humanity. Transparent, or crystalline… blue… purification.”
“….”
“Not mere physical mutation, but an attempt to make them clean… Why must purification and destruction coexist? Metal masses and chains.”
“….”
“It would be torture, but if it were meaningless torture…? With this much effort invested, that can’t be it…. Connected to the nervous system. Injecting pain repeatedly… guilt?”
“….”
“Making them recognize guilt, and purifying….”

This is no mere torture. It’s the subtle injection of pain flowing through neural pathways, an attempt to shatter the body and refine the soul.

To summarize, this is.

“….”
“Asceticism?”

Faceless watchers and mimics with only smiles preserved. Beings stripped of self and individuality, their free will excised, designed solely for control.

“Why?”

The circuitry and blueprints etched into their bodies had reduced the human form to mere components. Their warped physiques and artificially expanded senses forcibly absorbed external information.

‘They wanted evolution.’

They had attempted to create beings that transcended humanity.

‘Yet they imposed suffering in equal measure.’

Yes, they had tried to forge something sacred.

“….”

I felt genuinely repulsed.

“This doesn’t appear to be mere fiction.”
“Yes.”
“As disturbing as it is to admit, I found traces of blood magic utilized within the footage. And blood magic—it wasn’t fiction like Ho-won the game. It existed in this reality.”
“Yes.”
“This is an actual record of something that happened.”
“Yes.”
“….”

I removed my glasses and rubbed my face.

“…You’ve all done quite something.”

The mini-game had ended.

* * *

A shutter twisted grotesquely, pierced clean through.

Darkness settled over the pooled blood that gleamed within every crevice of the dented floor.

The hem of a dark crimson-black longcoat slid slowly through the silence. A man so pallid he appeared translucent came to a halt before the blood.

“….”

His frame was abnormally gaunt—thin skin stretched over prominent bone—yet the smooth, matte coat maintained its impeccable lines.

Though his lips remained motionless, everyone could hear his voice.

“Oh.”

With his mouth firmly closed and only a thin smile playing at his lips, he asked politely.

“Hello?”

As if wanting to snatch something, gnarled fingers twitched through the air. It was a slow movement so quiet that even the faintest friction couldn’t be heard.

“May I eat?”

The Blood-Loving Guest asked again.

At the tips of his neatly trimmed nails, dark dried blood clung like a brand. His two hands then came together in prayer before his chest.

All his movements were fluid and smooth—like a slow painting.

“May I eat?”

His pupils held a faint tinge of bloodstain.

Clink, clink. The faint sound of cutlery striking together—the kind heard in kitchens and at dining tables. Warm, intimate noise from a harmonious meal layered unnaturally over the eerie silence.

Harmonious, conversation.

“May I….”

The pleasant noise of dining suddenly cut off.

“….”

All sound drowned in darkness.

“It’s you.”

Just one taste.

A mouth that had never opened tears open in dark crimson. A tongue touches.

* * *

The moment Lee Yeon-woo rose from his seat after finishing the mini-game.

“….”

Lee Yeon-woo brushed his forearm. Goosebumps rose.

To be precise, his body’s condition was abnormal enough that they shouldn’t have risen, yet something like that sensation washed over him. The shock of discovering such a disturbing truth shook his confidence in his own judgment.

He muttered quietly.

“…Someone is consuming me right now.”
“Pardon?”

He was a mass of blood and living liquid itself. Wherever and however his spilled blood was being consumed, as long as the distance wasn’t too great, he could perceive it in real time.

Blood that had flowed outside his body was still a part of him, and it remained alive.

“Who on earth….”
“Who?”
“Ah, wait.”
“Who?”
“The Tasteless Guest.”

Lee Yeon-woo spoke the name of the Blood-Loving Guest.

“They were staying at this Hotel today as well.”

A mid-level danger erosion-type monster guest. An entity with the unique characteristic of appearing almost instantaneously at locations where blood has been spilled. In the current situation, it was the most likely suspect to be tasting Lee Yeon-woo’s blood.

“So even during a Hotel Internal Event… could it still appear? Unlike a game, this is reality, and there’s no reason the Tasteless Guest couldn’t show up, right?”
“….”
“Coco?”
“Yes….”
“Yes?”

Have I lost my mind?

“We need to secure blood packs as soon as possible.”

I am a successful practitioner of the Red Heart Experiment, contracted with the Water Ghost, destined to cough up blood even while standing still. I was nothing more than a smartphone with a rapidly depleting battery.

But now, with my reserves already drained drastically by the cutscene event, a monster guest had made its entrance. If we were to encounter it in this state, there was only one alternative I could offer.

‘To end up on that creature’s dining table.’

Absolutely unacceptable. Realizing the situation had become urgent, I let out a sigh.

“Sigh, I was in the middle of a Hotel Internal Event—something that happens only a handful of times in the Hotel….”
“Huh?”

Coco looked up at me with eyes that said ‘is that really important right now?’, but I ignored her. Internal events occurring on the Non-Existent Floors were rare.

‘More importantly, Hotel Internal Events cannot be rewatched.’

I could tell just from playing the mini games. This place was a repository of information about the Hotel—especially data about the Hotel as it existed in reality now.

And they wouldn’t even give me time to organize such precious information.

“This is why there are no users.”
“Huh?!”

Coco was taken aback. Her eyes remained the same, but her mouth opened into a perfect circle. She seemed to have become quite adept at mimicking human reactions. It was endearing, and I found myself equally moved.

“If I’d designed the difficulty rationally from the start, there’s no way I would’ve been the only user for all that time! Of course, the distribution was blocked because I bought up the entire copyright…!”
“Yes!”
“Are you taking the developer’s side right in front of me?!”
“No!!”
“I’m grateful for that!!”

It seemed Coco had chosen to side with Lee Yeon-woo—a twenty-six-year veteran user and the true owner—rather than with the developer who had sold away the copyright in despair over its obscurity.

“….”
“….”

Both of us regained our composure. This was no time for such bickering.

“The Tasteless Guest is pathologically obsessed with consuming blood, and right now, I am blood itself. If this continues, I’ll become nothing more than a meal—a handful of sustenance that disappears into the monster’s belly.”
“That can’t happen….”
“Your linguistic response just now was excellent. Well done.”
“Blood packs….”
“I’ll go find them shortly.”

But first, I need to gather some items.

“Pardon?”
“Pardon?”

I should at least complete the bestiary.

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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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