Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual - Chapter 63

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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 63.

In all that time, as Lee Yeon-woo moved in and out of the 14th Floor, had he ever coughed up blood even once?

“….”

It was impossible.

Following Lee Yeon-woo’s blood, I witnessed another’s. I heard screams and saw corpses. I observed the vile apparatus and records of how humans were treated worse than beasts.

A vampire centuries old could not have been ignorant of this place’s name. The sordid Research Foundation that charlatans had constructed in pursuit of paradise….

“….”

There, I understood.

The absence of arrogance.
The unfamiliarity with protocol.
The fixation on humanity itself.
And… that rejection as well.

I understood.

“…Oh.”

I will win, I concluded.

Thus did a certain vampire arrive at that conclusion.

* * *

Hunting and companionship are not fundamentally different. Both involve keeping one’s prey within sight and erecting fences from which they cannot escape. In the end, what matters is information—understanding what manner of being one’s opponent truly is.

How far will I let him in?
Where do I draw the line?
What boundary am I permitted to cross?

Why haven’t I rejected him outright? Why haven’t I severed the connection? Why does he go to such lengths, treating me to meals with such care…?

“May I eat?”

That was all it came down to.

“…”
“May I eat?”
“Haha…”

Because I thought I could win.

“No.”
“Oh, indeed.”

That’s what I did.

As I always have—without any ‘special reason’.

Truly, simply…

“…”

Simply.
Because I know you.

* * *

Lee Yeon-woo stood before the mirror, adjusting his necktie as he swallowed a sigh.

“No matter who the Guest is, they never make things easy.”
“Yes.”
“I tried to buy time, but instead I’ve given him the confidence to hunt. In the end, all that remains is a question of who achieves their purpose first.”

Lee Yeon-woo finished pulling on his gloves and adjusted his glasses.

At my age, fighting seemed childish, yet I harbored not the slightest desire to lose.

“Let’s move immediately.”
“Yes!”
….

Camaraderie and hunting were remarkably alike.

You kept your prey within your domain, forged bonds they could never escape. In the end, what mattered was understanding who that person truly was.

“In any case….”

Lee Yeon-woo finished putting on his gloves.

“Nothing but exhausting work.”

Beyond the lenses of his glasses, his eyes met their reflection in the mirror, curving slowly into a smile. It was a reflexive laugh. Confirming it, Lee Yeon-woo headed straight for the Elevator.

He read it in The Guest’s eyes.

‘Inferiority.’

Worship and jealousy, and awe.

‘So he wants to defeat me.’

He was born arrogant. That’s why he didn’t want to live clinging to my favor. If he were a bomb waiting to detonate, this was better.

….

Lee Yeon-woo was weak, and he was strong.
Lee Yeon-woo was complete, and he was broken.

They were both desperate to devour each other now. And Lee Yeon-woo, too, was someone whose pride would never yield anywhere.

Ding—

“We’ve arrived.”

I had no intention of accepting defeat so easily this time either.

“Shall we go?”
“Yes!”

It seemed that the further one drifted from society, the younger one grew in reverse.

“….”
“…? Hello?”
“Ah, this is ridiculous.”

Lee Yeon-woo dragged his hand across his face and muttered softly.

“If I could just walk down a street that smells like people one more time, I’d have no more wishes….”

I yearned for society.

* * *

“My, how has our Tarot Master been faring?”
“….”

Piiik―….
A deflated whistle sound.

“Doing well, I see!”
“Director, are you certain your interpretation is correct?”
“Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t know that much?”

For the sake of this connection, how many bowls of gukbap from that restaurant have I already bought?

“….”
“This is our Yoon Manager! Did I mention him before?”
“You don’t seem particularly interested in me.”

Piiik.

“Is that not an affirmative answer?”
“Coincidentally, this time you’ve guessed correctly.”

Under the traffic officer’s dry, vacant stare, the Director found herself brushing her nose awkwardly.

“Well, I was hoping to get some advice, you see.”

A faint beeping sound.

“Yoon Manager, our Captain here is hungry.”
“How exactly do you two communicate like this?”

Unbothered by the section chief’s reaction, the young man trudged forward with heavy steps. His destination appeared to be the gukbap restaurant we’d spotted on the way in—the very establishment the Director had insisted we remember, saying he would surely come here.

Yoon Manager turned back to look at the Director.

“….”
“Do I really strike you as someone who talks big?”
“If it were me, I would’ve ordered much more.”
“Gukbap is his favorite thing in the world—what can you do about it?”
“Eating gukbap on a business trip to the capital….”
“That place makes excellent gukbap.”

The Director followed the traffic officer in the fluorescent vest, the Captain, toward the gukbap restaurant. After ordering three extra-large servings of pork and rice soup, she opened her mouth, ignoring Yoon Manager’s protest that he couldn’t possibly finish it all.

“I apologize for always asking about gukbap and water. What else should I order?”
“Pork cutlet set meal, please.”

Yoon Manager thought to himself, ‘There it is.’ The voice was crisp and clear, each syllable distinct.

“The rice here is excellent.”
“I see.”
“The meat is also excellent.”

And then he added:

“The water is good too.”

Those pale eyes and the mechanically expressionless face. Eyebrows and gaze descended without emotion.

“Places like that make karma quite visible.”
“….”
“And the gukbap is excellent.”

I nearly misunderstood. Yoon Manager nodded inwardly. It was simply that the gukbap was good.

True to Korea’s fast-food culture, the gukbap arrived promptly, and when I wondered what “the water is good” meant, a teapot appeared alongside bottled water. The Director added to this.

“It’s not tap water, not filtered water—it’s specially sourced water.”
“What do you mean by specially sourced?”
“Well, this restaurant receives support from the Resonance Bureau.”
“Ah.”

The owner here seemed to be an Artist or a mage.

Even if not, there were certainly ordinary people connected to the Gap-world. While rare, they existed, and sometimes they even formed a collective like this.

“Then….”
“It’s spring water from somewhere on Jirisan, I heard.”
“I see.”

Then perhaps the Shamans’ faction?

‘The atmosphere is similar, but I don’t sense any particular deity being served.’

Yoon Manager stopped his thoughts there. Since the other party was an Arcana member, there was nothing to gain by pretending to know. Whether he showed it outwardly or not.

Quiet, neat, and slow—the Captain’s meal stretched on quite long.

“That was delicious.”

The Captain began speaking after consuming five extra-large bowls of gukbap and three pork cutlet set meals. For some reason, it was more than what he’d heard. Usually she ate around three bowls at most. Yoon Manager thought to himself.

Watching her for a moment, the Captain continued.

“Did you come to measure weight?”
“Ah, yes.”

Again, it meant whether she’d come to see the “scales.” The Director shook her head.

“No, no—I came to ask about the evil spirits.”

The Director referred to Dokkaebi as evil spirits. Yoon Manager had already heard about this on the way over. He’d been warned: ‘That person dislikes calling sentient beings Dokkaebi, so be careful.’

“Our scales don’t catch evil spirits anyway.”
“Their sins are not karmic debts.”
“Right, exactly.”

The Director continued with her question.

“To get straight to the point… I came to ask whether a new Labyrinth has appeared on the Korean Peninsula, or if something else is at play. Something special enough to draw so many evil spirits.”

The Young Man possessed such keen insight that he even treated his own emotions as objects of observation. He saw how energy flowed across the entire board—where it moved, how it moved.

Simply because he found it good, familiar, and comfortable.

In other words, he was an expert.

“Look, I’m not asking you to do anything, right? I know our Tarot Master here is stubborn as they come, but after eating this much gukbap, couldn’t you spare just a tiny bit of advice as payment for the fortune-telling?”
“I am not a shaman.”
“I know, I know—so what?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Ah.”

The Director nodded with satisfaction.

“Thank you so much, our Tarot Master! Let’s grab drinks with the Gangwon Provincial Government next time.”
“I’ll be taking my leave now.”
“Hey, look at this guy—won’t even pretend to listen to the end. Some manners you’ve got.”

The Police Officer left the restaurant, and Yoon Manager, whose gaze had followed her out, turned to ask the Director.

“I’m afraid I may not fully understand the situation.”
“That fellow doesn’t say much, does he?”
“You can tell just by looking at his face.”
“When you ask questions, you need to be more thoughtful about it. Your questions should be specific.”
“So what you’re saying, Director, is….”
“And above all, he accepted payment for his divination—in the form of a meal.”
“But he said he’s not a Shaman.”
“Who says only Shamans accept payment for divination?”
“Usually…?”
“Just listen to what the Director is saying.”

The Director slowly scraped the empty stone bowl with her spoon.

“He received a question, accepted payment, and if he knows something, he gives a definitive answer.”

She continued.

“Because Taro recognized him as ‘that kind of person.'”
“If that payment you’re referring to is the gukbap, then wasn’t the order reversed?”
“He already knew what questions you’d come asking, so he took his payment upfront. Eight bowls of it.”
“So that was the price corresponding to the weight of the questions? But….”

Yoon Manager tilted his head.

―I’m not entirely sure.
“…I believe that’s what I heard him say.”

The Director shrugged.

“It means the odds are fifty-fifty.”
“Fifty-fifty?”
“A fifty percent chance a new Labyrinth actually appeared, and a fifty percent chance it’s some other external factor.”
“With respect, I could say something like that too.”
“You’d be saying ‘it could be or couldn’t be’ while knowing nothing at all. That’s different. Taro Master knows enough to understand everything, and that’s why he’s saying it that way.”
“I see.”

She nodded.

“So both circumstances have been detected.”
“That’s about right.”

Evidence of a new Labyrinth’s emergence had been observed, but other factors were detected as well.

“If we hadn’t clearly seen even one of those two circumstances, I would’ve sided with one or the other.”

At a crime scene, the absence of something is also evidence.

“Whether it’s A or B. But given how bizarre our peninsula’s situation has become lately, it can’t be neither.”
“It would’ve been easier to understand if you’d just said it that way.”
“Don’t treat Tarot Masters with common sense—they all have their own unwavering standards. Especially our young Police Officer; he won’t say he ‘knows’ until he reaches his own conclusion.”
“Ah, so that’s why he said he didn’t know….”

The Director nodded in agreement with Yoon Manager’s murmur.

“But Yoon Manager.”

The Director gazed at the ceiling, searching her memory.

“The biggest reading I’ve ever done was three bowls, right?”
“Yes, that’s… I remember.”
“Back then, what I asked about was the fluctuation of all foreign sin.”
“Oh my.”
“Today he devoured five extra-large bowls and three bowls of pork cutlet?”

She straightened her head and looked at Yoon Manager with weary eyes, then nodded.

“From this, we can conclude that the Korean Peninsula is truly finished.”
“Director… please maintain your dignity.”
“But you think the same thing.”
“I always maintain my dignity.”
“Wow, your speed at cutting losses is faster than a Dokkaebi’s.”

The mere fact that an indigenous Labyrinth had been born on the Korean Peninsula was already grave. Given that the territory wasn’t as vast as Russia or Canada, even a single Labyrinth emerging in the wrong place could mean total devastation.

But evidence of external factors on top of that? This is insanity.

“The bigger problem is that there’s now a possibility those two are cooperating.”
“Ah, this is… ah… aah…”

That was a fair point.

“Now that I think about it, we were given a choice between two problems, and we ended up choosing both.”
“Exactly. Two natural disasters have struck the Korean Peninsula, and now those two are joining hands.”
“The Korean Peninsula has come to this state after all. I think I’ll need to immigrate to France. At least Europe would be safer—they’ve had classical Labyrinths like the Raven and the Count appear there.”
“Isn’t that still the world’s leading exporter of demons?”

The Director laughed heartily.

“Remember, Yoon Manager—Europe is where the Religious Demon Sect has the highest concentration. You’d get your head blown off the moment you arrived. Keep that in mind. Ru Ttang-ttang is still watching over us.”
“I really hate Dokkaebi.”
“Yeah, yeah, I understand that feeling very well… but living in the Gap, I’ve come to see quite a few people who actually like Dokkaebi. Hang in there.”
“Insane Gap dwellers.”
“What’s this? This is why outsiders always have such weak hearts.”

She scratched her chin, her eyebrows raised in apparent irritation. Her drooping eyes narrowed in bewilderment.

“But if we’re talking about a young Labyrinth combined with external factors, this isn’t a common situation.”
“I’ll go back and search through the records.”
“We might have to go all the way back to the Joseon Dynasty Era. Yoon Manager, which Dokkaebi can we contact right now in our country?”
“By ‘contact,’ it sounds like you mean the traditional indigenous Dokkaebi, but there aren’t any. According to our confirmation three weeks ago, both of them are abroad on personal matters.”
“Three weeks? How did they end up being away for so long?”
“Well…”

Yoon Manager adjusted his glasses and answered.

“One is attending a medical device seminar, and the other is away for business meetings.”
“If they’d lived that way, they should be more relaxed by now, shouldn’t they?”
“When you compare real Dokkaebi who’ve existed since the Joseon Dynasty Era to humans, we’re just pathetic.”
“And we can’t even contact beings who have so little interest in human affairs.”

We don’t have that kind of relationship with them either.

The only ones we might be able to reach out to would be the Seoul Special Bureau. As with most long-lived spirits, we’d be grateful if they even pretended to show interest in matters that don’t concern them.

“Since even that last refuge has walked overseas, we need to prepare on our own. We’ll make sure to properly support the Special Team and the Processing Division.”
“If you speak like that outside, people will think we’re organized crime, sir.”
“What, do you think calling it the Gap makes it sound innocent? Not a chance.”
“I don’t think the probability is high, but just in case….”

As Yoon Manager trailed off and pointed beyond the door, the Director waved her hand dismissively.

“No, no, don’t even think about it. The Tarot Masters aren’t something you meddle with. Don’t expect any help from them.”
“My apologies, sir. It just seemed like communication was possible in ways I hadn’t anticipated. They gave us advice over a few bowls of gukbap, so I suppose I was thinking too lightly of it.”
“Look at you, treating people like Dokkaebi. Sure, there are some similarities, but it’s not just a matter of having an unusual personality or being incompatible. That’s not the issue here.”
“I understand, sir.”
“I told you.”

He wore a displeased expression.

“The Tarot Masters all have firm principles.”
“Yes, you mentioned that.”
“If you ignore those and rush in, you’ll incur their wrath.”
“Are you a Shaman yourself, sir?”
“What god would a Tarot Master serve? Even a god couldn’t handle that.”

They were similar types of ability users, but it was fair to say they operated in almost entirely different fields.

“You know that Tarot depicts the journey of a human life through its cards.”
“I understand it well enough to have passed the Resonance Bureau exam.”
“Right. It begins with card zero, ‘The Fool,’ and concludes with card twenty-one, ‘The World.’ And each Arcana member is the person on Earth who best matches their corresponding card.”
“I was curious—was there actually a person called ‘The Fool’?”
“How could there be? It’s a metaphor. It depicts the archetype of human experience.”

In short,

“It’s destiny.”

It’s not impossible to escape, but it’s difficult. The person themselves might not think much of it, but those around them especially do.

“I don’t know the details myself. Whether true destiny exists, or whether there’s something called causality, or whether those cursed Major Arcana creatures did something… or perhaps it’s all the result of the meticulous formulas created by the Artists who first conceived of those creatures?”
“….”
“But what we small fry need to understand is simple: remember that everyone who tried to remove an Arcana member from their role and use them for their own purposes came to a bad end. Especially that devil five years ago—a card holder with such an openly ominous role fared even worse.”

That demon bastard referred to card number 15, The Devil.

“Moreover, since they were chosen because they are the beings closest to their corresponding cards in the first place, they have no intention of escaping that framework themselves. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“It seems you’re advising us that they are dangerous entities of an irregular classification, so we should avoid contact if possible, and if we must unavoidably use them, we should first understand the rules of the card holder.”
“Exactly.”

She looked at Yoon Manager.

“Over the past year, you’ve seen it yourself—I placed you in a managerial position because of your administrative processing abilities. You’ve genuinely done the work of a hundred men. I was satisfied that instead of field duties, you handled all the administrative work in my stead, but….”

Those from the Gap-world were remarkably ignorant.

The Artists who came seeking to join the Resonance Bureau from outside were promoted quickly relative to their experience and credentials. In the Gap-world, Artists were beings for whom that was possible.

“If your resolve is weak, at least straighten your spirit.”
“…I was weak….”
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Among the precious Artists, the talented ones were promoted quickly, but in proportion, they were given longer adaptation periods. This was because, given the nature of the Gap-world, if they engaged in field duties, that “correct will” could easily crumble and be corrupted.

“You’re smart, so you’ll understand. Just remember that things can’t continue as they are. Yoon Manager, it would be good for you to understand more about how the Gap-world operates.”
“I don’t wish to change my convictions.”
“Then cross that line—dismantle everything except the pillar that sustains you. For an Artist from outside to now join a provincial Gap-world Resonance Bureau means you must make that possible.”
“I will study harder.”
“We all have our reasons for being here, and we die proportionally faster because of them.”

She rolled her eyes to the side.

“Hong wasn’t the type to go like that, but he said he’d make one report to his superior and his head exploded.”

Poor grim reapers, grinning foolishly as they went because they liked it. This is why dealing with people of conviction is so damn annoying compared to those living carelessly. They die satisfied on their own terms.

“In the end, all that’s left are narrow-minded bastards like me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Don’t die too quickly. I’ll be lonely, you bastards.”

Yoon Manager didn’t look like he’d last long either. At most three years if thrown into the field. Those with convictions more important than their lives disappear that quickly.

“….”
“Not even answering, you wretched things….”

Because the restaurant received support from the Resonance Bureau, the surrounding patrons felt nothing amiss in their conversation. Only the murmur of chatter and the clink of dishes echoed throughout the establishment.

After a brief silence, the Director looked at Yoon Manager.

“Let’s do our best while we’re still alive.”
“Yes, Director.”
“If there’s anything you want to do, be more careful about everything, whatever it is.”
“Understood.”
“Right, anyway, if that Police Officer actually said ‘I don’t know’….”

The Director tilted her head.

“It seems the rice is nearly done cooking.”

Whatever it was, she was waiting for the right moment.

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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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