A Human Trapped in a Labyrinth

"Time loops, time leaps, time slips. Ah—lately people have taken to saying regression as well. In any case, I believe it is possible. All of it."

When someone who believes in strange conspiracy theories also happens to hold high social standing, it stops being that individual's problem alone. That was precisely the claim of the conspiracy theorists who believed in the possibility of time regression through labyrinths.

I'd always dismissed it as an absurd, escapist delusion—something closer to religious faith than rational belief.

But here was the problem. Nobody knew why or how a spacetime called the labyrinth existed, yet so long as it tangibly existed in reality, that conspiracy theory became disturbingly plausible.

And the real problem? I was living that very phenomenon at this very moment—which meant the truly strange one was never the conspiracy theorists. It was me.

"That's part of why our company helps Labyrinth Survivors, you see. In case someone out there has experienced time regression firsthand."

Yuwi Guild funded care programs for Labyrinth Survivors' PTSD. No matter how closely the odds of dying in a Contact-type Labyrinth had come to matching the odds of dying in a traffic accident, the way you treated that trauma couldn't be the same.

"If such a person ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exists, I want to be the very first to know."

"Are you saying that's the real purpose behind helping people?"

"No? The existence of an unstated purpose doesn't make the stated one false, Mr. Seon."

He didn't look like he was lying. Not that I'd have blamed him either way.

"I want people to escape the labyrinth not only in body, but in mind as well. Truly. Because the labyrinth is a place one can never quite fully escape." Yu Hyeonjae tacked that last part on like a murmur.

"Hmm. To return to the matter at hand—what we ask in the interview is, shall we say, a personality assessment doubled with a light prank. Someone who had experienced time regression would hardly come all this way to sit through something so trivial."

Short on imagination, I see. Seeing as a person could come in for that trivial interview and end up experiencing time regression in the process.

"Sir."

"Yes."

"Why do you believe such a thing is actually possible?"

When I asked point-blank, the conspiracy-theorist CEO of Yuwi Guild widened his eyes as though he'd never once heard such a question in his life.

"Then tell me, Mr. Seon—is there no moment you wish you could go back to?"

The words died in my throat.

"Ah. So there is. We all have moments like that, after all."

"Then... suppose you did find one." I fought to keep my voice from trembling. "If you ever met a person who had turned back time, what would you do, Sir?"

"I would have to experiment, wouldn't I? There is a great deal I'd want to verify."

The owner of the Jaerae Building smiled, hazy as fog.

"Even if it meant sealing them back inside the labyrinth."

I stared blankly at that face. One very famous meme drifted up from memory.

I must not get caught. I must not get caught. I must not get caught. Must not.

I couldn't remember a word of what we'd talked about after that. My head had filled to bursting with a single resolve: Yu Hyeonjae could never, under any circumstances, learn the truth about my regression.

To think I was sealed inside the same labyrinth as a man who would experiment on Labyrinth Survivors—even if it meant trapping them back inside one. As if laying my own place at the table to be eaten weren't enough, I'd gone and heaped a generous spoonful straight into his mouth.

If he found out in here, I might well end up locked in this place forever, left to rot.

I genuinely believed he wasn't a bad person at heart—and even now, I still believed it. But a screw was very definitely loose somewhere. Even among conspiracy theorists, there are perfectly decent people, aren't there? Ones who function fine in society. They just happen to hold strange convictions, that's all.

"I was thinking we might head back down now. Is everyone all right?"

It was already past five o'clock. Until now, even when the corridors went dark, sunlight through the windows had kept things at a mildly dim level—but once the sun began to set, it would grow far darker.

"Ah, yes. I'm fine."

"Jiho, how are you feeling? Can you walk? You're okay? Yeah. Up we get."

"But this time we'll actually come out on the next floor, right? If the condition is delivering that photograph?"

I certainly hoped so.

"A shame the diary only holds information up to the fourteenth floor."

"Tell me about it."

Clunk. I answered with all the nonchalance I could muster and opened the emergency exit door.

I'd have to stop scribbling in the diary so freely, too. True, every time I regressed, its letterforms warped until they no longer matched my actual handwriting—but the contents alone might be enough to rouse Yu Hyeonjae's suspicion.

"It seems to mean it isn't certain. For a labyrinth relic... it's just so much like something a person wrote." I definitely said that before.

Wouldn't it be better to shut down that very possibility—the possibility that a regressor existed somewhere in this labyrinth? Now that I knew I no longer needed to record every detail, that all I had to do was choose the option that read "it turns to misfortune"—

Getting through the fourteenth floor without the diary was a bit of a hassle, nothing more. I'd simply come across as a man whose quickness of eye was matched only by the size of his nerve.

Clunk! With my thoughts squared away, I opened the emergency exit door once more—and.

"Huh?"

"The eleventh floor?"

"Was this floor always shaped like this?"

Finally. We were past the fourteenth floor. My guts, it turned out, had been spent on something worthwhile after all.

The eleventh floor.

So read the directory board beside the elevator.

"Ah. The eleventh floor used to have the Future Strategy Team and the Budget Planning Team on opposite sides."

According to the Yuwi Guild CEO's brief explanation, the Strategic Planning Department comprised the Future Strategy Team, the Budget Planning Team, and the Planning and PR Team. The Planning and PR Team sat on the tenth floor.

"It has changed somewhat."

"I don't think 'somewhat' begins to cover it...?"

The Jaerae Building had originally been built as a hollow square—a ring of floors wrapped around an open center.

"Let me correct myself. It has changed a great deal."

But the eleventh floor as it stood now was closer to an I-shape: two parallel corridors joined by a single connecting passage. The elevator and the emergency exit lined up in a row on this side. One passage ran across to the far side. And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠along that far corridor, the Future Strategy Team and the Budget Planning Team—once facing each other across the void—now sat side by side.

"I do wonder whether the employees are safe..."

The eleventh floor was silent to the point of dread. Not a trace of human presence came from the offices across the way.

"What would happen if someone fell from here...?"

We crossed the newly built passage that ran in a dead straight line across the eleventh floor.

"You would die... or fall right back down to this floor, I imagine."

When I'd looked out through the window on the fourteenth floor, I didn't recall any such passage being visible. But a labyrinth could warp space, so nothing about it was strange.

"What on earth could be in there...?" Judging by the single door, the two teams of the Strategic Planning Department, now fused side by side, had become one office outright.

"I will open the door. Please be careful."

Swish—

When the office door slid open, what greeted us was...

"Ah! At long last—our first guests."

A crimson cube. A cube bigger than a human head, as though lumps of flesh, blood vessels, and mucus had been kneaded together like clay. Wrinkles like intestines—or was it brain matter—writhed and squirmed across it. The uncanny cube bobbed in midair.

"I nearly bored my eyes clean out of my head."

"U-ugh... uhhh..."

"What even is that thing..."

Eyeballs studded its six faces. One on one face, two on another, then three, four, five, and six...

"A die?"

"A guest with a sharp eye, I see. Quick of perception, are we?"

Whoosh! The die of flesh zipped up in front of me and spun through the air, showing off every one of its faces.

Blink, blink. Each time one of the huge eyeballs blinked, a reddish membrane tugged faintly after it, and I could hear eyelids sticking wetly against mucus. As if all twenty-one eyeballs were chorusing together.

Or was I imagining it? Just for an instant, it seemed to furrow its brows. At me.

"Gambling against someone like that—that is fun."

The voice that spoke that unsavory word was an androgynous timbre that clamped around the ankles like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a shadow and held tight. Of course, it had neither a mouth nor a throat.

"Gambling! Wagering! Betting! Games of chance!"

Without warning, the die bounced this way and that, shouting as though singing. The vessel-like veins across the cube's surface pulsed in time with its voice.

"A contest where you stake money, time, your life—your everything—on a future no one can see a single inch ahead! The very meaning of my existence!"

Don't tell me that was why it had appeared in the Future Strategy Team and Budget Planning Team.

"My name is... yes. 'Do-ssi' shall do."

Anyone could see it had made that name up on the spot.

"Now then, everyone—sit here." Do-ssi circled around a white round table, large enough for the whole group to gather.

"Come, come."

"Let's, uh, sit down for now, everyone...?"

"Y-yes, let's."

They say even a dog that spends three years around a village school learns to recite verse. Three ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠floors of labyrinth, and we'd gone meek. I took my seat and swept my gaze around.

No Yuwi Guild employees here, it seemed. Not even any corpses. And I'd assumed every floor had at least one or two people. Apparently some had none at all.

"Hmmm."

Do-ssi drifted around the five of us, blinking its fist-sized eyes. One person at a time, as if appraising goods by grade.

"Wh-why are, why are you doing... that?"

The lump-of-flesh die ignored Choi Jaeha's pitiful act of defiance and rolled on sideways. Do-ssi bored its gaze into the child, some three times its own size, and Jeong Jiho squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered.

Next, Hwang Juyeon met the die with a stiffened face, shot it a look, then dropped her gaze.

Do-ssi flew sideways again. Toward me.

"..."

Just as I thought. Not my imagination. The bloodshot eyeballs quivered once more around their lids, glared at me, and moved on. For literally the blink of an eye. Just a moment.

Last of all, Yu Hyeonjae tilted his head, apparently fascinated by a die that possessed nineteen more eyes than he did.

"Good. This pleases me."

Only after floating in the air for a long while, savoring our reactions with all those many eyes, did Do-ssi speak again.

"We shall have a most entertaining match."

"A match?"

"Yes."

The crimson die spoke with delight, its voice humming as though the mere thought of it made it happy.

"The matches shall be one-on-one, without exception. Conducted in private. And the one who defeats me—"

The red-eyed die declared in a seductive voice.

"—I shall allow them to leave this place."