Enjoy the Show
"Mr. Choi Jaeha! We have to get out of here!"
"Wh-what?"
The power was out, and yet the lights were coming on?
That was not normal.
The moment the stage lights flared to life, I sensed that something had begun, and I threw open the front door of the auditorium.
Clunk!
"You've got to be kidding me!"
The door was locked.
I should have seen it coming.
That's just what labyrinths were.
"It's locked? Then what about that side?"
Choi Jaeha, his face drained chalk-white, sprinted for the opposite door.
"This one's locked too!"
"Then the back exit—let's try the back!"
Choi Jaeha and I started climbing the staircases on either side of the seating.
The auditorium spanned both the second and third floors of this level, so the rear doors connected to the third.
With a low rumble, a white screen glided down over the stage while the two of us pounded up the stairs, shaving years off our knee joints with every stride.
"These are locked too! Mr. Seon Yuhan, yours?"
"Locked on this side as well!"
"What do we do? What are we supposed to do? Just tell me what to do!"
Choi Jaeha had closed the distance at some point, and now he grabbed my shoulders and shook them.
"You're the one who dragged me in here in the first place!"
It was true that the corridor had felt too dangerous, so I'd hauled him into the auditorium with me—I had no room to argue.
"If I die in here, you're respon—"
"Wel, come, hon, ored, gue, ests!"
The voice from the speakers buried Choi Jaeha's booming protest.
"The, fi, lm, will, be, gin, shor, tly, so, plea, se, be, sea, ted, at, this, ti, me."
A bizarre announcement, to say the least.
"What—what the hell is this now?"
"Let's sit down for now."
"No way! How should I know what's safe! What if something shoots out from under the seats—a skewer or something?"
What kind of movies had this man been watching?
"Please, I'm begging you. Labyrinths are places where the rules are everything."
"Let go of me! Sit down all you want yourself!"
Choi Jaeha shook off my hand, which had been clutching his collar, and planted himself flat against the wall right beside the locked rear door.
"For, sa, fe, ty, rea, sons, mo, ving, a, round, is, pro, hi, bi, ted, du, ring, the, scree, ning."
"Mr. Choi Jaeha, please just do what it says! If you don't, I can't promise what'll happen!"
"I said nooooo!"
I opened my mouth to talk the man down, but the next announcement made me shut it and listen.
"For, a, plea, sant, view, ing, ex, pe, rie, nce, plea, se, re, frain, from, ta, lking! and, turn, your, phones, off—or, switch, them, to, si, lent, mo, de."
A perfectly reasonable request—no filming, no recording—followed.
"To, mi, ni, mize, dis, com, fort, lea, ving, is, not, per, mi, tted, from, ten, mi, nutes, be, fore, the, scree, ning, un, til, it, en, ds."
I switched my phone to silent and checked the time.
"En, joy, the, show."
3:45 PM.
So the film would start at 3:55—ten minutes from now.
I seized the moment to try to get Choi Jaeha into a seat.
Mr. Choi Jaeha, I'm sorry I got you locked in here, but you have to understand I'm in exactly the same boat—as I said before, a labyrinth is a space made entirely of rules, and break one and the penalty is death—the problem is you usually never know what the rules even are—but when a labyrinth tells you the rules in advance like this, that's actually the safe, considerate kind—and hey, you made it out of that elevator alive because of me, didn't you? So trust me just one more time. Do you really think I have some grudge, that I'd put you in danger on purpose? Besides, a movie runs an hour at least. Are you planning to stand the whole time? Sitting down and resting your legs is the better call, no? So please, just follow the announcement…….
"F-fine! I get it, okay, I get it!"
The insufferable accountant, utterly failing to act his age, snapped back petulantly and dropped into the seat at the far end of the row behind me.
From where I stood, he'd only sat down because he was tired of standing.
Fair enough. Whatever it took—as long as we avoided ending up on that screen.
Pop—!
The screen flared bright without warning.
What now?
The movie wasn't supposed to start yet.
Grainy footage, like something shot on an old film camera.
A chirping, oriole-bright voice belonging to an anthropomorphized drink can with little arms and legs.
A model cracks the tab, gulps the drink down her throat in one refreshing swallow, and lets out a delighted ahhh of admiration.
……It was a commercial. The kind they run before a movie.
There were just a couple of minor problems.
First, everything on screen was smeared and fused together like shoddily generated AI video, blurring one shape into the next in a way that felt deeply unpleasant. Grotesque, even.
The only thing rendered in crisp, vivid clarity was the drink can labeled Nectar.
"Uh—is that—?"
"Shh……!"
Second, Nectar was a labyrinth relic.
Relics.
In the broadest sense, the term covered every object that exists within a labyrinth, but in common usage it meant things Red Weavers carried out of contact-type labyrinths that produced anomalous phenomena.
With Nectar, supposedly, the taste changed depending on who drank it.
It was said to take on the flavor of whatever you missed most.
(The tender, juicy pork too—all of it, just as it was!)
The wet sound of gulping swelled in the background.
Something shaped like a middle-aged woman, something shaped like a teenage boy, and something red that might once have been kimchi stew melted into a single mass.
The screen cut.
(That greasy, briny aroma too—all of it, just as it was!)
The wet sound of gulping swelled in the background.
Something shaped like students in their uniforms and something black and glistening and thin that might once have been noodles melted into a single mass.
The screen cut.
(Even that hard, prickling burn—all of it, just as it was!)
The wet sound of gulping swelled in the background.
Something that looked nothing like a person and something that looked almost like a person melted into a single mass.
The screen cut.
(Even its chewy skin—all of it, just as it was!)
The wet sound of gulping swelled in the background.
Something I prayed was not a person, and something I prayed really was porridge, melted into a single mass.
The screen cut.
In joy or in sorrow, Nectar always delivers the finest experience!
In other words, it was a drug.
Rare to begin with, and offering a taste of memories you could never feel again, Nectar traded at staggering prices.
But at its core, it was a labyrinth trap.
Outside a labyrinth, maybe. Inside one, you never, ever drank it. Least of all in an invasive labyrinth.
Labyrinths would pull every trick in the book to keep people wandering their halls just a little longer.
Eating is balance! Balance is intake! Intake is NECTAR!
The jaunty background music dwindled, and the commercial ended.
Pop—!
The screen lit up again, and from the edge of the pristine white frame trotted a cutely drawn, bipedal bull character.
"Hello there, I'm Mimi! Oh—um, you there!"
Mimi, maniac—couldn't tell which.
The thing widened its round eyes and pointed straight ahead with its index finger.
As if singling out someone in the seats beyond the screen.
"You there, seat 7 in row H!"
No way.
I looked down and checked my seat number.
"Yes, you. Let's see…… oh, your name is Seon Yuhan?"
This wasn't some children's make-believe game. The bull head murmured to itself, chuckling as if at a private joke.
"Well, you do carry yourself like a grown-up, at least? Ew. Though you're kind of gross."
The thing pulled a face like it had bitten into something rotten.
Damned labyrinth.
That thing was nothing more than a persona the labyrinth had fabricated so humans could understand it. There was no malice in it—it was just mechanical output.
Even so. No—precisely because of that, I answered it with the exact same expression.
"Anyway, Seon Yuhan. Do you know the Jaerae Diary?"
Ta-da! The mini minotaur flung out its hand, and an image appeared: a handsome auburn leather planner with a clean, elegant design.
"It's the official business planner provided to every single employee of Jaerae Group!"
Present Sports Agency. Mirae Entertainment. Yuwi Guild. Jaerae Holdings.
Four logos in total floated across the screen.
But so what? What was I supposed to do with that?
Why would it be advertising this, of all things?
There had to be a reason. I had to treat everything as a clue.
"Oh, and the very first page has floor-by-floor information on the Jaerae Building!"
No—I mean, why would I need that? The moment I found the conditions for getting down to the first floor, I was leaving without so much as a backward glance, so honestly…….
Ah.
Hold on.
A chilling premonition came slithering down my spine.
Don't tell me…….
The horned bull head flashed a knowing little eye-smile, like a salesman who'd just clinched his quarterly bonus.
My heart began to pound.
"Now then, let's start the movie!"
Before I could even begin to sort through my thoughts.
Click.
Every light on the stage went dark, and the screen brightened once more.
I turned around.
The projector had been switched off this entire time.
And yet the screen was playing video, perfectly intact.
An elegant, artful title in fine typography.
The instant I read it, my blood ran cold.
"Huh? Seonghwa Hi—mmph."
Choi Jaeha clamped his mouth shut at my frantic glaring and hand-waving.
I turned my eyes back to the screen.
Sweat beaded on the hands gripping my armrests.
"Hey. What's for lunch today?"
"Stir-fried kimchi and pork."
"Oh! Pork stir-fry! Better grab a big serving. What else, what else?"
"Tofu, seasoned seaweed stems, steamed egg, seoritae black-bean rice, bean sprout soup."
"Ugh, I hate bean rice."
Seonghwa High School had been the most infamous high school in the country.
"Hey, what's with that guy? What's he supposed to be? Some kind of tryhard with a gimmick?"
"All right, everyone—self-study getting boring? If you're going to keep chattering, I'll just move the lesson along?"
"N-no, sir, that's not it—there's someone standing outside the door. Wearing a weird mask."
"Hm? ……Got some business with our class? Well, in front of the teacher, you really should take that thi—"
"—AAAAAAAAGH!"
An invasive labyrinth—one resolved only after every one of its two hundred-odd students and staff lay dead.