Stop the Presses
Thud. Rumble-rumble.
Along with the familiar sound of the subway came scenery that was familiar — and yet not quite.
I'd ridden this very train coming in for my interview just that morning, but back then, the passengers riding with me hadn't been made up of pitch-black clumps of text.
"Ptui! What are these things! What is this, here! No, seriously, how did this mannequin follow us all the way in here?"
"Agh! What is...! Wait — is that you, Choi Jaeha?"
"Eeeek! A m-monster!"
Ah.
I knew immediately where Choi Jaeha and Hwang Juyeon were, along with Lee Nahyeon — the Moment O'Clock merchandiser whose slipup had dragged the lot of us in here in the first place.
Which meant this wasn't the outcome where I alone had failed to cut my hand on the paper and missed my chance to escape the misfortune. After all, the others who had cut their hands and definitively dodged the unlucky event were here with me.
"What the...?"
"Why are they like that...?"
"Everyone, let's settle down and gather over here for now."
Weaving between the murmuring sentences, I collected them one by one and led the group to the priority seating area, where there were relatively few people.
"That's what I'm saying. Seon Yuhan, these are the mannequins we saw earlier, right? Copying our every move... it's giving me the creeps."
There was just one strange thing, though. I could tell these people had perfectly ordinary faces, but I had absolutely no idea what those faces looked like.
Every feature was plainly visible to the eye, and yet the pieces refused to assemble into a whole inside my head — as if each feature carried an information value of one, and together they summed to zero.
In a word: unrecognizable. I could be looking straight at someone and still fail to see them. Turn my back, and I wouldn't remember them at all.
"And I believe this one's name said Lee Nahyeon earlier. I'm Seon Yuhan."
"Oh, yes. Hello... When did you even get a chance to read that...?"
"Geez, but this feels so weird. It's like I can't tell who anyone is, and yet I somehow know exactly who they are?"
Strangely enough, though, I could still tell who was who. My face recognition failed, but it was as if invisible name tags hung over every head just the same.
"Anyway, so, Lee Nahyeon? Was it? You're the one who did something that got all of us dragged in here, so could you maybe—"
Just as Choi Jaeha was about to press her with a question—
Bang. Screeeech.
The door to the next car slid open.
"So this is where everyone's been. No wonder it was so noisy."
"Oh, Director. Uh... Jiho... he's gotten a fair bit taller, hasn't he... Still, I'm glad we found him right away."
The body recognized as Jeong Jiho looked to be around the size of a fourth- or fifth-grader. The seven-year-old inside it seemed just as disoriented, unable to keep himself still.
"It appears we've all settled into other people's bodies. We each seem to have found one fairly close to our own, at least. By the way — and you are...?"
"Oh, I'm, um... Nahyeon. Lee Nahyeon."
"A pleasure, Miss Nahyeon. My name is Yu Hyeonjae."
"What? Surely not the Yu Hyeonjae... as in, the CEO?"
"Yes. You seem to know something about this situation, Miss Nahyeon."
His tone was calm, faintly dry, and it carried a peculiar power that steered other people along in whatever direction he willed. It was nothing like his original voice — and yet it was, without a doubt, Yu Hyeonjae's voice.
"Well, you see, I was reading this article about how a bunch of people on a subway suffocated after inhaling some kind of gas, and I clicked a button by mistake. Then all of you suddenly came pouring in and startled me, and..."
"One should always be careful inside the labyrinth. A single slip of the hand can cost you your life."
A textbook volley of serve and return — a beautiful, live demonstration of blame-shifting in action.
"It's not like I wanted to do it! I was deliberately holding out, not doing anything at all, when..."
"Dear me. The labyrinth is not kind to those who stand still instead of pressing on. I'm glad nothing happened to you before we arrived, Miss Nahyeon."
It wasn't that I particularly wanted to take anyone's side — but once again, I couldn't afford to underestimate the skills of a man running an entire company.
"So what exactly did the article say?"
Hwang Juyeon cut in at just the right moment and changed the subject.
"Uh, I didn't really have time to read it that closely... Some kind of toxic gas? They said most of the passengers died from it. But did something like that actually happen?"
"Not that I'm aware of. And even if a similar incident had occurred, I suspect some dramatization would have been involved."
Yu Hyeonjae tipped his chin toward the passengers.
"Look at what they're holding."
"Sorry?"
Only then did I look at the passengers properly and understand. As if someone had raided the history museum of mobile phones, some clutched ancient flip phones while others held smartphones. One spread open a paper newspaper; another was reading a book.
"Could you pin down the time period?"
I suspected that the articles 'temporarily saved' on that screen were events that might or might not come to pass in the future. But the labyrinth apparently couldn't tell us the exact dates.
Well, of course. The future was, by definition, the one domain that could always change.
"Which is precisely why — real or not real — such things hardly matter inside the labyrinth. Can we get out, or can't we? That's what matters."
With that, Yu Hyeonjae fell silent, standing stock-still. He seemed to be staring blankly at something.
Not some tangible thing — but something that wasn't here anymore.
"Director?"
"Ah. Forgive me."
Yu Hyeonjae shook his head, as if waking from a dream.
"It's been far too long. Since I last rode the subway."
Just when I'd managed to forget, the man found a new way to get under my skin.
"May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen."
"This train is temporarily running at a reduced speed to maintain a safe distance from the train ahead. We ask for your kind understanding."
Clatter-rumble, groan... The train slowed a little.
"So this train is that train... right?"
"Ha... somehow I get the feeling it is. So do we just get off at the next station?"
Hwang Juyeon and Choi Jaeha asked, apparently fully acclimated to the labyrinth now, surrender in their voices.
"Hmm... Miss Nahyeon, I believe I saw a sentence on that screen earlier saying that 'editing has begun.' Is that correct?"
I spoke, recalling the popup that had appeared right before I entered the article.
This article is currently being published by 'Kim Yeongho.'
Editing will now begin under a different name.
'Seon Yuhan, Yu Hyeonjae, Lee Nahyeon, Jeong Jiho, Choi Jaeha, Hwang Juyeon.'
The last time I'd read an article about a family's deaths and pressed one of the two buttons — 'publish' or 'edit' — the one I'd chosen was 'publish.' And so I'd become boy A, killed father C and no one else, and the instant I carried young Miss B out of the house, it had ended in failure.
My best guess: 'publish' made the article's events unfold exactly as written, and 'edit' did the opposite — it stopped the event inside the article.
"Uh... does it? Maybe? There were Edit and Publish buttons, so I suppose the cursor was probably over Edit when I clicked. But does that even matter?"
This Lee Nahyeon person. Exactly the type to die a screaming death inside a labyrinth.
Worse than Choi Jaeha, even.
"Then I suspect our goal is to change things so that the event in the article never happens. Otherwise, 'editing' would have no meaning at all."
"Ahh. So we stop the subway gas attack?"
The CEO of Yuwi Guild looked intrigued.
"Yes. I think we can reach the emergency intercom over there, and once the doors are open, shout that there's a fire."
"Hm."
"Is something the matter?"
"No, never mind. The easier this ends, the better."
Yu Hyeonjae waved a hand.
"May I have your attention, ladies and gentlemen. This train will now stop temporarily to maintain a safe distance from the train ahead. We ask for your kind understanding."
Rumble — and the train came to a halt.
Like nothing so much as a signal flare.
"Shall we get to work, then?"
"...please remain calm and follow the instructions..."
Before I could finish running through every last car shouting Fire!, the announcement came on and the doors began to open.
"Wake up! They say there's a fire!"
"Aagh, don't push!"
"Hey! Take it slow, one at a time!"
The sight of black-ant swarms of people shoving and surging toward the exits all at once felt somehow utterly unreal. There was no actual fire, after all — better to step back and quietly wait it out than get swept up in the crush for nothing. And just then—
"Excuse me."
Someone grabbed my arm.
In that instant—
As if a glitch effect had struck, my vision crackled and inverted — and an entirely different scene appeared.
For the barest instant. Like an apparition.
A train so silent my ears ached with the quiet.
Subway hand straps, each one tied into a hangman's noose.
People hanging by their necks from every single strap.
Faceless corpses, dangling and swaying in time with the juddering of the train.
"..."
"What company do you work for?"
A sentence was speaking to me. I wrenched my head from side to side, shaking off the image that still clung to me like an afterimage.
"Pardon?"
Slipping my arm gently out of the stranger's grip, I took their measure. Short hair and bone structure suggested a man, most likely. The slightly small stature and skinny build had almost made me think student — but there was no uniform.
"Your company. I asked which one you work for."
A question out of nowhere. Was this how cult fanatics from the future struck up conversations, then?
"And why, exactly, do you ask?"
"Well, I've been watching you and a few of your companions for some time now."
"I was simply curious what kind of people you all might be — to tell such a lie."
Ah. So this was one of the people who'd been in the same car as us from the start. If they'd been watching since then, no wonder we'd struck them as strange.
It didn't matter. All we had to do was stop the toxic gas attack and 'edit' the article, and we'd be done.
"Actually, I suspect something far more serious is going on here — something so outrageous, in fact, that shouting fire seemed the better way to get everyone evacuated quickly."
"Something more serious than a fire?"
"Yes. A biochemical attack."
I answered honestly, watching as the last of the passengers trickled out. Once everyone was off the train and the situation was resolved, the 'editing' would be complete — and we'd leave this world inside the article behind.
"What? Is that true?"
"Yes. So please, get out quickly. Most people have already left — it should be safe to get out now—"
"—That's strange."
"Where did the information leak?"
"...What?"
Thud!
A blow landed hard enough to shatter my jaw — and the world cut to black.