The Oracle He Brought Down on Himself

The unfilial son who castrated his father? Come to think of it, there really is a figure in myth famous for exactly that.

Cronus. Or, in the Roman tongue, Saturnus. And read the English way, Saturnus becomes "Saturn."

The planet Saturn. Which meant "those who circle about him" would be the moons revolving around Saturn — and "the one that has come to spin by no rule of its own" would be a description of one particular moon among them.

For the first time, Yu Hyeonjae let the two-second mark slip past. His lips hung slightly parted, flinching, as though words without shape had snagged on the tip of his tongue.

A strange unease crawled through me at the sight. I'm no expert on moons, but this hardly seemed a riddle of a difficulty this man couldn't hit. So why was he hesitating? What exactly was tripping him up?

As if he kept an answer of his own to it somewhere else entirely...

"Hyperion."

At last, Yu Hyeonjae called out a name.

"...There's a moon called Hyperion?"

"Ah. Just as I thought. I did stray a little — the sentence was wound far too tightly."

Was that really all it was? Judging by his expression, he did seem genuinely flustered.

"In any case — among the moons of Saturn, Hyperion is famous for rotating irregularly."

"Whoa... so that's how it is..."

"But how do you even know that stuff? Was that your major back in school, by any chance?"

Ah. Hwang Juyeon snapped her mouth shut at once, and Lee ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Jinsu's eyes alone went rolling sideways. That was when it dawned on me — Lee Nahyeon was a genuinely rare breed.

"I've merely read a great many books, that's all."

Most people know. People have spent years chewing it over, tearing it apart, savoring it, enjoying it — the fact that a corporate heavyweight this prominent never went to university.

"I never attended university."

"Gah. Ah. Um. Er. I'm... sorry...? I just... didn't know..."

Surely Lee Nahyeon had come across that piece of information at some point, through one channel or another. She'd simply forgotten it, was all. And someone like her — I'd bet that was exactly why she brushed off Yu Hyeonjae's insistence that he take the first turn, and ended up playing True Stories in the opening slot herself.

"Hm?"

The CEO of Yuwi Guild widened his eyes a touch and gave a light laugh.

"It's quite all right. I don't consider it something worth apologizing for. I understand why you all react as you do — but to me, that isn't even a flaw."

"Oh. Then... I'm not sorry, then?"

Yu Hyeonjae's laughter grew a little louder.

"Thank you. For taking the apology back. There aren't many people who do that, even when I say I'm fine. Everyone seems determined to keep themselves in a position where they can pity me and find me a clever little thing, one way or another."

And as he said it, the man himself lowered his eyes calmly, as though he were the one pitying them and finding them endearing. Only, it looked nothing like the base sense of superiority that welled up in the hearts of the others. What lay in that gaze was closer to tenderness. Entirely sincere...

In the end, it seemed there really was such a thing as a nature that survived unchanged. No matter how many years slipped by — a dozen, and more — no matter what a person lived through, no matter how the very world they lived in changed.

Click.

The fourth question printed out.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

A pond.

"A pond."

In the mountain valley of Dalumul-ri, Cheongwol-myeon, Muwon-eup, there is a pond. Too small to be called a lake, and so deep and wide that "pond" felt like a sorry understatement. Night after night the moon comes bobbing up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over that face of water, and because it looks for all the world like a well in which the moon has pooled, the place is called Dalumul — the moon well.

"If it's a well where the moon settles — would that be Dalumul, by any chance? That village that turned into a labyrinth, way back when." The CEO of Yuwi Guild said it with a shrug of his shoulders.

"In this country, Dalumul-ri was the first invasive labyrinth ever to swallow an entire village. That much is certain."

"Yes. That's how I understand it as well."

"A tragedy lamentable in every respect. It was only the third year since labyrinths had first appeared, you see, so the Labyrinth Management Bureau's response was sorely lacking."

I stood in silence, hands clasped behind my back, clenching and unclenching my fists.

"Of course, back then I was nothing but a kid on the verge of graduating high school, so I didn't know such fine details. But as time passed and I looked back... the shortcomings came into view."

"At the very least, the total sum of suffering might have been lessened," Yu Hyeonjae murmured bitterly.

Who could say. By now, even reflections like that felt utterly hollow to me.

Click.

When I showed no particular reaction, Yu Hyeonjae cleared his throat and pressed the button.

What was this supposed to mean — tearing a book apart and eating it?

Was it meant figuratively? Or had someone literally ripped the pages out and eaten them?

"Call me Ishmael."

Yu Hyeonjae recited the line, looking half sure and half not.

For the briefest moment, silence hung over the arcade. Even Lee Nahyeon didn't open her mouth. For my part, this was one thing I felt little need to ask about.

Yu Hyeonjae blinked a few times, then opened his mouth ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slowly.

"Everyone eats paper at least once when they're little, don't they?"

Right. So he really had eaten it...

"Oh! Now that I think of it, I think I tore up some workbook sheets and ate them too, way back. 'Cause I didn't wanna do them."

Lee Nahyeon was the only one who threw him a bone. If only Choi Jaeha were here at a time like this... That man was remarkably good at handling Yu Hyeonjae.

"Hm. I see."

Yu Hyeonjae smoothed his expression back into place, fingering the corner of his mouth as if trying hard to hide the embarrassment.

Click.

The CEO of Yuwi Guild moved straight on to the next question.

The sixth question, already.

...What?

What kind of question even was this.

How was anyone supposed to get it right? For the participant and the spectators to put their heads together would break the rules — and in the first place, there was no help even I could give. More than anything, wasn't this a question whose right answer changed from person to person?

I read through the options one more time. Whether by misfortune or fortune, every one of them but a single exception had, at some point, been cut off or taken away from me. Though some of it had gone dim. Especially the things I went through in the coil — past a certain point, the memories won't come.

When pain beyond bearing goes on long enough, a person eventually reaches a moment where they simply split themselves away from it.

The notion that I am "me" is a phantom. The sensation that I am alive is a misperception. I am a lump of flesh that can feel nothing at all.

The time kept draining away. Without a word, Yu Hyeonjae fiddled with the ring on his pinky. Like an old, worn habit.

"Ga."

At first, I took it for a word aimed at us.

Go.

Only after hearing what came next did I realize that it wasn't.

"Ma."

He was working through the question, eyes boring into the screen. Enumerating, one by one, the answer that made sense to him — the parts that would hurt most to have removed with a kitchen knife, in order. Eyes. And next, the fingers.

"Ba. Da."

Liver. Tongue.

"A. Sa."

Toes. Genitals.

"Na. Ra."

And last of all, the cheeks and the ears. At the same moment, the countdown stopped.

"..."

Everyone stared at the screen, breath held.

"Dear me."

"Hah."

I held a hand over my mouth and let out a small sigh. Not a groan of despair — a sigh of relief.

"And to think I racked my brains over it so earnestly, too."

If that had been the right answer... I would have had to think, in dead earnest, about how to deal with Yu Hyeonjae. A human being who could objectively grasp how much each body part hurts and line them up in order — there was no way such a man was whole in the head. This was a place where one such person was more than enough.

"Well. No one can be right every single time."

Yu Hyeonjae cracked a joke. It looked like an act meant to soothe the people around him rather than himself.

Then — new writing surfaced on the black screen.

An oracle? Ah — right.

What oracle was this even supposed to be receiving? Had the questions answered so far been some kind of test?

"..."

What. Was this it? I waited a while longer, but the screen showed no change whatsoever. That was nothing but a tidy roundup of the answers Yu Hyeonjae had handed over. Where in any of that was an oracle...?

Once more, I read Yu Hyeonjae's answers down, one by one. Zero — yeong, the way a nought is read in Korean. The Monkey's Paw — won. Hyperion — hi. A pond — mot. Call me Ishmael — na. Ga-ma-ba-da-a-sa-na-ra — ga.

Before I knew it, I had stepped back.

Was it real? Was that the truth? Was the future fixed — unchangeable, no matter how a person thrashed and kicked? Like Oedipus, who in the very end killed his father and married his mother all the same? Just how far could a labyrinth see ahead? Or was this merely a prank — did it want only to drive humans into despair, draw hope back out of that despair, and set them wandering the labyrinth all the further?

"Seon Yuhan-ssi? Is something the matter? Your expression doesn't look so good."

Yu Hyeonjae's gaze, which had been fixed on the screen for a long while, had at some point swung back around onto me.

Eyes that knew nothing. Nothing at all.

"If you're worrying on my account, don't. Given the difficulty, the penalty can't be all that severe."

"Ah. Ah... Yes."

I scraped out a reply and shut my mouth.

On the black screen, the oracle was still written in green.

The oracle Yu Hyeonjae had received — no. The oracle he had brought down upon himself, all on his own —

'Yeong-won-hi mot-na-ga.'

Forever unable to leave.

I couldn't bring myself to put that sentence in my mouth.