True Stories
“It must be the school lunch! It’s because of the school lunch……. I bought bread at the cafeteria store today, you see. The menu looked awful……. And you didn’t eat it either, did you, teacher! Right!”
Monsters whose faces, names, and voices remain unknowable even now — creatures that exist only as text on a page.
‘Stab them. All at once. You can do it.’
‘Yeah. They’d all be dead by now anyway.’
‘Well. What if you all kill yourselves?’
The labyrinth of monsters who can no longer live as people — Uri Saenal Daycare.
Every article in Uri Saenal’s paper was set against a backdrop of reality, yet none of the events had actually happened.
At first I thought they were events that would occur in the future; later, I stopped thinking they mattered much at all. I simply assumed that, true to its nature as an invasive labyrinth, this was just a space where we had to survive against monsters shaped like teenage boys and girls, with reality as the stage.
‘For your reference, please be aware that every one of these stories is true.’
And yet all of that was supposed to be True Stories?
Question: W skipped lunch due to stomach pain. X solved lunch with a snack from the school store. Y skipped lunch out of a poor appetite. Z ate lunch in the cafeteria. All four were found dead several hours later. What happened? (Question opportunities: 21)
But it clearly wasn’t something from the past.
The other articles were the same, and especially at that middle school, nothing like this had ever happened.
……And this arcade happened to be named Future Arcade.
So was it right to assume it really was connected to the future, after all?
Those temporarily saved articles from Uri Saenal too? All of them?
But that made no sense. The idea that just two teenagers had committed every single one of those incidents was absurd.
Maybe the future branched at certain junctures, and each incident was one of the futures that could unfold from a given branch.
Or maybe there was no need to read so much into it — perhaps the floors were simply linked to one another in small ways, so that the outcome changed depending on what you experienced on which floor.
“Were all four deaths homicides?”
“Yes.”
Given that eerily programmed, machine-like demeanor, it seemed like the kind of entity that might hide things — but probably wouldn’t lie outright.
“Was Z, the one who ate the school lunch, the only one poisoned?”
The co-CEO of Yuwi Guild had clearly caught on as well.
He was, after all, the only person who had read the article about the mass death at his own alma mater with any care.
“Yes.”
“Were the perpetrators who killed these four people all the same person?”
It wouldn’t be.
If this really was based on the incident in that article.
“No.”
Because there were two perpetrators.
If asked whether it was ‘the same person,’ a negative answer was inevitable.
“Is the number of perpetrators greater than two?”
“No.”
Which meant the conclusion was two.
“Did the perpetrators directly attack the ones who weren’t poisoned?”
“Yes.”
Hosu had worn a smiling face ever since the third case began.
From what I’d observed, he smiled like that whenever a question drew close to the truth of the incident.
“Ah……. Don’t tell me — this incident, that…….”
“Yes? What is it?”
Only then did Hwang Juyeon recall the article she’d skimmed in Uri Saenal and explain it to Lee Nahyeon.
“Whoa, so those articles were all real events too?”
“Well……. As far as I know, most of them never actually happened. Right, Seon Yuhan?”
“Yes. Probably all of them. You could think of them as things that might happen someday, but…….”
“Hmm.”
Yu Hyeonjae seemed to be constructing the case from the clues given so far, staring at the cards with a shallow sigh.
Nearly all the important clues were out now.
The framework of the incident must already be set in his mind: two perpetrators poisoned the school lunch, killing Z, then directly attacked the three who hadn’t eaten it.
But there was no way that was the whole story.
‘How could I kill others without being prepared to die myself? We are prepared. Since a very long time ago.’
Those children had been prepared. Prepared to die — before they were prepared to kill.
Moreover, though it was no longer true now, Yu Hyeonjae had said it with his own mouth: the dead ‘entire student body’ included those children.
Question: W skipped lunch due to stomach pain. X solved lunch with a snack from the school store. Y skipped lunch out of a poor appetite. Z ate lunch in the cafeteria. All four were found dead several hours later. What happened? (Question opportunities: 16)
“Ah.”
At last, Yu Hyeonjae’s mouth opened.
“Among W, X, and Y — those two perpetrators are among them, aren’t they?”
The host’s lips curled upward as if they would tear.
“Yes.”
“Whoa……. Wait, so the students are the perpetrators……? That’s hard to believe…….”
Any trace of the distress she’d shown earlier was gone; Lee Nahyeon had somehow thrown herself into the puzzle.
“Is W one of the perpetrators?”
He seemed to be checking off the perpetrators one by one.
“No.”
The corners of Yu Hyeonjae’s mouth rose and fell, ever so slightly.
Lucky.
If two of W, X, and Y were the perpetrators, and W was not one of them, then X and Y were confirmed by elimination.
“Correct.”
“Yes, Yu Hyeonjae. Please state your answer.”
“X and Y put poison in the school lunch, poisoning and killing those who ate it — and as a result, Z died. Next, X and Y directly attacked those who had not eaten the lunch and murdered them — and as a result, W died. And finally, X and Y must have ended each other’s lives.”
“A perfect answer. Yu Hyeonjae has solved the third case.”
With that, Hosu tilted his head at once.
“I don’t understand. Didn’t you take the long way around?”
What’s that supposed to mean?
“You could have answered much faster. You’re a very cautious man, Yu Hyeonjae.”
He meant that, having read the article, Yu Hyeonjae could have solved it while burning fewer opportunities than he had.
“Being careful never hurt anyone. In my experience.”
“…….”
The host offered no reply to that either, moving on to another subject.
“Yu Hyeonjae. Would you like to continue with the next case? Or would you like to stop enjoying True Stories here?”
He asked this every time.
If you stopped here, you would presumably receive a fragment of Life proportional to your correct answers, and that would be the end of it. If you kept going and got one wrong like Lee Nahyeon had, all the Life fragments you’d gathered would vanish and you’d face a penalty — that seemed to be the system.
The key was correctly predicting how difficult the next question would be, and whether you could solve it with your remaining question opportunities.
He had fourteen opportunities left.
Still plenty — but if the next question was something complicated, unrelated to the articles of Uri Saenal, it might not be enough.
“Regrettably, I’ll stop here.”
A business smile that showed not a shred of regret.
“Congratulations. Yu Hyeonjae has acquired a fragment of Life.”
Yu Hyeonjae examined his newly acquired gold fragment, then compared it with Hwang Juyeon’s one-third piece.
“I’d say it’s about one-seventh.”
One-seventh for three questions solved.
Which meant it would take all twenty-one questions to complete a single coin.
“How about Seon Yuhan or Hwang Juyeon tries the next question? Since you know the answers up through the third case, twenty-one opportunities should be enough to solve the fourth.”
“Oh! That works! If we keep taking turns like that, we can gather the coin in no time, right? Except Jiho’s friend.”
Ah.
So that was another way to do it. Like a rotation of favors.
Each person solved only as much as they could, then passed the turn to the next participant — so that each new question could be tackled with a fresh set of twenty-one opportunities.
A very clever…… and ‘good’ method.
Far better than strategies that boiled people down and sacrificed the person before you.
“Oh, but is this something you can only play once per person, Hosu?”
“Yes. The opportunity to solve the cases of True Stories comes only once for each of you, I’m afraid.”
If this repeated, then someday it might be possible to complete a full coin without asking a single question.
Of course, doing that would make suspicion unavoidable. But excuses were easy enough to invent.
“By the way, if we put all our fragments together, it comes to a bit more than one coin. Can we still combine them like this?”
“Yes. We’ll split them down to the size needed for the combination.”
The host fielded Hwang Juyeon’s question before anyone else could.
“Then I’ll transfer mine to the co-CEO. Seon Yuhan, you transfer yours too and complete one coin. How’s that?”
“Yes, that’s fine. As I said.”
I picked up my gold fragment from the table Hwang Juyeon pointed to.
“Seon Yuhan said he wouldn’t claim a share, but his fragment is actually the biggest, you know. You know that, right? So if there’s truly no one in urgent need, you’re allowed to have a say in how it’s used, Seon Yuhan.”
She really seemed to believe this gold coin could ‘fix’ me.
Once again, I couldn’t bring myself to sneer at that earnest expression, so I simply nodded.
“Congratulations. Yu Hyeonjae has completed one full Life.”
Through that series of transfers and combinations, one complete gold coin had been assembled.
Yu Hyeonjae held the coin up to show Hosu.
“Can this one Life be counted toward one of the two missing members?”
“I don’t understand. Can a coin enjoy the game?”
“Dear me. So tricks don’t work after all.”
“Then I’ll take over from there.”
Hwang Juyeon pointed at the True Stories box, looking somewhat dissatisfied.
“I just have to reason toward the most depraved, horrifying answer I can, right?”
“Yes! If it feels like, ‘seriously, who would ever do something like this in real life……?’ that’s probably the right answer!”
“Hwang Juyeon. Would you like to enjoy True Stories?”
“Yes.”
And so Hwang Juyeon smoothly solved through the third case, and just as everyone was about to enter the fourth — a case none of us had ever seen.
“Now, the fourth ca——”
The host abruptly stopped speaking.
It was an ominous sign.
“Why…… What is it, what’s wrong……?”
Hosu’s silent brows furrowed.
At the same time, his mouth split open in a smile, as if it would tear. Hahahahahaha. Silently, his body shaking with laughter.
That was — beyond ominous.
I realized that death was approaching.
“How upsetting.”
Hosu’s panorama-like pupils rippled, and tears began to fall, drop by drop, from those enormous eyes.
And then he spoke, his voice still brimming with laughter.
“No one will be able to enjoy the final game.”
Ha.
The minimum number of people required to enjoy the final game was seven.
Which meant that right now, there wasn’t even the faintest possibility of that final game beginning.
“Well, then…….”
Hosu pressed his lips to the long wooden staff he held.
A kiss as light as a feather — so light it made no sound at all — and yet as heavy as a promise, solemn enough to be felt in the bones.
The moment the master’s lips parted from it.
Sssk—.
The old staff, given breath, writhed in Hosu’s hand as if shedding its skin, and with a dry, skin-crawling rasp, scales began to rise across its surface.
And at last.
“Krrruuuaaak!”
Shaa—.
It became one enormous serpent, coiling itself around Hosu’s body.
“It’s time to say farewell to the friends who have no right to enjoy the final game.”
A few facts I learned for certain from this incident.
One. Yu Hyeonjae was a man of astonishing character, capable of conducting experiments by trapping even labyrinth survivors back inside a labyrinth — and at the same time, of miraculous character, capable of transferring a Life to a child even in the moments before his own death.
Two. A massacre caused by insufficient numbers could not be mitigated even with Life.
Three. The arcade was a space that knew when to lock its doors.
Four. The serpent crushed people.
“If turning back time were possible, what would you do, Seon Yuhan?”
After this, until we gathered seven people again and reached the arcade, I had to die thirteen more times.