Do Not Pay in Installments

"Kgh, khegh……."

The force clamped on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the back of my neck was so vicious that I couldn't take a single step forward. Not one.

"Kk—……."

It felt like an industrial clamp crushing my throat.

Struggling was useless. All I managed was to flail my arms and legs against empty air.

The self-defense techniques I'd learned years ago were worth absolutely nothing—because they only worked under the assumption that your opponent was a person.

Strength was draining out of me.

I didn't want this.

I'm not supposed to die.

"Ugh! Kkeugh……."

Right around the moment I was certain I was about to asphyxiate, I was flung to the floor.

I felt someone haul my body upright and lash me to a pillar.

"Let……. hck……. go……."

I couldn't breathe. My head spun. My limbs wouldn't answer me. My eyes wouldn't focus.

Get up.

I have to get up and run.

"Uhk, ah……."

Wheezing, I barely lifted my head and finally got a look at my attempted strangler.

"Ha……! Seriously……."

It was a mannequin.

A mannequin dressed in clothing-store merchandise.

A faceless mannequin, like an Egg Ghost, stared down at me.

Facing it head-on might have been one thing, but crumpled on the floor and looking up at it, the thing radiated a skin-crawling, crushing pressure.

Bang! Bang!

I wrenched my gaze toward the shop entrance.

Through the little window set into the door, I could see the CPA, his face twisted with urgency.

The soundproofing must have been excellent, because not a word of his voice carried through.

'The door's locked!'

That was what his mouth seemed to be saying.

"Go. Please, just go."

I had no idea what was about to happen in here, so I weakly waved him off. Standing out there so still, beyond that door—he wouldn't be safe either.

Oblivious to everything, the mannequin creaked and groaned as it moved, then planted itself in front of the LED screen.

Crack.

Then it raised both arms and cleanly wrenched off its own head.

Thud.

I stared blankly at the faceless head that had tumbled down for no reason at all, then looked back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at the mannequin from behind.

And then my mind went white trying to parse the visual information that flooded in immediately after.

What the hell is that?

The headless mannequin reached both hands into the LED screen and pulled out a golden balance scale.

Literally—it drew a two-pan scale, with actual physical mass, out of a digital display, and left it hovering in the air above its severed neck.

It was smoother, more natural, than any computer graphics sequence built with astronomical capital and armies of laborers.

Before I even had time to marvel at it, a new emoji bloomed across the blinding-white screen.

A knife.

A kitchen-knife emoji.

Thud. Thud. The song's beat sounded like the footsteps of a death god.

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mannequin, newly crowned with a shimmering head and freshly armed with a sharp blade, rotated its body toward me.

For a moment I had the illusion that we had made eye contact.

The two pans of the golden balance looked uncannily like a pair of human eyes.

A scale and a knife.

Somehow, that combination brought the goddess of justice to mind.

"Pleased to make your ac-quain-tance, custo-mo-mer Seon Yu-han, si—r?"

"Thank you for purcha-sing Taerae pro-ducts…… cus-to-mo-mer, you have paid by three-month in-ter-est-free in-stall-ment, you see-ee-ee?"

That strange, halting, stretching mechanical voice was still pouring out of the LED screen.

The golden scale sitting on the mannequin's shoulders merely swayed back and forth like a wind chime hanging from an eave.

"Based on the fi-nan-cial sta-tus of cus-to-mer Seon Yu-han at present, we have con-firmed that the first in-stall-ment can be paid in full with-out is-sue?"

Stating the obvious somehow made it scarier.

"Howe—ver?"

I knew it.

The rule of the Korean language is that you must listen to the very end of a sentence.

And I wanted to hear this one less than anything in the world.

"χρήματα… dengi… paisa… money… jin… pari…… Money is like life it-self, is it not? Here one mo-ment, gone the next?"

No way.

It couldn't be.

"Your a-bi-li-ty to re-pay the second and third in-stall-ments is being que-ue-ue-ue-stioned?"

"Hey! I have that kind of money! I could pay it all right now, no installments!"

In the end I couldn't hold my tongue and shouted.

Granted, if I paid it in one lump sum I'd be seasoning plain rice with tears and salt for at least a month, but still.

"Ye-es, but the customer did choose the three-month in-ter-est-free ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha in-stall-ment pla-an, did he not?"

"What do you want me to do about it!"

Come to think of it, I felt cheated.

What had this thing ever contributed to my life?

"The use of a cre-dit card is, in es-sence, a debt as-sumed on the faith that one's fu-ture self will re-pay the loan…… is it not?"

"That's— well."

It was a fair point.

"But how, pray tell, am I to trust the cus-to-mer? Today is the first, first, first, first time I have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ever laid eyes on him?"

"What the hell kind of logic is that? You think the card company employees are all my friends, issuing me cards out of the goodness of their hearts?"

"If the cus-to-mer were to walk out of this place, how ev-er would I col-lect the re-main-ing bal-ance? Do I look like someone who could dig up his own yard and sell it to stay in business?"

"Stop spouting that annoying bullshit!"

The scale-headed thing didn't so much as let my words skim past its ears.

"It has been de-ter-mined that we will col-lect the bal-ance for the second and third in-stall-ments in ad-vance. We thank you for your u-u-u-u-u-nder-standing?"

"Do you even know what an installment is? Do you not know the word? Hey!"

The two pans of the softly gleaming golden scale seesawed up and down in slow motion as it closed the distance, one step at a time.

"We will now com-mence in-stall-ment re-pay-ment?"

At last, the song was over.

"Ugh, uhhh……."

How much time had passed?

"Keuk! Kek……."

Coughing tore its way out of me.

A fishy taste of iron slid unpleasantly down the back of my throat.

"Uk, kkh, agh……."

I couldn't string together a single proper sentence.

And it wasn't just because I'd screamed my throat raw.

If I was bleeding like this, I should be dying.

No—before exsanguination even became an issue, I should have died of shock.

"We a-po-lo-gize, but un-til the cus-to-mer's re-pay-ment is co-o-o-o-mplete, the cus-to-mer can-not die?"

That damn labyrinth's rules were blocking my body's death.

Long live the labyrinth.

"Not much time re-mains. Kindly wait just a mo-o-ment?"

The bloodstained scale gazed down at me.

I understood now that my body was not one single, unified thing, but the sum total of countless separate parts.

I understood now the arithmetic—the additions and subtractions—by which my weight was being measured.

The eyeballs are far too light.

So light, in fact, that they aren't worth placing on the scale at all.

And so I watched all of it. With my two eyes.

It hurt less if I deceived myself into thinking I was an observer.

If I believed this body, flaking away piece by piece and growing lighter and lighter, was some thing separate from "me."

If I escaped the illusion that I was myself.

This pain is a phantom. I am not Seon Yuhan. I died long ago.

"Now for the fi-i-i-i-i-nal in-stall-ment?"

I couldn't really make sense of the words.

Only one raw, alien sensation dominated my mind: my chest splitting open on a finely honed blade like a cut of fresh meat.

"Your in-stall-ment re-pay-ment has been com-ple-eted?"

Only then did the world bleed into darkness.

"If it were possible to turn back time, what would you do, Mr. Seon Yuhan?"

"Sh—"

—it. I almost let the rest of that word slip out, again.

"I'd…… refrain from using my credit cards……."

"That's the most practical answer I've heard in a while."

I couldn't manage any further response and just bowed my head.

This was not good interview etiquette, I knew.

It felt like the air was being crushed out of my lungs.

Like I could keel over at any second with my tongue lolling out.

I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

No.

I won't die. I can't die.

I don't want to die.

The transition between death and life, seamless and without a single gap.

The border between life and death, crossed as easily as flipping a coin.

A phantom vestibule, formless, lingering on and on.

The gulf between the terminal agony preserved in my memory and the flesh sitting here, vividly, undeniably alive.

All of it—

I could feel it gnawing away at me, little by little.

Why am I alive again?

Why is it me, again, who gets to live?

I don't want to be alive.

No. That's not right.

I. I. Seon Yuhan. must not die.

"Hah, ugh……."

What was I supposed to do at a time like this? What did those people do?

Right.

Breathe in, deep. And out.

Clench your fists, hard. Then release.

One, two, three, four…….

Something's wrong.

Why are there so many fingers?

They're disgusting.

"Mr. Seon Yuhan? Are you all right?"

The interviewer's urgent voice broke through the ringing in my ears.

"Then—shall we try breathing slowly, together?"

A warm touch reached the tips of my fingers.

I stared blankly at the interviewer as she took exaggerated, deliberate breaths, then belatedly followed along.

For a while, only the sound of our two sets of breathing filled the quiet interview room.

"You drank…… all the water, I see. It's okay. Don't worry. You're in a safe place, Mr. Seon Yuhan."

No, ma'am. It's not okay. This place is dangerous.

"I'll stay here with you until you've calmed down, Mr. Seon Yuhan."

No, ma'am. You won't be able to stay with me.

"There's a hospital right here on the fourth floor. There's a lounge too. I'll take you there."

No, ma'am. You won't be able to take me.

"Is there anything you need? You're not too cold or too hot right now, are—"

See?

3:33 PM.

The interviewer was gone.

Bang!

Kuguung, kwagwagwang, kwang!

Kwakwang, kung!

Choi Jaeha died.

I was sitting in the chair, staring at nothing, when I noticed something odd pressing against the inside pocket of my jacket.

"Ha."

The texture of reddish-brown leather met my fingertips.

My stomach lurched.

That goddamn motherfucking diary.

Received, loud and clear.

Just as the advertisement had promised, the front of the Jaerae Diary contained information on each floor of the Jaerae Building.

Which departments occupied which floors, which companies were on which floors, from the parking garage to the rooftop—exactly the level of detail you'd find in a visitor's pamphlet, and not one bit more.

Damn it all.

With only this, there was no way to pin down exactly where the labyrinth's exit was. It didn't even tell me whether we were on the first floor or not.

Tap. I shut the diary and slipped it back into my pocket.

In the end, there was no answer unless I went further down from the second floor.

I checked the time and got to my feet.

Hm. But my legs feel heavier than expected.

No—since they're moving fine, should I be calling them light?

I honestly couldn't tell.

Either way, if I kept dawdling here I'd inevitably get force-expelled from the interview room again, so I made myself walk briskly.

Before I realized it, I was heading toward the elevators, and I veered off.

Choi Jaeha was already dead.

And yet that man—that spineless, cowardly man—hadn't run anywhere. From the look of him, he'd stood outside the door worrying about me.

I can't remember clearly what happened after a certain point, granted.

But that didn't mean I wanted to start over again for Choi Jaeha's sake.

Still. As far as I could go. As far as my legs would carry me. As long as I could stay alive—

I wanted to claw and kick and struggle.

I didn't want to throw my own life away.

Because it would feel like an insult to life itself.

Just to dare to imagine it—

Me.

At the very least, me—

That, I must not do.

Without delay, I pushed open the emergency exit on the second floor and stepped out.

With Choi Jaeha gone, I was spared the trouble of descending all the way to the first floor to check.

Standing before the grand auditorium, I chose the left fork of the two paths ahead of me.

This time I would circle clockwise again, passing Our New Dawn Daycare and heading for the Yuwi Guild's in-house library.

I wanted nothing to do, for the time being, with anywhere near that shop that collected payment Merchant-of-Venice style.

There was no shopkeeper anyway, so I couldn't exactly drag one off to the daycare to pay my debts.

A Labyrinth Survival Kit?

What good would that garbage do me even if I bought it?

The moment I actually tried to use the thing, it would be obscenely overpriced and shoddily made, guaranteed. I'd probably snag it on some corner and have it shred to ribbons mid-stride.

Forget it. I didn't need it.

Passing through the daycare's colorful corridor, the walls shifted to clean, muted tones.

Wide picture windows appeared at intervals, offering a clear view inside, but the bookshelves blocked so much of it that nothing out of the ordinary caught my eye right away.

Of course, I couldn't afford to trust my eyes alone.

A labyrinth is, by nature, a place you understand nothing about until you set foot inside.

Seeing that the character for "come" had been appended, it was clearly one of those puns only a career civil servant could love—ol-lae, shall we come in, and ol-lae, come.

Wait a moment.

I reached for the door handle—and froze.

Come to think of it, was this library even open to outsiders?

What if some robot librarian popped up and yelled, 'Library access is prohibited to non-employees!' and brought a book spine down on the crown of my head?

"Ha……."

But I couldn't very well not go in, either.

There might be a clue in here about the conditions for escaping the second floor, and there might be staff somewhere with access to that daycare.

Ugh, whatever.

No choice but to go in and see.

Creak.

The instant I eased the door open, that distinctive library smell—cool and yet strangely sweet—brushed the tip of my nose.

Glancing around warily, I took my first slow steps inside.

And I hadn't even managed a few paces before I stopped dead.

There was a corpse there.

What?