The Endless Doors

Dinner was Korean lunch boxes — the kind of food that almost nobody, young or old, has strong feelings against.

"Ah~ I'm stuffed! That hit the spot!"

"It was delicious…. I think leaving dinner to the lunch box catering company was the right call."

See? Preparing the event alone was already pure chaos, and we couldn't exactly drag the cafeteria ladies in from their vacation.

If we wanted to survive until the afternoon, this much money had to be spent.

I nodded along to Kwon Haeseong's words, and together we all headed outside.

Out in the yard stood a small astronomical telescope that had been set up in advance, with picnic mats spread out around it.

That's more serious equipment than I expected.

Stargazing hadn't been my assigned activity, so I had no idea how it was supposed to run.

"Th-that's a telescope with a five-million-won tube alone. Who brought that?"

"Mr. Park Edeun did. Stargazing is his hobby, you see~"

And there he was — Park Edeun, beaming brightly as he adjusted the cylinder mounted on the telescope.

So people actually buy that thing.

Back in high school, I'd joined an astronomy club and used the exact same brand of telescope.

I still vividly remember trembling hands and feet just touching it because the tube alone cost over five million won….

By then, Park Edeun had finished adjusting the telescope's angle and was showing the children the moon hanging in the sky.

I settled onto a picnic mat with the other teachers and watched the scene unfold peacefully.

"Mr. Edeun…. He looks so happy."

At Kwon Haeseong's murmured words, his eyes even more relaxed than usual, I nodded quietly.

Park Edeun always went around with a cheerful grin, but I'd never seen that particular look on his face before.

A face lit up like a little kid's.

It had been a long time since I was reminded that adults could make that kind of expression, too.

Before I knew it, Park Edeun had handed the telescope entirely over to the children and come back to the mats.

"That telescope looks expensive. Are you sure the kids can just handle it however they want?"

Under the pitch-black sky, Park Edeun heard my question and nodded as if it were obvious. Behind him, the bright moon flickered in and out of view.

"Of course. The experience of seeing the universe at that age is worth more than that telescope, so it's fine."

……That's a pretty good line. How does he even come up with that?

Once Park Edeun took his seat, I could see the children playing with the telescope.

They took turns pressing their eyes to the eyepiece, then looked back up at the sky, chattering among themselves.

"Is that the moon?"

"Wow…. It's so pretty…! So Toshiki went up there."

"Doesn't look like there's anything up there. Is Toshiki gonna starve on the moon?"

I gathered my knees up and rested my face comfortably on top of them.

The air was noticeably cooler than it had been during the day.

Just the bare minimum of lighting for stargazing, and eyes on the verge of closing.

Wasn't this the perfect moment for a person to go soft and warm all over?

Right on cue, Park Edeun got things off to a good start.

"Come to think of it, it's already been a month since you joined us, Mr. Hwiyeon."

I slid my half-closed eyes open and answered gently.

"Yeah…. I can't believe it's been that long already."

A whole month.

Maybe because so many absurd things had happened to me from the very moment I was hired, it felt like at least a year had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gone by in my mind.

"It's actually been a bit over a month since you started, Mr. Hwiyeon — shouldn't we have a proper team dinner by now? We've been worried sick this whole time that you might quit."

The voice came from Yoo Jinchae, sprawled flat on the ground. Apparently, that was a bombshell of a remark.

"Unnie! You can't just say that!"

"……Noona, we were supposed to keep that between us…."

"This is Jinchae's fault."

I turned to look at them, bewildered. What had Yoo Jinchae said again?

That she'd been worried I might quit?

Who? Me?

"You were worried I was going to quit?"

"Oh my, to be precise, it was these two. Mr. Haeseong and Ms. Sagwa were in absolute shambles~ I told them there was no way~ in the world~ you'd be crazy enough to chase teacher money, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they still wouldn't believe me."

……She's not wrong, but somehow that stings.

"I'm not quitting."

Quit? As if.

I'd made it in the door, so my plan was to grit it out for at least a year, no matter what.

Besides, jobs where a rookie pulls in five million won a month don't exactly grow on trees.

I'll hold out as long as I can hold out.

Yet this perfectly obvious answer somehow got a massive reaction.

"Y-you really mean it??"

For Kang Sagwa, that was an explosive response.

"Thank goodness. It's a real relief. Wow, what a relief. A genuine relief. Thank you, Lord…."

Kwon Haeseong clasped his hands together and mumbled like a ghost.

Park Edeun…. This guy's just smiling.

I let out an incredulous little laugh, then tilted my head at a question that suddenly occurred to me.

"But…. why did you all ice me out?"

Why did you all give me the cold shoulder?

While you were worried I'd quit? Were you…. perverts, by any chance? Wanting to keep me around but also wanting to torment me?

At that, Yoo Jinchae, who had been lying down, shot upright in horror.

"I'm sorry, what? Us? When?!"

"…When we first met, the vibe was kind of off, and you'd suddenly get all awkward, fussing over me or watching my reaction."

"That was because! At first…. we thought you'd quit like everyone else did, and, no wait, more than that — all that fussing could have looked like icing you out?"

Isn't that what anyone would think, when someone who wasn't like that suddenly starts tiptoeing around and fussing over them?

So…. none of that was actually the cold shoulder?

Slightly stunned, I looked around at the people sitting there.

A bunch of blank faces.

……Wait, seriously? None of it was real?

All of it. All of this was just my misunderstanding.

Park Edeun studied my expression, then said with a wry smile, "……Exactly how immature did we look, that you thought that?"

And so, while the children were absorbed in the stars, the adults busied themselves venting shock and sighs as they unraveled the pile of misunderstandings they'd let rot all this time.

"Teacher?"

"……."

"Tea…cher?"

"……Cheonji?"

It was the middle of the night. I looked toward the window and saw that it was still pitch dark outside.

Fighting off sleep, I gazed at Cheonji, kneeling quietly at my bedside.

What could it be at this hour?

"I need to go to the bathroom…."

Ah, the bathroom.

"All right, let's go."

I took the child's hand and stepped out of the Dolphin Class door. Until the very moment it closed, I could see everyone still fast asleep.

"Good job waking me up, teacher. It's too dark to go to the bathroom alone."

"Yes, thank you."

As we walked down the dark hallway, I looked down at Cheonji.

I've barely had any real exchange with Cheonji, haven't I.

Cheonji was more grown-up than even the other kids his age. He came prepared for everything, and he listened well.

The classic ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠model-student type.

Similar in flavor to Taejae, the Cheonghak-dong style kid who secretly caused trouble left and right, yet somehow different.

Come to think of it, what was Cheonji's ability again?

Of all the children's abilities, the only ones I'd confirmed with my own eyes so far were the twins and Noah's.

If my memory served, Taejae and Cheonji were….

Oh. Right, I remembered Cheonji's.

Right, it was an incredibly rare ability.

Simply put, he was a kind of support who stood beside other Awakeners as they used their powers and maximized the effect.

Except it didn't apply only to Awakeners — it worked on potions and items too.

……I can picture it now.

The flood of scouting offers that would come crashing in like a tidal wave the moment this child became an adult.

Even setting aside the fact that his unstable wavelength made his ability hard to control, he was a talent almost impossible to pass up.

An unstable wavelength often settles with age, anyway.

I waited quietly until Cheonji came back from the bathroom and washed his hands.

Standing alone in the dark corridor, I found myself dragging along the worries and thoughts from this morning, picking them up right where I'd left off.

While I'm at it, maybe I should check the children's status windows too.

Since joining, I'd ended up using abilities I'd kept buried for years far more often than I'd intended.

Of course, out of my distaste for using abilities on people, I still avoided anything command- or education-related unless absolutely necessary….

But peeking at a status window — that much might be necessary.

After the incident where Seora nearly died, something had dawned on me.

The thought wouldn't leave me — that maybe this was something I could have fully prevented in advance.

There was no guarantee that Nabi would keep sharing his Advent skill to warn me every time the children were in danger.

And now that I knew there was another hazard out there called Secondary Awakening, I couldn't just barrel ahead recklessly, without a single safeguard, the way I did last time.

If that was the case, I ought to make the most of what I had.

"Let me wipe your hands with this handkerchief before we go."

As I wiped Cheonji's freshly-washed hands with the handkerchief, I called up the status window.

Excessive role obsession and performance obsession?

I'd barely finished reeling at a status condition I'd never anticipated.

When I suddenly realized that the photoluminescent exit marker — the single source of light at the end of the dark hallway — was no longer in my field of vision.

I straightened my bent back in an instant. My survival-instinct sensor was clearly now attached directly to my spine.

I turned my head, and there it was, straight ahead….

A long, long hallway stretching into the hazy dark.

"……Teacher?"

And then there were the doors.

Doors beyond counting, leading who knew where.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Jackpot.

Apparently I — no, apparently we — had landed ourselves in the ghost story the director had been going on about.

As a matter of fact, this anomalous phenomenon — the one that brought the White Room to mind — was already so famous online that survivors had posted their escape methods along with detailed firsthand accounts.

The moment you discover it, all you have to do is find the one single door that leads back to reality, and step through.

What's more, aside from that one door connecting to reality, all the other doors were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nothing but decorative props bolted to the walls.

In other words, the structure made it impossible to even identify a wrong answer — open a door that wasn't the real one, and you'd simply find yourself staring at a bare wall.

But here, an unexpected problem had arisen….

The kindergarten teacher dropped into the very heart of this anomaly was familiar with only two things: the phenomenon's overall stability, and its simple escape method….

The detail that the remaining doors were nothing but decorative wall fixtures — she had absolutely no idea.

And as luck would have it, one particular kindergarten student standing right beside this particular kindergarten teacher was an A-rank Ability-Amplification Awakener who had forgotten to take his wavelength-regulation medication because he'd been too busy playing with his friends.

And so…. the anomaly known to be perfectly safe was quietly, soundlessly, manufacturing a genuinely dangerous ghost story.

Meanwhile, utterly ignorant of all this, I gripped Cheonji's hand in mine like it was my last tether to sanity.

First of all…. it's way too dark in here.

I rummaged through my pants pocket, and my fingers closed around something immediately.

I packed this thinking it'd come in handy for the recreation games.

After consulting with Yoo Jinchae, we'd decided not to use it.

……Do you happen to remember?

The day of the field trip to BOND — the pile of defective products Manager Lee Wonwoo from Product Development had handed me.

A few of them had already proven extremely useful.

Thank you, Father Wongang.

And one of those discarded items had come out with me today, intended for this very event.

That's right. This thing.

A round, tuna-can-shaped plastic gadget that fit neatly in one palm.

Without hesitation, I pressed the switch button at the center of the round panel.

I read the tag manual from cover to cover.

The instant the button went down, the round panel began inflating like a balloon. It gradually hardened, and then….

It settled into a portable three-section rod, roughly thirty centimeters long. Press the button at the base of the rod, and….

A staggering burst of light erupted from the illumination panel at the top.

At the same moment, the kindergarten hallway, which had been swallowed by ink-black darkness, became brilliantly, blindingly bright.

The reason we'd never used this thing was precisely because of this light.

Its eye-burning power is no joke.

Look straight into it, and you lose your vision for a good few seconds.

Like I need anything else melting the kids' retinas….

I stared down the corridor — no longer at its ghost-story-like appearance, but simply at the endless line of doors stretching ahead.

Ghost story? Anomaly?

Right now, beside me, there was a seven-year-old child who should be fast asleep.

The fact that this child couldn't get to sleep right now was a far more terrifying ghost story to me.

Well, I can see just fine now.

Ghost story or anomaly — let's deal with it fast and get some shut-eye.