The Missing Doors
"What did they say?"
"Everyone was probably confused, so their memories aren't clear, but they all said they'd never opened or even seen a closed door."
When I returned and asked the others again, their wariness seemed to have eased considerably—perhaps thanks to the traces of tears I'd wiped away but hadn't fully erased. They answered sincerely. Some gave vague replies, their memories hazy, but overall their accounts were consistent.
"Heh, it was the same over here. Maybe because they're seeing this beautiful face for the first time, their answers felt much kinder than before."
"Is... that so."
The team leader, who had gone to the field team for answers, seemed to have reached a similar conclusion. What we had overlooked was obvious in hindsight: even though it looked like an abandoned building, with its dilapidated exterior and the heavy darkness pressing down on us, none of us—not even after crossing this room dozens of times—had any memory of actually opening a door to get here.
There had never been a closed door to begin with. It wasn't something we'd paid attention to in the dark, and even now, thinking back, it felt as though doors had simply never existed here. No matter how abandoned the building was, it wasn't the kind of ruin where even the windows had been stripped out right before demolition. There were still plenty of objects left that made it clear what this place used to be. Dust-covered piano benches and stacks of sheet music, computer desks, and piles of metal-framed chairs. Even in this room alone, office partitions and a long conference table lay scattered alongside old chairs with loose backs.
Now that I thought about it, why would anyone bother removing every single door from a building they'd simply left to rot? But even setting that aside...
"Still, what does this actually mean? I just blurted it out when it occurred to me..."
"We don't know yet. But it's worth checking."
With an answer that carried a hint of anticipation, the team leader took my wrist and led me back to the doorway leading into the original dark corridor. She tapped the doorframe lightly with the tip of her shoe.
It had been a simple coincidence, but the fact that I'd noticed something made me oddly tense.
"The doorframe itself doesn't look like it was prepared in advance... Could you shine some light here?"
"Y-yes, just a moment."
This room was bright enough thanks to the field team's installed lighting, so I switched off the portable flashlight I'd been using and directed its beam where her shoe pointed.
"This is...?"
"Cleanly severed, isn't it?"
The hinges that had once connected the door were still there—or rather, only half of them remained attached to the frame, their cut surfaces so smooth they gleamed under the light. It was the kind of detail you'd miss unless you looked closely.
"It seems the doors were sent somewhere along with their frames. Even if the ability user isn't a living creature, the fact that they can force open a portal with an object in between suggests they're more skilled than I initially thought."
"Force it open?"
"These clean cut surfaces are traces of a portal being created to another space. Usually, portals are opened in midair, so no traces remain. But in this case, they must have needed to remove the doors quickly to relocate them."
Do they usually assign this kind of work to ability users...? I don't understand why they'd choose a method that leaves traces.
"Let's check the rest of the doors here as well."
"Right!"
After that, we carefully examined every doorframe in the spacious room under bright lighting and confirmed the same traces on all of them. But by now, I couldn't help asking the question I'd started with.
"Team Leader...? So, does this actually help with escaping?"
It was a perfectly natural doubt—what could we even do with this information now?
"I'm not certain yet, but if crossing a doorframe is the trigger for the distortion, then perhaps there's a way to twist it."
"Like... closing the door?"
"Something like that. Abilities are often dismissed as impure, but their structure is far more rational than we give them credit for."
If it were irrational, it wouldn't be an ability—it would be the existence itself...
She hadn't named anyone, not even in her thoughts, but I had a vague feeling she was thinking of the Founder. That small body wielding immense strength, creating mysterious inventions like the one I'd once had around my neck, the girl with endlessly long black hair whose abilities left me speechless. There were times I felt a sense of dissonance, but if I had a cute little sister, I imagined she might look something like that.
"I understand that it's worth trying."
I didn't fully grasp the trigger part, but I knew we could attempt something. Still...
"...Where are we supposed to get a door?"
"Ah."
"..."
That single syllable was a dying scream specialized in disappointing people.
"...That was an oversight."
It wasn't even much of an oversight. If the ability user had truly found the existence of doors inconvenient and removed every single one in the building, they would have either discarded them somewhere out of reach or hidden them away. Searching for a door inside now would be no different from wandering aimlessly through a maze. We'd discovered something, but it felt hollow—there was no further way forward.
An awkward silence settled for a moment. The team leader seemed to consider a few alternatives, but in the end she shook her head.
"The windows... are too small, and hoping to spot a plank that could pass for a door is ridiculous."
Did that mean our only option was to wait quietly? Maybe... if enough time passed, they'd let us go?
"...You said the ability user is definitely inside this space, right, Team Leader?"
"Yes. To use and maintain an ability on this scale, there's no method other than occupying it. Of course, that doesn't mean they won't tire... but the fact that there's been no movement so far is concerning."
"Then... if the other side gets exhausted and the ability unravels, can everyone leave?"
I knew it was an overly optimistic assumption, but after catching a glimpse of something only to return to square one, I couldn't help feeling anxious.
"It's possible. But if they've brought prisoners here... they might hold out to the limit, lure in as many people as possible, and then order them to commit suicide, forcibly collapsing the space and burying everyone together."
"..."
"Your expression is grim. It's only a possibility. I doubt they'd treat such a valuable spatial ability user so carelessly."
The field team, the field team leader, and even our own team leader were all trapped inside. I didn't know the exact value of a spatial ability user, but if lives were being traded, the other side might already be at an advantage. Noticing my anxious look, the team leader gave a small smile and patted my shoulder reassuringly.
"Don't worry. Even if it really comes to that... as promised, I'll make sure to protect you, Woong-ssi."
The rest can be torn to shreds and die... Ah, I wonder if that fox can manage to survive somehow.
How was that something an angel would think? Even the choice of words was brutal. Could you even use the phrase "torn to shreds" about people in the first place...?
"..."
"That's only in the worst-case scenario. I don't want innocent victims either. That's why we've brought in the field team and taken these measures."
The team leader had meant to reassure me, but I felt my expression harden instead. Once again, I was forced to realize just how absurd a place I'd been dragged into.
"For now, let's head back out. The field team leader doesn't seem to be returning anytime soon, and we can check the other doorframes while looking for any stray doors."
"...Anything's fine. Let's just try."
"I can feel your motivation."
Was this really what motivation looked like...?
"...If it were people I didn't know from the start, maybe it would be different. But now that I've seen their faces and talked to them, the thought that they might die is terrifying."
"Is that so? Terrifying, you say."
"Because I don't have the resolve to throw my life away for them. So I want to do everything I can right now."
Probably because there were now people I wanted to protect even if it meant throwing my life away. Someone might call this motivation a hypocrisy meant to ease my conscience if the worst really happened—and maybe it was—but...
"Anyway, right now... I don't want to waste time meaninglessly."