Risk Level 2: Harpy (1)
"Since you've come all this way today, how about I give you a tour?"
"...Yes."
It was a kind offer, yet one that left no room for refusal. Still, it allowed me to escape that uncomfortable interrogation-room-like space under Joker's guidance. Stepping into the relatively bright and clean corridor, I felt my nerves ease and my breathing grow steadier.
"The President mentioned wanting to meet you in person, but she's not scheduled to return until next week."
"Ah... I see."
As a brand-new hire, the idea of meeting the President directly still didn't feel real, so I simply nodded and followed along.
"Are you familiar with the story of The Little Mermaid?"
As we walked slowly toward the elevator I'd ridden down in, he suddenly tossed out that question. He didn't even slow his pace, and it sounded like a casual remark, yet coming from Joker, it didn't feel ordinary at all. Was this some kind of psychological test? The Little Mermaid, out of nowhere.
The tale of a mermaid and a prince who fell in love at first sight, struggled to be together, and finally succeeded... or something like that. To a modern person—especially someone like me with zero romantic experience—it was the kind of fairy-tale romance that felt enviable.
"...I know of it. But why do you ask?"
"Do you like it?"
After asking if I knew the story, he followed up by asking if I liked it. I wasn't sure whether he meant the story itself or the Little Mermaid as a character. Either way, any pure childhood wonder I'd once felt toward fairy-tale figures had long since worn away. There was nothing left for me to feel about it.
"I don't have any particular thoughts on it. It's been a long time since I last read it."
I answered honestly, and he replied,
"That's a relief."
"...?"
What on earth was he relieved about?
"What do you mean, 'a relief'—?"
"In that case, shall we go see the beautiful princesses from the fairy tales first?"
Princesses... plural? More importantly, this clown kept cutting me off mid-sentence. Irritation was steadily building inside me, but unfortunately, he was my superior. The thought of my future work life already felt bleak enough to make me laugh bitterly. Still, it was fine. I'd dealt with plenty of difficult bosses while hopping between jobs. Like always, I'd just have to endure it by thinking about the numbers that would soon appear in my bank account.
Just then, the thick elevator doors slid open. I quietly followed him inside.
[B7 / FDL]
The doors closed automatically, yet he didn't press any floor buttons. Instead, he pulled a card—likely his employee ID—from his suit's inner pocket and held it up to a sensor above the buttons. Moments later, the displayed numbers changed. The buttons that had originally shown B1 through B9 now each had a zero appended.
[B20]
He pressed the button for the twentieth basement floor. If the button marked B90 truly meant the ninetieth basement level, then this facility was far larger than I'd imagined. How could such a deep, vast complex exist beneath an art museum? And why did they need this much space? Another question surfaced: why an art museum of all places?
"Why is this facility located under an art museum?"
"Ah, that? We frequently import large, irregular cargo from overseas. If it's labeled as artwork, it doesn't draw much suspicion."
"..."
"We also remodel frequently for themed exhibitions, so closing for extended periods isn't unusual either."
His straightforward, polite answer was appreciated, but the fact that he even considered such things already suggested we were operating in legally gray territory.
"Above all, it's the President's girlfriend's preference."
"The... President?"
"She's the Chairwoman. She insists on being called President because 'Chairwoman' makes her sound too old."
So the Chairwoman herself ran this place? That meant it was important enough that—
"It's no exaggeration to say every company under the Eunrang Group exists to support this museum. You can consider landing a job here the proudest achievement of your life."
Drdrdrdr... kuung...!
"?!"
I was thinking that if it weren't for this unsettling superior, I might actually feel proud, when the elevator suddenly stopped before reaching our floor. A heavy mechanical sound echoed through the cabin. The current floor was B19—the nineteenth basement level.
Krrrrrrrrr...!!
I flinched.
"Your startled reactions are quite entertaining, one after another."
"..."
"From the twentieth basement floor downward, there are isolation bulkheads every ten floors. We have to wait for them to open."
Isolation bulkheads. If their purpose was to prevent anything from going down, that level of security seemed excessive. Then again...
"The reason we need them is...?"
"In the unlikely event that the friends down below ever escape, we can't have them riding the elevator shaft straight up to the surface, now can we?"
"..."
Just what exactly was down there that required this much precaution? Still... I probably wouldn't have to deal with any of it, right?
Krrk!
It was nothing more than wishful thinking, but I tried to calm myself with that hope. The mechanical noise ceased, the elevator buttons lit up again, and the floor display updated. Now the buttons showed B21 through B30. B20 wasn't marked on the panel, but the small display inside the elevator clearly read B20. That meant an entire floor was dedicated to the bulkhead.
"..."
After a brief wait, Joker pressed the B21 button. The elevator resumed its descent. The sheer scale of the bulkheads made me dread arriving, but the elevator reached its destination with frustrating speed.
"Here we are."
Ding...!
A cheerful chime announced our arrival. The doors opened.
And the first thing that greeted me was—
Click!
—the muzzle of a gun?
"Huh?"
Two armed guards standing right in front of the elevator had their automatic rifles aimed directly at me. Whether the guns were real or not, the sight of barrels pointed my way made me reflexively raise both hands. Joker, however, casually held up his employee ID as if this were routine.
Beep.
One guard stepped forward with a terminal while keeping his rifle trained on us. He scanned Joker's ID, and a voice played from the device.
[Codename: Joker. Access permission for Level 2 section confirmed.]
Click!
Once the confirmation sounded and Joker's identity was verified, both muzzles immediately swung toward me—the unregistered visitor. All I had was a nameplate that read "Counselor."
"This is our newly arrived Counselor. His employee ID will be issued tomorrow. Today is just an orientation tour."
"Understood. Shall I interpret that as Joker taking full responsibility for any incidents involving an unregistered individual without an employee ID?"
"Yes, of course. What could possibly go wrong when I'm right here with him?"
Click.
With an exaggerated flourish, the guards finally lowered their rifles. I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead with my sleeve and gripped the elevator handrail to steady my shaking legs.
"Understood. I'll log the entry time."
"Welcome. What are you doing just standing there?"
"Ah... Yes."
This was still Korea, right...? It was a company, yet there were armed guards? If there were procedures like this, they should've explained them beforehand. Joker had clearly stayed silent on purpose, waiting to see how I'd react.
"...Haa."
While wiping away the sweat that refused to stop, I followed him on unsteady legs and belatedly noticed something strange. The shock of having guns pointed at me had left my mind blank, so I'd missed it earlier—but just like with Joker, I couldn't hear the guards' inner voices either.
I'd already known from the invitation letter that they were aware of my ability to hear people's thoughts. That was why I'd assumed Joker was simply special. I glanced back, but the guards meticulously searching the elevator still produced no voices in my head.
I'd accepted this suspicious invitation because I trusted my ability. But now... what exactly had I walked into? Had I really set foot in some absurd place without thinking it through?