Chapter 367
Chapter 367
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 367
Chapter Title: Pension with Many Rules
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The Immigration Foreigner Management Agency had teams of all sorts of shapes and sizes.
The most famous were the combat teams, from Special Team 1 to Special Team 7, but the team Park Jumi belonged to had nothing to do with fighting.
On top of that, Park Jumi herself was a capable specialist agent, but she wasn't an ability user with combat prowess.
Her job was providing mental counseling to agents returning from the field and recording their testimonies.
"Rules?"
"Yes. They said we had to eat pasta."
"Pasta."
Park Jumi pronounced the word 'pasta' with a hint of absurdity, but Im Hui-young responded calmly.
"To be precise, it's Genovese pasta. Genovese pasta originally refers to pasta from Genoa, but he said he'd prepare the Neapolitan-style version."
"Neapolitan-style? Then shouldn't it be called Neapolitan pasta?"
Im Hui-young made a briefly troubled face, scratched her head lightly, and replied.
"I'd never even heard of Genovese pasta until that day. I still don't know what's Neapolitan-style or Genoa-style. I was just quoting what they said."
At those words, Park Jumi pushed up her thick horn-rimmed glasses and scrutinized Im Hui-young.
Breathing? Normal. Blood pressure steady.
Fingers? Fidgeting a bit.
Watching the burly, round Im Hui-young's plump fingers twitch made Park Jumi think of a shy polar bear, and she smiled faintly as she continued.
"If it's just eating pasta, that doesn't sound too hard. Were there other conditions?"
The other woman was a survivor who'd returned alive from a surreal and dangerous scene.
It was necessary to gauge whether her words were some kind of metaphor, delirium from confusion, or a straightforward recounting of facts.
"Eating it wasn't the problem. Making the pasta was."
"That 'rule' you mentioned at the start? Did the guests have to help cook it too?"
Im Hui-young shook her head with a serious look in her eyes.
"None of the rules the pension owner mentioned had anything to do with pasta."
"The pension owner... Is this him?"
Park Jumi held out a photo she'd prepared in advance.
An old ID photo.
"Heo Sang-hyun. Around forty years old... Runs the pension with his wife. They have one daughter. Doesn't seem like the type to file taxes diligently. Could be he's been operating at a loss—"
Park Jumi hadn't even finished speaking, but Im Hui-young shook her head.
"Not him. It was someone much younger, and I didn't see any wife or daughter. There was a woman among the guests, but she wasn't connected to the owner."
Im Hui-young paused for a moment, then spoke in a hesitant voice.
"To repeat myself, it was the person wearing the mask with four eyes. He didn't give a name... but I'm sure it was Kim Shin-hwa."
"I see."
A few words and sentences appeared on Park Jumi's computer.
[Mask], [Kim Shin-hwa].
[Strange rules], [anomalies].
[Pension you can't leave without eating pasta].
Valuable testimonies like these were compiled into information and guidelines for the Immigration Foreigner Management Agency's next operations.
And Park Jumi's true expertise lay in processing and organizing that information.
"Let's keep going. What was the inside of the pension like?"
* * *
The sun hadn't set yet, but somehow the outside was dark.
It wasn't a matter of night or day—it felt bizarre, like the pension was floating alone in some other dimension without a sun or stars.
Time?
It was 6:33.
My sense of time felt distorted, but that time was certain. Kim Shin-hwa said so.
"Everyone. It's now 6:33."
Kim Shin-hwa said that as he closed the lid of the pocket watch in his hand. The loud click that echoed in the quiet living room still sticks in my memory.
"The new arrival, would you sit over there too?"
The place Kim Shin-hwa pointed to was a vintage sofa in the center of the spacious living room.
Bae Jin-woo was there, giving an awkward smile and a hand wave.
Including Jin-woo, there were already seven people sitting.
Three women. With me, that made four.
And four men, including Jin-woo.
Ages varied from someone who looked like a teenager to an elderly person, and one of the women was a foreigner.
We confirmed her identity separately—she'd entered on a work visa.
But none of them looked like ordinary people.
Their outfits were overly flashy—y'know, the kind?
The combative or bizarre attire typical of fixers. Jin-woo whispered as much to me.
"Senior, you gotta be careful. Not everyone's a fixer here—but most are ability users or mutants."
Thinking back now, it might've been a funny sight.
But I soon realized it wasn't a situation to laugh about.
Huh...?
Oh, you need more explanation.
There were seven ability users gathered, including fixers and agency agents.
Especially among the fixers, there were some big names I recognized.
People like that wouldn't just sit quietly waiting for pasta, right? And yet, they weren't making any moves—they were just listening intently to Kim Shin-hwa.
I could sense it wasn't an easy situation.
So I squeezed in next to Jin-woo and decided to observe for now.
"Thank you. To repeat, the first rule is to wait for the pasta. Once you eat the pasta and nothing else—you can leave the pension anytime, and all problems here will be resolved."
Kim Shin-hwa paused for a moment, then spoke in a voice laced with amusement.
"You might even take home a small souvenir. If that's all it takes—today could become a pleasant memory."
It was half-joking, but no one laughed.
Kim Shin-hwa didn't seem to expect a reaction and kept talking without stopping.
"Second rule. Listen to our introductions and explanations. This is an important procedure, so interrupting midway is not allowed. Even if you already know the information, please bear with it."
Kim Shin-hwa pointed to himself as he spoke.
"The menu we've prepared is Genovese pasta. If you need to address me for any reason—call me the Genovese Pasta Manager. Or just Manager, GM."
Then the manager pointed toward the kitchen and introduced the [Chef].
"The chef in the kitchen has trained in cuisines from various countries since his student days and even worked in a hotel kitchen at one point. He's impressive. Chef, go ahead!"
"Understood."
A gloomy reply came from the kitchen at the manager's request.
"And third rule. Absolutely do not enter the kitchen. No matter what happens in there, peeking or interfering with the cooking is strictly forbidden."
Suddenly, Jin-woo spoke up.
"Senior. There are two people in the kitchen."
Jin-woo was an agent skilled in detection and spell knowledge. He'd picked up info I hadn't.
"He said they're starting to cook now? But it feels like necromancy and dimensional magic are being activated. Don't let your guard down."
"Got it. Thanks."
I replied like that and tried to stay alert—
"And this is our server..."
"Ya-hoo! Everyone, I'm Jan—"
It was the blond man who'd greeted me at the entrance.
He seemed about to say his name, but he couldn't finish it.
With a slithering sound, the manager's left hand turned into dozens of tentacles that wrapped around his mouth.
The manager whispered while sealing the [server]'s mouth with those snake-like tentacles.
"How many times do I have to tell you it's dangerous? You think I lent you that mask for nothing?"
"Mmph-mmph."
The server wasn't wearing a mask-like item. But calling it a mask probably meant he was disguised with a magical one to change his face.
Of course, it could also be some secret code shared among cultists.
The manager soon sorted things out and spoke again.
"Alright, this server will assist you all. And some of you may have noticed? Fourth rule. Until all this is over—absolutely do not say names. Not your own, not others' here, not anyone else's absent. We can't guarantee the safety of anyone who breaks this rule. Understood?"
"Can I ask one question?"
A man on the sofa raised his hand. I recognized his face.
Kang Il-sam.
One of the figures listed in the [Basilissa] observation logs. A fixer commonly called the Serene.
"No."
But the manager cut him off firmly.
"Fifth rule. Do not ask us questions. You can ask each other, but we won't answer any. We might act strangely or make odd requests—but please just know it's all for your survival."
* * *
Park Jumi took a deep breath and said.
"Were there more rules?"
Im Hui-young nodded silently.
Sixth rule.
Do not use electronic devices.
Automatically operating ones are fine. But avoid listening to their sounds or staring at screens for long.
Seventh rule.
Never act alone, under any circumstances.
This pension is much larger than it appears to your eyes. Never be left alone in an enclosed space.
Places might suddenly change, so never move by yourself. If movement is needed, the super magical server will help.
If you're ever trapped alone in an enclosed space, reach toward the ceiling—and call for help.
Eighth rule.
Ignore anyone with a clock or object instead of a head.
They have no authority. Ignore any requests or warnings from them. Even if you know them, do not acknowledge them. For reference, my face is just a mask.
Ninth rule.
Under no circumstances open or close doors.
You can only use doors we open. The front door too. Once everyone eats the pasta, we'll open the front door.
"That means..."
"Yes. Ultimately, you can't leave without eating the pasta."
Park Jumi's hands moved busily.
A cult ritual.
Disguised with bizarre keywords, but likely to summon an abyssal being or borrow its power.
And these rituals usually involved human sacrifice or horrific acts like cannibalism.
Im Hui-young had escaped from something like that.
"So what did you do? Wait for the pasta?"
"I stood up and prepared to attack."
Park Jumi paused and looked at Im Hui-young.
"You were going to attack?"
"Yes. I judged we'd been thrown into the middle of a cult-led ritual. I didn't know what kind of pasta would come out, but dragging it out longer seemed dangerous. I concluded we needed to seize control, even by force."
Special Team 1 was led by Yang Seo-ho.
She usually seemed overshadowed by Yang Seo-ho's presence—
But the hefty woman sitting before Park Jumi, like a big block of tofu or a mochi rice cake, was still someone who could stand behind Yang Seo-ho.
Realizing that far, Park Jumi nodded and said.
"But you said you were going to attack—which means you didn't?"
"A variable came up. I had to be cautious."
"A variable?"
* * *
"Junior. Stop it. How many is this now? Why keep adding more people?"
Suddenly, a deep, resonant baritone voice came from an unexpected direction.
From above.
The direction the voice came from.
Looking up, there was a person upside down on the ceiling.
Yes.
Upside down—like that.
Standing on the ceiling as if gravity pulled him in the opposite direction.
I knew it was the person from the manager's rule.
He had a large clock where his head should be.
The one the guests had to ignore.
The manager ignored him too. Though in a slightly different form than the rule described.
"Hmph, just watch."
"I've seen this before. Thanks to that, I learned abyssal beings aren't fooled by tricks like this."
"So far, it's been pretty easy, so don't worry."
"So far? Wanna recount my 'so far'? In my 'so far', you—"
"Stop! Please, don't bring up things I haven't done yet. Besides, this was your idea, Senior!"
"Not this kind of idea. Stop bringing in more people. This is insane!"
They seemed to be clashing opinions, but the manager... well, Kim Shin-hwa spoke in a firm voice.
"No. If you're going to follow my way, follow it to the end."
"...Fine."
