Door Rounds: The Mud Monster Bows
The dim third-floor hallway was empty now. The restriction against running. It seemed fatal at first glance, but I didn't think it was so bad. If it's a disadvantage equal to everyone, can you even call it a disadvantage? I'm a coward who always thinks about running away at the drop of a hat, but I never lose my reason. They say even a tiger's den is survivable if you keep your wits about you. If a Youkai shows up, I could just turn and walk away. But if it were an unequal disadvantage—just me unable to run—well, I'd just have to die. No helping it. Still, I had faith it wouldn't be like that.
The Gallery. If this place forced such irrational conditions on its workers, no one would have stuck around for years. Sure, I couldn't rule out that they were superhumans who transcended ordinary people. But they told me: trust only the Guard Rules Booklet. They don't know my physical specs. They don't know my intelligence either. Yet their sole advice was the rulebook. That meant even an ordinary guy like me could overcome these trials. I decided not to even consider the hypothesis that the Gallery itself was a lie. Because then, I wouldn't believe I could survive here.
The padlock on Classroom 2-5 was unlocked. Nothing strange happened while I locked it. The hallway looked fine too. Same with 2-4. The surroundings stayed quiet as I locked it. Next up: Classroom 2-3 by the central stairs. Unlocked here too. Do they not lock doors in the second-year wing? If I'd skipped it out of fear of Youkai, I'd have blown my shift. Nothing happened until I locked 2-3. Just one more: 2-2. Keep it steady, and we're good.
Clunk. My mouth was running ahead of me. I hadn't said it out loud, but still.
The sound came from Classroom 2-2. The door creaked open, and a shadowy figure swayed in the doorway. Then something slimy slithered out from inside. It had a human shape, but pitch-black, mud-like sludge covered its entire body. Size-wise, it matched an average adult man. Is that Kim Eat-Chil? Back when I saw it in the duty log, the name seemed like a joke because of the "smear" in it. But now, it fit perfectly.
It didn't move fast. But who knew when it might snap? No way I was getting close. It shuffled slowly, then suddenly whipped its head toward me. Its face was caked in mud too, so I couldn't tell for sure. Then it started dragging its feet across the floor, shambling my way. Whether due to the rules or its nature, it wasn't quick. The terror was milder than what I'd faced so far. But that didn't change my options.
Plan as intended: tactical retreat. I walked back toward the Central Entrance.
People don't always make the right calls just because they think. That was me right then. I'd started down the stairs to the first floor when my feet froze on the second. The rulebook clearly said: no more than two floors at a time on the central stairs. Head back up? The thought hit me and got scrapped instantly. Even going down and back up might count separately, and even if not, Kim Eat-Chil could've reached the stairs by then. Second floor was the last place I wanted to revisit.
Luckily, that insane laughter wasn't echoing anymore. Right. Just don't look at the windows. I marched straight ahead, hugging the wall like my life depended on it. Head fixed wall-ward, I sidestepped. At that moment, I channeled a crab. Crabs only walk sideways.
Crash! A window shattering behind me. I ignored it. What could a crab do about a broken window? Crabs just walk. Sideways, that is. And so, nothing happened as I reached the right-side stairs. Second floor: no big deal.
Before heading back to the third floor, I swung by the Central Entrance. Felt like I'd wasted more time than expected, so I wanted to check the clock. The first-floor hallway restriction kicked in after midnight, so it nagged at me. Sure, shift started at 8, so only four hours in, but better safe than sorry. You don't cross a bridge without tapping it first.
I didn't enter the Guard Room. Shift not over yet—getting a warning for that would suck. But there was a way to check without going in: the CCTV visible through the glass. Its monitor showed the time in the bottom right. 9:42. Hadn't done much, but time had flown. Guess fear and hesitation stretch longer than you feel.
The CCTV feeds showed familiar spots now: Annex entrance, main gate, hallways from 1F to 4F—six in total. The one next to the 4F hallway was probably 5F. Even on screen, it glowed faintly red—pure ominous vibes. Not like I'd ever go there anyway. The other two? No clue.
Before finishing door rounds, I checked the third-floor hallway CCTV. Squinting at the tiny nine-split monitor. No Kim Eat-Chil in sight. Could've gone elsewhere, back to class, or into a blind spot. No point dwelling—it'd just waste time. No guarantee it wouldn't pop up later. I let out a deep sigh and headed back to the third floor.
Third floor. The Staff Room door to the right was mercifully closed. I immediately checked the left hallway. There was Kim Eat-Chil. Standing still in front of Classroom 2-2, staring at me. The area around its mouth split open grotesquely. No sound, but those exaggerated upturned lips screamed smile.
'We're screwed.' I glanced at Classroom 2-1. Padlocked shut. Then far-off 2-2. Wide open. I was certain: this Youkai was toying with me. Can't lock without approaching. To lock, I'd have to get right in its face. What now? Rulebook had zilch on this.
Kim Eat-Chil seemed to savor my dilemma, frozen in place unlike before, just watching. Its grin looked even wider. I had a habit in crises: tally what I could do right now. Seemed obvious, but it'd sparked good ideas before. Not this time, though. What could I do? Approach and lock the door. That was it.
Once options narrowed, it fueled decisiveness. If that's all there was, I'd do it—move my body despite the fear clamping down.
One step, two. Almost at Classroom 2-2. Close enough to the Youkai now.
"Who are you?" A grotesque voice oozed from it. I jolted hard but fought to stay calm. Lips still split, unmoving, yet the voice came.
"Can't hear me?"
"Who're you, I said."
My brain spun faster than ever. An escape route had to be buried in my memories somewhere. Delay too long, tick it off, and it'd be over. Tick it off? Something like that in the rules... Got it. Guard Room rules: don't provoke entities. No time to define provoke. I spat my best guess.
"Security guard."
Right answer? I was one, uniform and all. It went quiet, then spoke again.
"What's your name?"
Name? Not real one, obviously. Choi Kyung-bi? As I opened my mouth, instinct screamed no. Couldn't explain why. But I trusted my gut. So now what?
"Uh..."
"Uh?"
"You little punk..."
"?"
Now even I had no idea. I must've lost it. Sure, don't provoke—but this wasn't provoking.
"Am I your buddy? Asking a security guard uncle who he is, what his name is—you're not some student staying in school past lights-out?"
Just manners 101. Uses Korean, mimics a Korean school? Gotta have Confucian vibes. No guarantee it was younger than me, though.
Its gaping maw had shrunk sometime.
"Y-you... Who are you? Tell me your name. 2-2, right? Homeroom Song Ha-yeon, yeah? I'll tell her tomorrow."
Gamble. Only teacher name I knew: Song Ha-yeon. Perfectly timed for a second-year class. The Youkai stared, dumbfounded. I was dumbfounded at myself.
"...Sorry."
It bowed its head deep and apologized. Even though I'd engineered it, I couldn't make sense of the Youkai's reaction.