Lingering Doubts and the Forgotten Duty Log
There were plenty of mysteries I couldn't wrap my head around. No, there was no way there wouldn't be. Even setting aside the rules, there were mountains of questions: Why was I stuck dealing with this? Why couldn't I leave during the day? What happened if I stepped outside the school? Why did the Gallery even exist, and who created it? But that was the same in the normal society I'd come from.
It wasn't some clichéd notion that ignorance is bliss. If you didn't know something, you just did your best in the situation at hand and left it at that. If you eventually learned the truth behind one mystery, you adapted and kept going. Contrary to Chieon Nak-si-kkun's worries, the predecessor's actions had actually helped me.
"To escape, you must break the rules." That line took on new meaning in my mind.
"Breaking the rules doesn't always lead to death."
Looking back, there was some basis for it. If merely stepping into the Annex Building counted as entry, then I could arguably say I'd gone in and come out unscathed. If that triggered the youkai with the handprint on the door to come after me, there had still been a brief window of time—a margin, however slim. Whether you could call it a "margin" was debatable.
But one thing I couldn't figure out was what the predecessor had based their actions on. The Guard Rules Booklet had no info on the Annex Building. It just said not to enter. Yet the predecessor had explored it anyway.
I'd been too lost in thought to check the Gallery for a while, but Chieon Nak-si-kkun must've been waiting, because a reply popped up right away.
In other words, it was patchy, unreliable info full of holes.
That wrapped up the Annex discussion for now. I pondered what else to bait the Gallery with—something I didn't know but they might.
Suddenly, youkai came to mind. Maybe the Gallery knew about Song Ha-yeon or Kim Eat-Chil?
Huh? I tried posting the same content again. Same popup. It seemed I'd hit a forbidden topic, so I rephrased it. Still blocked. I tried something completely different, and it went through fine.
Just now
They were messing around like it wasn't a big deal. From my side, I had no clue.
Even the admin didn't know. I'd never thought of the Gallery as just another object like the fridge or wardrobe, but it clearly hid some massive secret. Come to think of it, who set up the furniture in this room? The rules said the Guard Room was safe, but no human did it. Logically, some youkai must've.
A bizarre world where youkai protected humans. Right now, one was trying to control info, but I had time and grit. I kept rephrasing to test patterns.
★ Failed. Over an hour and hundreds of attempts, nothing worked. It wasn't simple keyword blocks. Even if I worded it to convey the intent, it blocked. I tried Caesar cipher to make it look like gibberish—still blocked. It felt like it read my intent.
The Gallery felt alive. If I could drag this youkai into the real world, it'd make AI look like a joke. No tech could read and block user intent like that. When I deviated from my goal, it posted fine. High accuracy too? That was godly, not human.
Was the Gallery actually a god? Just as I neared worshiping its creator, a notification pinged.
Oh, right. I'd never cared much about nicknames, so I'd forgotten. Did I need to change it?
Guard67. It meant I was the 67th guard. No traces of the previous 66 remained, but they'd existed. I wasn't trying to honor them—I didn't know who they were or how they'd lived. But the number was a good wake-up call. Even if I got cocky from adapting, seeing the nick would keep me sharp.
So I decided to keep it. Until I escaped this world, I was Guard67.
★ I'd thought I had tons of time till 6, but Gallery scrolling flew by. Scary. Community addiction. With nothing else to do, even forced scrolling was fun. Humans adapt as long as they're not utterly alone.
A few posts popped up from explorers who'd ventured out for escape. No matter how bored, I couldn't muster the guts, so I just left encouraging comments. Maybe someday, but not now. The clock ticked past 5.
PyeonSun-i again. They seemed worried about me. But wasn't the timing off for shift talk now?
Wondered what gender PyeonSun-i was. I wasn't obsessed with girls or anything. But that nick screamed misunderstanding. Not my fault—theirs for picking it. ...Wait, was that what criminals said? Asking about gender wouldn't make me a criminal anyway. I didn't bother.
Unnecessary worry, but I thanked them. No harm in gratitude. Maybe check like PyeonSun-i said.
Main Gate locked from the start. Annex door survived a crisis but locked. Shaking, I'd checked and locked classrooms on floors 2, 3, 4. That was everything? Not much to check with so little to do. Still, nothing better, so I stepped out.
The Central Entrance was still dim. Past 5—well after midnight rule for 1F corridors. No plans to go out. CCTV showed nothing unusual. I opened the duty log file to review rules again.
......
Huh. One thing left. Eyes shifted to the key bundle beside the CCTV monitor. And the flapping duty log on the file's right—hadn't submitted to Admin Office.
Shit. Screwed up. My mistake forced me out now. But okay. Admin Office was spitting distance. Think positive. Catching it now was lucky—without PyeonSun-i, I'd have botched despite good door checks. One more object of worship in my heart.
<< 1F Corridor >>
Safe before 12.
After 12, never look back.
Includes Central Entrance.
Right. Just don't look back. No biggie. If something popped up ahead, oh well. Grabbed keys and log, stepped out.
1F corridor vibe unchanged from earlier. Reached Admin Office safely—left turn from hall was quick. Inside same as before, minus one mannequin. No rule on that, so ignore. Central plastic box still piled with key bundles. Thought of pocketing one unnoticed but returned obediently.
Wall desk had two small paper boxes. Left stacked with sheets, right empty. Submit here? Dropped log in right, took one blank from left. New duty log, barely visible in dark. Head back, mistake fixed. Easier than feared.
Closed Admin door. Return path faced opposite—nothing weird. Entering/exiting didn't count as turning. Lucky. Heading straight to Guard Room when—
A voice from behind.
"Mr. Choi Kyung-bi?"
Familiar. Song Ha-yeon's daytime voice. For once, no incident?
"Where you headed?"
Run. Guard Room was seconds away.
"Where're you going?"
Voice cracked, turning eerie. Clutching log, sprinted like mad—door open, in, shut in under 5 seconds. Through glass, empty, silent corridor.