Chapter 104: Operating Room (2)
Chapter 104: Operating Room (2)
Leaving behind the site of that horrific battle and its immense casualties, we headed toward the tower.
It stood in the center of the white space—a vast, circular tower erected on the very plaza where the previous incident had concluded.
It had been designed to be wide rather than tall to maximize the effective range of the Operating Room. It was a hidden branch of the Management Bureau, built solely to house and study hundreds of thousands of people.
The Bureau really does love its towers, I thought. Did they really need to build it upward? Wouldn't it have been more efficient to just redevelop the entire surrounding area?
There was no need to build high to observe the Otherworld in this vicinity, yet they insisted on a tower shape. It was quite something.
Lost in these idle thoughts, we gradually slowed our pace. We couldn't exactly sprint full tilt into the building.
The main road leading to the Bureau entrance was crowded with people.
Some were moving in wheelchairs.
Some were doing calisthenics in the vacant lot beside the building.
Others lay on mats spread across the grass, soaking up the sun.
However, not a single one of them was moving of their own volition.
White-clad nurses were attached to every one of them—pushing wheelchairs, guiding limbs, or staring up at the sky beside the mats.
Because the patients could do nothing.
Because they could think nothing.
This was that kind of ward.
It wasn't just for those struck by the Gray Plague. It housed Bureau personnel who had been declared untreatable on other battlefields—cases of brain death, mental collapse, soul extinction, and more.
A ward for those who weren't dead, yet couldn't be called alive. To put it kindly, it was an expression of the Bureau’s refusal to let go of those who had dedicated their lives to humanity.
But no one here looked for hope.
Of course, one could argue that simply continuing to live was a blessing.
Especially since the world had advanced so significantly through Otherworldly Power.
Zero-Latency Communication covering the entire globe.
Triple Substitution Batteries capable of storing unimaginable amounts of energy.
Perfect Insulation Materials that blocked all thermal energy.
Micro Natural Language Turing Machines.
As society progressed, time flowed on with the expectation that these patients would one day wake up.
And as technology advanced, that hope gradually curdled into despair.
One year, five years, ten years, fifteen years.
Hope soon became despair, and despair eventually turned into indifference.
No matter how much society advanced, you couldn't bring back someone whose brain was gone.
Fifteen years was far too short a time to understand the profound depths of the human psyche.
Of course, some were discharged as technology progressed.
Perfect artificial organs.
Exploration of the unconscious through supernatural abilities.
Restoration of loss through the development of Cultivation Technology.
There were those who benefited and left.
But they were few and far between.
Even now, with the battles against the Otherworld having quieted down, people were still being turned into living corpses.
In the fourteen years since this branch was established, the number of annual discharges had likely never exceeded the number of admissions.
"Still nothing, right...?"
"Pardon?"
"Has the number of discharges ever surpassed admissions? I haven't checked lately."
"The gap has narrowed significantly, but for it to reverse, we still need a bit more..."
I see. I shouldn't have asked.
I shook off the sudden gloom and kept walking. What was I even expecting?
"More importantly, aren't you curious why they're all doing that?"
What was there to be curious about?
"Even if they're immortal and don't age, they'd get bedsores or their bones and muscles would stiffen if they just stayed lying down. That's why, right?"
"Wow. You hit the nail on the head."
The massive workforce required to maintain such a system was provided by the nurses who manifested from within the Operating Room.
Thanks to that, there was no need to charge the patients, and the Bureau didn't need to allocate an extra budget, allowing this gargantuan ward to be maintained indefinitely.
Hmm. Come to think of it, would they have maintained it even without the Operating Room?
I wasn't sure.
Given the Bureau’s priority on welfare, it was highly likely, but without the Operating Room, a different system would have been devised due to budget constraints.
Looking at it this way, the Management Bureau was a sandcastle built on the sacrifices of a few, but since everyone sacrificed themselves willingly, it didn't matter much.
Clack.
With that thought, I opened the tower doors.
People came into view inside.
Not patients or nurses, but Management Bureau staff stationed at this branch. However, none of them turned to look at us as we entered.
It was only natural. They rarely encountered people. Aside from the occasional inspector or visiting family member, the vast majority of those using the entrance were patients and nurses.
They weren't in the service industry, so expecting kindness from people stationed in such a remote, desolate place would be asking too much.
Since no one else was in sight, I approached the desk without taking a waiting number.
"We're from the Korea Branch..."
"Ah! Please take a number."
The receptionist, finally noticing me, looked away from her monitor and spoke with a bright smile.
"..."
"I know what you're going to say, but we need the number for the records. Please blame the person who designed The System."
That damn system. Those damn procedures.
Arguing would be pointless, so I pressed the button on the kiosk.
The number printed on the slip was 001. Proof that I was the first guest of the day.
How stupid.
"Yes. How can I help you?"
"I am Hero Lee Ha-ram, here on request from the Korea Branch. Registration number 01-005-M. You should have already been notified of the details."
If they hadn't been notified, I was going to fly back to Korea at supersonic speeds and beat the hell out of Park Hyun-seok.
"Yes. It's been confirmed. You're here for the inspection. And the person behind you?"
Wait. Inspection?
"Inspection? Not academic research?"
"It says inspection. According to the notice, you're here to investigate the overall status of the branch."
...That's not my job.
"Is that notice definitely under the name of the Korea Branch Manager, Park Hyun-seok?"
"Yes. So, the person behind you is...?"
Unbelievable. That bastard Park Hyun-seok set me up. Not only did he want me to check the progress of the plague, but he also wanted me to conduct a branch inspection? I'm definitely hitting him when I get back. No question.
"Oxymoron. 10-1432-P."
Ignoring my internal agonizing, Oxymoron stepped forward and answered for me.
"Yes. Confirmed."
The receptionist proceeded with her work, showing no sign of intimidation even though I was an 'inspector.'
"Inspector Lee Ha-ram, please wear this ID pass around your neck. Researcher Oxymoron, you may use your existing Hero ID."
A small plastic card was held out to me.
It was a horrifying object, featuring a photo of me with a subtle, awkward expression and the exaggerated title of 'Inspector' printed on it.
I let out an involuntary sigh as I took it and hung it around my neck.
Fine, I might as well earn my keep.
"I'll show you to your quarters..."
"Do that later. I want to see the patients first."
I'd had plenty of time to lounge around in my room yesterday. Since it was morning, I wanted to get the report over with quickly.
"Oxymoron, you don't mind seeing the patients before checking the quarters, right?"
"I don't mind at all!"
Contrary to my expectations, her voice came from a distance. Looking over, I saw her fiddling with a gurney.
"She says she doesn't mind."
"Ah, then you can head straight to the designated area. The password is..."
"I already know it, so it's fine."
It was bound to be that password.
"Just to be sure and save you a trip back, I'll ask for confirmation. Please give me the first sentence."
Surprisingly efficient.
"The hanging of the neck opens the curtain."
"Yes. Confirmed."
I swear, how much does that Yellow King bastard love that phrase?
It was a relief the Yellow King only secured a few locations. If he were as involved as the Lord of Infinite Castles or the Librarian, the Bureau’s security would be as good as an open door.
"Oxymoron! Let's go!"
"Wait a second! I think I can fix this!"
"Hurry it up!"
* * *
In the end, the soldier Oxymoron treated regained consciousness.
The soldier was briefly despondent upon learning he had been unconscious for five years, but he soon thanked Oxymoron, saying he was just glad to be alive.
Vroom.
After that commotion, we were inside the elevator.
"Can you wake up other people like that if you operate on them?"
If so, Oxymoron would be even more swamped with work than she already was, but the Bureau would probably love it.
"It would probably be difficult. That soldier just had a fragment left in his head, so it was an easy fix. I don't know why the other medical teams didn't find it, though."
"I see."
That's because normal people can't see through heads like you can.
Vroom.
Amidst our conversation, the high-speed box continued its descent.
Deeper underground.
Toward the place where the majority of the branch's patients were kept.
Ding.
The doors opened, and the two of us stepped out.
The hallway was lit only by very dim lamps, perhaps to save electricity.
Thud. Vroom.
As the elevator doors behind us closed and it ascended again, we were left in the faint darkness.
Tap. Tap.
Only the sound of our footsteps reflected and spread in all directions.
It was a place as silent and somber as an underground tomb.
As we walked down that path, our minds drifted back to that time...
"Gaaah! The stench of Otherworld rot! What is this smell! Poyo-ooo!"
A wild beast suddenly popped out and ruined the entire atmosphere.
"...What are you doing?"
"Ugh. I can't stand the rot. What is this stench...?"
"It's the Otherworld plague. Didn't you see it before?"
I had introduced him to a patient once, thinking he might know something. He had just babbled about not knowing anything, as expected of Un-ho.
"Ah. That's right. No wonder it smelled familiar..."
"A smell? Could you tell me more about that?"
"Poyo?"
She suddenly interjected.
"The stench of Otherworld rot? Does that mean the power has decayed?"
"Huh? Well, roughly speaking..."
"It means power can rot, right? Then could you tell me what phenomena occur during decomposition...?"
"Ah. About that..."
The hallway began to fill with conversation. The quiet, mournful atmosphere was gone, replaced by a purely academic one.
I suppose it didn't matter. Even if I showed my respects, there was no one to receive them.
After a short time accompanied by their boisterous conversation, we reached a yellow door.
The Yellow King’s Seal.
"Who's doing it?"
"I don't know the whole verse."
"What is that? Poyo."
...Setting aside the useless Un-ho, Oxymoron didn't know either?
"You must come here often. Who opens the door for you every time?"
"The person in charge here?"
Ah. I see.
It was my mistake to expect anything from these fools.
Resigned, I turned my head and began the recitation.
The yellow door was engraved with bizarre patterns.
The prologue of The Yellow King’s Play.
I spoke the corresponding lines.
"The hanging of the neck opens the curtain."
The door began to glow.
"These are the words of the hanged lead."
The door looked at me.
"The stretched neck offers me up."
The door observed me.
"Through this, the curtain rises."
The door scrutinized me for a moment.
Through the eyes of the Yellow King. It judged whether I was someone who could sit in the lead's seat through rightful authority.
After a brief moment...
Squelch.
The yellow door turned into ooze and collapsed into the gaps.
"Let's go."
"Yes."
"What was that just now? Poyo?"
"None of your business."
We stepped through the door.
After many twists and turns, we had reached the Gray Ward.
It was a place where no sane person remained, only the nurses who could move anywhere within the Operating Room.
The endless rows of white beds, perfectly aligned, inspired a sense of awe.
We had only just entered, yet even a slight turn of the head revealed more and more beds. It was a maddening sight.
I looked at a patient in the bed right next to me, sleeping an eternal sleep, unaware of his reality.
But looking closely, his posture seemed quite awkward.
He wasn't lying straight, nor was he fully on his side—it was a strange, contorted position.
Thinking it would be uncomfortable to stay like that, I reached out to adjust him.
And the moment my hand touched the patient...
"Ha-ram-nim, get away from there...!"
The last things I heard were Un-ho’s voice, thick with a scream, and...
【Got you.】
...a stickiness that clung to my ear and wouldn't let go.