Chapter 11
I won’t eat.
“…To be honest, I really don’t want to eat.”
“No.”
“I’m not being capricious. I genuinely dislike it.”
“No.”
“Look at me. I ask out of genuine concern. Was this body even designed for physiological mechanisms like nutrient intake to fall within the ‘normal range’?”
Lee Yeon-woo rubbed his brow as he looked at a plate of steak and beef vegetable porridge on the table.
It was what he had induced, but ultimately it was accepted as a room service request. The dishes had appeared at the dumbwaiter on the 21st floor and had been brought directly to the room.
“These are the most basic preset meals provided at the tutorial stage…”
In the late game, morally questionable adult recipes appear, but now it was still the tutorial. Visually, the food looked ordinary, almost overly neat, merely a ‘meal’.
What mattered here was that it looked safe enough for an ordinary person to eat.
“…….”
…And Lee Yeon-woo was not an ordinary person.
‘Perhaps the first thing to worry about when consuming hotel food is not the guests, but myself. Even though I volunteered as a test subject, facing the food makes me lose confidence.’
It wasn’t a pleasant thought.
“Is it really safe to eat this?”
“Yes.”
“After consumption, there won’t be reflux symptoms or accidental damage to my internal organs, right?”
“Yes.”
“The ability to chew and swallow the food… exists, right? I know that much, at least intellectually.”
“Yes.”
The system definitely defined related ‘motions.’ More akin to a ‘potion’ restoring status than satisfying hunger for survival, but this body still followed a defined swallowing process.
Finally, Yeon-woo put a spoonful of porridge in his mouth.
‘…I can taste it.’
He had thought the taste function might be gone. Considering this body’s fragile durability, it wouldn’t be surprising if some of the senses were incomplete.
But that was a false worry. The taste was sharp, even stimulating the tip of his tongue. Defense mechanisms were messy, yet the sense of taste had been perversely refined.
“Why is… this so well done?”
A strange curiosity arose, mixed with a faint sense of satisfaction.
‘I didn’t expect the food in Hotel One to reach this level of quality.’
It felt like entering a fully immersive pop-up cafe designed by a major corporation. The image that had been only crude pixel chunks on a screen now existed in such delicate reality.
“Is this really the level of a mere one-star basic meal?”
“Yes.”
“…Have you ever eaten this yourself?”
“No.”
“Ah.”
“Ah.”
Lee Yeon-woo cut a bite-sized piece of steak and offered it to Coco.
“…….”
“No response.”
“Ah.”
“There it is.”
Coco’s expression remained a fixed Cheshire Cat-like smile. It was hard to read emotion from a face that didn’t even blink, but perhaps…
Every time he offered meat, the cat’s wide-open mouth was a clear signal.
“Always the same face, makes it hard to get any feedback.”
Lee Yeon-woo muttered in a dry tone, like compiling difficult experimental data, while cutting the remaining steak.
“Ah.”
“Please wait, guest. Preparing your order.”
“Ah.”
“The airplane is taking off~”
“Ah, ah.”
“Good.”
The dish was emptied in an instant. About ninety percent ended up in Coco’s stomach. It consumed everything, from meat to porridge.
“……?”
He began to wonder if this monster cat even had limits to its appetite.
‘…If it eats well, that’s fine.’
Concluding that, Lee Yeon-woo continued.
“You eat well, Coco.”
“Yes!”
“May I sometimes ask for your help?”
“Yes!”
“Thank you.”
“Yes!”
After personally tasting the food, he found no abnormalities. But biological safety and personal preference were separate matters. Lee Yeon-woo didn’t particularly enjoy eating.
So in conclusion, it was fortunate to have a dependable dining companion.
“Seeing that my body can handle it without issue, it’s probably not poison.”
“Yes.”
“Even an old body like mine can handle it, so it seems safe. Yet I remain uneasy, since unexamined factors remain. I don’t like putting uncertain things on a guest’s table.”
“Old body?”
“Excuse me, I’ve rejuvenated, but still… aging brings concerns. There are no food safety kits here. What should I do… still no guarantee it isn’t poison.”
“Guarantee.”
Coco lifted its head and looked Lee Yeon-woo square in the eye.
The grin was still strange, but its gaze radiated confidence. Its precise articulation without moving a muscle was uncanny.
Soon Coco declared,
“Guarantee!”
“…Ha,”
Yeon-woo adjusted his glasses and let out a low laugh.
“Who guarantees it?”
“Coco.”
“It’s overwhelming… to have a normal conversation like this…”
No logical proof, no documentation, yet a willingness to stake its name was admirable. It reminded him of a child insisting to ease an uncle’s worries.
And…
“…….”
Aside from the cuteness, this co-operator apparently rarely lied.
“…You’ll stake your ‘personal trust’ in this opaque system? A crude method in business, but okay.”
“Coco, guarantee.”
“Not bad.”
Teaching it language had been worthwhile.
“Let’s trust that baseless confidence once.”
“Yes!”
“If guests later complain of stomach pain, as co-operator, you will also handle the aftermath. Understand?”
“Guarantee!”
“Reliable, indeed.”
Yeon-woo slowly reached out, held Coco’s soft front paw, and shook it lightly.
“Please take care, Coco.”
“Yes!”
“Yes.”
The director spoke.
“This is damn good.”
The writer scolded him.
“Speak more maturely, please.”
“The flavor was so excellent it drew admiration.”
“Director.”
“The restrained depth and harmony filled my mouth the moment I took a bite.”
“Oh, come on.”
“It’s been a long time since I tasted something this exquisite. The immaculate flavor captivated my heart.”
“I was wrong.”
“Same here.”
The director grumbled.
“I said it tastes good because it does, not that it’s crude or childish…”
“This is driving me mad. Don’t slander me, I never said that.”
“But seriously, it tastes amazing.”
“Indeed. I just wanted something simple to eat, so I had no expectations.”
“Why have low expectations when coming to a hotel like this?”
“Well, I considered it yesterday. If you bring your own food, you probably also brought a personal chef, right?”
“Uh… maybe?”
“Then perhaps there is no public chef here. I thought that. The fact that this quality appears during trial operation is amazing.”
“Trial operations differ.”
Some locations only check if things function, while others prepare fully before officially receiving guests. This seemed closer to the latter.
The director looked out the window.
“It’s still raining.”
“Not as much as yesterday, right?”
“Let’s start moving soon.”
They had a purpose for coming here. A survey needed to be completed within a week.
“We need to leave before our writer freaks out.”
“Stop teasing me. I can’t work like this.”
“We’ve already spent money, can’t return it. Contracts with the actors are done, right?”
“You know your personality is awful, right?”
They packed their things quickly. Only light luggage, since it was just an exploration.
The corridor had elevators lined up. Many, but none lit. Guests hardly moved.
The director and company took a descending elevator, checking their keys.
“Got the keys?”
“Yes, director.”
“Then let’s go. The rain has softened, perfect for atmosphere.”
“We need to capture this gloomy weather in the shots.”
“Most filming will be indoors, but we must shoot before summer ends.”
“I hope the rainy season lasts longer.”
Reaching the lobby was fast.
The damp, quiet air. Staff seemed aware of their movement, and so did the director. This place held many interesting features.
“Ah.”
He saw the general manager standing near the front desk. As immaculate as yesterday, yet the morning light cast a sharp silhouette.
Perhaps because of a sound he made, the manager turned and met their gaze.
“You’ve come down.”
A smile at a comfortable warmth—neither too light nor oppressive.
He approached at a leisurely pace, hands behind his back, maintaining respectful distance while naturally leading the conversation.
…A person who knows how to capture attention.
“Did you have a comfortable time?”
“It was great. Breakfast was amazing.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I was worried about limited kitchen staff, but thanks to your generous tastes, we saved face.”
“Oh my, what a witty way of speaking.”
Seeing Director Hong Kyung-yeon frozen in conversation, Lee Sun-hae continued.
“We’ll be heading out soon… need to check around.”
“I see. Weather is bad, fog is thick, please drive safely.”
“Thank you.”
After light conversation, they stepped outside. Rain and fog blanketed the area.
“No wonder the ground’s soaked…”
A staff member looked up, visibly concerned.
“Director, I’ll drive today.”
“Not getting lost like yesterday, right?”
“Signal is fine now.”
“Good. Start the car.”
“Yes.”
The two staff got in. The car rumbled as it started. The director stayed by the hotel entrance.
“…….”
The writer glanced at her cautiously.
“Did you see that?”
“Yes.”
The director recalled the conversation with the general manager.
“He injured his hands badly.”
Blood was dripping.