Chapter 17
“It keeps raining on this mountain.”
“It really does.”
The director in the passenger seat looked out the window.
“They call it monsoon season, but this is a bit much.”
They had not forgotten why they came here. Securing a filming location.
Still, they wrapped things up earlier than usual today. The road was rough enough to stretch the travel time as it was. If they wanted to make the 7 p.m. time they had mentioned, it was better to head back early.
“Even so, we won’t make it exactly at seven, right?”
“The navigation says 7:20 arrival.”
“That’s reasonable.”
The two staff members with worried faces came to mind.
“The kids are going through all this trouble just following us.”
“I feel like I haven’t heard you say something like that in a long time.”
“Right? I thought once we quit documentaries, we’d never have to deal with this kind of thing again.”
Even so, the main topic surfaced in the end.
“The seventh floor. What do you think it is?”
“Sorry, but I’m already tired just hearing that.”
Searching for villas hidden all over the mountain was no easy task. And having to stay on edge even at the accommodation. The actors too. This summer was clearly cursed.
“…At the very least, there’s definitely a dangerous guest on the seventh floor.”
“Right. We concluded that the ‘guest who likes rain’ seems to be staying on the seventh floor.”
“They said it’s still in trial operation, so there probably aren’t many guests in general. I’m not sure whether that specific guest called him. He did say that ‘maybe because it’s raining, there are a lot of guests on the seventh floor.’”
“Come to think of it, I don’t think he ever directly told us not to go because it’s dangerous.”
“That’s what’s funny. The situation made us think that way on its own. He might have said that on purpose so we wouldn’t go up.”
“You mean the part about there being many people on the seventh floor? Could be.”
The general manager, Lee Yeon-woo, was skilled at handling people. Even when it wasn’t the right situation for it, talking to him felt comfortable. That was probably his social finesse.
“Seventh floor… the seventh floor….”
And then, the summons.
“What do you think that summons means?”
“It’s a bit strange that the general manager himself moved instead of a regular staff member. In other words, it suggests a situation only he could handle.”
“There could have been an incident that big. Or maybe someone specifically called for the general manager.”
“Isn’t either situation strange?”
Whether it was an incident that required the general manager, or a mere guest calling for him, both were odd. He was also the owner, after all.
“I keep thinking this, but for the owner of a hotel, he doesn’t seem to receive treatment befitting that title. He appears to have a lot of authority, but somehow….”
“Lee Yeon-woo?”
“Yes. Usually, you don’t summon an owner like that.”
“I’m more curious how someone treated like that could be the owner in the first place. Running the hotel alone would already be more than enough, yet he’s also serving as general manager.”
“With a hotel of that scale, it’s common to handle just one role.”
“Or maybe he’s not actually the sole owner?”
“Should I go review the dictionary definition of owner?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
The director waved a finger.
“Being an owner doesn’t necessarily mean there’s only one.”
“…A co-owner?”
“Exactly. He did say from the beginning that he was merely entrusted with operating the hotel.”
“In that case, the capital provider and the operator would be separate. The actual building and assets might belong to someone else, and Lee Yeon-woo could simply hold the operating rights.”
“That’s common enough. And in that case, the asset owner usually holds more power.”
The director nodded slowly.
“That paints a rough picture.”
“There are cases where the building owner and the operator have nearly equal power, though.”
“Does this situation look like that to you?”
“Ah….”
The writer fell silent.
“Can’t we just scoop Lee Yeon-woo up and run away?”
“And the other staff? You’re going to kidnap them all too? That would only make things worse.”
“I know. I just said it because this whole thing gives me chills.”
At best, he looked like a college student.
“I have no idea what they’re doing, dragging a kid like that into this. That summons… he wasn’t subjected to anything strange, was he? If there’s a real owner somewhere else, then he’s basically just another kind of employee….”
“That’s why we wrapped up early and came back.”
Because they were anxious.
“The word ‘summons’ sounded way too indecent.”
The red-stained cotton gloves still lingered in their memory.
Since that moment, Director Lee Seon-hae had completely given up any expectations for the hotel. She had seen too much. The world ran in absurdly cruel ways.
If someone could imagine a certain kind of cruelty, it was safe to assume it was being carried out somewhere. That was how indifferent the structure of the world was.
“I just hope it was nothing serious. If it were a simple summons, a regular staff member would’ve gone, not the general manager. Like the staff who came during breakfast.”
“Exactly. Room service is handled by regular staff. What else would require the general manager himself? Honestly, the guests at this hotel don’t seem normal, which makes it worse.”
Even during trial operation, they had chances to see other guests. One stared into empty air. One cried. One simply stared at them.
“They weren’t in their right minds….”
At the drained tone, the director glanced at him.
“Doesn’t it feel like a mental hospital?”
“At least hospitals try to treat people. This place just feels like they’ve shoved unstable people in and left them.”
“I always knew a place like this would show up one day.”
“Why?”
“Among wealthy people, there’s no one who doesn’t care about appearances. And in those families, dangerous individuals are bound to appear. Not just people who are a little off mentally. Truly dangerous ones.”
Some people were born lacking something. It might be reason, or emotion. If they were merely slow-witted, simple care would suffice.
But there were those with intact intelligence and peculiar sensitivity. Those with weak reason and high aggression. They existed everywhere in society.
“This is such a sensitive topic.”
One could not blame them outright. Nor should one.
Yet the hotel’s guests grew increasingly unsettling. It didn’t seem like they were staying there for ordinary reasons.
“Isn’t that exactly why it’s a hotel?”
“What do you mean?”
“You can manage the guests, but there’s no complicated procedure for going in or out.”
“…And it’s located in a remote area with no one around. Perfect in every way for saving face.”
They were exhausted.
They thought a great deal on the way back. What had that summons been? Had something serious happened? If so, how should they respond? Should they pretend not to notice again?
“Oh, you’re here again. Yeon-woo!”
“Please don’t raise your voice so much in the lobby.”
“Was I too loud? Sorry about—”
“….”
“…Huh?”
That was when they were taken aback.
“…Lee Yeon-woo!”
The hotel lobby during trial operation.
Hardly any guests. The wide space was quiet. Even the staff seemed to be holding their breath. Raising one’s voice here should have been impossible to miss.
“General Manager?”
“….”
“…Uh….”
The writer’s silence betrayed his confusion, and the director felt the same.
It was bewildering.
“He definitely saw us, didn’t he?”
“Rather than saw… we were within his field of vision.”
“Then why no reaction?”
“I don’t think he can even hear us.”
“That’s strange.”
Lee Yeon-woo stood at the counter as usual. He glanced at the lobby clock, then at the monitor. He was not absent-minded. He was clearly working.
Yet he did not perceive them.
“….”
“Yeon-woo.”
The director approached him at a steady pace.
“Yeon-woo, can you hear me?”
She passed the main entrance.
“We just got back.”
She passed a pillar.
“It’s raining outside.”
She walked beneath the chandelier.
“We were supposed to talk at seven, right? Sorry we’re a little late.”
“….”
“Ah, was it not a promise? That’s embarrassing. You must be tired. Is this still a good time?”
“….”
“…Yeon-woo.”
Past him,
past him,
past him.
Only when she stood close enough to reach out and touch him—
“Um, Yeon-woo?”
“….”
At last, his gaze met theirs.
“…Ah, you’ve arrived.”
For a fleeting moment, a dry expression. Then a smile.
“We’ve been calling you since the entrance.”
“….”
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“No.”
The denial came immediately, as if rehearsed.
But silence followed.
“….”
“….”
His lips pressed shut, as if unsure what to say. Or perhaps knowing full well, yet unable to speak. His eyes trembled faintly with confusion and heavier self-reproach.
Then words, as if forced out.
“I am truly fine.”
“….”
“Truly.”
Unfortunately for someone who had tried so hard, it did not sound fine at all.
“….”
What a mad hotel.
The writer’s mind raced.
Inattentional blindness. Selective inattention.
Failure of perception based on attention.
In simple terms, focusing so intensely on one thing that other stimuli go unnoticed. There were many possible causes.
Recalling related material, writer Hong Gyeong-yeon followed behind the general manager.
“Please, this way….”
He led them to the first-floor lounge.
“I regret that I cannot prepare a more distinguished setting. As I mentioned before, our hotel is still in trial operation, so the facilities available are extremely limited. I seem to have committed another discourtesy.”
At the sound of a bell, staff brought tea.
“It seemed to me that the writer enjoys delicate floral teas, so I have prepared peony tea for today.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve had peony tea.”
“Despite its meaning of shyness, the fragrance is rather bold and deep. I hope my humble selection suits your taste.”
Thin white porcelain. A translucent cup. Inside, golden liquid glowed softly. Less sweet than rose, calmer in scent, it eased the body and mind.
The manager took his seat after a staff member placed the chair for him.
“Being in the mountains during monsoon season makes the air rather cold, even in midsummer. Like before, I prepared a warm tea. I hope it suits your preference.”
“Oh, it’s wonderful.”
The director smiled casually.
“I’ve never even had peony tea before.”
“Peony is as charming medicinally as it is visually. Especially in weather like this, it can help care for one’s health.”
“Oh really?”
“It is said to improve blood circulation, ease muscle cramps, and provide anti-inflammatory and calming effects. It may sound like typical promotional phrasing, but some even say it benefits the skin.”
With a faint smile, he added,
“Though I imagine the director has little need for that.”
The director glanced at the writer.
“Drink up. Your skin’s been rough lately.”
“We’re rusting together, you know.”
“Our writer’s skin is just… hmm? These days, hmm?”
“Oh, seriously.”
A subtle herbal scent lingered.
“It smells a bit medicinal.”
“Yes. The root was used as well. Normally, peony root requires caution depending on one’s constitution or medication….”
He gazed at his own teacup and smiled faintly.
“This blend has been adjusted for balance so that you may enjoy it comfortably. It is not strong enough to be considered true medicinal tea, but it should be safe enough to gently soothe a body worn by a demanding schedule.”
The writer sipped.
“….”
A mild sweetness and slight earthiness. Different from rose. A faint bitterness as promised, yet clean.
This was no mass-produced product. At the very least, handcrafted. It made it clear again that this was a space for the upper class.
Yet why would the owner of such a place—
“Did you like the tea?”
“…Yes. It’s excellent.”
“I am relieved that my choice has not inconvenienced such esteemed guests.”
He remembered earlier.
That had not been simple inattention.
“About earlier in the lobby, I must apologize.”
“Ah, yes?”
“You seemed concerned, so I dared to address it first.”
“Sorry, I guess it showed.”
“On the contrary. Receiving such pure concern was, as a person rather than a manager, rather pleasing. But should guests feel uneasy in a place meant for rest?”
He smiled that familiar smile.
“There was urgent work that required my focus. I failed to perceive your calls.”
He adjusted his glasses.
“A clear lapse on my part. I apologize again.”
If only it were that simple.
“Let’s be honest,” the director said.
“You didn’t seem to realize how loud we were at the entrance. You don’t look like you intend to tell us what’s going on, but at this point, even strangers would worry.”
“…I must have shown an embarrassing side.”
“You couldn’t see with your eyes. Couldn’t hear with your ears.”
“So it seems.”
“Something must have happened upstairs on the seventh floor.”
A direct hit.
“The summons. You went up to the seventh floor. For someone who could just stay in the lobby with dignity, why walk toward a single guest?”
“….”
“Worried we’ll cause trouble?”
“Yes.”
As expected.
“Then tell us.”
He still worried about them.
“There was nothing serious.”
A light smile formed.
“I merely indulged a guest who enjoys water for a short while. My shirt became somewhat wet, but that is easily remedied.”
Water-loving guest.
“You’re admitting the hotel is dangerous.”
“As its manager, that is regrettable. But perhaps if I admit at least that much, you will exercise more caution.”
Enough.
“Let’s postpone today’s talk, then.”
“…Very well.”
“Is there someone who wouldn’t like us talking longer?”
“….”
A brief silence.
His gaze flicked past them for a moment.
“…Of course not.”
“You always pause at such perfect moments.”
“I find it quite disconcerting myself.”
“You look tired.”
“That is true.”
Finally, an honest answer.
“It must be the cold.”
It did not feel that cold.
“Perhaps I was too hasty. I wished to offer you proper hospitality. May we postpone this precious time until next?”
A difficult world.
“Let’s do that.”
And a disordered one.
That meddlesome streak of hers.
She thought she had fixed it.
People did not change so easily.