Chapter 26
“…They went to Seoul….”
Someone trapped on the 23rd floor of this hotel, and they’re in Seoul? That made no sense.
“Your doing?”
“No, not mine.”
“Perhaps this is even better.”
The hotel’s core resource, the “nightmare,” was precisely that—nightmares. It encompassed all negative residues: memories, emotions, situations, everything left behind by the guests’ experiences here.
In other words, paying with a “nightmare” caused the guest to forget that particular nightmare, just as paying money removes that amount from a bank account.
This was a setting explicitly stated within the game.
‘Of course, I expected them to forget, but I didn’t think the hole in their memory would be filled so conveniently.’
It was a bit surprising. Not all of Hong Gyeong-yeon’s time here had been a nightmare. He only forgot the part where Director Lee Sun-hae had gone missing.
“…….”
He looked down at the cogwheel in his palm.
The surface rippled like water scales,
‘…the sea…’
Or perhaps the texture of a lake.
“…If I study this well, maybe I can gather as much ‘nightmare’ as I want.”
“Yes!”
“I see.”
Not everything could be left to the hotel’s judgment. That would be far too risky. If the system ever deemed a person’s entire life a “nightmare,” it would utterly destroy a human being.
‘But that’s for later. Right now, there’s a more urgent matter.’
As they say, it’s not over until it’s over.
“You really know how to tire me out.”
“Tiring?”
“Yes, you mischievous cat.”
“No!”
“Anyone can say ‘no.’”
“Yes!”
“My goodness, so honest.”
He pocketed the cogwheel. At this stage of the tutorial, it was a high-purity nightmare with no immediate use.
“…….”
Lee Yeon-woo stood before the elevator.
The high-performance elevator doors opened immediately. He pressed the button for the 23rd floor.
“…….”
Nothing happened.
“…….”
Still nothing.
“…….”
“…….”
Again, no response.
“Sigh…”
He had tried to beat the odds, but it was useless.
“Must be crazy.”
The tutorial wasn’t completed.
“Still, not entirely a meaningless attempt.”
So there was some hope.
“This game has a lot of bugs, especially in the early tutorial stages. With events coinciding, it may be possible to exploit a bug to resolve the situation on the 23rd floor.”
“No….”
“I will not hear that opinion. The point is, with luck, the bug could be useful on the 23rd floor—assuming one arrives there on time….”
“No.”
“Your luck seems quite poor today. Failing an over 80% chance… cursed by a water spirit, perhaps. The future looks bleak.”
“Yes.”
“Mischievous cat.”
“No.”
At this point, he wished it would simply give up.
It did not accept the death of the ‘human guest.’
“There’s still a way.”
“…….”
“Let’s try being stubborn one more time.”
“No….”
Coco curled up on Lee Yeon-woo’s shoulder.
Why do I revive?
A scholar would naturally question this.
‘Because the absolute rule that death is equal for everyone has been broken.’
Simply because it’s a game? Or because this world is half-real?
Such vague hypotheses were unnecessary. The exact mechanism producing this phenomenon was what mattered. Lee Yeon-woo had long conducted persistent experiments to uncover its foundation.
The goal was singular: secure the “Emergency Restoration Protocol.” To analyze the resurrection system precisely and seize the core circuits. In other words, he wanted control over the system’s restoration, not blind dependence.
‘Why do I come back to life?’
The answer was simple: it was designed that way.
When certain conditions are met, the logic triggers. This resurrection is not the result of survival instinct but of a finely crafted algorithm. Lee Yeon-woo sought to decode its operation.
“Ha.”
He grasped the fire escape door handle—motionless, as expected.
“So cruel.”
“Yes.”
“As expected, using the stairs is impossible.”
“Yes.”
Coco looked delighted. A trivial psychological game.
Lee Yeon-woo already knew the answer. These seemingly meaningless trials were merely validation steps to turn hypothesis into certainty.
He continued the thought.
‘Who decides that I must live?’
It was neither his brain nor his heart. It was in the blood. His blood contained the accumulated emotions, memories, form, and purpose of ‘Lee Yeon-woo.’
‘Who defines my death?’
Death was not defined by external observation. It was a specific state judged internally within the blood. Its meaning was clear:
Even if the heart stops and brainwaves cease, the moment the blood judges it has not ended, survival continues. As long as blood remains, Lee Yeon-woo cannot die.
‘Whose command triggers restoration, and by what mechanism?’
It was an order embedded in the blood and the hotel—or some unknown force. Whether a mark placed by the system designer or a function born from the game’s environment, it was unknown.
But once analysis was complete, the path for a researcher was clear.
Use it.
Apply it.
“…….”
Lee Yeon-woo boarded the elevator again, gripping a chair he had brought from the lobby.
His gaze swept the ceiling and froze on a single spot.
“…As expected.”
Thanks to a realistic design, he spotted a maintenance hatch. Without hesitation, he forced it open.
A dark passage revealed itself—or rather, almost invisible. Only the faint light from the small elevator hole illuminated the long, high corridor.
“No. No. No….”
“…….”
“No!”
He reached out, tested a step. The white gloves were long removed; the uncomfortable suit jacket was discarded. Only one thing mattered now:
Could he reach this place?
‘Tutorial stages restrict use of stairs and elevator.’
If this world was a game, movement was confined to system-defined space. Now he had to exploit a blind spot—an area not anticipated by the system, like the corridor above the ceiling.
The problem was physical.
“…One false move and I could die….”
Had his body been fully intact, he could have clung on, but current physical condition made it perilous. Without risk, he might have tested the resurrection mechanism recklessly.
Before he could think further:
“……!”
―Bang!!!
“―Ugh…!!!”
“No.”
“…Huh….”
Ah.
‘Ah, seriously.’
Pain.
‘This will kill someone.’
Spine screamed. Skull pounded, every joint twisted; even breathing was exhausting. He had tried to hang on with pathetic grip strength and had fallen.
‘I didn’t expect falling backward a bit could ruin me this badly… my state is a mess.’
Where could this water-soaked, torn body go?
“No.”
“…Huh….”
“No.”
“Let’s try coming out a bit.”
“Yes.”
“Listen well.”
Assessing his body, ligaments were swollen. Not an “official injury” defined by the game, so the pain was raw.
Synapses burned sharply. His brain felt shredded.
“Ridiculous.”
But he wouldn’t die.
‘Because this isn’t death as defined by the game.’
As long as Lee Yeon-woo existed as ‘general manager,’ he could not die even in this wrecked state. The hypothesis derived from sleepless dawns remained true.
“Ha, ha ha…!”
Truly insane.
‘This works, that doesn’t!’
The hotel’s boundary between reality and game was selfish and narrow. Surely it wanted to bind Lee Yeon-woo as general manager!
“Yes, this won’t work either.”
“Yes. Yes. Yes.”
“But that doesn’t mean I have no way.”
“No. Way, no….”
Coco’s protests were ignored.
He could not allow a human guest to die under his management. Especially one with whom he had exchanged a polite business card—he could not let them perish.
“Truthfully, I didn’t want to resort to this, but… I have no choice.”
Regrettably, a ‘stubborn measure’ remained.
“To the accommodation.”
Truly, the most foolish, most stubborn method.
There was something called botulinum toxin—Botox in common terms.
“Familiar term, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Originally for facial muscle spasm treatment. But a side effect was found: wrinkle reduction. Now widely used for cosmetic purposes.”
“No, no, no….”
“Ever heard of minoxidil? Rogaine? Originally for hypertension, but a side effect caused hair growth, leading to a hair loss treatment.”
“No, no, no. Side effect. No.”
“What makes me different from this? Blood magic is no different.”
His countless resurrections were not miracles but reproducible restoration algorithms.
“This is, after all, science.”
He had experimented extensively.
Incised the left forearm, examined the median nerve, observed blood reactions. Pierced the right thigh, analyzed coagulation tendencies.
Incised lower ribs, stimulated liver capsule. Separated and rejoined finger joints. Approached nerve injury threshold. 280 mL blood loss. No restoration. No response. Induced intra-abdominal bleeding, recorded defensive blood response.
Restored skeletal tissue did not match normal joint structure. Painkillers and anesthetics restricted. Consciousness maintained to observe sensory and autonomous blood responses.
Pulse, blood pressure, and pain response recorded during bleeding—successful, but no meaningful result. 81 additional deep experiments conducted. Still nothing.
Failure was due to not contacting all structures of the blood. Error born of ignorance. Misfire. Failure.
“No wonder the hotel has books on blood magic.”
This body and the hotel were deeply linked. Through this, he was made. At least related. Or interpretable through it. Lee Yeon-woo was human, data, and a mass of blood.
The basic mechanism was simple: detect conditions. Call resources. Recall shape memory. Attempt connection with self and will. Reconstruct the body….
“But hard to utilize. I am a marked subject, not the one who inscribed it. A clueless state. Of course, I cannot leverage it.”
“No….”
“If you wanted to stop me, you should have acted before it came to this. I am doing what must be done, insisting on my way for what I must take responsibility for.”
And added:
“May you, Coco, at least become a mature soul to that extent.”
Blood carries five: life, memory, emotion, will, and soul. Closer to the soul is deeper knowledge. He had only grasped it partially, not fully understood.
‘If only there had been more time.’
With 14 months, analyzing to the soul’s depth would have been feasible.
‘But there is no time now.’
Here and now, it had to be done.
With bloodshot eyes, Lee Yeon-woo swept the bruised area from the elevator fall. Blood clung to his palm with a brief touch.
‘At this point, no further experimental material is needed.’
Blood magic could manifest nearly any phenomenon if blood was present. In this situation, even so, Lee Yeon-woo thought this:
―Truly excellent cost-effectiveness.
“No.”
“Good.”
He laughed. Ridiculous. Yet enjoyable.
He was forcibly reaching for knowledge.
“Let’s see….”
His bloodied fingers slowly traced the magic circle he remembered.
“…Let’s ruin this, the forbidden ritual.”
There was a sacrifice here, wasn’t there?
Right?