Chapter 40
“Was it a traditional dokkaebi, really?”
“It seems so to me.”
“But Korean dokkaebi had gone extinct…”
“There’s no rule that they can’t be born anew.”
……
A brief silence. Baek Mu-jin gazed at the starry night sky and muttered.
“Some crazy fool must be wondering who made a dokkaebi in modern times, isn’t that right?”
“You misunderstand.”
“Talking with you makes me misunderstand so many things.”
“It’s just your imagination.”
“That too is true.”
There was no rain, yet on the rooftop garden, the sound of raindrops still lingered. Faint, brushing past as if clinging to the ears. The 25th-floor rooftop was so serene that even a summer shower seemed unwelcome.
“I don’t know how this dokkaebi was created.”
“Could someone have artificially made it?”
“That is something I cannot know.”
Dokkaebi are created for various reasons.
“Perhaps it was from being observed, for a very long time, through intertwined relationships.”
From old objects or tools. Or from plants, especially natural things like trees, where spirits dwell. Condensation of yin energy, or from abandoned items.
But that one…
……
…It’s too early to speak of it.
“It’s far too long ago to reconstruct unseen times, isn’t it?”
“That’s right.”
“Who would have imagined that a young dokkaebi could be born in this day and age?”
“The chairman said so.”
“He merely didn’t rule out the possibility. The young man in Seon-hae’s story is exceptionally kind and honest. That is not something a maze with self-awareness would usually show.”
“That’s true.”
“To think a dokkaebi now—it’s surprising.”
Whether the target is an object or a living being, in the modern era, no one gives that much heart. Such spirit and energy rarely gather.
“Traditional dokkaebi are practically endangered species.”
……
“And you think this old man is spouting nonsense again?”
“You misunderstand.”
“Within ten minutes, I’ve already misunderstood twice.”
“Yes.”
“Impudent.”
“But as endangered species, no dokkaebi would like that label.”
“There are only two of them anyway.”
“But in Asia, especially…”
“I do not consider foreign minor spirits as dokkaebi.”
“If foreign minor spirits heard that, they’d be furious.”
“Then they are indeed minor spirits.”
Korean dokkaebi value promises and loyalty. They are innocent, playful, and fond of humans enough to live among them. They enjoy alcohol, pigs, and buckwheat, and live within honest rules.
Though not as naïve as in old folktales, they are still spirits.
“Dokkaebi are different from overseas ghosts suffering from anger management issues.”
……
“What a foolish species.”
“You seem fond of them.”
“Rare and special things deserve their value.”
“What was rare, and what was special?”
“Well…”
If I had to choose something easy to say,
“They treated me as human.”
“You were human?”
“I don’t know.”
“Surely not…”
Baek Mu-jin’s cherished child asked.
“Were you human?”
It was the same question as before, but the meaning differed.
“Seon-hae said the young appearance was about twenty years old. If you think someone that age became a dokkaebi, it’s… In the first place, humans becoming dokkaebi…”
“It seemed exceptionally deep and clear, the way a gentle person’s soul would be.”
Baek Mu-jin clicked his tongue.
“When you grow old, you say all sorts of things.”
“That’s…”
“I say this, but it’s not a certain story. The years spent within this hotel are too many to count. My eyes hurt, so I closed them.”
“So it was imprisoned?”
“It was confined.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
“I think it was the first owner of this maze, but I am not sure.”
There was so much to see, touch, and feel. Layers of screams and wails made ears ache, and the flesh of life and death trembling on every wall made eyes dizzy.
“Seon-hae said that he appeared to be the only human here.”
Indeed.
“Understandable.”
Amid this chaos, he alone preserved his humanity.
“Apparently he was offered up, and yet a dokkaebi. Quite amusing.”
……
“This maze wasn’t simply created by slaughter. One must study deeply and apply care to make it this chaotic.”
If someone accomplished this, there was a likely place in mind. Yet since the background was mostly not Korea, certainty was impossible. Baek Mu-jin sorted his thoughts.
‘One as two.’
Whether maze or individual, it is never a common result.
“If possible, I hope it remains well preserved.”
“Yes.”
“Do you find it tiresome?”
“You misunderstand.”
“I hope today’s misunderstandings end within five.”
“I will remember.”
Baek Mu-jin’s children generally avoided him, or sought to devour him.
“Is this a Korean maze?”
“That is also uncertain. All actors appear East Asian, but that can be arbitrarily changed. The noteworthy part is why they did it.”
“The co-owner, I guess.”
“Appearing as Korean in appearance and attitude, the essence must be Korean. Have you found a youth named Lee Yeon-woo in the records?”
“No.”
Such an unfortunate answer.
“Nowhere?”
“No records.”
“Was it not a human, or a human-like dokkaebi? If Lee Yeon-woo never existed, and it’s newly born, then…”
“Then a human spirit cannot dwell there. A dokkaebi less than a hundred years old would hardly possess such humanity. If a young dokkaebi had developed mature social skills, there’s no excuse.”
“But if no records exist for such a youth…”
“They were erased.”
Baek Mu-jin was amazed at that.
“Isn’t it astonishing? That much effort was made because it was that valuable. One human, Lee Yeon-woo, was so valuable that the world was erased meticulously.”
……
“What do you think?”
“You misunderstand.”
“Yes.”
“Now only one remains. Better not to overuse it.”
“I will restrain myself.”
“Good.”
Baek Mu-jin turned his gaze to the rooftop garden.
Unnamed flowers and trees formed delicate harmony. The lighting enhanced the charm of the night garden, and though it was not dark, the stars were piercingly clear.
A narrow water channel ran along the garden path. Small minnows swam within.
‘Alive, yet withered as if dead.’
So this, too, must be a maze.
The flowers bloomed from bones, whispering, a peace so intense it was almost cruel.
“It’s broken.”
“The young dokkaebi?”
“It absorbed all the chaos of this maze.”
What he had thought or how he acted was unknown.
“Thus, this maze, this hotel, is peaceful. It swallowed all those screams and pains alone, allowing this cleanliness and gentleness.”
This was a paradise where the young dokkaebi was crushed into existence.
“All kinds of ghosts visit here. Many foreign minor spirits too. He is refined enough to tame them, yet fragile. A single sneeze would kill him.”
“A sneeze… you jest?”
“I am not talented in that way.”
……
“Are you cursing?”
“No.”
“Child, you are very compassionate.”
He spoke sparingly, his voice mournful, moved by the tragedy of a young man he had never met. Baek Mu-jin lacked such things.
Universal human responsibility, emotion, or anguish.
“Do not be like that.”
Or you too will break.
Baek Mu-jin always feared that what he cherished would collapse, swept away by insignificant emotions.
It was affection toward what he could not empathize with.
“To summarize, the young dokkaebi was once perhaps a young artist, captured by a maze built systematically with blood and pain.”
“An artist, even?”
“The material was so precious that it needed to be erased from the world. Difficult to imagine such a material not being an artist.”
“All artists I know were like the chairman.”
“Do you mean their temperament was bad? That kind, diligent youth couldn’t possibly be the archetype of a ruined artist? Is that what you mean?”
……
“Misunderstand again.”
“You scoundrel.”
But he understood. Artists he knew were proud, self-centered, and arrogant. Obsessed with their own, they were ‘artists’.
‘So from the young dokkaebi’s perspective, he could hardly see that person as an artist.’
Some artists help people, but they are often a closed class, difficult for a novice to understand.
“How can I explain this for the child to understand?” Baek Mu-jin spoke in a flat tone.
“…He displayed talent.”
“What kind…”
“His skill with people was remarkable.”
Those eyes seemed to pierce through Baek Mu-jin, ears absorbing all sound. Nose, mouth, skin, and unknown senses analyzed him, in an instant.
‘Too skilled with humans for a newborn dokkaebi.’
Baek Mu-jin saw similarities with himself but fundamentally different.
‘And that bell.’
The golden bell, used to call and command employees.
“…Dokkaebi always have their toys.”
Whenever the bell rang, attention was forcibly drawn. Commands were sometimes issued.
Why such a bell? Baek Mu-jin thought it was a fragment of the general manager’s artistic talent when human, intruding into others’ worlds, speaking as he pleased.
“….”
That inhumanity—should it also be considered someone’s humanity? Baek Mu-jin could not tell.
“…You wouldn’t understand because you never became an artist.”
“Then what did you see, chairman?”
“The young dokkaebi, well…”
Baek Mu-jin paused. Perhaps once a talented student, now dead and a ghost, horribly broken. Yet, he gripped the leash of this deep maze for the sake of humanity alone.
“A monster, I suppose.”
……
A brief silence. His son answered in a low voice.
“Your assessment is harsh.”
“It was high praise.”
“It did not sound so to me.”
“I understand.”
Yet Baek Mu-jin remembered. When he tried to peer into the general manager’s mind, his vision was repeatedly blocked, ears failing.
‘Something is preventing me from detecting it.’
A dokkaebi not even a century old, confined to this hotel, ignorant of the world, could resist Baek Mu-jin’s skill. Yet he seemed unaware of his own actions.
‘What a colossal sprout.’
Though actually, it was merely the game system’s presence detection, Baek Mu-jin judged it as such.
“Do not pity or judge recklessly. He became a dokkaebi in the maze’s gaze, constantly suffering and dying in this hellish disaster.”
……
“Yet he saved people, lived humanly, and continues to show goodwill.”
Still, it was incomprehensible.
“To me, that seems like he ultimately protected ‘me’.”
What did he mean by ‘me’? Baek Mu-jin had wanted to ask but knew he would not receive an answer.
“If he were easy to pity or judge, could he have acted as he did?”
“You even tell me to kill my human feelings.”
“…Impudent and foolish son…”
Baek Mu-jin lamented. How could one be so dull?
“What arrogance makes a livestock in a pen, not a knife or money-holder, worthy of pity?”
A maze violent enough to require death-row sacrifices. Yet the young dokkaebi turned it into paradise. This was merely the work of his youth.
“You need not worry about being devoured by that existence in one gulp.”
Baek Mu-jin knew. Knowing its essence, the dokkaebi would never weaken.
“A dokkaebi proud of humanity, fortunately that seems impossible.”
“I don’t know.”
What does humanity pride matter to this frail child? What safety could it provide?
He had not intended to speak further, yet annoyance caused him to mutter.
“Seems involved with blood magic.”
The dangerous word elicited a strong reaction.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“No, that’s…”
Expected reaction. Baek Mu-jin heard his son’s groan-like voice.
“Then, surely you haven’t become a cannibal…”
“My jest went too far, don’t worry. There was no such sign.”
“Then is it a distorted thirst for blood?”
“No.”
“Impossible for a child dokkaebi. The instinct cannot be overcome…”
“There may be desire, yet it can be restrained.”
“But…”
“Do you understand why it’s dangerous?”
Baek Mu-jin knew what kind of being he was. That was his judgment.
……
……
It wasn’t absence, but restraint despite presence.
“Does this make sense?”
“Still, knowing he’s 19, I only feel pity.”
“To think of a monster with pity—that’s remarkable,” Baek Mu-jin said.
At the same moment.
“….”
Lee Yeon-woo, in the operator’s residence.
“…?”
He listened to the rooftop garden and experienced an identity crisis.
“W-what does this mean?”
“Hello?”
“I cannot greet you.”
Am I a dokkaebi?
‘I’m human?’
A pitiful, young dokkaebi?
‘A grown adult?’
Really?
‘Me?’
Why…?
Must I do this?