The Trap (2)
"Ta-da."
The mage stepped back, lifting his staff clear of the barrier. Misty fog parted as if beckoning them onward, revealing a deep ravine that ran smooth and open all the way to the Jeokryeohui hideout.
"Fall behind and we're leaving you!"
A middle-aged man charged out first, hauling a shield the size of his own torso. Kim Minseok and the martial artist followed hard on his heels, then the mage and Choi Heeseok.
The barrier that should have screamed their intrusion stayed silent, leaving the Jeokryeohui members inside utterly defenseless. They scrambled into a belated counterattack, but it changed nothing. One after another they went down, nothing more than fuel for the advance.
Choi Heeseok had not even once swung the horn slung over his shoulder, and still the pace was blistering.
Someone ground their teeth. Looking at their faces, it might have been all of them.
The man smashing skulls with his shield up front, the one driving fists so hard his victims puked up their insides, even the swordsman whose blade had once carried a trace of mercy—every face had gone sharp as a knife.
The two running behind looked almost sorrowful, yet the thought rising in every head was the same.
They crushed every young possibility just to get their hands on power… and this is all it amounts to?
"I've got it!"
The martial artist bellowed as an iron door blocked their charge. Rage poured into the punch that followed.
KRAAANG!
The iron door forgot its purpose entirely. It tore free and flew, only to be caught midair by a pair of hands.
Those hands belonged to the very targets of the mission: Jeokryeohui executives Yoo Seo-jin and Moon Ki-seop.
Dozens of Jeokryeohui members had formed a solid wall around the two executives—a formation as dense as a fortress rampart. The moment Kim Minseok's party stepped into the wide chamber, they locked into their own formation: a wedge designed to shield the mage at its heart.
Choi Heeseok ended up naturally at the rear, the long horn already in his grip, looking for all the world like an arrow ready to fly.
"Whew. Quite the aggressive greeting."
Yoo Seo-jin ducked out from under the door Moon Ki-seop still held and stepped into the open. His casual greeting was so leisurely it felt like overacting.
"Sorry if the welcome was a little thin. Cut us some slack, though. How were we supposed to know Choi Heeseok and Kim Minseok would crawl in through a dog hole like a couple of strays?"
A thin, bitter smile stretched across Yoo Seo-jin's mouth and the faces of the Jeokryeohui members behind him.
The martial artist scratched his neck—he'd said something similar earlier—while the mage's face flushed with rising heat. Then Kim Minseok stepped forward.
"No. That's wrong."
Yoo Seo-jin's heavy-lidded gaze shifted from Choi Heeseok to him.
"Wrong? About what?"
"A dog hole is actually the hole they cut so the dog can run into the kitchen when a tiger walks into the yard."
"And? You think that pedantic little correction fits this situation?"
"Because a tiger just walked into your yard. Did you dig yourselves a dog hole?"
"Haha… well now."
Yoo Seo-jin shook his head with a face full of mock dismay, fishing for a retort that simply would not come. Kim Minseok and Choi Heeseok really were the tigers that had entered their yard. So he settled for needling them instead.
"The road here must have been easy, then? You're bragging more than usual."
"Honestly? Yes. It was dull. You did all that garbage for power this pathetic?"
"Confidence befitting Daejeon City Hall's youngest elite hunter. And an equally large delusion."
"A large delusion?"
"Every single one of the men you killed on the way in was a failure. We were already wondering how to dispose of them… and you saved us the trouble. Thanks."
Yoo Seo-jin's mouth curled into a sly little grin. The pure satisfaction on his face while his own subordinates had been slaughtered looked nothing human. Even an orc centurion would have treasured his troops more than this man.
Brows furrowed on their own. The mage, weak-stomached, felt a surge of nausea.
"Ah, and one more thing. I knew you were coming today."
"…!"
"Baekmyeon. That piece of trash who couldn't do anything except change his face—you really think he knew where the Jeokryeohui hideout was?"
Tsk tsk. So naive.
Yoo Seo-jin clicked his tongue under his breath, then began pacing back and forth, talking with growing relish.
"Of course he didn't. Not unless someone taught him. Yes—that someone was me. I lured you here."
"A trap… you mean."
"Exactly. Surprised?"
"…Yes. I am."
Kim Minseok admitted it without hesitation. But his eyes were not on Yoo Seo-jin. They were fixed on Choi Heeseok standing behind him.
Choi Heeseok's lips curved upward.
"Sunbae-nim. How do you think Choi Yeon figured it out? That this might be a trap?"
"Beats me… He keeps surprising me every time. Looks like he's cutting corners, yet somehow he always gets the job done."
"Right?"
"…?"
The conversation was so out of place that Yoo Seo-jin tilted his head. Shouldn't they be admiring him right now? Why was some guy named Choi Yeon coming up?
Kim Minseok gave a short laugh.
"What? Not the reaction you wanted?"
"It most certainly is not…"
"We already factored in the possibility that today would be a trap."
"Here? Ah… so you're under a misconception right now."
Yoo Seo-jin's voice stumbled, thick with confusion. But the content of what he said made Kim Minseok and Choi Heeseok freeze.
A misconception?
"When did I ever say you were the targets?"
"…?"
"I told you I lured you here. Daejeon City Hall's strongest forces are all in this room… which means there's no skilled hunter left to protect the orphanage."
"…!"
"Did you really think Jeokryeohui would just hand over its precious experimental subjects? Truly?"
A soft laugh slipped from Yoo Seo-jin. That inhuman smile settled on his lips once more, and at the same moment the veins of every Jeokryeohui member swelled dark crimson.
"Now then. Let's waste some time together right here!"
In front of the quietly sleeping Seonhwa Orphanage, Jeokryeohui revealed itself.
Tap. Tap…
A thick-necked middle-aged man stepped forward, leaning on a cane. Five subordinates in dark crimson stood behind him.
"Hey. You said there was a barrier."
"Yes, sir."
"Then why don't I see one?"
"…"
The subordinates had no answer. If the superior didn't know, how could the underlings?
The man who had taken orders all this time simply waited for the next command.
"What should we do?"
"What should we do? You call that a question? You think if we turn around saying, 'Weird, no barrier,' the strategist will just go, 'Oh well, stuff happens'? Huh?"
"…My apologies. I misspoke."
"Yeah. You misspoke. Now that you know, get inside."
"Yes, sir."
Leaving the answer hanging, the Jeokryeohui members moved swiftly into the orphanage. A lock sat on the door, but it was useless against them.
Their steps crushed the soft lighting settled over the living quarters as they advanced, rough and heavy. Once they crossed the corridor ahead, they would reach the dormitory where the children who had escaped the Jeokryeohui laboratories now slept.
Only peaceful presence drifted from beyond—no one was awake. Not a child, not an adult…
The instant they stepped boldly into the corridor, a metallic clack sounded. The lock they had clearly smashed restored itself and resumed its original duty.
"A barrier… huh."
One of the members muttered. It had been strange that no one was standing guard; they must have trusted the barrier.
"A barrier won't stop us, though…"
After the muttered aside, he started down the corridor again. A few more steps and he would clear it, and the children's bedrooms would come into view.
And yet…
"…?"
The corridor kept going. It was a distance he should have covered in a single bound, yet he never arrived. The phenomenon was so far outside common sense that the cause struck him almost at once.
"It's a barrier that only lets you advance if you step correctly. Everyone—"
Look straight at the corridor.
The words only circled inside his mouth. When he turned, his subordinates were gone. At some point he was alone.
"Since when…?"
Only then did he truly understand. The place he needed to escape was not the corridor in front of him. It was his own mind.
He accelerated his circulation and gathered mana into both eyes. The faster it spun, the red vessels in his neck swelled as if they would burst.
Blood dripped. But the first vessels to rupture were not in his neck—they were the capillaries in his eyes. Even through the blood-reddened vision, the corridor remained.
Meaning he had already fallen into the hallucination the moment he heard the door lock.
"Team leader? Where are you?"
"The corridor—the corridor just keeps going! Don't leave me here alone!"
"A lotus…?"
"Why is there a lotus… here…?"
The subordinates were the same. Caught in hallucinations, they could not collect themselves. Judging by the reactions, the types differed. Some wandered the endless corridor just as he had; others were staring at some lotus flower.
The team leader shook their shoulders, trying to wake them.
"Hey! Snap out of it!"
"…Team—team leader?"
"Yeah. It's me."
"The corridor… huh! Wait—"
"You're free of the hallucination. Get a grip."
"Ah? Aah…!"
The member who had been lost in the corridor wore a face of pure relief. He hadn't even realized it was a hallucination… The team leader decided re-education would be necessary when they returned. That later thought did not last long.
The ones who had been looking at the lotus flower would not wake no matter how hard he shook them. Instead they simply lost consciousness and crumpled one after another.
"…"
"…"
The remaining subordinates' eyes shifted from their collapsed comrades to the team leader.
What are your orders?
They waited for commands the way they always did.
"We keep moving."
"Will that be all right?"
"We've already broken free of the hallucination once. We won't be caught helpless like before."
"…Yes, sir. Understood."
"If that's the team leader's judgment."
Was the team leader's judgment correct?
This time they reached the end of the corridor without falling for any hallucination. Round the corner and the children's bedrooms would appear.
Paht.
The team leader shot his arm out and stopped the others cold.
"…Team leader? What's wrong?"
"It's a trap."
"What?"
"Here."
He pointed downward. At shin height for an adult man, a wire had been strung. And not just one. Once he noticed them, several wires glittered under the moonlight.
"…Looks like if you touch them, the trap triggers."
"A trap… meaning someone is guarding this place."
"Yeah. It wasn't just the barrier."
"Who could it be?"
"No idea. No special intel came down from above. That means whoever it is isn't anything special. And…"
The team leader examined the wires one by one. The ones catching the moonlight were set so clumsily you could slip past without touching them. Not the work of an expert. A real professional would have used anti-reflective wire so they would never have been spotted at all.
A subordinate scanning the corridor spoke up.
"…They're hiding their presence pretty well, though."
"Must have a related skill. No need to go looking. Our targets are the experimental subjects, nothing else."
"Yes, sir."
"Then let's hurry. We've already burned too much time."
"Ugh…"
The subordinates groaned. The executive waiting outside would absolutely tear into them for taking so long. And they had already lost people… Getting there any later simply wasn't an option.
Sss… shhk.
They advanced with painstaking care, avoiding every wire. About halfway through—
Twong…
A wire brushed a nerve-taut arm and bounced away.
"…?"
Strange. He had been so careful not to touch any of them…
Whiiirrl!
The question in his head became coils wrapping every subordinate's body. Both arms locked tight; the only movement left to them was walking.
Panicked eyes swung toward him—and understanding hit at once.
"It was all a trap…!"
The way the wires had reflected moonlight, the clumsy placement that made them look easy to slip past—everything had been camouflage to hide the anti-reflective ones.
"Correct."
"…!"
At the gentle voice the team leader's eyes flew wide. It had come from behind, not ahead. Goosebumps racing down his arms, he reached for his sword and spun—
—only to be stopped halfway. The owner of the voice had already locked his right elbow.
"Shh…"
A warning pressed cold against his throat: stay quiet. Break it and the blade would finish the cut.
"Thanks. Our kids just fell asleep."
"…"
"They've been so anxious because of you Jeokryeohui people."
"…Just one question."
"Go ahead."
"How long… have you been watching?"
"From the beginning."
It was hard to believe. Gaze, presence, footsteps—the team leader had sensed none of it. Was it even possible to erase one's existence this completely?
"Then why step in only now?"
"You said one question."
"We never felt you at all… You could have killed us whenever you wanted."
"True enough."
"So why?"
"Because you were destroying yourselves just fine. No need for me to go out of my way and do any work."
"…"
The team leader was speechless. That was why he had simply watched? Not for some other purpose—just that?
"More importantly, what are you going to do?"
"About what?"
"What do you think."
Press.
The blade against his Adam's apple cut the rest of the sentence short and demanded an answer. Naturally the team leader yielded without a fight.
One step. Two steps. He backed into the corridor still laced with invisible wires.
Whiirrl—the wires coiled around his body.
"…Thanks for ending it with a warning."
"And thank you for the wise choice."
Choi Yeon sheathed his dagger.