Ep. 5. Shopping! The Warehouse Mart! (2)

Warehouse marts sell things dirt cheap — the trade-off being that they only sell in bulk. Which is why I, a single-person household, almost never had occasion to shop at one. In truth, I'd been inside exactly one, a few years back, during a company retreat.

I normally bought whatever I needed online, but that time the manager who sat at the desk in front of mine proposed we do a proper shopping run at a warehouse mart instead — said he'd just gotten himself a membership. Tagging along that day just to look around was both the first and the last time I ever set foot in one...

"Do you remember the response manual for this Special Zone?"

Cha Si-eon's voice shattered my reverie. I did my best to answer calmly.

"I remember it."

Most of my work at the Bureau had consisted of reading rulebooks. So I remembered — distinctly — the rules of this place. And just how meaningless they were.

The most despair-inducing of all the Form 1 Special Zones. That had been my verdict after reading the Warehouse Mart's rulebook. Gwak Jae-gyeom had even chimed in from beside me, back then.

"It's a real 'death every three steps' sort of place."

"Death every three steps?"

"The warehouse mart you're reading about right now, hyung. People call it 'One Death Every Three Steps' because one person supposedly dies every three steps."

Gwak Jae-gyeom's thoughtlessly grinning face floated up before my eyes. The place I'd been dragged into was every bit that brutal — brutal enough to earn the bitterly self-mocking nickname "One Death Every Three Steps," and brutal enough that even the Bureau had slyly covered its tracks, calling them "Conduct Rules" instead of "Survival Rules."

"As you're no doubt aware, this Special Zone has invisible traps installed throughout it. Furthermore, every entity displaying hostility here is a Hazard Entity."

Cha Si-eon explained gravely.

The Bureau sorted the nonhuman entities roaming the Special Zones into two categories: Hazard Entities and Neutral Entities. Hazard Entities, like the "Moving Gun," attacked humans unconditionally. Neutral Entities, like the "Railroad Police" or "the Thing in the Vintage Military Uniform," at least didn't come at you without reason. The "Warehouse Mart," however, held nothing but Hazard Entities.

And that fact dovetailed uncomfortably with Cha Si-eon's next report.

"Exploration of this Special Zone has stalled at seventeen percent. Only the spatial layout, the trap types, and the Hazard Entity classes have been identified; no clearing strategy or escape route has been confirmed."

In a word: escape was impossible. An obvious outcome, really. Escaping the "Railway Station" had required a ticket above all else, and tickets could only be obtained through interaction with Neutral Entities. Apply the same logic here — a zone populated solely by Hazard Entities — and there was simply no way to find a way out.

Faced with that airtight dead end, I muttered bitterly.

"So am I just supposed to die here?"

"The rescue team has already departed."

Long live the Bureau!

"Escape is impossible, but destruction is not. Once the Special Zone is destroyed, anyone remaining inside is released along with it."

Long live overwhelming firepower!

"However, there is a problem to resolve before then."

Just as I threw both arms up in celebration, Cha Si-eon doused me with cold water.

"In the course ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the rescue team breaking through the 'Warehouse Mart,' you risk being caught in explosions or structural collapse. You must therefore move to a safe location before the team reaches your position."

"Where am I supposed to go?"

"The underground parking garage."

There it was: a mission.

Avoid the traps and Hazard Entities. Move to the underground parking garage.

Reward: survival.

"The Special Zone spans from the second above-ground floor down to the third basement level, with each floor covering roughly one and a half soccer fields. Your current location is the first-floor sales area; your destination is the B2 parking garage. You will descend via the moving walkways."

Two floors down by moving walkway. In a zone nicknamed "One Death Every Three Steps," even that was no small ask. Fortunately, the Bureau didn't overestimate me quite that far.

"You will move according to my directives until you reach the destination. Even a trivial mistake could prove fatal, so stay focused."

In other words, a team-leader-grade operative was graciously offering to command me personally. Can't say I blamed them — it was obvious I'd be dead within three steps if they told me to find my own way.

"We depart once your heart rate has recovered. Until then, put on your protective gear and the earpiece."

My heart rate? Ah, right — this smartwatch was Bureau property. Still, nobody said anything about it being used to peek at my biometrics...?

Absurd as that was, I did as I was told for the time being. The special vest the Bureau had issued was packed with all manner of equipment. I fished out goggles and a mask, put them on, and cinched the belt tight. Since I couldn't exactly keep the smartwatch pressed to my ear forever, I put in the earpiece as well. I was just fitting thick slash-resistant gloves onto both hands when—

KABOOM—!

A thunderous detonation rolled in from somewhere. The instant my nerves went taut, Cha Si-eon explained.

"A citizen who had just entered the Special Zone has died."

"There's someone else in here?"

"Right now there is only you, Seo Do-woon. Before that explosion, there was only you as well."

A chill crawled over me at his words. I was alone in here. I had been alone before that explosion, too. Then who was the person just killed in that blast? Someone dragged in mere moments ago, dead on arrival. In a literal instant. Maybe before they'd even taken three steps.

Without thinking, I touched the bandage wrapped around my head. Come to think of it, I was in no position to feel for anyone else. I'd taken a blow to the head the moment I arrived here, too — I was alive only because it had grazed me.

"Are you ready?"

"...Yes. I'm ready."

Luck or no luck, for now I would focus on one thing only: staying alive.

"Then get up onto the storage racks. We'll move along their tops to avoid the traps in this section."

It was anything but easy from the very first step. The warehouse mart's storage racks were bare steel frames — three tiers, roughly five meters tall all told. Nothing about them offered a foothold. But what choice ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠did I have? Fail, and I died. Stepping on the frame and the goods stacked inside it, I forced myself to clamber up.

CRUNCH—!

The moment I pulled myself up, the boxes stacked along the top of the rack crumpled and swayed. Oh god — this isn't going to give way, is it? Swallowing my dread, I flattened myself prone. My head brushed the ceiling, so standing was out of the question. I crawled forward in that precarious posture, and soon the far end of the rack came into view.

"Cut a piece off your bloodstained clothing and drop it over the side."

Using my knife, I sliced a strip from the T-shirt I wore underneath, then tossed the blood-caked scrap of fabric down toward the floor.

BAM—!

The instant the fluttering scrap touched the floor, it burst apart into raw thread — warp and weft scattering like dust.

"...Did I come to the right place?"

"You have wire. We'll cross to the opposite rack without touching the floor."

"..."

What followed was a pitiful display of flailing. Clumsily hurling the wire across. Grabbing the line and trembling like a leaf as I swung over. Scrambling awkwardly back up the moment I made it. Creeping along at a crawl, then hurling the wire again. Four repetitions of that, and my forearms felt like they'd tear clean off.

"Hnnggh...!"

Straining with everything I had, I crawled up the fourth rack — and suddenly, my view opened wide. Thankfully, that was the last of the racks. Ahead lay a section where this and that were displayed at human height. And beyond it, the moving walkway leading down into the basement. Finally.

But I'd rejoiced too soon.

"There is a Hazard Entity."

"Yes, I see it."

Something was weaving frantically between the displayed goods. It wore something like clothing and walked on two legs, but it was no human. An enormous barcode scanner where its head should have been. A body that looked like a rough sketch of a person done from memory. A "Merchandising Clerk."

"As you already know, 'Employee'-type Hazard Entities with barcode scanner heads attack without exception upon spotting a human."

I nodded mutely at Cha Si-eon's warning. Of course I knew. That "Employee" was one of the vicious pillars propping up the whole "One Death Every Three Steps" routine.

"The 'Merchandising Clerk' patrols its assigned section, tidying up disheveled merchandise. This Hazard Entity perceives its surroundings through visual information alone."

As Cha Si-eon spoke, the smartwatch blinked. A floor plan of the display-shelf section floated on its screen, and then a red line began to move across it, tracing its route like a hand working through a maze.

"That is the 'Merchandising Clerk's' movement path. You must cross the display section without entering its line of sight."

The clerk's path was erratic, like an anxious scrawl of graffiti. And far too fast.

"I will handle the judgments; you need only move as directed. Speed: maximum. Directions: forward, back, left, right."

At Cha Si-eon's instruction, I let out the breath I'd been holding. Whew—

For starters, while the clerk's back was turned, I climbed down from the rack and pressed myself flat against the nearest display shelf. A moment later, Cha Si-eon enunciated, crisp and decisive:

"Forward."

I kicked off the floor and ran.

"Forward, left, right."

I executed the subsequent directives to the letter. And as I moved without a hitch, the directives came faster still.

"Forward, right, forward, stop. Back, forward, forward."

I kept moving like a game character steered by a D-pad. Yet I could barely advance at all. Thanks to the clerk's maddening movements and blistering pace, I kept ping-ponging around the same stretch of floor.

"Back, left, forward, forward, right, right, hold speed!"

Cha Si-eon barked. My breath was starting to run short. It would've been one thing if I could just sprint in a straight line, but all this constant turning, stopping, and starting again was draining my stamina fast.

"Back!"

Cha Si-eon demanded a retreat, and I kicked off the floor once more. But I could sense it in my gut: I was a beat too late. The straight aisle I still had to clear stretched several steps ahead — and the clerk's shadow was already spilling into it, into the very lane where I stood. Just as it seemed we were about to come face-to-face, Cha Si-eon shouted:

"Shove the shelf!"

I threw my whole body into the display shelf. The large TV perched on top wobbled once, then crashed over to the opposite side with a tremendous racket.

CRASH—!

The sound of an expensive appliance shattering. BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP—! An alarm blaring in sudden, urgent machine-speak. The next instant, the shadow that had been closing in on me was simply gone.

"Forward!"

At Cha Si-eon's shout, I ran for my life.

"Unwrap the bandage and throw it!"

I ripped the bandage off my head and hurled it away without a second thought. The moment the blood-soaked bandage floated up over my head—

FWOOSH—!

What — what the hell!?

The bandage I'd thrown went up in flames. Horrified by the scattering ash, I kept running ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠anyway. I vaulted clean over the railing up ahead, and there to meet me was the moving walkway descending to the floor below.