Abandon All Hope (2)

Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate.

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

“Creepy, honestly. What kind of writing is that supposed to be?”

The middle-aged man waved his hand in disgust, as if something foul had touched him.

“Wh-what?! Where are you?!”

It was the Curator's voice.

Everyone spun around searching for the Curator, but not even the hem of a robe was anywhere to be seen. The figure remained hidden, pouring its voice directly into our ears.

“But the Gates of Hell that Rodin made don't have that inscription on them.”

Since I had no idea where the Curator was, I simply said it to the empty air.

'Of course I know it's not the real Gates of Hell.'

What was I supposed to think carefully about this time?

Above the Gates of Hell, an enormous leaflet unfolded.

Shfffk—

The Gates of Hell were tall enough on their own, and with the leaflet spread above even that, the letters were hard to read. We all stepped back together to parse the quest.

'Only two choices, so it might actually be a simple problem. ...Except the consequences won't be simple at all.'

Even the lines that seemed like hints read like riddles.

“If we open that door and go in, how are we supposed to know what's in there?! Why would anyone pick that?!”

“Exactly. It's called the Gates of Hell—how are we supposed to go through that?”

“Ah, but it said it's not the real Gates of Hell. So isn't going in fine?”

Opinions split sharply among the visitors.

Right. The problem wasn't just any door—it was the Gates of Hell. The figures carved into the door writhed in agony, tangled together. Passing through a door that made your skin crawl just to look at demanded an enormous act of resolve.

“It said the quest is only for those of us who arrived at this door, didn't it? The people waiting back there were never even given the chance, were they?”

“It could be a trick! It never said only us.”

“What if we go back around and we all fail together?”

“....”

Jang Siwoon and the middle-aged woman debated for a while before both clammed up. Neither could get a feel for the answer, and they kept getting swept along by each other's arguments.

Jang Siwoon turned to me, her eyes gleaming.

“Anything coming to you?”

Ever since I'd matched the works connected to the quests, everyone seemed to be pinning their hopes on me.

However.

“No idea.”

When I shook my head, sighs burst out all around.

'In the Divine Comedy, once you pass through the Gates of Hell, a horrifying hell unfolds.'

If this followed the story exactly, we should absolutely not pass through this gate.

But what if ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠we turned back instead? What meaning would there be beyond simply avoiding the Gates of Hell?

'Judging by everything so far, the quest answers are tied to the artworks.'

The point where Dante's Divine Comedy and Rodin's work connect: the Gates of Hell. That was where I had to find the clue.

I stepped up to the gate and studied the artwork closely. A layer of fine dust shrouded it, hiding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the sculptures' details. When I carefully brushed the dust away with my hand, the middle-aged man nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Mister, what are you doing?!”

“If someone ends up choosing to go through, they'll have to push the door anyway. I just want to see if there's anything on it before then.”

“Are you allowed to just touch it like that? Won't it be cursed?”

“There's so much dust piled on it that I can't make out the shape.”

“...Pretty face like that, and you're recklessly bold. Who'd have guessed.”

It didn't exactly sound like a compliment.

'If this were the real Gates of Hell, I wouldn't be reaching out to touch it like this. It's a fake the Tower made, after all.'

When personal meaning is layered on, any artwork can claim significance no matter what it takes as its motif. But this was a gate that plagiarized someone else's work to test visitors' fates. However beautiful, its depths were shallow—so I could touch it without hesitation.

“If you're not certain, you shouldn't stand out too much. You're the one who'll take responsibility in the end.”

Jang Siwoon came up beside me and murmured quietly.

'...I appreciate the thought, but I've already stepped forward on the strength of a hunch barely firmer than a guess.'

Since I couldn't exactly claim it wasn't my responsibility, I had to find the answer no matter what.

“...Siwoon, look at this.”

I beat the dust until my hands turned black, and the hidden sculptures emerged. Sculpted torsos and fragments of specific body parts—pieces absent from the genuine Gates of Hell—clung to the surface in thick clusters.

“Isn't that strange? The torsos were put there deliberately.”

“The torso is that trunk thing, right? There are hands and feet on here too.”

“Yes. Attached so obviously it's practically begging to be noticed... like it wants us to figure it out.”

“What's it supposed to mean?”

“....”

I couldn't yet say why the artwork had been deliberately altered. When I failed to answer, Jang Siwoon propped her chin on her hand and sank into thought.

“Maybe they made it obviously fake on purpose?”

“Obviously fake?”

“Like it's spoon-feeding the answer to someone like me, who can't even tell whether this is real or fake.”

'Fake... spoon-feeding...'

[This is not the actual Gates of Hell.]

[Think carefully.]

'Since it isn't the real Gates of Hell, choosing to enter through this door... is nothing more than a gamble.'

Someone who trusted their own luck might take that bet. But luck had never been on my side, so I needed evidence.

I stepped back once more and reread the leaflet carefully.

“Rodin, and a Torso... complete, as a human...”

Awooooo—

Suddenly, the cry of a wild beast echoed through the air. A bone-chilling wind swept through, sending leaves whirling.

“Th-that really is a wolf howling...! If we stay here any longer, aren't we all going to get torn apart and eaten?!”

Terror crumpled the young man's large frame into a ball. In a hoarse voice that verged on rage, he shouted at me. Apparently he deeply resented being the one who'd brought us all here.

'Following the Divine Comedy, the beasts did spare me earlier.'

But there was no guarantee they would repeat that part of the story again.

Jang Siwoon, whether he screamed or not, didn't so much as glance at him and kept helping with my deduction.

“Do you think the Curator attached these torsos?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Maybe it's just because I don't know this field, but. All the other sculptures here are perfectly made, but this torso is somehow...”

Jang Siwoon scratched her cheek and spoke slowly.

“Doesn't it feel like they ran out of time and couldn't finish it? Why would anyone go out of their way to make something look less pretty?”

Ah.

Something crucial surfaced from her offhand remark. Just as I'd recalled the Divine Comedy earlier, I dredged up my past knowledge again. I closed my eyes, sifted through the tangled information, and sorted it in my head.

'Did I read that in a book? Or maybe I heard it from my brother...'

Groping through the hazy memory, I let the information spill out of my mouth at once—there wasn't even time to filter my words.

“Ugly, beautiful—those are each person's perspective. But Rodin...”

“Yes?”

Grrrrwooo—

The beast's cries drew closer than before.

“Damn it, forget it! Rather than fail the quest and become lion chow, I'm going back the way we came!”

“Good call. What if something happens after we walk into that terrifying door!”

When the young man cried out in his cracked voice, the middle-aged woman nodded along in agreement. And yet both seemed too frightened to run alone—they were waiting for their party to grow.

'Ah. Right.'

Maybe the urgency was making my brain spin faster. At last, the key piece of information surfaced from the jumble of memories. Information that could solve the quest.

“We have to open this door and go inside.”

At my words, the two would-be runaways turned to look at me, faces crumpled like they were about to cry.

“This isn't the real Gates of Hell.”

“That Curator bastard could've been lying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠about that!”

“It fits together too neatly to be a lie. Look at the leaflet.”

- This gate is Rodin, and it is a Torso.

- The beautiful, imperfect hope of humanity.

“Which reminds me, I was just about to ask.”

When I gestured at the leaflet, the middle-aged man arched an eyebrow.

“'The beautiful, imperfect hope of humanity.' What the hell is that supposed to mean? Doesn't going through this door mean abandoning hope?”

“I don't know what's on the other side. But...”

Even if a hell so horrifying we'd have to abandon all hope lay beyond it—

“Nobody ever said we couldn't hold hope again.”

“Ha—you know that's a bigger stretch than the dream itself, right? Huh?! Son of a—my soul's leaving my body!!”

The beast's howl came crashing through the trees. At the young man's curse, I hurriedly reached out my hand.

“Please, just hear a little more of what I have to say!”

“....”

“Rodin died without ever finishing the Gates of Hell.”

Thankfully, the two stopped for now and listened.

“The beautiful Gates of Hell is unfinished—while this torso here is finished.”

“....”

“By Rodin's own standard.”

What counts as "finished" is a matter of personal judgment.

- This gate is Rodin, and it is a Torso.

“The theme of this gate is 'imperfection'—and sure enough, the word imperfect was right there in the quest.”

“But Jisan. Are we really allowed to interpret 'beautiful and imperfect' by Rodin's standard alone? To us, it looks different.”

Jang Siwoon posed a sharp question.

- The beautiful, imperfect hope of humanity.

“What Rodin wanted to capture in the Gates of Hell was the whole range of human emotion.”

I swept my gaze across the figures carved into the gate.

Sorrow, rage, love—imperfect humans swept up in countless emotions. But—

“We're no different from the people carved into that gate.”

'Jisan. You can do it.'

'Because even if we abandon all hope, humans are such rich, varied beings that they dream of hope all over again.'

When was it? A conversation my brother and I had shared a decade or more ago suddenly rang in my ears. Perhaps because he was someone with an artistic sense so unlike mine—his everyday words always carried a resonance.

“And the Curator said it too, remember? That we'd need to summon our strength to fulfill our wishes.”

“....”

“Telling us to push harder right in front of a message about abandoning hope? That doesn't add up.”

[Because you continue to weep and despair, despite the precious opportunity the Tower has granted you—]

[—the Tower, in its indignation, has summoned the Gates of Hell.]

[To fulfill your wishes, you must summon your strength. A pity, truly.]

Hope wasn't something you preserved—it was something you made. Just like me, ready to abandon everything and still wish for my wish to come true.

'Phew...'

That was everything I had left to explain.

Whether the others believed me or not, I had decided to open this door.

“Ugh—”

The door was heavy, more than I could manage alone, but I threw my whole strength against it anyway. Then, from the narrow gap, a blast of searing heat came pouring out.

“Aagh, no! No no no! I'm going back!!”

At the Curator's low, rumbling voice, the crowd tipped straight into full-blown panic.

There was no way I could push this door open by myself.

'Honestly, the scariest one here is me.'

The moment the heat touched my skin, goosebumps raced across my whole body. Still, I gritted my teeth and pressed harder against the door.

“Could someone please push this with me—?!”

Then.

“...Jang Siwoon!”

“That's pushing, right?”

Jang Siwoon stepped up beside me and added her strength to mine.

Somehow it felt like, on top of the earlier footrace, I was losing to her in raw power too... but either way, thanks to Jang Siwoon the heavy gate was slowly swinging open.

“Hey—”

“Shut up! Whatever the explanation is, I'm not walking into a place like that!!”

“Just a moment!”

I turned my head toward the young man and the middle-aged woman as they tried to leave.

“If you run into the beasts on the way—scream for them to spare you.”

“What...?”

“It's an action that mirrors the flow of the Divine Comedy. It's how I survived earlier, too.”

“....”

“I can't promise it'll work twice, but I'm telling you just in case.”

I had no time to keep watching them, so I leaned my body forward again, straining to force the gate open. Behind me, the sound of their scampering footsteps grew fainter and fainter.

Jang Siwoon looked at me and clicked her tongue like an old woman.

“Kim Jisan. You really are a saint. But if you've got strength to spare for tips for them, how about pushing this door a little harder?”

“....”

A saint? That was generous. It was simply the advice anyone owed to people running back into a dark forest. Truthfully, I was even grateful to the two of them for sparing me the sight of humanity's uglier side.

'No matter how extreme the situation, there's nothing good about staying beside people who do nothing but scream without a shred of backbone.'

I shook my head to scatter the ugly thought, and poured my strength into my hands against the door.

“Ugh, this is really going to throw my back out...!”

Unexpectedly, the middle-aged man did not choose to return the way we'd come. The moment he laid his hands on the door to push, he started grumbling up a storm. Still, with three of our strength combined, the gate looked like it would open fully any moment now.

'The leaflet literally wrote "hope" on this door—so even thinking about it the simple way, the answer is the same.'

Maybe it really was spoon-feeding us, as Jang Siwoon put it. Either way, we'd chosen to go through the gate, so all I could do was run my optimism circuits at full tilt.

“I'll go in first! Everyone follow after me!!”

At last, the door swung fully open.

I was terrified beyond words, but for the two people who had trusted me, I took the lead.

The interior was so packed with blazing crimson and gray smoke that I couldn't see a thing with the naked eye.

Me—the man who trembled at a single cigarette lighter—about to hurl myself into those flames of hell.

It won't burn me. My body will be safe. Please.

'Even if what unfolds ahead is hell itself, I'm going to climb.'

I squeezed my eyes shut and threw myself through the Gates of Hell.