Remembering Sisyphus (2)
Where the hell am I?
I'd been sitting in the training room just moments ago.
Overwhelmed with confusion, I looked around.
The third training room was gone. All that remained was the opulent interior of an old-fashioned orchestra hall.
'Remembering Sisyphus'
That was the phrase on the banner hanging above the stage.
I wasn't the only one panicking. Murmurs rose from various spots in the audience.
"What the hell is going on? I was definitely..."
"Where are we? Where'd the training room go?"
"A stage? Is this some kind of performance?"
To my ears, all their voices sounded eerily calm.
Wasn't this the exact point where you start thinking, 'Something weird is happening'?
First things first—scope out the surroundings.
The orchestra hall was massive. Even by eye, it looked three or four times the size of the Seoul Arts Center.
I wasn't a regular at classical concerts, but no venue this big existed in Korea. It had to be overseas caliber.
The seats were cheap folding chairs that didn't match the grandeur—every single one empty.
One odd detail stood out. Every armrest had a lantern attached.
The lighting glowed brightly, a warm ambiance perfect for a performance.
But...
Creepy as hell. Feels like we've stumbled into a haunted ruin.
The atmosphere was chilling. Like an empty pool at dawn or a lecture hall after class ends.
The kind of place that should be full of people, but isn't.
Apparently, everyone else felt the same.
The murmurs died down. People who had been glancing around nervously began exploring the hall.
I stayed seated, pondering.
What should I do? Scout around like them?
That's when I spotted him.
Amid the confused crowd scanning their surroundings, one man remained unnaturally composed.
Ko Kyung-min. The scarred guy who'd answered Kang Mi-young's question.
Instinct kicked in. He knew something.
"Excuse me..."
I approached and spoke to him.
He squinted at me with one eye.
His face screamed "not sociable, not friendly."
And I was an expert at dealing with types like that.
Ever since that woman framed me. Sad memory, but useful.
To break the ice with him, it wouldn't be chit-chat. Not a greeting, and definitely not a handshake.
The key was the entity behind this mess.
Mirae Co., Ltd.
A megacorp that dwarfed Korea's top firms, eyeing global domination.
"This is who I am."
I flashed my employee ID. My photo and name blazed across the Future Corporation badge.
Ko Kyung-min's expression softened slightly.
"An employee? From the Field Department?"
Honorifics.
First button fastened right.
Now, how to steer the conversation?
Lie? No. He seemed seasoned in this stuff. Any lame fib would get sniffed out instantly.
So?
Stick to honesty. I'm with Mirae Co., Ltd. Being company already made me useful.
"No. But I've just been officially assigned to the Field Department."
"...Hmm."
His face hardened a bit.
Fine. Expected that. Not getting chased off right away was a win.
Proceed step by step.
How to pull this anomaly-experienced guy to my side?
The answer lay with "the company" again.
"Do you know much about our company, Mr. Ko?"
"You serious? Who doesn't know Future?"
His trapezius twitched. Walking on thin ice.
Fine. Child's play compared to surviving workplace bullying and racking up seniority.
"I mean the company's ways."
"...Ways?"
Look—he's biting. People who won't engage don't ask back.
He's almost hooked. Come on, Oh Sung-jin. You got this.
"How we handle jobs, solve problems, recruit talent. I dare say no one here knows the company's ways better than me."
"So? You're still just an employee."
"Yes. An 'employee.' A company member. An insider."
Ko Kyung-min looked intrigued.
To a businessman, that face meant, "I'm in with you."
I extended my hand for a shake.
"Shall we team up? At least while we're here."
He stared at my hand, then spoke.
"You said you've been assigned to the Field Department. So you were a civilian until recently?"
A curveball. Something loaded in that question.
But I couldn't show weakness. Having invoked the company, I had to live up to its prestige.
I smiled leisurely.
"That's right. Any issue?"
"No issues. Just a question."
Ko Kyung-min reached into empty air.
Not a handshake. More like grasping something.
"Can you do this?"
He clenched his fist. A black rod materialized in his grip.
A sword. It hadn't been there before.
Magic trick? No way.
Intuition pierced my skull. This was like our shift from the training room here.
Supernatural phenomenon.
...Ridiculous.
I swallowed hard. Ko Kyung-min eyed his sword and continued.
"In the underworld, we call these 'traits.' Not sure what the government or Library calls them, but the company does, and company lingo sets the underworld standard."
"I see."
His sharp gaze fixed on me.
"Here's my question. Do you have a trait? If not, no deal."
Unfortunately, I couldn't tell him mine was Office Work.
As I stayed silent, he looked regretful.
"Too bad. No collaboration then."
"Because my abilities fall short?"
"Opposite, actually."
He explained he'd survived long in this industry by knowing his limits.
"I can protect myself. And I've seen plenty who could too. But they still died. Guess why?"
"..."
"You get it. They tried protecting others. Top cause of death here."
His face already said, "Understand my position."
Like hell I would.
Just as I considered grabbing his leg and begging—
In 10 minutes, the One-Heart Philharmonic's performance commemorating the Gu-daeri Concert Hall tragedy will begin. Please take your seats in the audience.
I gritted my teeth.
Suspicious. Way too suspicious. This was basically announcing something horrific in 10 minutes.
I thought of the bald guy who'd died before we even entered.
Looking back, it was insane. That baldy turned into a monster, then his head exploded from bullets.
And whatever "that event" was, it wouldn't be milder than his end.
"..."
Extreme tension made my body react on autopilot. Cold sweat soaked my back; dizziness hit.
Ko Kyung-min wore a pitying look. I wanted to slap that smug cheek...
"Understood."
...No. Can't say that. I'm a businessman. Business essence: never make enemies.
"What a shame."
...My head cooled. Regaining poise enough to fake a smile.
"By the way, mind if I ask one thing?"
My smile startled him. Like he'd seen a desert prophet gone mad from glimpsing truth.
Even better. He pitied me. A true Future Corporation employee exploits even that.
I added,
"Won't take long. Just answer this one."
"...Ask."
"Is there a way to survive this place?"
He furrowed his brow but answered.
"First time with this kind of anomaly for me too. But every anomaly has a survival chance. That's fact."
...Good.
That was enough.
Death was near, sure. But survival existed.
Facing that freed me somehow.
I smiled genuinely, grabbed his hand, and shook.
"Thanks. That helped. See you outside."
"...Yeah."
Leaving the flustered Ko Kyung-min, I returned to my original seat from arrival.
If I had to search, start here.
Why? The darkest place is under the lamp, right?
...Wait.
'The darkest place is under the lamp'?
I'd heard that recently.
Who said it?
'Ah! That! It'll help during the test. Take care!'
Research Department Head Kim Jun-sik!
Right. He called it a test. Acted like he knew something.
"Helpful," huh? Some hint or metaphor?
No clue. Search the seat first.
But I kept replaying Kim Jun-sik's words inwardly.
'Darkest under the lamp. Darkest under the lamp. Under the... lamp?'
Checking under the seat, I snapped my head up.
This was a concert hall. No place for lanterns.
Except one spot.
'The lanterns on the armrests.'
I'd dismissed it as quirky decor. Maybe it was just that.
Could be wishful thinking. Classic desperation rationalization.
But... but still...
Time was short anyway.
I inspected under the lantern. Just a lightbulb.
No panic. I flipped the lampshade. Dust fell.
Strike one. I checked where the lantern met the armrest. Wooden.
Reminded me of something from school AV rooms.
And armrests like this... open.
Click.
It opened!
A musty smell wafted from inside.
The scent of life. A beacon pushing back death.
I peered in hurriedly. A yellowed pamphlet lay there.
No disappointment. I snatched it up.
That's when it hit. Electricity jolted from my fingertip touching the paper.
Dizziness intensified. Vision rippled. At the edge of sight, jumbled text surfaced.
Archaic formatting. Mostly hanja vocabulary.
Luckily, readable. Mirae Co., Ltd. required hanja proficiency tests for all employees.
I read the report haltingly.
Reporter: Field Department 1, Education Section 1, Assistant Manager Mun Ha-yang
1. Introduction
E-23, commonly known as Remembering Sisyphus, is a four-movement symphony performed at the non-existent "Gu-daeri" (hanja unknown; presumed to reference Korea's administrative "ri" village unit) Gu-daeri Public Concert Hall.
This anomalous phenomenon stimulates the human psyche to induce extreme terror, with E-23's effects beginning in Movement 1 and peaking in Movement 3.
Enlightenment struck. Exhaustion crashed over me; I slumped deep into the chair.
"...Ha. Haha."
It was a report.
The report stated:
Anomalous Phenomenon E-23's educational utilization and efficiency enhancement.
Reporter: Field Department 1, Education Section 1, Assistant Manager Mun Ha-yang.
Introduction.
E-23, aka Remembering Sisyphus, a four-movement symphony at the nonexistent Gu-daeri Public Concert Hall.
Yes.
Office Work.
It really was my trait.