Remembering Sisyphus (3)
In Office Work, phenomena were nothing but words.
In Office Work, humans were nothing but typists.
In Office Work, death was nothing but numbers.
There was no time to rejoice that the "specialty" Ko Kyung-min had mentioned had come to me.
That statement simply meant I couldn't propose cooperation to him again.
I was short on time.
[Notice.] In 5 minutes, the Hanmaum Philharmonic's performance commemorating the Gudaeri Municipal Concert Hall disaster will begin. Audience members, please take your seats.
The announcement was eerie.
Maybe because the voice coming through the speakers was mixed with static, like an old tape being played.
Thinking about the reason was idiotic.
What mattered was that something would happen here in five minutes.
I immediately pulled up the training report on E-23, Remembering Sisyphus.
Skipping the parts I'd already read, straight to the rest.
This is an anomalous phenomenon that stimulates the human psyche, inducing extreme terror. The characteristics of E-23 begin in Movement 1 and reach their climax in Movement 3.
"Stimulates the psyche? Extreme terror?"
Just reading those words sent a chill down my spine.
It would've been nice if I had time to tremble in fear.
Unfortunately, I didn't even have that luxury.
What I needed wasn't what Remembering Sisyphus entailed—it was how to escape this place.
I scrolled down to the next paragraph, eyes racing over the text.
Of E-23's movements, those usable for training purposes are Movements 1 through 3, each lasting approximately 20 minutes.
Movement 4 cannot be used for training; all subjects exposed to it died.
This report explores the educational utility and efficiency improvements of Movements 1, 2, and 3, excluding Movement 4.
All subjects exposed to Movement 4 died.
That meant I had about an hour left.
A true deadline—my stomach started churning.
The situation made the report feel endlessly long.
The words weren't registering; grasping their meaning took effort.
"This won't do. Clarify the goal."
I wiped the sweat from my palms on my pants and took a deep breath.
"What I need to find right now... is the escape method."
I skipped the introduction.
The first paragraph of the main body covered side effects of each movement.
"Movement 1: mild vertigo and insomnia. Anthropophobia. Movement 2: paranoia and short-term memory loss."
Then Movement 3: personality disintegration, schizophrenia, extreme suicidal impulses, and maximized violence.
Treatable with memory erasure therapy, but it causes fundamental personality changes.
Thus, Movement 3 should only be used for limited special-purpose training...
Damn it, I don't care what happens if you fail to escape.
Where the hell is the escape method!
E-23's educational efficiency only works on first entry. This is because it doesn't induce emotional disturbance in those with experience.
That was when I read that paragraph.
[Notice.] Shortly, the Hanmaum Philharmonic's performance commemorating the Gudaeri Municipal Concert Hall disaster will begin. Audience members, please take your seats.
I screamed internally.
At this rate, I'd get dragged into this insane situation unprepared.
As I frantically scanned the report.
Someone tapped my shoulder.
"Um..."
Turning around, a woman with an eerily faint presence stood there.
She was right behind me, but in my desperation, I hadn't noticed her approach.
"Is that... by any chance..."
She mumbled dejectedly.
Her shoulders were slumped, dark circles heavy under her eyes.
She pressed her fingertips together and whispered softly.
"Where did you, uh, where did you get it?"
"Get what?"
"Th-that... that thing."
She pointed at the pamphlet.
"It's in the armrest of the chair. The side with the lamp."
She flinched visibly, then bowed her head abruptly, mumbling awkwardly.
"Th-th-th-thank you... thank you..."
I went back to reading the report.
But it was thoroughly focused on "training purposes."
No escape method anywhere.
In hindsight, it made sense.
This was a report. Specifically, a "training" report.
"No need to include it. The recipients would already know the escape method."
Despair set in.
If it had been a report on the anomaly itself, it might've listed the escape.
"What now? Like this, just..."
Die?
That was when.
"Um..."
The woman from before tapped my shoulder again.
She flinched at my gaze, then held up her pamphlet.
"...D-d-d-don't you, uh, read this?"
"Pardon?"
She mumbled hesitantly.
"You shouldn't... but you have to read it... the, uh, precautions..."
She opened her pamphlet.
As she said, it was packed with text.
I hurriedly opened mine.
These precautions are for enjoying the Gudaeri Municipal Concert Hall disaster!
Audience members, please strictly follow these for a smooth experience!
1. All Hanmaum Philharmonic performances are "audience participation" style.
Stand up during the performance! Chat happily, talk to your neighbor!
Let's all become instruments for today's piece—loudly!
2. Don't forget: the disaster happened right here, at Gudaeri Municipal Concert Hall.
The dead here are very angry!
3. All conductor actions during the performance are planned performances.
As mentioned, respond loudly! The maestro is always thirsty for new instruments!
4. Avoid using electronic devices during the show.
Enjoy the disaster! Talking loudly on your phone is even better! Share this wonderful performance with friends!
Don't forget: the disaster here started from a cell phone!
5. Remain silent during intermission.
If there's one time to be quiet during the concert, it's intermission!
Because the Hanmaum Philharmonic's performance requires tremendous effort.
Excessive noise during intermission makes you "ejectable," and Gudaesi Municipal Concert Hall takes no responsibility for related damages!
Every precaution was utter madness.
"Enjoy the... disaster?"
I gritted my teeth.
Eerie. A chilling sensation crawled up my spine.
All it confirmed was that this place was off the rails.
Like a space from a ghost story.
And characters in those stories usually met their end.
"No. Don't give up."
I was still better off than the others here.
At least I knew what Remembering Sisyphus entailed.
"It's fine. For now..."
First, time was running out.
The performance would start soon.
I glanced at the stage.
Warm lights gleamed off the polished floor.
Instruments were scattered here and there.
A few of the people who'd entered with me were searching up there.
"Observe for now."
Didn't the report say as much?
"You won't die just from Movements 1 and 2."
I decided to ignore Movement 3.
No mention of death there, but the "fundamental personality change" stuck with me.
"So, just Movements 1 and 2..."
I could report and respond.
Observe what happened during the Hanmaum Philharmonic's performance.
Cross-reference it with the report.
"Then compile it."
Just like Office Work.
A single report doesn't reveal the company's stance—what to watch for, what to emphasize.
"But two or three reports..."
You see what the higher-ups are thinking.
Then tailor accordingly. That's business mindset.
My task was clear.
"Watch the concert. Cross-check with the document. Find the escape."
That was when.
[Notice.] The Hanmaum Philharmonic's performance commemorating the Gudaeri Municipal Concert Hall disaster is beginning. Audience members, please take your seats.
With the announcement, the lights began to dim slowly.
I sat and stared at the stage.
Darkness had a calming effect on the mind.
Without light, dust scented the air.
The surroundings were deathly quiet.
Then, light rose from the stage center.
A phone flashlight.
One of the people who'd been searching the stage earlier.
"What the—suddenly it's dark..."
Maybe because it was so quiet—his voice rang clear, like he was right beside me.
"Um, excuse me?"
But only for a moment.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Applause started echoing from seats throughout the hall.
The seats had all been empty moments ago.
Clap clap clap clap clap—!
The claps swelled into cheers.
I clutched my pounding heart and looked around.
Beyond the pitch-black darkness, white hands moved.
It felt like icy fingers combing every vein in my body.
I froze rigid, eyes locked on the stage.
The faint-faced woman who'd sat beside me showed the exact same reaction.
"N-n-n-no, no place where you can't, no..."
No, she was better off than me.
At least she could mumble.
Did she know something? Maybe she had a "specialty" too.
"Hey..."
I poked her shoulder with a finger.
Planning to ask her to share if she knew anything.
"N-no. Shh. Talking is b-bad, now, the, p-performance starts."
She mumbled that and shut her mouth.
Staring at the stage in perfect stillness.
Her face paled in the thunderous cheers and impenetrable black.
And then.
The cheers died down.
Stage lights came on.
Spotlights.
A conductor's podium had appeared on stage.
"Wh-what... wha..."
The people on stage milled about in confusion.
Then.
Thud.
Footsteps echoed from the stage edge.
Thud. Thud.
Heavy steps.
Just like shoe soles slapping wood.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Growing closer.
The confusion turned to panic.
Everyone stared leftward on stage.
As if something was there.
But there was nothing.
Panic turned to terror.
A scream from someone about to jump offstage.
"Aaagh—! Aaaah—! No! Don't come, don't come!"
And right then.
Thud—!
The footsteps stopped.
"Aaaagh—! A-aaaah—!"
I gritted my teeth, fists clenched on my knees.
Splurt—!
The stage was painted red.
Maybe because the hall was chilly—white steam rose.
Human blood looked more like paint than I'd thought.
I stared, rooted in place, at the man whose body was wrung out.
At his body being kneaded.
Molded like clay.
And finally reassembled into an instrument.
Wooong—a horn blared.
Bap-bam—! Trumpet blasts.
Rattling violin strings.
Ting-tang-dong, playful piano tinkles.
Something was on stage.