Chapter 221

The bedroom of Room 2001.

Hyeon Si-gyeong, sprawled upside down in his chair, looked at the 'empty air.' At that place where flowers bloomed radiant, where the clouds took on five colors, where every corner of the village was full of food and laughter….

"……."

For a very long time.

***

The General Manager turned a page of the documents without setting down his pen.

"……."

And he felt the presences behind him multiplying. It was not just one.

"And what might all of you want?"

"Oh."

There was the sound of a cane.

"We have been found out."

"You opened the door and walked in. What exactly were you found out at?"

"There is such a thing as atmosphere, General Manager."

The old vampire ambled over and stood on the far side of the desk. Beside him spread the raw smell of water, and past his shoulder a pure-white sleeve brushed by. A black thing came sliding up from underfoot and settled on the General Manager's knee.

Four in all. The General Manager set down his pen.

"Very well. I am listening, so out with it."

"Your head came off, I hear?"

The first to speak was the Water Wraith.

"There was such an incident."

"Does it hurt?"

"No."

"Then that's settled."

"Is that all?"

"If that were all, I wouldn't have come this far."

The Drenched One folded her arms.

"Then why are you in that body again?"

"Do you have some complaint about a flesh made of my own blood and meat?"

"Where's there any meat on you?"

"My bones ache."

"You've no bones either."

She came back to the point.

"What I mean is, why are you still using a vessel whose head comes off that easily?"

The Water Wraith folded her great body down and stared hard at Lee Yeon-woo's neck.

"You went into 'that state' again. I understand you don't much mind your own going back and forth, but I mind. This is why these executioner sorts are ignorant beyond compare…."

"Do not insult a guest."

"Look at him shielding the man because he's his father."

"Oh dear. So you know that much?"

"Don't I live inside your lung?"

Beside the Water Wraith, the pure-white woman nodded carefully.

"Manageeer…."

"Yes."

"Your neck."

"It is attached."

"I know it's attached."

The woman shyly covered her mouth with both hands, then lowered them again.

"Shall I weave you a new one…?"

"You have no intention of hiding your ulterior motive, I see?"

"But I could make it truly beautiful for you."

"Which would mean this gathering is not a gathering to worry about me, then?"

"Truly sturdy."

"Can none of you hear me?"

Provoked, perhaps, 'the Guest Without Taste' spoke up, not to be outdone.

"Among my disciples there are children with fine hands."

"Please tell me that is not so."

"'Please,' is it?"

"Good grief."

"I do not think it such a bad proposal."

The old vampire stroked his chin.

"A vessel woven by the 'Lover of Dawn' would after all be a product of Black Magic, and moving about in it would be awkward. This one is shaped from blood, so the Manager would be accustomed to it, and above all the hide is tough."

"Did you just say hide?"

"The one you are using at present is far too tender. How do you mean to go about in a vessel that would bruise from a punch by a five-year-old child, never mind by the likes of us."

"It is not that bad."

"I would be satisfied if you merely changed its form."

"And where does my satisfaction come into it?"

The woman slipped in on the sly.

"The arrangement of the stars is fair until the end of this month. Work done then costs almost nothing in price."

"I am fine."

"Truly beautiful, and noble, and lovely…!"

"I said I am fine."

The Water Wraith, who had probably only thrown out the topic and had no real thoughts about a 'new vessel,' joined in as well.

"I'll build you one out of water."

"A body built out of water. How astonishing."

"Then what have you been taking me for?"

"Was my becoming a Water Ghost not enough for you? I decline."

"Is it all right to dismiss a friend's good will like that?"

"There is already water pooled in that lung of yours — if my body were water on top of it, what on earth would that make me?"

"Wouldn't you become one with the water?"

"Ssss."

"Tch."

Perhaps deciding that, with Lee Yeon-woo already a Water Ghost, a 'new vessel' was a secondary matter, the Water Wraith withdrew without a fuss. Then the woman asked,

"Do you truly like that body so much?"

"It is not a bad skin to look at, is it."

"For my part I like that vessel too, since it is so very pretty, but it does look rather frail for holding the whole of the General Manager's power…."

"I would be grateful if you respected my taste."

"If it is a matter of taste, there is nothing to be done."

The household of this house knew all about stubbornness that could give no reason. They were things that cooked without being able to taste, that folded up and gathered other people's memories and then forgot them, that were lonely and yet would not come out of the water.

"Which brings me to this."

The old vampire changed the subject.

"That human. An executioner, you said?"

"That is right."

"What sort of neck does an executioner's blade strike?"

"……."

"It strikes the neck of a criminal."

The vampire bared his fangs and smiled.

"Which means that human has, in effect, adjudged the very person I am trying so devotedly to serve a criminal. And a death sentence at that. Now there is an interesting verdict."

'The Guest Without Taste's' lips twisted. At that the General Manager said,

"Few in this house have handled me as roughly as you have."

"And what have I done?"

"A severed neck is done with once you reattach it, but the feelings you devoured do not come back. And it is confusing, so would you settle on either plain speech or polite speech?"

"My defense I shall put off for later — but the speech register. That is precisely my line."

"Well, now…."

The General Manager twitched an eyebrow.

"It was not a verdict to begin with; it was an accident."

"Accidents have their forms too, Manager. Form is meaning. If a man throws on red robes and takes up a hyeopdo, that is an execution, not an accident."

"You always talk in that fashion."

"It is a worn-out old story, but a nobleman stakes his life on honor."

The vampire shifted his grip on his cane.

"Still, well… the person in question says he is fine."

"I am fine."

"Then this one has no choice but to try to accept it."

He said so, but his expression stayed thoroughly sour. The General Manager knew this stubborn creature was making an effort, in his own way, to accommodate that 'discourtesy.'

But that was the vampire's business.

"I am still angry, though."

"Oh dear, my love. What is still the matter?"

"How could anyone be so rude. That man's blade was smeared all over with the blood of criminals. I held back only because I knew he was a bond the 'lady' holds precious…."

"General Manager."

"How could he treat the General Manager so roughly?"

The pure-white woman came pattering over and felt at the General Manager's neck.

"And this is a neck even I haven't managed to cut yet…!"

"You have at least had a go at chewing me up yourself, so I would like to soothe you into letting it pass — but so the important part here is that, is it? There is not one trustworthy bastard in this world."

"But I saw all of it too, when you spread white wings and commanded the stars. You were truly beautiful. Do you have any idea how much it meant to me that you punished that man with stars and not with blood?"

The old vampire smiled crookedly.

"Now that is coyness like no other."

"Agreed."

The Water Wraith nodded too.

"Kill!"

And on the General Manager's shoulder, one black cat sprang upright. This one, it seemed, was in earnest. It had always been a creature much concerned with its partner's safety.

Coco went back and forth between Lee Yeon-woo's shoulders, and then, not content with that, whirled around him at speed.

"Kill kill kill kill kill kill kill ki—"

"Coco."

"Kill!!"

"You may not."

"…Throw him away?"

"That is also not allowed."

The General Manager stroked Coco's back.

"He is a guest."

"Iiiing!"

"It is the rules, Coco."

"Iiing…."

Thump, thump.

The tail swung hard.

"Ing."

Its thinking done, apparently, Coco flopped across his shoulder with a splat.

"Coco confirms."

"Thank you."

Only then did the General Manager put on his characteristic smile and ask,

"So I have a question."

"Speak. I will at least listen."

"Is there no one among you who will stop the insults and abuse aimed at my father? Sitting here listening to my parent being slandered to my face this whole time is a genuinely strange feeling."

"And do you suppose there's a bastard among us with any interest in the bonds of blood?"

The Water Wraith said it placidly, as though wondering what he was talking about.

"Count up every thing that comes and goes in your house and you'd barely turn up one or two."

"And even those would hardly be a normal sort of interest."

"You know it perfectly well."

She was looking at him with eyes that said, 'Why are you talking nonsense?'

"Once you're born into the world, everyone's a stranger. That's how it goes."

"And what, you think a friend isn't a stranger?"

"Where in all the world is there a stranger who lives inside your lung? My position's sound."

"Normally, if something lives inside your lung, I rather think it has to be cut out surgically."

"? Shall we fight?"

"That is not what I said."

At that the vampire spoke.

"When I had just become a vampire, I devoured my entire house."

"Oh. Such a heavy story, and so suddenly."

"So a little abuse of one's family is a perfectly doable thing, would you not say?"

"Had you no will to attempt a slightly more conventional sort of comfort?"

The woman said,

"I've no one but the 'lady.'"

"You had best become independent, and quickly."

"I truly love that heartless side of the 'lady.'"

"General Manager."

"That would be exactly the General Manager's charm."

"It seems there is not one person here who can offer proper comfort. How regrettable."

Coco said,

"Coco friend."

"Yes. For that, thank you."

"Friend forever."

"That sounds rather heavy."

"Hehe."

"Coco?"

Coco went slack, draped over his shoulders, slid down the General Manager's back and became a coat. It seemed thicker than before. Feeling it directly, it was definitely not his imagination.

"One moment."

"Coco coat."

"When one is working, the customary thing is to take the coat—"

"Coco defense."

"……."

For an instant the question of 'whether a coat can serve as armor against an attack that takes off a head' flitted through him, but the General Manager did not bother to brush it away. Children's stubbornness was always like this.

'It is not as though I am attending to a guest at this moment.'

About then the old vampire spoke again.

"Shall we discuss just one more thing?"

"Say it."

"About the young guest upstairs."

"Yes."

"We have sorted it out a little among ourselves."

The General Manager had not brought that child in as a 'guest.' But every Labyrinth turns with precision inside its rules. A suitable 'position' was needed.

"We have decided to attend her not as a guest but as the Little Mistress. Hers is a body that has swallowed your blood, so would that not be the fitting thing?"

"Have you lost your mind?"

Pausing a beat to compose his own dignity, the General Manager went on.

"Does that not strike you as a touch high-handed?"

"Do you have an objection?"

"The problem is that I have many."

"Oh. I shall take them in writing."

"To think you would put that to such use."

The Water Wraith cut in.

"There's one thing I want taken up here as well."

"What is it."

"One young thing above, one old thing below."

"And so?"

"I believe I told you to keep the favoritism within reason."

"Would you explain where favoritism begins and where it ends?"

"What's there to explain! Your heart's been divided!"

It was not a matter of hotel operations but of the Water Wraith's own feelings. The General Manager pressed a hand to his forehead.

"It has not been divided."

"It has! You said you'd take no guests for a while! You broke your promise!"

"This is truly maddening."

It was about then.

"And so."

The old vampire laid both hands on the head of his cane. His red eyes were curved with enjoyment.

"The one upstairs we shall call the Little Mistress."

"……."

"In that case, what is 'that human's' position?"

Thick walls, the space between one floor and the next — none of it appeared to matter to this vampire. 'The Guest Without Taste's' gaze fixed on a lump of flesh lying in a certain guest room.

"If you gave your heart and let him into this house, there must be a name to match that weight. A guest is a job title, not a position, is it not?"

The General Manager opened his mouth.

"……."

And could not say a word.

***

The whole room moved, they said.

"……."

Numbers surfaced on the wall.

'An elevator, they called it….'

The child grasped that they were 'floors,' and followed the numbers with her eyes.

"Were you startled?"

"Ah, no."

"You are allowed to be startled."

The Fox Sister curved her eyes into crescent moons.

"Anything is startling the first time. There is nothing strange about it."

"Ah…."

"If you do not mind, would you care to have a look? You need not get out."

"Get out, meaning…?"

"Even just running your eyes over it should be entertaining."

The numbers climbed, and the doors opened.

Each time the doors opened like that, the child looked out. There were no people anywhere. Some floors had their lights off; some were harmonious and yet seemed utterly empty.

Wide, clean, and hollow.

'There is room to spare.'

Our village is like that too.

"Is this one still empty?"

"Yes. There are many places we have not yet been able to fill."

"Not yet…."

The child chewed the words over.

'Then this house is still being built.'

Not a finished house but a growing one. To a child who had come from a dying village, growing was, in itself, news worth celebrating.

When the numbers passed twenty, the child suddenly lifted her head.

"……?"

There was something thick.

'Something. A scent.'

Wherever you looked, this house was immaculate. Not one stain, nothing you could call a smell. And yet, through that immaculacy, something like a single very fine thread was running.

Raw-smelling, heavy, and old.

'Something like the smell of blood…?'

The child's body turned that way of its own accord.

'What is this?'

It did not belong to this house. No — it did belong to this house, but it was not pooled through it. It was gathered into one place. Without meaning to, the child rolled her eyes about in search of its end.

"Chief?"

"Ah, no."

The child set the foot she had lifted back down.

"It is nothing."

That way was not a place the child had asked for.

She had asked about where the sun came in; she had not asked about that way. The permission granted was broad, but to use it carelessly because it was broad would be to know nothing of grace.

'Be well-behaved. Well-behaved.'

She came up to the twenty-fifth floor with the question left inside her, and stepped out beyond it.

"……."

Wind came in.

"Ah…."

The child drew a great breath.

There were smells. The smell of earth, the smell of grass, the smell of rain that had come and gone somewhere far off. And onto her face settled the sunlight of a day just breaking. Hot, bothersome, squint-making — real sunlight.

'Real sunlight.'

Not feed doled out by the Fox Den, not an illusion either. Just.

'Just….'

Water came from the child's eyes.

"……."

The Fox Sister stood at the door and said nothing.

***

Only after a good while did the child wipe her face with her sleeve and look around.

"Um, is this by any chance…."

"It is the Rooftop Garden."

"The Rooftop Garden."

It was an enormously wide space.

Paths ran through it, and beside them grasses and trees had been planted. No insect damage anywhere, the leaves thick and deep in color as though healthy — and yet somehow they looked dry, without moisture.

And among them stood something white.

'It does not seem to be a person.'

Except for her eyes, she was a woman pure white from head to foot. She held a watering can and was looking this way. Under that gaze the hesitating child's knees folded of their own accord.

"…I pay my respects."

This was a house where a fox spoke with a human face. So this white thing too must be a retainer of the Fox God. The child bowed her forehead as she had learned to while living in the Fox Den.

"Little Mistress."

"Y-yes?"

"That is what we have decided to call you."

"I…."

"You may rise."

The voice was courteous. Only courteous.

"……."

The child, hesitating, rose and looked around the garden.

"Um, the plants grow well."

"Yes."

"The beds must have taken a great deal of your hands."

"Only here do they grow."

"Sorry?"

"I mean that this is still the only place here that so much as imitates something growing."

The woman tipped the watering can.

"And even so, it is full of troublesome children — the sort who would often play spiteful tricks on a small, frail mystery like the Little Mistress."

"Tricks, you say."

"Below, the sun of the sky does not come in."

"The sun does not come in…."

The child chewed the words over twice.

Twenty-five floors. A house so large you could not even count how many rooms and how many corridors — and in the whole of it, the only place the sun of the sky reached was this one handspan.

'I thought it was different from the Den.'

Different it was. Only, it was not a place for her or the children of her village to live.

"Little Mistress."

"Yes."

"Will you be staying long?"

"……."

The child could not answer.

She still did not know how far the permission went, and she had not yet decided what to ask for. Since she had been asked, she ought properly to answer, but she did not know the answer.

"I-I am sorry."

"Not at all."

The woman asked nothing further after that. Watering can in hand, she moved off along the path, and the child stood there until her back disappeared beyond the flower beds.

"……."

The child looked up at the sky.

She judged the time by the sun's position and turned her body toward the village. Roughly where the mountain lay — since the Fox Den could not reach as far as the sky's edge, she could guess it from the direction of the light.

The world came back into her hands.

'Somewhere over that way, is it….'

The child called to mind the doors beneath her feet.

Twenty-odd floors down there. A place where no sun came in, where the seasons did not arrive, where the wind carried no smell. What would become of the child who was a tree, kept in there? The child who was water. The child who was wind.

'There would surely be someone to look after them.'

He would give them water, switch on lights for them, not let a single insect settle.

'But that would be no different from serving the Fox Den.'

It did not take long to finish the reckoning, and when she did, her heart settled rather than lifted. Coming into this house to live had never been a road at all — the child knew that now.

No one else had blocked it; the child had erased it herself.

'That pure-white personage asked me earlier.'

Whether she would be staying long.

'Now I can answer.'

The child drew her collar closed and shook out her sleeves. There was dirt on them. Village dirt that would not come off however hard she beat it. Having made herself at least a little tidy, she offered up a prayer.

'I have come within your grace.'

'But the village is still outside it.'

Might that line be stretched as far as the village.

'And might I be given back out.'

The child rolled those two petitions over inwardly again and again, polishing them. He is one who gathers in, so surely He will also spit out. Thinking of the two black foxes, she clasped both hands tight.

And then, behind her, the door opened.

"Ah…."

"So this is where you were."

The child turned around.

"Did 'the Fox Sister' attend you well?"

In that instant, the single thread she had caught around the twentieth floors came rushing in. Raw-smelling, heavy, and old. It was not coming from a room. Not from the walls, and not from the floor.

It was the smell coming off that pitch-black man.

"You seem to have been enjoying the roof."

"…Yes, a little of the sun…."

"I heard the sound of you calling me."

"……."

"Well then. What shall I help you with?"

'Help, He says.'

Without meaning to, the child found herself convinced.

'This one is a god who helps.'

This house was so immaculate not because the house was clean. It was because everything thick that ought to have been in it had all been gathered into one place. The stains, the raw smell, the heavy things — all of it.

To have swallowed the whole of it and still be so composed.

'The Fox Den only ever slept and woke, but this one is awake and holding all of it inside Him.'

One such as Him could gather our village in with mercy too.

For the briefest moment something else crossed the child's mind. The sound of a head coming off. The gold that had been shut inside His black eyes, all of it inverted when He rose again.

'His eyes had changed….'

The child swallowed the question. Those inverted eyes had stood in front of the blade and folded her into their arms. That one thing was enough. Her village needed nothing more.

A wind passed once across the roof.

The child spoke.

"One who was lost has returned to god."

***

"……."

The General Manager, who had come to see to the child's meal, blinked.

"……?"

Was that still going on?

'And I brought out the wings and everything?'

Then by anyone's reckoning that is not a Fox God, is it…?