Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual Chapter 14

Lee Yeonwoo was wary of Director Lee Seonhae’s curiosity.

 

“Every time I came across articles about her in my prime, I always thought. That person, she doesn’t have the destiny to live a normal life enjoying her full lifespan.”

 

Because a life that is excessively hot usually brings losses.

 

“Yet at the same time, I had this thought. The essence of that seemingly reckless curiosity, isn’t it actually a desperate conviction to protect someone… a thought like that.”

 

He considered it the way Director Lee Seonhae revealed her ‘goodwill.’ To stubbornly step into a place where even one’s life is hard to guarantee, attach the name ‘curiosity’ to it, and chatter about it to the world.

 

“She’s like a journalist saturated with a sense of duty, or an activist with too much meddling business.” 

 

He wasn’t a great enough figure to casually evaluate someone, but he was old enough to read that stubborn sincerity.

 

“That woman, unlike how she appears on the outside, is exceptionally peculiar when it comes to looking after the safety of those around her.”  

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s a famous story. The anecdote about how she struggled to protect the safety of the victims even after entering a vicious Mexican cartel den. Saying that, in the end, isn’t it all just something we do so people can live?” 

 

The desperate struggle to change international perception by accusing the cartel of its bloated scale and cruelty. From interviews with mafia whistleblowers to covering human trafficking scenes.

 

“It’s certainly provocative,”

 

While Director Lee Seonhae threw herself into scenes where her own life was staked as the ante every time, she placed the human rights of those involved there as her top priority.

 

“It’s not a conviction fitting for a documentary director.”

 

Her current troublesome interest must also surely be an extension of that ‘curiosity.’

 

“Looking closely, it seems I am ultimately one of the kidnapping victims that person must protect.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Ha, recognizing this with my own mouth feels truly strange. It’s bitter as can be.” 

 

“No.”

 

For reference, Coco is currently rolling around on his lap. Lee Yeonwoo didn’t bother to kick it out, either. The sensation of Coco was worth giving up the freedom of his lap. It was a monster cat whose charm, at least, was top-tier.

 

“The problem is the ripple effect when the true nature of this hotel is revealed to the outside.”

 

Why wouldn’t he have wanted to borrow someone else’s hand to get out of here? But he had given up on that idea early on. It was partly because there were no means of communication, but the decisive issue was the danger. 

 

“I still don’t fully know the situation regarding myself and this hotel. Bringing a third party here in such a state could become an uncontrollable disaster.” 

 

“Yes.”

 

Right now, he understood the minimum rules. Despite being reality, it was a familiar system. But what if the public power of reality intervenes in this?

 

That was an unpredictable variable. He didn’t want to risk such a variable, such a danger.

 

“It might be different if the life staked on that danger were only mine.”

 

Until he knew the true nature of this hotel, he decided to refrain from contact with the outside as much as possible. To be precise, he decided not to receive help from anyone. No matter how much he thought about it, it didn’t seem like Coco would stay still.

 

“So for the time being, I intend to bury myself in study. Nowhere is there an existence closer to a disaster than an ignorant administrator. I cannot allow myself to become that in my position.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The thing called learning makes a person humble, but… in the end, it also gives the power to grasp and shake the board as I will. I should have at least one shield to endure in this disaster, shouldn’t I.”

 

“Shield!”

 

“Oh my, the words get grander as the years go by.”

 

He added dryly as he stood up from his seat. 

 

“I’ll have to fix this, too….”

 

He stood before a thin, angular pane of glass on his desk and slowly unraveled the bandage matted with blood. Droplets of blood at a lukewarm temperature settled onto the transparent slide glass. 

 

Tuk, with a small sound. 

 

“….”

 

Lee Yeonwoo, blinking his eyes as if tired, parted his lips.

 

“…Then, shall we start again?” 

 

The first question.

 

—Why do I die and come back to life?

 

* * * 

 

“We ended up coming back.”

 

At Writer Hong Gyeongyeon’s words, the director laughed.

 

“Are you scared?”

 

“Do I look like I wouldn’t be right now? That person smelled like blood.” 

 

“Still, seeing as his gloves became clean, it seems he treated it.” 

 

The returned man’s attire was once again flawlessly arranged. The unshakeable posture, the polite way of speaking, even the manners that seemed ingrained in his body.

 

“Should I say he looks like someone who stepped out of a classic portrait….” 

 

To that, the writer asked.

 

“Aren’t the ‘classical portraits’ the director looks at often usually Western items?”

 

“That’s racial profiling.” 

 

“To send a person to the abyss like this.”

 

“Well, whether it’s West or East, modern art is so complex these days that I don’t really know either.” 

 

“I don’t know modern art well.”

 

“That’s because you haven’t seen truly proper art… um, anyway.”

 

Director Lee Seonhae laughed.

 

“Still, I thought he suited oil paints well.”

 

A portrait completed through thousands of revisions, that is.

 

“…I rather thought he was more on the Indian ink side.”

 

“You mean he looks like an intellectual who’s consumed a bit of ink?”

 

“No, just. Should I call it the beauty of empty space.”

 

“The person does look like a blank sheet of paper, I agree with that.”

 

If one had to find something, it would be a sheet of sized paper intentionally left empty, with nothing drawn on it.

 

But behind that solid sociability, a momentary fatigue clearly showed through. The director recalled the dry gaze of the man who had looked at them in the lobby.

 

“….”

 

Indifferent and cold, yet faintly tinged with concern….

 

“…Ha….”

 

The director glanced at her laptop placed on the table. The screen was full of materials on the filming location candidates they had explored today. There was no place that particularly drew her.

 

“Isn’t it fortunate?”

 

“Yes? What is?”

 

“He still had a somewhat displeased reaction.”

 

Director Lee Seonhae had often seen such people.

 

A gaze stripped of emotion, hidden beneath a refined attitude. Consideration and a mask-like smile hidden within an expressionless face. A sense of distance neatly packaged. A person who smiles but does not smile, who is considerate but conceals their true intentions.

 

“…There’s a high probability it’s a reaction artificially fabricated to be seen on purpose, though.”

 

But he was still showing signs of ‘emotion.’

 

“That felt strangely like consideration.”

 

“Deliberately showing emotion?” 

 

“Ah, I really almost laughed. Do you remember? He completely looked at us like we were troublemaking kids.”

 

“Well, aside from the point that we are adults and not kids, there might not be that big of a difference….”

 

“Seeing that he consistently sends such gazes, it’s clear that person is not pleased with us visiting this hotel.”

 

“It could just be that he’s reluctant about outsiders digging into an important secret facility.”

 

“I’m sure that’s part of it, too. But to say it’s just that, the eyes looking at us were really… it felt like looking at kids running around on an asphalt floor who look like they’re about to fall over soon. I’m saying it was a gaze of concern.”

 

“I didn’t really catch that much.”

 

“That’s because you keep avoiding his gaze.”

 

The director’s smile became ambiguous.

 

“He doesn’t look like a bad person….”

 

“You’re going to get stabbed in the back again. You’ll get seriously hurt doing that, it hasn’t just been once or twice either.”

 

“Those kids weren’t bad kids back then, either.”

 

“If they hurt someone, they’re bad people.”

 

“Those kids were desperate, too, and even in that situation they did their best for us. The situation is already grim enough, shall we put away our Mexico story for a moment?”

 

“I was talking about when we went to Italy. Anyway, yes, let’s do that.”

 

“But he really didn’t seem like a bad person.”

 

“That’s….”

 

The writer sighed.

 

“It did look like he was the one who got hurt, but that’s not something we know for sure.” 

 

“Do you think it was just blood on him? Someone else’s blood, or like a blood pack?”

 

“There is a possibility. We’ve only speculated about exactly what happened at dawn, we haven’t actually seen it.” 

 

“Trust my intuition, I’ve never been wrong when it comes to this sort of thing. I might not know other things, but I can clearly see whether there is malice or not.”

 

“I think just the fact that this hotel isn’t actively pushing us out is enough room to be a ‘bad person.’”

 

“He might have his circumstances. You’ve seen it often, right, like being blackmailed?”

 

“Ha….”

 

Hong Gyeongyeon, who was organizing materials together across from her, closed his laptop.

 

“Let’s call the police.”

 

“Do you think calling them will solve anything?”

 

“Shouldn’t we at least try?”

 

“Trying could get someone hurt.”

 

“Are we saints or something? Do we have to save everyone we see in danger? You were seriously injured then and switched from documentaries to movie director. Do you not remember?”

 

“Then why did Writer Hong come here with me?”

 

“Uh, that’s… just… well….”

 

At the stuttering writer, the director laughed.

 

“It seems Writer Hong is also bothered by it, no?”

 

“…I am curious about what kind of hotel this is.”

 

“Right, there won’t be many opportunities to look around a place like this.”

 

First and foremost, it was interest. That was the biggest part. It was also surprising that such a facility existed in this small piece of land. For them, addicted to danger, there is no better theme park.

 

‘Writer Hong will deny that it’s to that extent, but from what I’ve seen, it’s not entirely untrue.’

 

And secondly, she admits it.

 

“….”

 

She was worried.

 

“…Is he really an adult?”

 

“…He said so with his own mouth, so he probably is. He’s tall, and he has a large build, too. His bones are thick. It is clear that he is an adult who has grown as much as he’s going to grow.”

 

“Hmm, I don’t know.”

 

“Seeing how he treats us, his social skills are also good, aren’t they? Where would such a demeanor come from without experience? Forget someone in their thirties, there are many people even in their forties who don’t give off that kind of atmosphere. That’s no aura of a kid.”

 

“How many mature children are there in the world? Kids like that are more well-behaved than most adults.”

 

“But, still….”

 

“Your words are getting long?”

 

“….”

 

The writer rubbed the corners of his eyes as if tired.

 

“…He has to be an adult, because otherwise it won’t do.”

 

He had suspected it, too. The face was beyond young; it was childish. He was tall and had a build, but he didn’t have much flesh on him. Hong Gyeongyeon knows that kind of person.

 

“He didn’t look like he was eating well, either.” 

 

The bone structure is straight. There is muscle attached, too.

 

But he actually has no flesh. People who cannot eat a proper amount of meals were usually like that.

 

Especially those who had become accustomed to it.

 

“He could just be someone who can’t eat because he’s busy or doesn’t particularly enjoy eating. Even if he lacks fat, it’s like an idol’s diet control—it doesn’t make you feel pity, just that he’s handsome… it’s the level where you only realize he’s thin if you look closely.” 

 

The director shrugged.

 

“Doesn’t that seem even stranger? A workplace that requires diet control at the level of an idol? At an isolated hotel in a remote forest like this? The general manager?”

 

“Now that I hear you say it like that, whether it was intended or not, it does sound strange.”

 

Besides that, there are various cases. Hyperthyroidism, for example. A depressed or lethargic person. A person with OCD. A person with trauma. A person with gastrointestinal diseases, et cetera.

 

“…?”

 

No, wait a minute.

 

“…Thinking about it, they’re all serious things.”

 

“What did you think about?”

 

“Mostly the disease side.”

 

“He’s not skinny to that extent, is he?”

 

“It’s certain he doesn’t eat well.” 

 

“Setting the meals aside, there was definitely a serious part.” 

 

She recalled the hand that had put on the white cotton glove again.

 

“It was a hand dripping blood even while wearing a cotton glove. That means the amount of bleeding is quite large, and for that, there must be damage to an area rich in blood vessels in the hand. What do you think, Writer?”

 

“It might not even have been his own blood. And I think I said that part in the car this morning.”

 

“The conversation got cut off because the kids were scared.” 

 

“It’s a deep cut or amputation. It could be possible if the center of the palm, the finger joint area, or near the aorta on the back of the hand was deeply cut. An amount of bleeding that also makes a partially amputated state fully considerable.”

 

“What else?”

 

“I don’t know, I’m not a doctor or anything. Repeating what I said in the car is the best I can do.”

 

“That would hurt a lot, wouldn’t it?” 

 

“Of course it would hurt.”

 

What kind of question was that. 

 

“I keep telling you, you don’t get that much blood from a little cut. Considering he wears tight-fitting clothes, if you factor in what the clothes would absorb, it might not have been just his hand that was hurt.” 

 

If the speculation in the car was correct, the injury had occurred not long before. If so, there was also a possibility of Hemorrhagic Shock due to a rapid decrease in blood volume. 

 

There was a part where the bleeding was exaggerated because it was the body of a game character, but naturally, the two couldn’t know that far.

 

“If we evaluate it by intensity, it would be around 7 to 9. If it’s at the level of amputation or nerve damage, it could be close to 10. I don’t know exactly where or how he was injured, but just looking at the amount of bleeding.”

 

“Ugh, explain it plainly.”

 

“It’s at a level where it’s difficult to speak due to pain. You can’t focus on anything, and it’s normal to be busy crying or catching your breath. Consciousness fading altogether… I doubt it went as far as amputation, but fainting is also possible.”

 

“But he didn’t show it?”

 

It was strange.

 

“He attended to the guests, organized the situation, and still maintained perfect posture. That… is strange.”

 

“But….”

 

“Isn’t it something even adults find difficult?”

 

“…If it wasn’t his blood, or, no, if he’s a fully grown adult in the first place….”

 

“Writer Hong.”

 

The director stroked the top of her laptop and rested her chin on her hand.

 

“How is that a face that’s been an adult for a long time? You know it too.” 

 

“….”

 

He wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come out.

 

Hong Gyeongyeon recalled the vast amount of materials he had seen so far. Rare genetic diseases or hypotheses on delaying cellular aging. There is a possibility of drastically lowering the speed of aging, but actual observed cases are few.

 

‘While it might be possible to remain in the appearance of a youth due to growth hormone deficiency, maintaining the skeleton of a sturdy young man like that general manager while only aging stops is a realm that far exceeds biological limits.’

 

Aging is not a reversible reaction, and cannot be turned back.

 

“…”

 

Naturally, it cannot be stopped either….

 

“…Because we don’t know exactly how old his physical age is. If he is in his very early twenties, yes, if he has an innately youthful face, manages himself thoroughly, and has a good lifestyle, it’s possible. Making it look that way is not impossible.”

 

“Early twenties—is that an age where it even means anything to argue like that? You mean he just turned twenty. Is that really what you’re trying to say? That at that age, he should be able to endure that level of pain?” 

 

“No, no. That’s not what I meant…!”

 

“Did that person really look like an adult man maintaining his youth through the power of genetics and management? I’m not so sure. And I have quite the discerning eye, you know.”

 

The director fiddled with her phone.

 

“No matter how well-managed an actor is, they can’t maintain such a youthful impression. Because there are bound to be limits. Things like under-eye fat, nasolabial folds, or neck wrinkles. And I saw him up close.”

 

“…Especially, skin elasticity and pore structure naturally deteriorate after the mid-thirties. Unless they are well-rested or properly managed, their true age is quickly revealed.”

 

“I thought that person looked really tired. Did you see the dark circles? And his hollow cheeks? At the very least, his lifestyle didn’t look good. He didn’t have the impression of someone who eats well, either….”

 

“….”

 

Silence continued. The writer asked.

 

“…Could he really not be an adult?”

 

“At most, he’s a college student.” 

 

The director smiled brightly. 

 

“Even if I say this, he could really be ‘someone who’s been an adult for a long time,’ couldn’t he?”

 

“You’ve made me feel uneasy, and then you just… go off on your own like that….”

 

“Even if that’s really true, I just don’t think this is right.”

 

She had seen similar cases a few times. People in industries where face and hierarchy are important, like the Yakuza or Mafia. Aren’t there people whose jobs include getting hurt?

 

But in the end, if you’re human, it’s bound to show. Tension in facial muscles. Catching one’s breath. Avoiding eye contact or shifting weight. If one can hide all of this, that is the realm of skill.

 

“That really is a skill.”

 

You can’t do it unless you learn it professionally.

 

“It wasn’t just at the level of enduring. He smiled while attending to us. It wasn’t something like a blocked expression or extreme patience. Nor was he in an excited state with excessive adrenaline bursting.”

 

“…There’s a high probability it’s a conscious dissociation reaction.”

 

“Conscious dissociation, that’s a term I’ve heard a few times. The skill of separating pain into external sensations and completely ignoring it. To make that possible, aren’t there quite a lot of necessary preconditions?”

 

“You must have experience being repeatedly exposed to extreme pain, and you need training to perfectly control your emotions. A value system that prioritizes the mission over your life must be embedded in your brain, and you must even control adrenaline reactions yourself….”

 

“Intelligence agency agents, special forces, organizations like the Mafia, torture survivors. Well, this is exactly the extent of the examples I can give. What do you think, Writer?”

 

The director faced the writer.

 

“Which one does it seem like among these?”

 

“…Mafia?”

 

“This is Korea, though?”

 

“Then organized gangsters?”

 

“Oh, did Korea have organizations with this much capital?”

 

“If it’s this much capital, it would have been made by the upper class, maybe a collaboration or something….”

 

“You’re telling me they’d put a gangster as the owner of a hotel like this when they’d lose face?”

 

“Ha, f*ck, probably not. I guess not.”

 

It was confusing. 

 

“Then what is it really? Why was he so composed?”

 

“And I noticed something else strange, too.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“The staff here.”

 

The director fell briefly silent before speaking.

 

“They don’t speak.”

 

“What about them not speaking, ah. Ah?”

 

“They don’t even open their mouths in the first place.”

 

“….”

 

“…Why is that?”