Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual Chapter 27

What I am about to do is not a simple ritual.

 

It is a structural failure intended to let memory settle within the blood, an orchestrated fall, a designed pain, and…

 

“….”

 

…I collapsed as a sacrificial offering prepared for that failure.

 

* * *

 

Before the incident reached this point. During the time Lee Yeonwoo stayed alone in the hotel. 

 

One day, he read it. He also remembered it.

 

“Annotations of the Crimson Core….”

 

It is a grand name.

 

“…Annotations of the Crimson Core?”

 

To translate it intuitively, it would be something like ‘Commentary on the Red Heart.’ The naming sense is utterly crude, and the implications contained within are likewise insane.

 

‘It was a book I shouldn’t have expected to be written by a sane person in the first place.’

 

The scripture of a blood-worshipping cult. It was a collection of fragmented commentaries derived from various texts, woven together quite crudely, for whatever intended purpose. 

 

“Testimonies from failed experimenters and sacrifices, annotations and anatomical diagrams, all mixed with bizarre prophecies and screams. Listing it out like this makes it sound like quite a literary composition.” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Nine out of the thirteen chapters were judged impossible to execute.”

 

Was it a book meant to serve as a negative example? 

 

“I’m not sure….”

 

The library of this hotel was lined with hazardous books. 

 

Not just those with subversive content, but the kind whose mere existence posed a physical threat. In fact, Lee Yeonwoo had to suffer through a terrible headache the entire time he turned the pages of the thick hardcover.

 

Ah, and now a nosebleed.

 

“….” 

 

“…Thank you.”

 

Lee Yeonwoo looked at the tissue Coco held out. It was a box of tissues the cat had brought by pushing it with his head. Lee Yeonwoo accepted the consideration without refusal.

 

Fortunately, the nosebleed stopped quickly.

 

“It’s quite an impressive book in many senses.” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“…But it seems there might be a way to apply it.”

 

Chapter 6, ‘The Plea of Blood that Rejected the Heart.’

 

“Blood cannot replicate the body.” 

 

Lee Yeonwoo read down the book.

 

“However, it can remember you longer than you can.”

 

It was not the format of the papers Lee Yeonwoo had encountered his whole life. If he had to classify it, should he call it a grimoire of the dark arts? It was closer to the insane journal of someone… stained with smudges of dried blood.

 

Thin, dark, and stickily clinging passages. It felt as if memories had been extracted directly from the veins, like drawing out bone marrow with a syringe. As he had always done, he ignored the brain-gnawing contamination by suppressing it with reason.

 

“When the heart is laid down, the blood answers.” 

 

The structure of the sentences broke off precariously, as if ruptured.

 

“Restoration responds to purpose, not form, and emotions must be bound so as not to cross the boundary. If the soul is not sutured, it will drift away. Who is the one who designs the structure of the blood?”

 

The moment he read it, his blood itself reacted first, rather than his eyes or brain.

 

“It is not your memory. You have merely borrowed it for a while, so do not dare to act as its master….”

 

His pulse throbbed violently, and the veins on the back of his hand twitched.

 

It was not pain. It was a sense of alienness.

 

“….”

 

…Though he had never felt it even once, he could understand it. 

 

‘This is a sensation directed toward the act of remembering.’

 

Lee Yeonwoo looked down at the book. His brow furrowed deeply.

 

“…As expected, it seems truly insane.” 

 

He had intended to approach it with the humble attitude of learning the basics of a field of study, but to be honest, he was truly displeased. A bloody history was heavily steeped between every line of the text. 

 

To Lee Yeonwoo, who had aimed for a career within the tracks of common sense, this book triggered a physiological discomfort. This was closer to a sin than knowledge. Was it not?

 

‘Beyond simply being dangerous, its very existence is unethical.’

 

This book, referred to for short as the Red Core Annotations, was, so to speak, the dregs of a forbidden ritual. The traces of a failed myth remained in an unsightly form. 

 

“The purpose is the replication of personality through blood and… the establishment of immortality, is it?”

 

It’s predictable.

 

“It’s predictable, which makes it even more unpleasant.” 

 

“Yes.”

 

There was also a sliver of vastness that moved beyond unpleasantness.

 

“A cost-effective field of study relying on blood.”

 

What a long history this field of study possessed.

 

“According to the book’s view, it began the moment humans perceived the existence of blood.” 

 

“Yes!” 

 

“The grace of our ancestors is truly boundless.”

 

The extreme selfishness provoked disgust, but he couldn’t deny his interest as a scholar. Because the endless inquisitiveness and capability of mankind occasionally granted a bizarre sense of satisfaction. 

 

‘Since there would have been plenty of people dreaming of eternal life then as there are now, there’s nothing strange about the fact that research data was accumulated.’

 

What kind of confidence did they have?

 

‘To commit such atrocities for that purpose, and to even leave it behind as a record. They certainly have remarkable nerves. It is something completely unimaginable for a small citizen like me.’ 

 

Or they simply had no thoughts at all.

 

However, the mental state of the author was not Lee Yeonwoo’s object of research. He summarized the rest of the content to confirm if he completely understood this messy and unfriendly text.

 

“To summarize, is the premise that blood creates flesh, preserves memory, and can clone the ego? You seem to have researched a consciousness that can exist even after abandoning the body.” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Amputating parts of the body to collect blood, building an ego reservoir, and then attempting physical reconstruction… It’s bold. Most of it ended in failure, though. It seems the synchronization between the ego and the blood slipped, leading to collapse or rampage, didn’t it?” 

 

“Failure.” 

 

“Yes, failure. There are many very interesting phrases. Like the saying, ‘Let the one without a heart lead the blood.’ It’s a sentence rich with room for interpretation… Hmm….” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Yes, it is dangerous. But it is still interesting.” 

 

And it was horrific.

 

‘Just how many people did they grind up for this?’

 

The thirteen-chapter book was very thick. Heavy and old. Every sentence was written in blood.

 

‘It is not a simple problem of being unethical.’ 

 

Could there be a history or a field of study this order-destroying in all the world? Despite that, what was felt from this record was zeal, not malice. Within the efforts to restore the ego, that desire was starkly visible.

 

It is loathsome, interesting, and therefore sophisticated. Like a single living organism.

 

‘And if one truly defines this as a single living creature, is it indeed worthy of respect?’

 

It was a truly plausible research topic that made one agonize between ethics and gain.

 

“….”

 

A sacrificial offering is essential for this ritual.

 

“…A medium that can… perhaps, emotionally disturb the structure of the blood while maintaining a state of survival. Yes, with this kind of method, the five basic components of blood would include emotion, will, and even memory.” 

 

Just by devouring a few books, he had a grasp on the approximate mechanism. The resulting value was also sufficiently predictable.

 

“When placed upon said formula, the blood will react most strongly the moment it watches someone’s death. Ultimately, the victim must not lose their ego until the moment they are murdered.” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Are they perverts? They repeated the same thing despite knowing full well it couldn’t be easy.”

 

It was entirely failure, failure, failure. A record filled all over with nothing but side effects. 

 

“…The victim’s blood didn’t collapse, and the emotions and soul were cohesively condensed. Due to the occurrence of a deep collapse, everyone involved was consumed by the blood’s ego… Oh dear.”

 

Lee Yeonwoo felt patheticness, or perhaps pity. If they were capable of writing a book of this caliber, they surely surpassed the skill of most surgeons. To think that talent resulted in recording only these failures.

 

‘But it is a book dealing with a subject closest to the task I was agonizing over. I feel like I could understand it if I studied just a bit more, but for me, who has only just barely begun the movement of blood, to acquire it….’

 

Nonetheless. Still. It is interesting.

 

“….”

 

Velmareth quora solven dei. Rithmar, rithmar, delashta in keen. Myorn be unspoken, skinrend to namefall. Red upon red. hush the breath that never left. Take not me—take what knew me…. Velmareth…. Velmareth…. Velmareth.

 

Velmareth.

 

“….” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Right.”

 

The area around his eyes was thick with blood.

 

The way it flowed stickily down his chin looked exactly like tears.

 

‘If one counts it that way, is this the first time I’ve cried in a long while?’

 

He felt his blood reacting to the words. When the blood scraped his insides, Lee Yeonwoo was certainly feeling something. It was because the emotions bound to memory were pulled up along with it.

 

‘Why? Because I thought of the victims in the records? Because of knowledge used worthlessly? Is it because I thought of the time piteously thrown away?’

 

Whichever it was, he disliked it. It was a thoroughly unlikable matter. 

 

‘How shameful.’

 

And it was uncomfortable.

 

“….”

 

When he wiped it away, blood was smeared on his cotton gloves.

 

“…I understand well that this is not something the current me should attempt.”

 

The Lee Yeonwoo of that day stopped his research into said ritual. It was because he felt he couldn’t handle it. In an emotional and sensitive state like his current one, nothing would work regardless of what he did.

 

‘The side effects are severe, too.’

 

The original purpose was ‘transition into a sustainable blood-form that abandons the flesh by using blood as a vessel for the ego and existence,’ but the side effects were too great.

 

‘…Does the blood rampage while abnormally integrating the ego, memory, emotion, and soul? Incomplete ego decomposition, emotional contamination, memory overload, failure of soul orientation… Eventually, the boundary between the ego and the blood collapses….’

 

Distortion of senses. Over-manifestation of memories. Autonomous action of the blood. Duplication of the ego. The recorded side effects all signified the loss of the ego.

 

Sadly, it was laughable. The attempt to preserve existence had instead not only eradicated it, but caused it to stagnate in a rotten state.

 

“The failed experimental subject repeatedly mutters a specific phrase, and in a state where they are neither dead nor alive in the end, they turn into blood and are abandoned eternally. This is called the deep collapse of blood.” 

 

It is a dangerous ritual.

 

“The deep collapse of blood.” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Doesn’t the name itself sound frightening?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Yes.”