Welcome to Dungeon Hotel Chapter 337 - Webtoon Side Story: Welcome to Dungeon Hotel Branch 4 (8)

Webtoon Side Story: Welcome to Dungeon Hotel Branch 4 (8)

 

The folklore club had a total of nine members.

 

They were all white, and—how should I put it—gave off the kind of vibe that seemed especially prone to getting sucked into conspiracy theories.

 

Each of them was holding a smartphone in one hand, and something like a Bible or a Buddha statue in the other, which somehow made them seem even more gullible.

 

“You’re Hunter Han and Hunter Lee, right? We heard you’re the ones who shut down an EX-class dungeon in London!” 

 

“Um…”

 

On top of that, like true outsiders, they recognized us right away.

 

“And is it true that a treasure from the London royal family was recovered from that EX-class dungeon?” 

 

“…Excuse me?”

 

What?

 

A folklore club, my foot.

 

How do they even know classified information about items that were supposed to be top secret?

 

It was just as I was starting to reconsider how credible internet ghost stories really were.

 

“I heard it was a glass bottle containing a homunculus—is that true?”

 

“…What?”

 

That snapped me right back to reality.

 

I looked at the man wearing thick-rimmed glasses, his face uncomfortably close to mine.

 

“There were rumors that the Illuminati got involved too. How much did they offer you?”

 

“….”

 

I smiled as I felt the credibility of the folklore club plunge straight to rock bottom. 

 

‘Front desk.’

 

Activating the skill inwardly, I spoke aloud. 

 

“Sir. I’m sorry, but hotel staff are not permitted to engage in personal conversations while on duty. If it’s all right with you, shall I show you to your rooms first?” 

 

“Wow! So homunculi really do exist! It’s true that the royal family has been hiding it!”

 

As I felt the murmuring voices growing louder, a strange feeling settled over me.

 

So this is what the Front Desk skill does.

 

‘They’re smiling.’

 

100

 

100

 

100

 

97

 

The moment I activated the Front Desk skill, satisfaction gauges began appearing above people’s heads.

 

It was probably because they’d started recognizing this place as a Dungeon Hotel—

 

And at the same time, the skill made me say exactly what hotel guests most wanted to hear. 

 

As if there really were a homunculus, as if the Illuminati truly had taken an interest in an EX-class dungeon—it preserved people’s sense of wonder… no, their love for ghost stories.

 

What a remarkably capable skill.

 

Thinking that, I led the guests to their rooms—Room 305, Room 405, and Room 505, respectively.

 

“There are rumors that Nazi soldier ghosts appear in this hotel—is that true? I even learned German because of it.” 

 

The guests in Room 305 were deeply obsessed with the Nazi soldier ghost story.

 

No matter how German their homeland might be, though, it seemed odd to think that soldiers who’d supposedly been haunting a French fortress for nearly a hundred years would still be speaking German.

 

I found it a bit puzzling, but once again relied on the power of the skill and smoothed things over with a deliberately vague answer. 

 

“In Room 405, you can see the remains of a partially wrecked German warship along the coast. When the waves are rough, please be careful about opening the windows.” 

 

“…!” 

 

120

 

130

 

Thanks to that, their satisfaction levels shot right up.

 

Watching it happen, I felt oddly pleased—even though they weren’t even guests of my hotel. Occupational hazard, I guess. 

 

As I guided the last group to Room 505, I finally asked about something that had been bothering me the whole time. 

 

“By the way, is there a particular reason you came as a group but booked separate rooms? And why you spaced them out by floors like this…?”

 

“If you’re here past midnight, they say a silver-haired German soldier roams the halls.” 

 

Ah. That story again.

 

The German soldier one.

 

But silver hair? Weren’t the Aryan traits the Nazis obsessed over usually blond?

 

I gave a vague smile as I felt the credibility of the legend drill straight through the ground and sink underground.

 

Then a man who introduced himself as Lloyd asked,

 

“Aren’t you here because of that too, Hunter?”

 

“Oh, me? I’m not here because of that. I was planning to visit the Liber Winery and just ended up staying here for a bit. You can think of it as a one-day part-time job… or something like that.” 

 

“Liber Winery? Oh, right—I think I heard their wine is pretty good. We booked this place through Air C&C.”

 

Ah. So that Air C&C.

 

Watching the guests casually brush off the terrible room conditions, I found myself thinking of the neat, polished photos of the rooms that had been uploaded to the Air C&C listing. 

 

Does this mean that as scammers evolve, the people who get scammed evolve too?

 

They looked almost as if they’d expected this level of things.

 

“Still, it’s much better than the reviews said. There were stories about the place being crawling with rats.”

 

At that, I recalled the various Air C&C reviews written in Korean.

 

-Don’t ever go therrre. It’s so dirty and therrre are so many rrratsss. Seriously the worrrst.

 

-Traffic jams are NAVER, but people are also NAVER. No one is NAVER here. Only, solely, nothing but dirty rrratsss~!

 

-T h e r e a r e s o m a n y f * c k i n g r a t s. 

 

They looked like coded messages, but the reviews—decipherable only to Koreans—were absolutely scathing.

 

At least the complaints about rats showed up frequently in foreign-language reviews too, so they seemed to be aware of that much.

 

‘They collect ghost stories, but rats still scare them, huh.’

 

Thinking that, I suddenly glanced around.

 

Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen a rat for a while now.

 

‘Aren’t rats usually nocturnal?’

 

So why was it that the later it got, the fewer rats there were?

 

I was just thinking that when—

 

A cuckoo’s call echoed from below.

 

Cuckoo.

Cuckoo.

 

Eleven times.

 

It seemed it was already eleven o’clock.

 

3. After midnight, do not respond to any sounds coming from open doors or windows.

 

The line from the instructions suddenly surfaced in my mind, and an inexplicable sense of unease crept in.

 

Midnight was approaching.

 

I wanted to ask the owner of the fortress about those strange instructions, even now—but that man had disappeared without leaving so much as a phone number.

 

I asked the three guests staying in Room 505,

 

“You’ve finished checking in, so you’ll be heading straight to bed, right?”

 

“Uh… we’re not really tired yet, so maybe—”

 

The guests exchanged troubled looks with one another in response to my question.

 

I knew this atmosphere all too well.

 

At the same time, the numbers above their heads began to drop rapidly.

 

90

 

88

 

78

 

 

Ugh… 

 

I felt a sharp ache in my chest. Occupational hazard again.

 

And, just as expected, the next question came.

 

“Do you happen to have anything to eat? We’re pretty hungry.”

 

I remembered the instruction that said everything had to be locked down after midnight—but at the same time, I figured a simple meal wouldn’t take an hour.

 

More importantly, look at those dropping satisfaction numbers.

 

Is there any hotel owner who could see that and just walk away?

 

I spoke carefully. 

 

“I can’t make anything fancy, but would it be okay if I cooked something with what we have? We’re guests too, so we’re not very familiar with the kitchen.”

 

“…You’re going to cook it yourself?! That would be amazing!”

 

Seeing the guests’ eyes light up, I couldn’t help but smile.

 

Ah, right.

 

This feeling.

 

Feeding hungry guests, giving tired guests a place to rest.

 

That was the best part of this job—the reason I loved it.

 

* * *

 

Tak, tak, tak. 

 

With practiced, confident motions, I began prepping the ingredients. 

 

I decided to make tortillas using garlic, onions, and paprika that were… not in the best condition.

 

There were eggs too, but they looked so questionable that I couldn’t bring myself to trust their expiration date, so I gave up on those.

 

Mixing a few ready-made foods that were slowly decaying in the freezer, the result was at least edible.

 

“Wow…! Boss, this is delicious! Ah—wait, should I call you boss, or Hunter?”

 

“Either is fine.”

 

I smiled as I watched the guests marvel at my cooking.

 

100

 

120

 

‘Their satisfaction is recovering…’

 

I don’t know why I’m still feeding guests even after coming all the way here, but I guess this is just the kind of person I am now.

 

How should I put it—

 

When there’s someone hungry in a place where there’s no way out, I just can’t ignore it. 

 

“The chicken cream risotto Hunter Han made is really good too!”

 

“There was chicken cream soup, but I thought that alone might not be filling enough, so I made it into risotto. There’s more, so help yourselves.”

 

Han Woohyun’s chicken cream risotto was also a big hit.

 

130

 

140

 

…Even more than mine.

 

I felt a surge of irritation again, but I held it back—I couldn’t exactly show competitiveness in front of the guests.

 

Instead, I opened a bottle of Liber wine and poured it for everyone.

 

The owner of the fortress had told us to drink as much as we liked, so it should be fine.

 

Once good food and wine were on the table, the guests started emptying their glasses like crazy.

 

At their urging, Han Woohyun and I joined in the drinking as well.

 

To be honest, I was a bit tired from driving on rain-soaked roads, but sharing warmth with people over drinks made my body relax and my mood lift.

 

“Ah, do you know the curse related to the Eiffel Tower? If you go to the 17th floor of a hotel where you can see the Eiffel Tower, then—”

 

They had a real talent for telling stories that were boring enough to double as lullabies.

 

Urban legends from European cities, huh.

 

Honestly, blue toilet paper or red toilet paper sounded more interesting.

 

I was halfway through a small yawn when I realized the wine was gone.

 

“Oh, we’re out of wine. Then I guess I’ll—”

 

“Isn’t there a wine cellar here? I’ll go get some.”

 

Lloyd stood up from his seat.

 

I shook my head at that.

 

“No, I’ll get it.”

 

Could use something to wake me up anyway.

 

I stood up and left the dining room.

 

Passing through the first-floor lobby, I opened an old wooden door beside the storage room.

 

Kiiiiek—.

 

An unpleasant sound echoed.

 

The sound of a door opening that led underground.

 

It wasn’t until I’d gone all the way down the basement stairs that I realized I’d forgotten something.

 

5. Never go down into the basement.

 

But the basement wasn’t eerie.

 

A strangely warm daylight-colored light filled the space, and beneath it sat an enormous vat.

 

On top of the vat lay another object wrapped in white cloth—and from that cloth, red wine dripped steadily.

 

And pressing down firmly on that white cloth were—

 

“Rats.”

 

It was just as I pointed at the three rats standing on top of the cloth.

 

One of the rats pointed back at me and shouted,

 

“It’s a human!”