Chapter 180

Lee Yeon-woo genuinely could not trust his future self. Instead, he resolved to trust the products his past self had made. Things like Coco, or the "Drenched One," or the "Guest Without Taste."

And so Lee Yeon-woo had written it down like that.

"…."

『Please be kind to my guests.』

"Hmm…."

『In Room 444,』

'They'll be able to find it, probably.'

『you may be able to find a better method.』

Lee Yeon-woo, having failed to overcome the penalty, was still a water ghost, and Room 444 too remained under its influence. The "Drenched One" had made her contract not with the "General Manager" but with the "Hypocrite," so she would surely take action.

'The Guest Without Taste won't sit still either.'

The humanity planted in that vampire was Lee Yeon-woo's own.

'He'll instinctively feel an aversion to General Manager Mode.'

Even if he was distant with the Water Wraith, one of the vampire's virtues was that he didn't put on needless pride. Being a narcissist, he also wasn't patient enough to sit by and watch "General Manager Mode" idly.

'So….'

Probably.

'Won't the two of them join hands?'

That was Lee Yeon-woo's assessment.

The vampire would calculate, and the Water Wraith had the power to intervene in Room 444. The former would egg her on, and the latter would take action. And Coco would see it all and feign ignorance.

"…."

And so the past Lee Yeon-woo had resigned himself amid utter exhaustion.

"…Once I come to my senses, there'll be no shortage of messes to clean up."

He could only hope that his self in "General Manager Mode" would, per the video directives he'd left in the Central Control Room, obsess over this place's "game-ness." Only then could a proper future be hoped for.

Because a game is for the players, and it always holds a correct answer meant for them.

"Nothing's ever easy…."

Even if the difficulty was a bit high.

* * *

Back in the present, among the "players" gathered in Room 1209, Cha Do-hyeon spoke up.

"It means we're to present an offering."

"Do what? An offering? Are you insane?"

"First, try to calm down."

"Isn't an offering that thing where a person gets taxidermied alive or whatever…."

"The word 'offering' doesn't carry only that meaning, now does it, young Kwon Do-heon?"

Cha Do-hyeon shot a sidelong glance at Kwon Do-heon, who was hugging the owl, and went on.

"When he says 'treat my guests well,' that means… to put it simply, build up favorability. To a level where a deal becomes possible."

The Director, who had already reached the same interpretation, nodded as well.

"You know the law of conservation of mass, kid?"

"I do know it."

"There's something similar in this line of work. It's the principle at the foundation of magic and alchemy—to obtain something, you must place something of equal value on the other side of the scale."

"And if you don't?"

At Kwon Do-heon's question, Kwon Seung-jae shrugged and cut in.

"The prime example of that is Black Magic."

"Ah…."

Recalling the explanation of Black Magic he'd heard before, Kwon Do-heon understood.

"And what does that have to do with the current situation?"

"You mean we need to make a deal with the 'guests' written in the memo?"

Hong Gyeong-yeon, who'd been listening, asked.

"And what's needed for that is an offering?"

"Something like that. There's one 'guest' we've identified—that vampire you said you saw at the Dining."

At Cha Do-hyeon's words, Lee Seon-hae added.

"The water ghost, too."

"Right, the Water Wraith. From the looks of it, you got tangled up with her back when you were helping Director Lee Seon-hae."

"I'm not sure she's the type you can make a deal with—in my memory she was so menacing."

"But the vampire fellow is famous on that front—he's definitely the type you can reason with."

Recalling the strange face he'd seen at the Dining, Kwon Do-heon asked.

"You can reason with him? That… the one who drinks people's blood?"

"Because that fellow started out, after all, as a 'human.'"

With his trademark crooked smile, Cha Do-hyeon went on.

"He's obsessed with playing the aristocrat, prizes appearances, and stands on ceremony. With bastards like that, if you treat them courteously and with proper manners, they'll at least sit down at the negotiating table—if only out of that paltry arrogance of theirs. Otherwise, they figure they'd be lowering their own dignity as a noble."

At Cha Do-hyeon's words, Hong Gyeong-yeon muttered.

"The two of them really do seem a bit alike."

"So I wasn't the only one who thought that."

As Lee Seon-hae muttered along, Cha Do-hyeon gave the two of them a long look.

"What's this? Why do I feel like I'm getting insulted on top of having helped?"

"Think back to when we first signed the contract for this project, Senior Cha…. Just think how much heartache Writer Hong and I went through…."

"Aren't you two professionals? It takes three humble visits to the thatched cottage to seal a proper contract."

"There can't be a stuffier old codger in all the world."

The Director, who had been quietly watching the three converse, soon spoke.

"But the water ghost is a different story."

She recalled what she'd heard.

"From what I hear, that water ghost merely wears a human shell—her essence is closer to water itself. She's a labyrinth closer to a natural object. Human reason and face-saving and the like won't hold any currency with her."

"Right—now this is a real old codger, I tell you. I swear, I feel so wronged…."

"Actor Cha, you keep your mouth shut."

The Director continued.

"You can think of her as an ancient relic. But the older the labyrinth, the more grotesquely sensitive it is to the rules of exchange. Unless you first present a complete offering, she'll give up nothing of her own."

"It's not as if we're asking for anything so grand…."

"Try begging a water ghost to spare your life empty-handed, and you'll just be dragged deeper into the water. That's the natural order of things to those water-ghost bastards. Begging to be spared means asking for something on top of that natural order."

"There's no bigger lowlife than this."

At Kwon Do-heon's muttering, the owl let out a "Hoo." It came across roughly as "agreed." Cha Do-hyeon eyed the owl with a curious look.

"But is it really all right for the staff member over there to badmouth their employer so openly?"

"Hoot?"

"That sounded like 'You want to get smacked?'"

"Sigh."

"That one's definitely a sigh, I think."

Kwon Do-heon hid the owl in his arms.

"Don't twist my sunbae-nim's words."

"Keep that up and you'll get offered up. A bastard with no memory, calling them 'sunbae' like you go way back."

"Ugh, I'll get them back soon."

Kwon Do-heon's temples seemed to throb.

"So, when he says 'be kind to my guests,' what it means is…."

"It must've meant: don't go charging in like a brute—conduct a proper, mannerly deal."

"Then what about the second one?"

He'd never even seen anything like a Room 444.

"There isn't a single space here with a 4 in it to begin with."

"There is."

"Ah—shit, you scared me!!"

Hyeon Si-gyeong cut in abruptly. Startled, Kwon Do-heon's voice rose. His heart pounded.

"Mr. Policeman, seriously, give some sign before you speak—every time, it's like a ghost is talking."

"Speaking is the sign."

"No, ugh… never mind. So what was it you wanted to say?"

"A space with the number 4 in it clearly does exist."

Hyeon Si-gyeong added.

"It simply has not been permitted."

"Permitted…?"

"Or rather, the condition has not been met."

Having finished, Hyeon Si-gyeong put the whistle back in his mouth, and Lee Seon-hae, who had been quietly mulling over his words, succeeded in interpreting them.

"So that's the thing we need to negotiate for right now—the location and conditions of Room 444."

"The answer'll be there, whatever it is."

What exactly the "better method" Lee Yeon-woo spoke of was, no one knew. But at the very least, it had to be connected to a path by which everyone now gathered could make it out alive.

"So…."

Cha Do-hyeon summed up the situation. He looked down at Kwon Do-heon.

"You're still holding onto that, right?"

"Holding onto—what?"

"If my memory's not mistaken, it should still be in your bag."

"Like I said, what is it…."

"Blood."

Scratching his forehead with a finger, he gave the hand a light wave and said.

"I mean that scrap of flesh you got in the boiler room last time—the piece that fell off the 'White Crow.'"

"…."

A moment later, Kwon Do-heon's mouth fell open.

"Are you out of your mind…."

"The Gaps has a bit of that side to it."

The "guest they were to treat kindly" right now was none other than the "Guest Without Taste."

* * *

Blood Magic is a discipline.

But at the same time, it is a religion.

And religion, at times, can become utterly powerless before the yoke of capitalism.

"…."

New York, the United States.

A penthouse in a five-star hotel looking down over the skyscrapers of Manhattan. The gala of the global biopharmaceutical corporation "Apex" was, befitting its name, a splendid and hypocritical stage.

And at the center of that splendid banquet hall was Apex's CEO, Robert.

"Chairman. This new drug project of yours is truly marvelous."

"You flatter me. It all began from a desire for a better future for humanity."

A perfectly tailored suit. Sculpted features and a flawless smile. He was the darling of Wall Street and a philanthropist who practiced noblesse oblige.

Of course, that was nothing more than a shell that held up only under the shallow gaze of the slabs of meat.

'Vulgar things.'

In the end, these too were merchants who dressed up their own greed in plausible vocabulary. Champagne glass in hand, Robert Sterling clicked his tongue arrogantly to himself.

He was one of the high-ranking vampires who had served the "Teacher" since the eighteenth century—a senior disciple who probed the deepest mysteries of Blood Magic directly under a true Lidmar.

'How much longer must I keep up this tedious theater with these beings who have neither decorum nor honor, who collapse without a qualm before the crude substance called capital….'

There was but one reason he parasitized this revolting human society and ran a massive pharmaceutical company: a legal and vast supply of blood samples, and the infrastructure for genetic experimentation.

'The population diversity within America is certainly useful. There are few noble genes, but the research pool is correspondingly broad.'

For that single efficiency, the centuries-old vampire gladly cast himself as a slave of capitalism and disguised his identity. At times like these, he always found himself envying his kin slumbering beneath ruins.

'But if I just endure this century, I'll surely return to the Teacher's side and resume meaningful practice….'

"Chairman, here are the materials for tomorrow morning's breakfast meeting with the Federal Reserve chairman. And in the afternoon, you are scheduled to appear at a congressional hearing."

"I'm aware."

Lately the federal government had been showing moves to strengthen the National Blood Management Act and the Genetic Information Protection Act. If these bills passed, the channel through which Robert legally intercepted samples would be blocked.

'I'll use this opportunity to pressure the lawmakers who proposed the bills, and buy off those who can be bought. Talk of monopoly will come up too… the usual hearing topic for Big Pharma—the pharmaceutical firms wielding immense political and commercial influence, is it.'

It was nothing but a crude political offensive, ignorant of the capital poured into developing drugs and the worth of failed clinical trials. It was a matter easily brushed aside with a line like "we will expand support programs for patients."

'If anything, if this process can plant the impression that Robert Sterling is forthright and defend Apex's stock price, it could be the surest show to cut off the government's suspicion at the root.'

In America, refusing to attend a hearing amounted to a brand: a high-handed company with something shady to hide. Showing himself batting back lawmakers' questions before the cameras would be effective.

'And….'

A glance,

his gaze landed on someone.

'I should be able to shake off the FSC's eyes to some degree, too.'

The Federal Supernatural Compliance. An organization that monitored whether supernatural beings derived from labyrinths obeyed the laws of human society, and did not hesitate to use force.

'Among the lawmakers I'll meet tomorrow, there's bound to be a bastard affiliated with the FSC—they really do make things tiresome.'

"Then I'll finalize the schedule as it stands."

"Yes, do that, and…."

It was at the very moment Robert was about to nod elegantly at his secretary's report.

"…."

A strange vibration rang out within his blood.

Not a pulse, but a faraway, immense wave that only those who shared the same blood could feel. The voices of those who served the Teacher most closely crossed the continent and lodged themselves in his mind.

[The God has returned.]

Within his red irises, abyss-like pupils dilated grotesquely.

[Let those who are worthy gather without delay at the Eastern sanctuary, adorn the altar to serve Him, and prepare the banquet.]

Robert's jaw muscles trembled faintly.

"Chairman?"

"…."

A god.

'Velmareth.'

The blood god they had devoted their whole lives to probing yet could never reach—the one they had deemed a phantom forever beyond attainment. A declaration that that truth had manifested.

They were even calling him with the offer to bestow the glorious opportunity to adorn the altar beside that noble god—in other words, to become the god's hands and feet, to scrub the sanctuary floors and prepare the ingredients.

'I must go.'

His reason flew off entirely.

He wanted to tear off this cumbersome suit at once and fly east. He wanted to go and prostrate himself at the feet of that merciful god and worship the birth of the precious one. He wanted to dig into His blood vessels, His heart.

But.

"Chairman, the Secretary of Health is waiting for you."

The secretary's businesslike voice crushed him back into reality.

"Hah…."

He could not move right now. This CEO identity had grown too immense. If he were to suddenly vanish tonight, the global economy would convulse, and that would inevitably invite the pursuit of every nation.

'The Teacher abhors commotion.'

He could hardly drag uninvited guests to the god's sanctuary with his own two feet.

'These goddamn Hibernation Faction bastards.'

To think that only those fundamentalist old codgers—holed up in Romanian catacombs or the sewers of Paris, grubbing at dirt—got to go prepare the god's holy feast. Though he was no less of an old codger himself, Robert groaned thus.

'I too could offer up everything for Him…!'

Grind.

Grinding his teeth in secret, he spoke.

"Let's move."

"Ah, yes. This way, please."

"Has the gift been prepared as I instructed beforehand?"

"Of course."

"Good. Excellent."

Barely managing a bloodless smile, Robert screamed inwardly as though vomiting blood.

'The moment this event is over, I'll find a body double first thing—right away…!'

It seemed he'd have to snatch one of the young of his kind.

* * *

And that scene—

"…."

A waiter holding a champagne tray in a corner of the banquet hall had been watching it all, plain and clear. He was an undercover agent of the United States Federal Supernatural Compliance (FSC).

The agent spoke quietly, without moving his lips, toward the shadow puppet hidden in his shirt collar.

"Headquarters. Anomaly detected from Target Alpha. His magic-wave is fluctuating abnormally."

[Report in detail.]

"His latent magic reading is on the verge of breaching the threshold."

[Is this a situation requiring a response team to be dispatched?]

"It does not appear to be aggressive."

Though he had just watched the man nearly shatter a champagne glass.

"But it's an unprecedented situation, so a new team should be dispatch—"

[Withdraw from that location immediately.]

"I need specific information. What is going on?"

[There's a report that the hibernators across all of Europe have awakened in unison. The seals of the catacombs are broken, and the magic reading beneath Bran Castle has reached its limit.]

"…."

The agent asked.

"Direction of movement?"

[East Asia. Beyond that, we must watch how it develops.]

"I'm returning to base."

[May fortune go with you.]

The waiter slipped away naturally.

* * *

The same moment.

Geneva, Switzerland, Europe.

The underground control room of the Global Boundary Council (GBC) European headquarters.

"…."

"…."

The world map displayed on the enormous screen was blanketed with blinking red warning lights, as though a plague had spread across it. The executives and analysts in the control room froze, not one of them able to open their mouth.

What the map displayed was the real-time locations of high-ranking vampires from around the world—those the GBC had kept watch on for decades.