How to Die in the Office Labyrinth - Chapter 8

WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator/Editor: Hydrogen B

◈ How to Die in the Office Labyrinth ◈

Chapter 8: Red Skein

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"What if just sitting quietly and killing time is all it takes? Why put yourself through all that trouble only to die for nothing. Honestly, fools rush in."

The smart, easily-spooked accountant grumbled, but followed me along just fine.

Clearly didn't want to be left alone either.

I looked up at the Uiwi Guild's goods store sign for a moment.

[TARAE]

TARAE.

True to the name, a red logo shaped like a skein of thread twisted into a figure eight was printed alongside it.

It seemed to take inspiration from the official term for professionals who handle contact-type labyrinths as their trade: Red Thread.

The Red Thread.

Ariadne's crimson thread, the one that led Theseus out of the Labyrinth.

The name carried that meaning, that these were the ones who found the right path through a labyrinth and resolved it, just as that red thread had.

In practice, of course, overwhelming physical force, whether guns, bombs, or anything else, could solve most things.

But mobilizing military firepower for every labyrinth was never realistic, and some labyrinths operated by rules that simply refused to yield to force.

That was why Red Threads existed.

Their mission: resolve labyrinths as efficiently as possible.

Here, a guild's role was something like an agency for Red Threads, similar to a talent management company for entertainers. When a contact-type labyrinth appeared, the guild decided which Red Thread to send in, handled coordination with the Labyrinth Management Bureau on their behalf, and processed all the entry and exit procedures. They also supplied the equipment needed to clear a labyrinth and managed scheduling.

Most importantly, the guild acted as the Red Thread's representative in trading any artifacts obtained inside, then split the resulting profits at a fixed ratio.

Uiwi Guild was the industry frontrunner.

Probably something to do with the fact that both of Uiwi Guild's co-founders had backgrounds as founders of a sports agency and an entertainment company, respectively. That expertise had clearly carried over.

And I'd ended up in this mess while coming here for an interview, applying for a Red Thread position at that very same Uiwi Guild.

It hit me fresh, just how depressing that was.

"Chae Jae-ha-ssi. Right this way."

If this goods store alone was any indication, Red Threads enjoyed popularity on par with celebrities. I'd heard they casually raked in nine-figure sums while running parallel entertainment careers.

As long as they survived.

"Before we go in, I want to ask. Is there any rule against outsiders entering? Like, maybe only employees can buy here?"

I checked before touching the TARAE door. Couldn't repeat the same mistake twice.

"No? Fans come here all the time. I mean, there's a discount for employees and tenant-company staff, sure. I bought something for my nephew here once because of that."

What's so great about people who might not make it to tomorrow, Chae Jae-ha muttered, clearly at a loss.

But maybe that was exactly what drew people in.

That mayfly quality, living each day like it might be the last.

That candle-in-the-wind fragility.

That moth-to-a-flame pull toward the fire.

"Then, let's go in for now."

The moment I pushed the TARAE door open, music began.

"I'm on my way to you"

A groovy pop song, a stylish interior, merchandise arranged to match the vibe.

"Don't you remember, my dear"

It had the look of a perfectly ordinary pop-up store on any busy street, and the normalcy of it felt surreal.

"Wait, why are there no employees?"

And it genuinely was surreal, the absence of staff. Chae Jae-ha was right.

The plan to bring a TARAE clerk over to Uri Saennal Daycare and try getting in together had already fallen through anyway.

"Wel come to TAR AE"

"Gyah!"

The accountant let out a strange yelp and grabbed my shoulder.

I went rigid and turned my head.

"You promised me in the endless night"

On the LED display mounted to the wall, a large, round, yellow face.

"You'd be my always daylight"

The grinning face emoji, one of the standard ones.

"Remember, you're the one who said 'Whenever'"

"If you ha ve any ques tions please call for the TAR AE keep er any tiime"

The only real difference from a standard emoji was that its pupils tracked our movements whenever we moved, and whenever it spoke, its lips parted to reveal an unsettling number of teeth.

The TARAE keeper on the LED screen hummed along to the music playing through the store and spoke in its distinctive mechanical voice.

"Nothing to be scared of, my love"

"Our val ued cus to mers please browse at your lei sure"

Uncomfortable.

So uncomfortable I could die.

"Seon Yu-han-ssi, over there. Let's go over there. Survival kits are right there."

The one among us with prior experience at TARAE edged sideways to avoid the emoji's gaze and pointed toward one of the walls.

"Well, if we get down to the first floor quick enough, we probably won't need it. But you never know. Anything could happen in that little window."

I kept to myself the speculation that the first floor might not be the end of it, or that whatever lay below might not be the first floor at all.

"Till the end"

I passed the shelves of digital accessories, stationery, and miscellaneous goods and took in the display rack packed exclusively with labyrinth survival kits.

"I'm the one who will be by your side"

Labyrinth survival kits.

Preparation kits for situations where you found yourself trapped in a labyrinth, bought mainly by people near spots where fissures appeared, with the possibility of getting pulled into a contact-type labyrinth in mind.

That didn't mean they were useless in an invasive-type situation, of course.

In any disaster scenario, a survival kit always helped.

"I think we just load up the most expensive bag and dump everything else into it."

The kits varied wildly in price depending on contents and design.

A premium kit in a next-generation compression bag, wide storage space, impressively compact and light, and actually well-designed on top of that, started at several hundred thousand won as a baseline.

Throw in optional extras like separately listed artifacts or additional features and it could easily run into the millions.

There were plenty of options under a hundred thousand won too, of course.

Labyrinth survival kits seemed to have drifted from essential goods closer to luxury goods. Ironic, given the name.

"You have to follow no more"

The odds of getting pulled into a contact-type labyrinth were about the same as getting into a car accident.

The odds of dying inside a contact-type labyrinth had become similarly comparable to dying in a car accident.

"Rules, rules, rules"

People didn't walk around trembling in fear of a crash every time they crossed a street or got behind the wheel. In the same way, people had stopped obsessively keeping a survival kit on them at all times.

"You tell me now, no more"

I had a cheap standard-issue kit at home but rarely brought it with me.

Bulky, mostly.

"Lies, lies, lies"

And yet here I was, trapped not in a contact-type but an invasive-type labyrinth.

I should go buy a lottery ticket the moment I got out. First prize, guaranteed.

"No medication either, of course."

"There's at least antiseptic and gauze."

It went without saying that the guild couldn't legally sell pharmaceuticals, so users had to purchase those separately and pack them in themselves. At least there was a first aid kit that included some over-the-counter medical supplies.

"Emergency rations too, and it'd be nice to have water. Is there a water purifier nearby?"

"No idea. I barely come to the second floor. I'd assume the library or the daycare has one."

"Ah. That's fair."

Better if it was the library. Rather than the daycare.

"Come to me, come to you"

Right after I grabbed a tumbler from the display rack without looking too closely at which one, I spotted the "special sale item."

The Jaelae Diary.

A single reddish-brown leather notebook on the shelf.

A "Limited" sticker was neatly plastered onto the clear wrapping.

Opening it before buying was obviously not allowed.

I glanced over at the unsettling yellow face on the LED screen.

"I have something I want to ask."

"But of course what would you like to know Seon Yu han val ued cus to mer"

The emoji beamed wide, and as its mouth opened I could see rows upon rows of white teeth, a red uvula, and a black abyss behind it.

I heard Chae Jae-ha make a strangled sound.

"Is it actually fine for me to buy this? I heard the ads say you don't have to be an employee, but."

"You heard right more over that product is a spe cial lim it ed item that bind to its own er any where any time"

"...Anywhere, anytime?"

A pointed way to phrase it, given my situation.

"Yes Seon Yu han Seon Yu han Seon Yu han val ued cus to mer as long as you wish it the item is yours any time any where any how how ever damage sus tained dur ing that spe cial de li very pro cess is a com plete ly na tu ral phe no me non for which TARAE bears no re spon si bil i ty please pur chase now"

Purchase.

No choice but to.

I had the distinct feeling I'd just been handed the most consumer-hostile disclaimer imaginable, but I quietly tucked the diary into my basket.

A labyrinth was a pristine zone with no difficult customers.

The labyrinth was always in charge, and a visitor's only options were to follow its rules obediently or refuse and die.

"Are you done picking everything out?"

"Yeah. Uh-huh."

Chae Jae-ha stared at the Jaelae Diary in my hand the way someone might stare at a particularly disgusting bug.

"You're actually buying that?"

"Yes. So then."

I glanced over at the enormous emoji still watching its customers with a smile and said,

"Let's check out."

Not paying and walking out of here was a guaranteed death sentence.

I knew that without having to experience it.

Absolutely. One hundred percent. Death.

"Huh? Buy it? Are you serious, spending my own money in a situation like this..."

Chae Jae-ha's disgruntled voice cut off.

The TARAE keeper had been humming along to the music, and now their eyes met.

"Just say the word, you have my word"

The round emoji's expression was stretched into a wide, open-mouthed grin of pure delight.

Showing off dozens of teeth in the process.

"Right, yeah. Of course. Obviously. Punching holes in someone else's ledger just isn't done. No, no. Of course not."

The accountant's about-face was swift.

"Do you know how to use a POS terminal?"

With no cashier at the register, we'd have to ring ourselves up.

"No?"

"Then I'll check myself out first, and if you hand me your card I'll take care of yours as well."

I picked up the barcode scanner with shaking hands.

Beep.

"Okay..."

The scanner did not writhe like a snake and shoot venom into me for having the audacity to ring myself up as a mere customer.

Beep. Beep.

Reassured, I kept scanning.

"'Will you be mine even though my heart doesn't belong to you?'"

Now the truly terrifying thing was the total.

I'd been picking the most expensive option each time, and it had come out to roughly a month's salary for someone just starting out in the workforce.

Lucky I'd raised my card limit recently.

I deployed the three-month interest-free installment skill.

"I will, I will promise you 'Whenever'"

The moment the payment confirmation message appeared on the POS screen, I let out a breath.

I'd been half-convinced the screen was going to suddenly announce "This transaction cannot be completed!" and either swallow me whole or send an electric shock through the terminal.

Thankfully, nothing at all--

"No need to"

"Hey. Hey. Seon Yu-han-ssi. The emoji. It just changed shape."

"Hide"

Chae Jae-ha tapped my shoulder and pointed at the large LED display.

"No need to"

Instead of the round yellow face emoji, a gold scales-of-justice emoji now floated on the screen.

"Run"

"Chae Jae-ha-ssi! Get out! Drop everything and get out now!"

"Wh, okay!"

I had no idea what the change meant, but in a labyrinth you always assumed the worst-case scenario first.

Shhhk.