Hotel Mortis - Chapter 1 Part 7

Part 7

He woke up alone. When he opened his eyes, the ceiling seemed farther away than he had thought. As he turned his head while lying down, he could see the legs of furniture.

That’s right. He was lying on the floor.

The carpeted floor wasn’t exactly cold, but it wasn’t comfortable either, so he sat up. Stretching his languid muscles, he thought to himself.

‘For having slept on the floor, I strangely feel refreshed.’

His body felt incredibly light. To exaggerate a bit, it was as if he had been reborn.

“By the way, where is this place?”

He spoke out loud, questioning himself. It was to confirm that this room, lacking a sense of reality to an unusual degree, was not a dream. Fortunately or unfortunately, his voice was more vivid than anything else.

“Ah.”

Not long after, he realized the reason this place felt so unreal was due to its profound silence. 

Even the natural sounds that should typically be present were absent. No car noises, no chirping birds, no rustling wind, not even the faintest sounds that should naturally be heard if there were people around…

He slowly flexed his wrist joint, looking around as he did so.

It was a splendid room adorned with all sorts of flowers, trees, fruits, and animals intricately carved. Geometric wooden decorations were hung throughout. It was so captivating that one couldn’t focus on a single point. Yet, this splendor didn’t feel messy; it exuded an air of elegance.

A pumpkin-shaped inflated stand gently illuminated the bed, enclosed by a golden canopy. The presence of the bed puzzled him.

‘Why on earth was I lying on the floor when there’s a perfectly fine bed? And where exactly am I?’

After getting up from the floor and taking a complete look around the room, he instantly realized what kind of place this was.

‘This is a hotel, isn’t it?’

If there was any flaw, it was the ostentatious appearance that seemed a bit excessive. Nevertheless, there was no denying the grand bed, the inviting bedding, the lavish furniture, the rich wood-toned interior, the corridor leading to the bathroom adjacent to the room. It was unmistakably the room of a luxury boutique hotel.

“Who brought me here?”

However, the reason for coming to this hotel room and the memories just before that didn’t come to mind at all. Even his appearance, age, and name didn’t come to mind.

‘What happened to me?’

He paced around the hotel room, trying vigorously to recall something from his memory. However, strangely, his mind seemed completely empty, as if devoid of any thoughts.

It wasn’t just that he couldn’t remember anything; it was as if his memories didn’t exist at all. His mind was completely clean, like an emptied trash bin.

“I’ve never experienced anything this bizarre in my entire life.”

He muttered softly, realizing the truth behind his words. If there were no memories in his head, then it was indeed the first time he had experienced such a state.

But what was even stranger was that despite not being able to recall any memories, he felt no anxiety whatsoever about his current state. In fact, it was not easy to realize that this state was strange, unless he consciously thought about it. It felt like one of the senses he missed was the feeling of being on guard, as if a dull part of it had been cut off.

Could this strange gap in memory be a result of a severe hangover?

‘Or did someone hit me on the head and I temporarily lost my memory?’ 

However, despite that possibility, his mind was too clear, and his body felt incredibly light.

He soon stopped worrying and looked around the not-so-spacious hotel room. The digital clock on the nightstand flashing with the numbers ’03:36′. When he pulled back the luxurious lace curtains and looked out the window, he saw an impenetrable darkness that made it impossible to determine anything, but it was clear that it was 3:36 AM, not PM.

He picked up the telephone placed beside the digital clock and put it to his ear. It was completely dead. He couldn’t even hear the dial tone.

“Is this thing broken? How troublesome.”

His plan to call the front desk for some answers was thwarted.

‘Did I pay for this hotel in advance? Or was I going to pay for it after my stay?’ 

He searched his empty pockets for any money, hoping that the hotel bill had been paid in advance. Since he had no recollection, he must not have walked into this place on his own. Someone else had to have left him here, and he could only hope they had taken care of the hotel expenses. Otherwise, he risked being kicked out in the early morning hours when there were no taxis around.

‘How about just pretending I don’t know and making a run for it?’

Time was pressing, and he didn’t have any money to hail a taxi, but he wondered if he could go to a police station or someplace similar and plead for help. Would the cane of the people¹“Cane of the people” is a phrase used to describe a leader who is seen as a representative of the common people and works for their welfare. Like the police. recklessly throw out a person who has no memory like him?

“I should at least go down to the lobby.”

He quickly left his room. Although it seemed cozy at first glance, the interior was so extravagant that it made him feel overwhelmed. Even the door seemed overly ornamented, and he had to gingerly grip the gold-plated handle, fearing he might scratch it.

‘What a strange place.’

With this brief thought, he glanced at the room number of the place he had just left.

Room 712.

A splendid and dazzling plaque, seemingly cast in bronze, caught his eye.

‘712…?’

A strange déjà vu washed over him. It felt oddly familiar. Like a scene repeated dozens, hundreds, thousands of times in a dream… An unsettling feeling surged within him.

“Did I leave something important in there?”

With his gaze fixed on the number 712, he tried to open the door to room 712 once more.

-Rattle!

“It’s locked?”

However, the door to the room remained firmly locked from the inside. He turned the doorknob several times, but the door that had once closed with the number 712 wouldn’t open again.

-Rattle, rattle!

He turned the doorknob a couple more times and finally gave up trying to enter room 712 again. And, lingering around the strangely familiar hotel room, he made a rather peculiar decision with a sense of determination. Until he could regain his memories, he decided to refer to himself as 712.

‘Since I have no memories whatsoever, if someone asks about me, I can only describe myself as ‘the man who came out of room 712′.’

712 nonchalantly shrugged off his memory loss and headed toward the lobby. The corridor was quite dim, to the point that his sense of direction seemed to be paralyzed, but he managed. Recalling the ‘left-hand rule’ and various maze-solving techniques, he decided to walk straight ahead.

He walked slowly, checking the room numbers as he went.

And before long, he realized that the room numbers in this place were assigned in a very peculiar manner. Next to room 712 where he had come from, there were rooms 402, 707, 1313, 211, and 901. The designs of the room doors were also different, and there was absolutely no discernible pattern.

Furthermore, even the corridor followed a strange layout. Walk straight, then make a right turn, another right turn, and then yet another right turn, followed by more right turns, a left turn, and finally, a straight path. It was a bizarre structure that would never occur in reality.

‘Am I dreaming?’

To confirm whether this was a dream, 712 pinched his own cheek.

The pain he felt in his cheek was vivid. It felt like a dream, but this was a strange reality.

Walking along the twisted corridor in a strange manner, after a while, he came across a familiar door. 712’s eyes widened.

“What the? This is the same door as earlier?”

The door was so extravagantly adorned that it was almost embarrassingly ostentatious. It was hard to believe that there was another door like it in the world. As he got closer and checked the room number, it was indeed room 712.

“This is…”

Admitting this reality was not easy, but that’s what he did.

Despite continuously trailing his left hand along one side of the wall and even though the path was a single corridor, he managed to lose his way.

He stood in front of room 712, feeling lost and disheartened for a while.

“Um… Is there someone over there?”

The man from room 712 snapped to attention, right after a voice echoed from behind him.

“Who’s there?”

As he turned around and sharply exclaimed, the other person raised their hands in a calming gesture. “Shh, shh,” they said.

“I’m just an ordinary person. No need to be cautious.”

He approached 712 step by step, emphasizing once again that he was an ordinary person and had no intention of causing harm. 712 was cautious of the dark figure that appeared but gradually relaxed as the identity of the person became clearer as they got closer, sighing in relief.

“Sorry for shouting. I got startled when I suddenly heard a voice.”

“No worries. In this darkness, anyone would be surprised if someone suddenly spoke.”

He was a man in his mid-thirties with a dignified appearance. Contrary to the impression that would suit a well-tailored suit, he was awkwardly dressed in a graffiti T-shirt and jeans that didn’t quite match.

‘Did we know each other before?’

And somehow, the two tear-shaped moles under his right eye looked familiar.

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  “Cane of the people” is a phrase used to describe a leader who is seen as a representative of the common people and works for their welfare. Like the police.