Inside Unit 1101, it was quiet. The moment I opened the door, I had expected something to jump out—whether the resident or “the caretaker”—but there was no sign of anyone at all.
The unlit interior was dark, but the entryway sensor lights were flickering on and off everywhere, so seeing wasn’t much of a problem. In the entryway sat one pair of black sneakers together with several pairs of men’s dress shoes.
Being Korean, I almost reflexively took my shoes off at the door, but if things went wrong, I might have to run at any moment, so I entered with my shoes on. I’d already done it in Unit 201, and now in Unit 1101 too, and walking around indoors with my shoes on made my conscience ache. Was this what it meant to have Korean guilt built into your system?
To make matters worse, the inside of Unit 1101 was decorated in a way that made wearing shoes indoors feel even more sinful. I didn’t know who had painted them, but paintings that looked absurdly expensive hung all over the walls. If I looked away, they seemed to twist a little, but even at a glance it was obvious each one had to be worth at least several million, maybe tens of millions of won.
Compared with Unit 201, Unit 1101 was much larger to begin with. Climbing the emergency stairs, I had seen that from the second to the tenth floor, each level had two units. But on the top floor, the eleventh, there was only Unit 1101.
These days, apartment buildings with twenty or thirty floors are everywhere, but until the late twentieth century, high-rise apartments weren’t all that common. Considering Baekju Apartments was torn down in 1991, even eleven stories would have counted as fairly tall at the time.
In that sense, Unit 1101 was like a modern penthouse. Not everyone who lives in a penthouse is rich, but at the very least, the resident of Unit 1101 looked like they had money.
“If I took a few paintings out of here and sold them as stolen goods, I’d get caught, right?”
{Do you like those paintings?}
“Not really. They just look expensive.”
{You could take them out, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Maybe not you, Iru, but other people would go mad over even one of those paintings.}
“Breaking into an empty house is wrong.”
I had never intended to really take anything from inside an anomaly out into reality in the first place. Other than the teeth of what was presumably Lee Jaeyoung, which the resident of Unit 201 had shoved on me, anything I carried out was obviously going to cause problems.
I let Minsu’s chatter about how there was an art museum nearby, and how we should go together later, go in one ear and out the other. I wasn’t particularly into art, so I didn’t especially want to go to a museum. I barely went to museums in reality—why would I go to one inside an anomaly?
I carefully opened the master bedroom door after crossing the living room. There hadn’t been any sign of life anywhere, but someone was lying on the bed in the master bedroom like a corpse. And beside the bed stood a middle-aged man in a guard uniform.
Unlike the impostor I had seen earlier, this middle-aged man really looked human. He looked exactly like the kind of apartment security guard you could easily see at a management office somewhere—a kind-faced man in his late fifties.
“You’re a visitor, right?”
The man who was likely the real “the caretaker” slowly turned his gaze toward me. I nodded reflexively.
“The rules sheet should have said not to enter Unit 1101 carelessly. You don’t seem to be a controller, so are you a new retriever from Dore?”
“No, it’s more that Dore or psycho or whatever shoved me in here.”
“Pardon?”
“In that case, could I go back now?”
“The caretaker’s” gaze passed over me and landed on Minsu standing beside me.
“You’re keeping something that isn’t a dog as a dog.”
My gaze followed his to Minsu, then shifted to the figure lying on the bed. That man had to be the resident of Unit 1101. He had a human face, but his entire body kept twisting endlessly and reassembling itself.
“It’s my job to send a visitor back if the visitor wants to return, but for some reason, I feel like having a conversation with you first. If you aren’t busy, would you be willing to spare me a little time?”
What I really wanted was to throw myself at the door and demand to be let out immediately. But the rules sheet had said to always be kind to “the caretaker,” so I couldn’t bring myself to refuse his suggestion that we have tea together.
“The caretaker” led me out of the master bedroom and into the kitchen. While he prepared what outwardly looked like perfectly normal green tea, I held Minsu tightly in my arms and whispered:
“Do you think I can get out of here safely?”
{If not, come to the school.}
“Why? You’re going to send me back to reality?”
{There’s still a teaching position open....}
“Forget it. Just stay quiet.”
Minsu was useful and then not useful. Still, having him with me made it easier to face “the caretaker” without being too tense. It was because I trusted that if something happened, Minsu would just bite first and ask questions later.
“The caretaker” came back with boiling water in a kettle and sat across from me. Because the kitchen table was narrow, I could see him more clearly than before.
He didn’t have a beautiful face like Minsu, but he had the sort of face that naturally inspired goodwill. He wore the cap that went with the guard uniform, so his face was partly in shadow, but his lined features looked remarkably gentle.
“If it isn’t rude, may I ask you something?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“How did you manage to talk to the residents here? Unless someone is a trader, conversation isn’t possible.”
“I don’t know if you can really call it conversation....”
“How did you do it?”
“I don’t know why it works either.”
“I see. There are people like that sometimes. People who are a little special.”
I didn’t drink the tea “the caretaker” had given me. I just wrapped both hands around the cup. By contrast, he finished his first cup in no time.
“You don’t seem to like tea very much.”
Not drinking the tea you were served in someone else’s home wasn’t exactly polite, but I didn’t want to casually ingest anything inside an anomaly. Anyone who had read Greek and Roman mythology in illustrated children’s books when they were young would act the same way I was. Everyone knows the story of Persephone, who couldn’t return because she ate a few pomegranate seeds in the underworld.
“The caretaker” poured himself another cup. While he drank the second, a muffled scream came from the master bedroom. It was coming from the resident of Unit 1101, the one lying on the bed.
Then came the sound of something crashing over and a body writhing in agony. Between the screams, a ragged voice begged to be saved.
“Do you know why Unit 1101 is off-limits?”
“No.”
“There’s nothing dangerous here. It may actually be the safest place in this entire apartment building.”
“......”
“Maybe that’s why. Whenever people come to Unit 1101, they all try to save that.”
Ignoring the sounds from the master bedroom completely, “the caretaker” kept speaking only to me.
“Do you want to save that too?”
The pleas to be saved were getting louder and louder. If another person is suffering, anyone would want to help, even a little. Even when your own situation is already desperate enough that you can’t step in right away, it’s only natural to be bothered by someone else’s screams.
“How strange. When I was like that, nobody helped me.”
Even though I hadn’t said a word, “the caretaker” rose as if he already knew everything. Minsu bared his teeth at him, but “the caretaker” remained perfectly calm.
“I kept asking to be saved too.”
I followed “the caretaker” back toward the master bedroom. The resident of Unit 1101 was no longer on the bed now, but crawling on the floor. His face, like “the caretaker’s,” was human. He didn’t have multiple arms, and his flesh wasn’t fused together, nor did he look stitched together out of human skin.
But the resident of Unit 1101 screamed while twisting his whole body. Every time he twisted, he lost his human form. Then he returned to it again. And then lost it again.
“You said Dore shoved you in here, right?”
“...Yes.”
“I understand why. You’re a very special being. Just being near you gives me a sense of nostalgia. It’s very strange.”
“......”
“When I’m with you, it feels like I could go back to the way I used to be. That’s probably why this one keeps following you around too.”
“The caretaker” pointed at Minsu with his hand.
“One piece of advice: don’t trust this one too much. The things that hold positions in places like this are mostly dangerous.”
Even after hearing that, Minsu stayed quiet. He didn’t look like he intended to lunge and bite the way he had with the lump or the impostor.
“Are you dangerous too?”
When I asked, “the caretaker” smiled broadly.
“Of course. I want you to move in too.”
He reached out and suddenly grabbed my wrist. Like the resident of Unit 1101, “the caretaker’s” face twisted for an instant before returning to normal.
“So never come back here again. You must not become a retriever. Everyone will want to follow you out. Remember this: you must not save what should not be saved.”
“What does that—”
“Don’t try to save it. Looking away is what you people do best, isn’t it?”
Before I could even ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, “the caretaker” yanked my body sharply toward him. Minsu barked, and I felt myself pitch forward.
“Thank you for visiting our Baekju Apartments. I do hope it was an enjoyable visit.”
With those words, my vision turned completely black.