"F—k, what is this?!"
Go Gyu-min was aghast at the unknown beings before his eyes.
People with the texture of black slime were emerging from the water and swarming toward the boat.
When they slipped while trying to climb aboard, they simply stretched out their arms again.
"Aaagh-! I want to live!!"
People whose eyes, noses, and mouths had crumbled and melted away were screaming.
Even while recoiling in horror, Go Gyu-min and Jang Si-woon kicked the climbing figures off the boat.
I strode up to the Curator and seized it by the collar.
For my wish's sake, I shouldn't provoke the Curator's temper, but....
I was too shaken just then to hold on to reason.
"Save those people! Failing the quest doesn't mean death, does it?!"
[They do not die. Have you forgotten?]
The Curator's robe, gripped in my hand, dissolved away like mist.
In an instant, the Curator stood one step removed from me.
[The Acheron is the river that joins this world and the next.]
[They are the eliminated, clotted onto this river.]
[Merely a gathering of visitors who will become components.]
"...!!"
They hadn't died — which meant they were sunk in the Acheron.
'This is the path to becoming a component...?'
What had these people done wrong, to deserve a fate like this?
"Save me! Save me!"
"Aagh!!"
The black figure clutching Jang Si-woon tilted the boat, and water spilled inside.
Maybe it was the water coming in. The ferryboat sank slightly lower than before.
"You damned statue!! At this rate we'll fall into the river too!"
[It seems the boat will sink under the weight of you visitors.]
"It was fine until just now — what nonsense is that?!"
Even as Go Gyu-min raised his voice, the Curator only shrugged.
Then it lifted its index finger, striking its signature exaggerated pose.
[There is a way to repel the components and set the boat moving once more.]
[Move me with music, if you would.]
"What is he on about?!"
Go Gyu-min bellowed at the incomprehensible words.
I turned the Curator's words over, spinning my mind fast.
In the end, the solution was tied to art once again.
'...It's the story of Charon the ferryman and Orpheus.'
[It seems the boat will sink under the weight of you visitors.]
In Greek and Roman mythology, the ferryman said something similar to the human Orpheus.
And Orpheus played his lyre and moved the ferryman's heart.
'The moved Charon floated the boat again and took up his oar.'
Through the elements of the Acheron and the ferryman, the quiz had linked from the Divine Comedy into Greek and Roman myth.
"Playing an instrument.... No — any music will do. We have to move the Curator!"
Properly, one should play the instrument called the lyre.
But since the Curator had deliberately widened the field to 'music,' anything should be possible.
Jang Si-woon glowered at me — what was that supposed to mean?
"Music? You're telling us to sing?!"
"A song moving enough to work!"
"I'm tone-deaf!!"
'So am I.'
Watching Jang Si-woon agonize, tearing at her hair, I despaired right along with her.
The memory surfaced of everyone snickering at my singing during music class assessments.
Face flushed, I had forced my way through to the end of the song.
My classmates laughing at me had been mortifying.
But greater than that was how pathetic I'd felt — not a shred of talent in music, art, or athletics.
"Young Kim, you're sure any music counts?!"
Just then, Go Gyu-min hauled me up out of my reminiscence.
"The Curator used the blanket term 'music' — so all of it must be possible!"
"Even pansori?"
"Yes, even pansori..., pardon? Pansori?"
Not a pop song — pansori, out of the blue?
I'd been nodding along to Go Gyu-min's words, then asked again, wondering if I'd misheard.
"We're sinking!!"
Jang Si-woon was scooping the river water out of the boat with her hands.
She knew it was useless, but the ever-heavier boat had made her desperate.
"Grraaagh-!!"
"F—k...."
Go Gyu-min kicked away a person trying to climb aboard, then spat a curse.
And drawing a deep breath, he steadied his breathing.
"Shall I go-"
"?!"
At the song that came from Go Gyu-min's mouth, Jang Si-woon's eyes and mine went round.
This was no ordinary singing. A voice drawn up from deep in his core, notes bending and breaking.
'Is this real pansori...?'
At Go Gyu-min's song, the boat slowly rose back onto the river's surface.
Shall I go, shall I go — following my love, shall I go
A thousand li I would follow, ten thousand li I would go
When Go Gyu-min finished his song, the water filling the ferryboat dried up, and the boat grew light.
The black people clinging to the boat slowly crumbled away, swept off into the river.
"...Me too, me too. I want to —— too...."
The last remaining person muttered the words in a final, dying scream.
But the hand he stretched toward us soon melted into droplets of water.
At last, the Acheron grew calm again.
"Whew...."
Drained of strength, we all slumped down into the boat.
While we were wiping our soaked foreheads, the delighted Curator waved both arms.
[A passage of Chunhyangga, heard on the river Acheron! Only in the Museum of Wishes is such a thing possible.]
"Shut it...."
Go Gyu-min glared at the Curator, his whole face twisting.
Putting us through horrors, then offering mockery dressed as praise.
Still, since the Curator had begun rowing again, he didn't resort to violence.
"Mr. Go, were you an artist? A pansori singer?"
"What artist, what singer. It was no use at all in solving the quest, was it? I know no~thing."
"But-"
"I've just dipped my toes in this and that around music. That's all."
At my question, Go Gyu-min contorted his face even more fiercely.
I'm no expert, so I wouldn't know, but that hadn't sounded like merely dipping one's toes....
It seemed he'd blow up if I mentioned the word artist one more time, so I simply held my tongue.
"I've rested too long — it's gone shabby. A few years back I was still in my thirties, you know. It was pretty solid then. Goodness, how embarrassing."
The shock of hearing Chunhyangga on the Acheron. Go Gyu-min's pansori skill.
But more surprising than any of that.
'He's in his early forties?!'
He'd talked down to us so naturally, I'd assumed he was much older.
And on top of that, his face was old for its age.
"You're only in your forties? Considering how you acted in the beginning, I thought you were far more senior."
"Ahem. Conduct and age are unrelated. I'm sorry. Everyone was rattled and on edge back then, weren't they?"
Once again — Jang Si-woon hurling her questions dead-straight, and Go Gyu-min answering like it was nothing.
To think a participant steeped in the arts had been beside us all along.
'His knowledge seems limited to the music side, but even that is a windfall. And above all....'
I pressed my hands together, eyes shining, and looked up at Go Gyu-min.
"Mr. Go, your song was truly beautiful...! That was my first time ever hearing pansori."
"...Enough. It's embarrassing, stop it."
"Please, just once more-"
"No."
Regrettably, he seemed to have no intention of letting us hear his voice again.
That slightly husky, plaintive voice had carried such appeal, too.
I clung to him persistently in my disappointment, but he cut me off, cold.
'Why hide away a voice that fine?'
If it were me, I'd have been thrilled and sung all the louder.
I couldn't know his personal circumstances, but for my part, I was simply envious.
How precious a fate it is, to be born holding something called talent-
"......."
That was when I belatedly realized.
Now was not the time to be idly envying anyone.
'In my joy at being safe, I'd forgotten the people who fell into the river.'
The people who became components must be envying us — and I'd forgotten them, indulging my own greed.
No. By now, even their capacity to feel emotion might have completely collapsed.
Thinking of the people who'd met so gruesome an end, even feeling envy seemed a discourtesy.
"...Me too, me too. I want to —— too...."
The words the sinking person had stammered out at the very last.
'...Me too, me too. I want to climb up, too....'
Completing the puzzle of that fragmented voice, my chest grew heavy with a tangled bitterness.
Judging by Jang Si-woon's and Go Gyu-min's darkened faces, they were thinking roughly the same thing.
[We have arrived.]
As if to say there was no time to spare for sorrow, the Curator raised its oar and pointed ahead.
At last, ground covered in hard rock came into view.
When the ferryboat touched the rock and stopped, we hurried off.
The Curator disembarked after us, then flung the oar into the river without a trace of regret.
[Up you go.]
Directly ahead was a stone stairway leading upward.
What kind of space lay at the top of the stairs, we couldn't see at all.
Only a bright light poured out, illuminating the stone steps.
"The second floor...."
Moved, I muttered to myself without meaning to.
At that, the Curator stretched out both arms, blocking our path.
[Ah, ah.]
"?"
[Before you proceed to the museum's second floor, I shall provide the visitors with a Perk.]
'A Perk?'
A small leaflet unfurled before my eyes.
Fwish-
=================
[Floor 1 Cleared- Granting exclusive perk.]
[Kim Ji-san]
Perk: Docent
Acquired!
[Perk: Docent]
-Can compile 'information' scattered across the brain's regions into data.
-Knowledge newly acquired in the tower is saved and added in real time.
=================
Docent — it refers to a guide who explains the works to visitors in a museum.
It seemed 'perk' was this tower's word for a skill.
'Everything from short-term to long-term memory stored in my brain — that's a mountain of it. How am I supposed to view all this...?'
All the information I'd accumulated since childhood would be converted into data.
Magical as this tower might be, I couldn't begin to imagine how it would organize such an enormous mass of data.
'Then — Dante. No, let's try searching Rodin.'
The moment the words ended, 'Auguste Rodin' was written onto the leaflet.
Fwish-
=================
[Auguste Rodin]
-Works
The Gates of Hell, The Thinker....
-Artist Information
┗François Auguste René Rodin, born November 12, 1840....
-My Memories Related to the Artist
.......
=================
'Okay, okay. That's enough. I get it.'
The text kept lining up downward, and the leaflet grew longer and longer.
Just before the leaflet dragged on the ground, I hurriedly folded the paper with my hands.
I'd tried it on impulse — and the leaflet responded to words and gestures. Just the way the Curator had handled it.
'The categories aren't sorted alphabetically. ...It seems to follow the order in which I acquired the memories.'
Since it had gathered every memory I have, there was far too much information.
'Let's collect only the credible data in here and organize it.'
Time to put to use all that seasoning earned pulling overtime until 4 a.m. at the research firm.
I spread the leaflet again and dragged the text with my finger, building my own folders.
=================
[Auguste Rodin]
-Works
┗The Gates of Hell
The Thinker
.......
.......
.......
-Artist Information
┗Born November 12, 1840
.......
-Related Memories
.......
.......
=================
"Much better."
Now it would be far simpler to pull up data in an emergency.
Living an adult's life, most of the miscellaneous knowledge I'd read as a child had long since faded.
A supremely useful skill.
'Ah, come to think of it — what about Si-woon and Mr. Go...?'
The two of them were staring gravely into empty air.
It seemed the Curator had screened us off so we couldn't see the details of each other's perks.
"......."
"......."
Jang Si-woon's eyes met mine.
For a moment, she seemed to be weighing whether or not to talk about her perk.
She always keeps that expressionless face, so it barely showed — but a flicker of anxiousness slipped through her eyes.
'Judging by that look, her skill must be pretty good.'
I crinkled my eyes at Jang Si-woon and smiled.
"Don't worry. I'm not telling either."
"Sorry?"
"You know how it is. We only just met in here — can you trust me completely?"
"That would be difficult, honestly."
"Right. So we each keep hidden what we want hidden."
"......."
"That's just my thinking, anyway."
I added that last part — that it was only my thinking — so Jang Si-woon wouldn't feel burdened.
'In truth, I dressed it up in fine words because I can't reveal my own perk.'
The tower's administrator is the Curator — and my skill is Docent, of all things.
Even granting that perks reflect each person's abilities, the name of my skill looked uniquely advantageous for climbing this museum.
Announcing that skill name to others right now was hardly a good choice.
It could invite needless suspicion, or wariness.
"Young Kim — you act ready to give away the shirt off your back, and yet the wheels do turn upstairs, eh?"
"I'm just not that kind."
I'd like my heart, at least, to be good..., but to keep friction from sparking between us, this was the best course.
'Still, I'm glad we shared our majors.'
It was clear the perks were assigned according to each person's abilities.
So Jang Si-woon would have received a skill related to athletics, and Go Gyu-min one related to music.
How fortunate that I have reasons to stay with these people going forward.
'There's just one thing that bothers me.'
I turned my head toward the Curator.
"But why give us perks at all?"
[.......]
"A visitor granted a perk will have an easier time climbing the tower. There's no gain in it for you, is there?"
[I do not weigh gains.]
[I merely accompany the visitors on their journey up the museum.]
[I am the Curator, after all.]
'Sounds like it's saying it's merely the tower's employee.'
It was suspicious — but for now I had only conjecture and no proof, so I decided not to press further.
"The stairway isn't even that tall, but you can't see past the entrance at all~"
"Only one way to find out."
I swallowed hard, passed the Curator, and set my foot on the stone steps.
The Curator watched us the whole way, until we reached the floor above.
THOOM-!
Just as we neared the top of the stairs, a tremendous sound came from behind.
Below, the floor of the Acheron had been completely sealed over with rock.
Now the only way was forward. I turned my body ahead again and climbed the final steps.
"...?!!"
And then.
"Meow."
TL Notes:
TL Note: Pansori — traditional Korean musical storytelling performed by a solo singer and a drummer; Chunhyangga is its most famous epic, and "Shall I go" is one of its best-known passages.