OL Ch 8

Chapter 8

Hayun silently gazed at Seo Iju. Until now, Seo Iju had never spoken about such matters. She always stood atop Hayun’s head, looking down upon her surroundings. Hayun had never sensed any hesitation or delay from Seo Iju when opening doors. Consequently, Hayun believed they were similar – Seo Iju could foresee how to use the skill and taught it to him.

“However, you’ve never experienced that. Although your expertise is limited, there hasn’t been a door you couldn’t open when desired, nor one you couldn’t close.”

Holding Hayun’s glasses, Seo Iju slowly began walking. She carefully surveyed the space around them, specifically observing the multitude of doors present.

“On the day you were born, all the doors around me greeted you. Perhaps they even worshipped you.”

Hayun followed Seo Iju with uneasy eyes.

“Even on that day, as Mookyeong was being born and I struggled for breath, I envied you. Jeong Kiwoo and Mun Taegang likely felt the same if they had been there.”

“Teacher.”

“I reveal my envy towards you because you are truly remarkable.”

Hayun approached Seo Iju, feeling increasingly anxious about leaving her alone. Seo Iju gently brushed Hayun’s hair aside as she drew near.

“You were a significant variable in our research. With our existing knowledge, we couldn’t explain you. We have been studying doors for a long time. The doors we could open might be related to the labyrinth’s doors. Perhaps by combining our powers, we could close the labyrinth’s doors without entering it directly. Of course, even if closed this way, sporadic doors would still occasionally appear.”

Hayun silently nodded, showing his understanding.

“Normally, the doors of the labyrinth and this world don’t overlap. However, once they merge, creating an entrance, the labyrinth refuses to let go until it is closed.”

“So, closing the door would restore the natural flow, preventing further overlaps.”

“Yes. We conducted extensive research based on this theory over many years. However, we weren’t alone in our thoughts; others had considered it long before us. In some ancient texts, these ominous entities were described as not human.”

“…..”

“Our doorkeepers could easily escape by opening doors connected to other dimensions, but they required permission from the door itself. Additionally, each door had a fixed limit on the number of people allowed through. What if someone capable of killing us emerged during the brief moment when the door was open?”

“…We would perish.”

“Exactly. Many doorkeepers have died that way. But it wasn’t entirely hopeless. Amidst these tragedies, they discovered certain patterns or laws.”

“Laws?”

“In years with high doorkeeper fatalities, powerful beings tended to emerge—either born or awakened.”

“…..”

“On the other hand, when powerful doorkeepers were killed, multiple children would be born. However, these children didn’t possess strong powers. Some could barely manage to open one door at most. The perplexed government decided to conduct experiments.”

Hayun not only learned standard academic subjects but also specialized courses tailored for espers. Among them was the history of espers. Although his grades weren’t exceptional, he had absorbed some knowledge over the years.

However, what Seo Iju shared was entirely new information, even to him as an esper of great ability.

“They started capturing and dissecting doorkeepers.”

Seo Iju’s hands, initially massaging Hayun’s head, suddenly jabbed his chest. This gesture reminded Hayun of the recent string of kidnapping-murder incidents.

“When they cut open the freshly dead doorkeeper’s body, it flashed with green light,” Seo Iju said. “Following this light, something similar to grains appeared.”

“Grains…? Not like gallstones?”

Seo Iju laughed at Hayun’s response. She shook her head and took out a small box from her bosom. The box had a yellow talisman attached, and the ink on it still hadn’t faded completely. Hayun smelled blood from the box, suddenly feeling as if there was a heart inside it.

“It would be less sad if we called them gallstones. Anyway, these grains are about the size of a finger segment, emitting a green glow when exposed for a moment. It isn’t due to any radioactive substances present.”

Seo Iju handed the box to Hayun. Caught off guard, Hayun awkwardly held onto the box, unsure whether to grip it tightly or let go.

“People called it [Gogok]. It’s an intuitive name, probably because the shape is similar?”

[TL/N: Gobeunok or Gogok (곡옥; 曲玉) are comma-shaped or curved beads and jewels that appeared from middle age of Mumun Period (1500 to 300 BC) through the Three Kingdoms of Korea (57 BC to 668 AD).]

“…Gogok?”

“But we referred to them as keys.”

Seo Iju suddenly leaned closer, startling Hayun and causing the contents of the box to rattle.

“For convenience, let’s call them gogok. It was said that if extracted during dissection without immediately submerging them in water, they would vanish. This makes sense considering water has sealing properties. Anyway, once aware of these fascinating objects, humans began extracting gogok continuously.”

To prevent any potential loss, they promptly dissected doorkeepers upon capture to extract gogok. During this process, many doorkeepers died, leading people to believe stronger ones would naturally be born over time.

However, even after several generations, no doorkeepers with extraordinary power were born. In fact, the number of doorkeepers decreased significantly.

Meanwhile, the gogok sealed underwater began to coalesce. They lacked pieces and couldn’t form their complete shape yet, but it was clear they would eventually take on a circular form.

“What can we infer from this?”

“…..”

“Go ahead and give me your answer.” Seo Iju encouraged Hayun to respond. However, when asked, nothing came to mind immediately. After hesitating for some time, Hayun cautiously spoke up.

“Is there a fixed limit to the number of doorkeepers?”

“And what else?”

“…What do you mean ‘what else’? I’ve barely given one answer.”

“There must be more.”

Seo Iju nodded for Hayun to continue his response. Reluctantly, Hayun pondered further, but nothing significantly different came to mind. As he hesitated, Seo Iju crossed her arms, signaling her patience was wearing thin. Sensing this, Hayun decided to answer:

“Does the number of gogok affect the doorkeepers?”

Gogok were extracted immediately after a doorkeeper’s death and submerged in water; otherwise, they would vanish. Would these vanished gogok disappear entirely or transfer elsewhere?

The doorkeepers didn’t kill themselves; their lives were taken by those who despised them. In such circumstances, it’s unlikely that their bodies remained intact. Moreover, considering how hurriedly the surviving doorkeepers fled, they probably wouldn’t have extracted gogok from the deceased ones’ bodies. If the number of gogok affects the doorkeepers, perhaps after a doorkeeper dies, their gogok disappears from their body and reappears within another doorkeeper.

“And also… when scattered thinly, they clump together, but once clumped, breaking apart disperses them finely?”

“That’s correct. However, the exact laws governing this phenomenon remain unclear. There is very little historical documentation available, and nowadays, few individuals possess great abilities. You’re aware of how rare doorkeepers like us are.”

Hayun nodded in understanding. Due to their rarity and difficulty in measuring their abilities accurately, doorkeepers like Hayun were often classified as teleporters. Seo Iju faced the same issue.

“Most doorkeepers share familial ties. While we don’t fully understand what trait is hidden within our blood, this pattern holds true for most of us. In my family, it’s said that our great-great-grandfather was also a doorkeeper. Jeong Kiwoo and Mun Taegang had similar lineage connections. However, your family doesn’t follow this trend. Perhaps there’s something we haven’t discovered yet, but at least eight generations back, there seems to be no record of any doorkeepers.”

“……”

“Some believe the scarcity of doorkeepers in modern times is due to numerous gogok being sealed away. We’ve been searching for clusters of these gogok for a very long time.”

“…So, did you search for it?”

“No, I couldn’t find it. Fortunately.”

Why was he relieved about not finding it? Hayun blinked, puzzled by Seo Iju’s statement. Yet, a chill ran through him, making him feel anxious and uneasy.

“So why is it called the key?”

“Huh?”

“In one of the remaining experimental records, they inserted a gogok extracted from another doorkeeper into someone else’s body. This doorkeeper temporarily gained the ability to open numerous doors but ultimately got trapped and died.”

How did they die trapped within a door? Was it because the door rejected them or due to some external issue? However, Seo Iju didn’t provide further explanation. Perhaps there wasn’t enough information available even to her.

“The gogok you possess belonged to Mun Taegang. He was kidnapped by those creatures and barely managed to escape. Considering his advanced age and severe injuries, he believed he couldn’t recover on his own. So, he contacted us before taking his own life. By the time we arrived, Mun Taegang had already passed away.”

Mun Taegang chose suicide and left final messages for Seo Iju and Baek Jinha, recorded on his cell phone. As his children resided abroad, Seo Iju and Baek Jinha honored his wishes and arranged his funeral.

“He entrusted this to us with the hope it wouldn’t fall into their hands.”

“So that’s why you wanted to create a time capsule?” Hayun asked curiously.

Seo Iju smiled brightly at his question.

“It’s both true and false. These were always meant for you from the beginning, including this.” Seo Iju handed another wooden box to Hayun. Without looking inside, he knew what it contained.

“However, you shouldn’t remember any of this.”

“Huh?”

“It has to be done.” Seo Iju gently tapped Hayun’s glasses with her fingertip.

Instantly, darkness engulfed Hayun’s vision.

“….!”

Hayun abruptly woke up, gasping heavily. As soon as he opened his eyes, Mookyeong stirred beside him.

“What, what happened?”

Hayun silently stared at Mookyeong, unable to recall why he was startled. His mind felt completely blank. He scratched his head while glancing around the room.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“A dream?”

“Yeah, your face looks pale.”

“I don’t remember anything.”

“…?”

“Mookyeong, I genuinely can’t recall what happened.”

Hayun felt disoriented but couldn’t pinpoint why. He was certain he had forgotten something, yet he couldn’t grasp what it might be. His gaze scanned the room. Checking the clock, it was 2:30 AM.

“W-When did I fall asleep?”

“You came to bed around eight, saying you were tired. Even though I asked you to play with me, you wouldn’t listen.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you did.”

“I don’t remember that.”

Mookyeong touched Hayun’s forehead.

“No fever.”

“What did I do today?”

“Just like any other day.”

“It’s not.”

“What’s not?”

“Nothing.”

Feeling wronged, Hayun shook off Mookyeong’s hand. Despite being pushed away quite forcefully, Mookyeong grabbed his hand again. Unlike usual, Hayun’s hands felt cold to the touch.