There are several kinds of teams within the Immigration and Foreigners Administration.
The most famous are the combat teams, Special Team 1 through Special Team 7, but the team Park Jumi belongs to has nothing to do with combat.
What is more, Park Jumi herself is a capable professional agent, but she is not an ability user with combat power.
Her work is counseling agents returning from the field and recording their testimony.
“Rules?”
“Yes. That you have to eat pasta.”
“Pasta.”
Park Jumi pronounced the word “pasta” with a hint of disbelief, but Im Huiyeong answered calmly.
“Strictly speaking, Genovese pasta. Genovese pasta originally refers to pasta from Genoa, but he said he would prepare the ‘Naples-style’ Genovese pasta.”
“Naples-style? Then shouldn’t it be called Neapolitan pasta?”
Looking briefly troubled, Im Huiyeong scratched his head lightly and answered.
“I first heard of a dish called Genovese pasta that day. What is Naples-style and what is Genoa-style— I still don’t really know. I only quoted what they said.”
At that, Park Jumi pushed up the thick horn-rimmed glasses and studied Im Huiyeong.
Breathing? Normal. Blood pressure unchanged.
Fingers? Fidgeting a little.
Watching the big, round-built Im Huiyeong fidget with his plump fingers, Park Jumi somehow thought of a shy polar bear. She smiled slightly and continued.
“If it’s only about eating pasta, it doesn’t sound difficult— weren’t there other conditions?”
He is a survivor who made it back alive from a surreal and dangerous scene.
She needs to judge whether what he says is a kind of metaphor, a confusion-born delusion, or a calm statement of fact.
“Eating it wasn’t the problem. Making the pasta was.”
“That ‘rules’ thing you mentioned at the start? Did the guests have to help cook the pasta?”
Im Huiyeong shook his head with a serious look.
“There were no rules about pasta among the rules the owner of the pension told us.”
“The owner of the pension... was it this person?”
Park Jumi produced a photo she had prepared.
An old identification photo.
“Heo Sanghyun. Age forty... Runs the pension with his wife. One daughter. Doesn’t look like the type who files taxes faithfully. He might have been operating without profit, but—”
Before Park Jumi finished, Im Huiyeong shook his head.
“Not this man. He was much younger, and I didn’t see anyone like a wife or daughter. There was a woman among the guests, but she had nothing to do with the owner.”
After a brief pause, Im Huiyeong spoke in a slightly hesitant voice.
“I will say it again: he wore a mask with four eyes. He didn’t give a name... but I’m certain it was Kim Sinhwa.”
“I see.”
A few words and sentences entered Park Jumi’s computer.
[Mask], [Kim Sinhwa].
[Strange rules], [Anomalous phenomena].
[A pension you cannot leave unless you eat pasta].
From such recorded, valuable testimony, information and guidelines for the Administration’s next operation are formed.
And Park Jumi’s real specialty ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) is processing and organizing that information.
“Let’s continue. What was the inside of the pension like?”
It wasn’t time for sunset yet, but outside it was somehow dark.
It felt less like a matter of night or day and more like that pension alone was floating in another dimension where neither sun nor stars existed.
Time?
Six thirty-three.
There was a sense that time perception was being distorted, but I am sure of that time. Because that is what Kim Sinhwa said.
“Everyone. It is now six thirty-three.”
Saying so, Kim Sinhwa closed the lid of the pocket watch in his hand. I still remember the loud click that echoed in the quiet living room.
“Would the newcomer please sit over there?”
The place he pointed to was a vintage sofa in the center of the wide living room.
From there, Bae Jinwoo gave an awkward smile and a little wave.
Including Jinwoo, there were already seven people seated.
Three women. With me, that makes four.
And four men including Jinwoo.
Ages ranged from someone who looked young enough to be a teenager to an old man, and among the women there was one foreigner.
We later confirmed the foreigner’s status; she had entered on a work visa.
But none of them looked ordinary.
Their outfits were excessively showy— you know the type?
That combat-ready or odd attire fixers favor. Jinwoo whispered that to me as well.
“Senior, you must be careful, I say. Not everyone here is a fixer— but most are ability users or mutants.”
Looking back, maybe it was a funny sight.
But I soon realized it was not a situation to laugh at.
Yes...?
Ah, you need more explanation.
Seven ability users, including fixers and Administration agents, had gathered.
Among the fixers, there were a few prominent enough that even I recognized their faces.
People like that wouldn’t simply sit and wait for pasta, would they? Even so, they listened to only what Kim Sinhwa said, without any response.
I sensed immediately this was not going to be easy.
So I squeezed in next to Jinwoo and decided to watch the situation for now.
“Thank you. I will repeat: the first rule is to wait for the pasta. Once you eat the pasta— not only will you be able to leave this pension at any time, every problem that arose here will be resolved.”
After a short pause, Kim Sinhwa spoke again in a voice laced with a smile.
“You can even take a small souvenir with you. If we get that far— you might even remember today as a pleasant memory.”
It was half a joke, but no one laughed.
It didn’t look like he expected a reaction anyway; he kept going without stopping.
“Second rule. Listen to our introductions and explanations. This is an important procedure, so interruptions will not be allowed. Even if it is information you already know, please listen through.”
He pointed to himself.
“The menu we have prepared is Genovese pasta. If you need to call me for any reason— call me the Genovese pasta Manager. That is, GM. Or simply Manager.”
And the Manager pointed toward the kitchen and introduced the [Chef].
“The chef in the kitchen is someone who has studied cuisines from various countries since school days and even worked in a hotel kitchen for a time. A remarkable person. Chef, please begin!”
“Understood.”
At the GM’s request, a gloomy answer came from the kitchen.
“And the third rule. Do not enter the kitchen under any circumstances. Whatever happens in the kitchen, peeking in or interfering with the cooking is strictly forbidden.”
Suddenly Jinwoo spoke.
“Senior. There are two people in the kitchen, I say.”
Jinwoo is an agent with excellent sensing and spell knowledge. He had picked up something I had missed.
“He just said he is starting to cook, I say? It seems necromancy and dimensional magic have been activated. You must not let your guard down, I say.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
I answered and tried to stay tense, but—
“And here is the employee...”
“Yahoo! Everyone, I am Jan—”
It was the blond man who had greeted me at the entrance.
He was clearly about to say his name, but he did not get to finish.
With a slithering sound, the Manager’s left hand turned into dozens of tendrils and wrapped around his mouth.
Muffling the [Employee]’s mouth with those snake-like tendrils, the Manager whispered.
“How many times do I have to say this is really dangerous? You think I lent you that mask for fun?”
“Mmff.”
The employee was not wearing anything like a mask. Even so, he called it a mask— meaning he must have been wearing a magical mask to disguise himself as someone else.
Of course, we cannot rule out the possibility that it was a secret passphrase shared by cultists.
Having tidied the situation, the Manager spoke again.
“Now, this employee will assist you. And some of you may have caught on already. The fourth rule. Until all of this is over— do not say names. Not your own, not anyone else’s. Not even the names of people who are not here. We cannot guarantee the safety of anyone who breaks this rule. Understood?”
“May I ask one question?”
A man seated on a sofa raised his hand and spoke. A face I knew.
Kang Ilsam.
One of the individuals listed in the [Vasiliisa] observation records. A fixer commonly called Thirteen.
“You may not.”
But the Manager cut him off firmly.
“The fifth rule. Do not ask us questions. You may ask each other, but we will not answer any question. We may act strangely or make strange requests— but please understand that all of it is for your survival.”
Drawing a deep breath, Park Jumi spoke.
“Were there more rules?”
Silently, Im Huiyeong nodded.
The sixth rule.
Do not use electronic devices.
Things operating automatically are fine. But avoid listening closely to their sounds or staring at a screen for long.
The seventh rule.
Do not act alone under any circumstances.
This pension is much larger than it looks to your eyes right now. Do not remain alone in any enclosed space, under any circumstances.
There may be sudden changes of location, so never move by yourself. When movement is necessary, the Super Magical Employee will help you.
If you happen to be trapped alone in an enclosed space, reach toward the ceiling and call for help.
The eighth rule.
Ignore anyone whose head is replaced by a clock or any other object.
That person has no authority. Whatever requests or warnings he makes, do not respond. Even if someone knows him, do not act as if you do. For reference, my face is just a mask.
The ninth rule.
Do not open or close doors under any circumstances.
You may only use a door when we open it. The front door as well. Once everyone has eaten the pasta, we will open the front door.
“That means...”
“Yes. In the end, it means you cannot leave unless you eat the pasta.”
Park Jumi’s hands moved busily.
A cult ritual.
It is disguised with odd keywords, but it might be a rite to summon an abyssal being or borrow its power.
And such rituals usually accompany human sacrifice or— cannibalism and other horrific acts.
Im Huiyeong escaped from such a place.
“So what did you do? Did you wait for the pasta?”
“I stood up and prepared to attack.”
Park Jumi paused, then looked at Im Huiyeong.
“You were going to attack?”
“Yes. I judged that I was at the heart of a ritual led by cultists. I didn’t know what kind of pasta would come out, but I thought that delaying further would be dangerous. I concluded I had to seize the initiative, even by force.”
Special Team 1 is led by Yang Seoho.
In daily life she shows a lot more of a cowed side under Yang Seoho’s shadow—
But the woman sitting in front of Park Jumi, big as a slab of soft tofu or a round rice cake, is still someone who can stand behind Yang Seoho.
Thinking that far, Park Jumi nodded.
“But you were going to attack— means you didn’t attack.”
“Because a variable was added. I had no choice but to be cautious.”
“A variable?”
“Junior. Stop it. How many is this supposed to be? Why do you keep bringing in more people?”
Suddenly a deep, impressive voice came from an odd direction.
Up above.
That’s where the voice came from.
When I looked up, there was a person upside down on the ceiling.
Yes.
Upside down— like this.
As if only for him gravity pulled in the opposite direction, he was standing on the ceiling.
It was clear he was the person from that rule the Manager mentioned.
Because his head was a large clock.
A person the guests must ignore.
The Manager ignored him too, though in a slightly different way than the rules stated.
“Hmph, just watch.”
“I watched enough in the past. And thanks to that, I learned that abyssal beings are not so easy that this sort of thing works.”
“Up to now they have been easy enough, so don’t worry.”
“Up to now? Do you want me to tell you again what ‘up to now’ means to me? In my ‘up to now,’ you—”
“Stop! Please, stop bringing up things I haven’t done yet. Besides, this was your suggestion.”
“Not this suggestion. Stop pulling in more people. This is madness!”
They seemed to be at odds, but the Manager— that is, Kim Sinhwa— spoke in a firm voice.
“No. If you agreed to follow my method, follow it to the end.”
“...Understood.”
